#me when i have an indescribable amount of feelings all at once and have to let it out in giggles and hops

[satanssquidgy]

I keep rewatching that woosan clip and the way wooyoung gets so giddy after smooching san is so adorable 😭

[hyenaspots]

Monthly Quota

[Gaz x Male Reader]

After a very long time (one year) working on this fic, with the help of two very good friends, I've finally got this out! I'm so happy to be able to finish it and throw it into the wind. God knows I've worked hard on it and it has given me some back pain.

Fem & Minors DNI

¡¡¡ Content Warning !!!

Piss, afab genitalia and language, could be considered dubcon, but it's very enthusiastic from all sides; thigh fucking, and a very mean and socially stunted Ghost

Thank you to @embry-garrick-ravengard and @thegnomelord for their help and ideas! Without them I would've probably scrapped the fic.

Word count: 5.7k

The effects of Gaz’s monthly testosterone shots were stronger than he’d ever heard anyone else complain about. By the first day, he was usually sweating. His skin was hypersensitive, every small drop crawling down his back as he did his laps unbearable. Each hot flash felt like a heatwave. The second day would bring hunger spikes. An indescribable ache deep in his very core that could be decently sated with some cafeteria food, or in worst case scenario, a meal from whatever local food chain he could guilt the captain into taking him to.

The third day is when his rationality leaves his body.

It’s like every other side effect travels down his body and gathers into the base of his dick, leaving his clit aching. The hypersensitivity spreads across his t-dick, keeping it hard and swollen enough to stick lewdly out of his hood. The head is dark from arousal. He’s wet too, soaking with it. His inner thighs and its wiry hairs are damp, as are the curls covering his fat lips. It drips down his ass as he lays facing the ceiling, groaning at the way that not even slotting his dick between his index and middle fingers can’t seem to satisfy the deep ache of his cock. He can see the way it throbs, how it sluggishly bobs up and down despite it barely reaching an inch and a half in size. The ache is the worst part of it all. A deep, insatiable ache that jerking off and even fingering couldn’t satisfy. He’d considered a dildo, but the risk of getting caught with it stored somewhere was too embarrassing. And he wasn’t big enough for a fleshlight, so no point in wasting money on one.

It's the desperation that drives him insane, the ache of his wrist locking up and cramping that drives him to pull his trousers back on without any underwear to prevent an unfortunate stain in the strangely delicate material. It’s what drives him to put his boots back on, haphazardly tying the laces and knowing he’ll be stepping on them soon enough.

He's feeling ballsy, treading through the deserted hallways of the base. Usually there’d be more noise than this. Not a crazy amount but everyone knew that when higher-ups were cozy at home and Staff Sergeants were holed up in their private rooms, the rest of the base would have their own little secrets behind closed doors. Gambling was common, sometimes done in broad daylight if bets were harmless enough. Barrack bunnies, too, were harmless enough. The occasional Warrant Officer or Lieutenant could even be tempted by such temptations before the eyes of lower officers and rookies. But today, the base was dark and silent. You could hear a pin drop from two hallways over. He was perhaps feeling self-destructive, maybe the testosterone fuelled sex drive made him so. Nobody dared leave their assigned barracks when higher-ranked officers were pulled from the comfort of their homes to be caged within prison-like beige walls.

It's stupidity, Gaz knows. He’s left his rational thinking back in his private room, taking no heed of the warning signs his brain was sending him of the silence suffocating the halls. He can see the once-abandoned rooms already, with their matching red, faded door frames standing out from their beige neighbours. Distantly, he remembers seeing people leave on the rare occasions he’d go past. And he remembers catching Soap leaving once, mohawk messy and face glowing a soft pink. The wink he’d sent his way had had Gaz furrowing his brow in distaste. On each of the doors themselves, a moon and sun are carved respectively. Innocent enough, compared to what they actually stood for. He wraps his hand around the broken handle and pushes. The brass nearly comes off in his hand, from the forcefulness of his grasp and the heavy-handed push he gives it to soften the rusty hinges.

The carpeted floor is worn down. Pale in a way that only constant use and then sudden abandonment can make look. There’s debris scattered around the room, in the space where furniture and broken pieces of training equipment don’t cover. Gaz can see, with the help of the moonlight refracted through the broken smoke-stained window, patches in the floor where the larger items in the room have scuffed and ripped out carpet. Most of the room is hidden from sight by these larger structures. He’s forced to map his way across, staking out the small space carefully just to avoid causing a ruckus. As he walks past, there’s obvious reasons why this space hasn’t been used for so long. A low-hanging beam nearly knocks his head off; a particularly scruffy piece of carpet nearly sends him stumbling when it catches on boot’s toe. He’s careful though, lest he scare off whatever barrack bunny or brave soldier is manning the hole tonight. If there is one. If.

It would feel silly, stupid even, if he’d been any less horny than he’d been maybe 10 minutes ago. But even now, after he’s had plenty of time to feel the iciness of the halls, his dick remains hard just beneath his trousers. He can feel the damp fabric now, as he stands in front of the not quite circular hole carved into the wall. At least it’s been sanded down, he thinks. Or not quite thinks, just a remark made to himself by some part of his brain that is trying to keep some resemblance of normalcy despite the absolutely stupid observation. His hands shake but he's not entirely sure if it’s from the reasonable anxiety of being caught, or the depraved way that he wishes he would be caught mid-act. He knocks on the wall. It’s shaky, like a stutter caught halfway through a sentence. He presses his forehead against the wall, heated skin soothed slightly by the cool surface. He bites down on his lower lip, eyes shut tight as his snaggletooth digs into the soft plush flesh. Anyone brave enough to come down to the other room, to service another person, is less brave and more suicidal. The risk is so high, the logic so far out the window. And he knows he’s just as reckless, waiting desperately for a hand to welcome him that shouldn’t be there. He whimpers when a minute passes and it seems there’s nobody there.

A hand reaches out before he can move away. It cups his front gently, the skin hidden by a dark brown glove. The gasp that leaves his lips is hoarse, he felt a drop of moisture clinging on his eyelashes. His hands shake as he fumbles with his trousers’ buttons, rash and hurried in the way he flings them open to let the fabric pool at his feet, heedless of the now broken zipper and ripped off button. There isn’t a single second of hesitation, not a single moment of wondering whether or not the person on the other side would be willing to serve him. He doesn’t think, just presses the sharp jut of his hip bones flush against the wall, letting his mound and dick disappear into the hole. His arms rest tensely by either side of his head, shoulder width apart and flexed with the effort to not whimper out loud as the hand comes back up to trace the curve of Gaz’s mound. The hand moves gently through the thick bush of hair, moving further down at a taunting pace to dig gently and tease the hood of his cock, making Gaz rumble out a groan straight from his wildly beating heart. It’s cut off by a whine when the hand retreats. There’s a muffled shushing sound on the other side. And it’s true, he should be quieter. Especially tonight that any little sound can land either of them in hellish-levels of reprobation. But the touch feels so good, and Gaz is so damn desperate that when he feels a warm pair of lips wrap carefully around the head of his t-dick, he has to slap a hand over his mouth. Even so, the little cry he lets out is loud, despite being muffled by his own hand. He feels a soft stubble brush against the hypersensitive skin of his mound, ghosting over a tiny part of his inner thighs.

The suction of your mouth is heavenly around the head. A warm, tight heat wrapping around the sensitive organ and drawing more blood into its surface. It’s borderline painful when you suck more and more of his dick into your mouth, dropping your mouth open and letting your tongue loll out so Gaz rubs the sensitive head against the rough surface of your tongue. Gaz’s thighs ache. The soft muscles of his thighs tense and relax to the beat of his heartbeat, to each throb of his t-dick. The muscles jiggle as he adjusts his stance, spreading his legs to give you more purchase. You take it in stride, lapping at his wet cunt with eager skill. You lick all the way from his perineum to the base of his dick, running your tongue through the soft curls framing the swollen inner folds dripping with slick and precum. And as you reach his dick again, you let your upper teeth graze the sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in the accompanying muffled yell.

The pleasure is dizzying. It’s like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, chest rapidly expanding and contracting as he pants and moans as quietly as he can. He’s got his hand against his mouth, palm fully covering it to muffle his sounds to the best of his ability. His face is turned to the side with his cheek pressed against the cold wall.

It’s like you can’t get enough. He can feel the way you get more and more desperate, bringing your hand back up again just to tentatively sink a finger in his wet cunt. Gaz cries out, throwing his head back. His hand slaps against the wall, stabilising him as his knees buckle under him. A small strand of drool slips from the corner of his lips as he pants and whines, his hips slapping against the wall with small thrusts. Your mouth joins your finger, wrapping around his dick again and suckling on it. A constant, gentle suction that brings tears to his eyes. The wet sounds of your single finger slowly rocking in and out, crooking inside him and rubbing against his silky walls, while your tongue traces the slight edge of his head drive him insane. Your nose is pressed flush against his mound, and he can feel how heavily you’re breathing. You’re essentially sniffing him with every inhale, although you don’t seem to really mind his heavy, musky scent. He tastes so good, each taste bud sending sharp signals to your brain, encouraging you to taste more and more of him.

You’re both so lost in the pleasure, that the creak of the door opening is completely lost on you both. And so are the footsteps that follow, and then the sound of the door clicking shut. The footsteps are light as paper, so in a way, neither of you can really be blamed for missing it. The click of the door, though, is a clear warning, the owner of the hand wrapped around the knob hidden expertly behind the shadows of the room’s furniture. He makes no move to muffle the sound of it, the sound ringing throughout the room. But even so, neither of you hear it over the sighs of Gaz’s pleasure.

It isn’t until a pale hand slaps down over Gaz’s mouth that the poor man realises that maybe it hadn’t been as quiet as he thought.

He tries pulling away at first, arms scrambling to slap and push at the body behind him. It’s cut short by a thick, scarred arm wrapping around his arms and midsection; rendering them useless by his sides without much effort. His hips buck back as his body pushes against the body behind him, until-

“Settle down, Sergeant,” the voice is rough, louder than a whisper from the sheer inability to go any quieter, “thought I heard your boots down my hall.”

At the sound of scrambling on the other side, his boot slams down onto the wall right below the hole. It makes you yelp, and your hands slam against the wall to give you the leverage to push off of it. There’s the sound of snapping, before the chain around your neck falls off to hang from the lower curve of the hole. There’s only a moment of hesitation before you stand up on shaky legs to run to your room’s door. However, as you push and turn the handle of the door, the door itself does not budge or even rock with each of your shoves and slams against it.

“Shit-!” You kick the door, before slumping to sit down against it. Effectively trapped. Looking over your shoulder at the handle, you notice a keyhole in the metal just below the handle and groan. So caught up in sucking off the pretty sergeant that you never heard Ghost locking the room from outside the door. And not only that, you were stupid enough to let your dog tags get caught beneath the Lieutenant’s sole, now trapped on the other side of the wall, where you can’t reach. The chain had slid into the other side too, so there was no hope of trying to paw it out of the lieutenant’s reach. You watch as the chain begins to slide and fall into the otherside fully, the sound of the sole of Ghost’s combat boot scraping down the wall sending your heart pounding. In fear? For sure. But also in mind numbing arousal. Your cock still hasn’t flagged and you’re grateful that neither of them can see that.

Gaz has stopped struggling by now. Too dizzy in the feeling of the Lieutenant’s grip on him even as fear pumps heavily from his chest into his limbs. His dick twitches traitorously against the cold air of the room, and he squeezes his eyes shut at the feeling of wetness collecting right below his hood just for it to drip loudly against the floor. The lieutenant curls over Gaz’s heaving body, letting his chest rest on Gaz’s broad back. A chuckle reverates, seems to echo in Gaz’s chest, and he moans into the hand keeping him muffled.

“Thought you were smarter than this, Sergeant.” The arm wrapped around his limbs falls away, dragging down his pretty, dark chest just to let his fingers catch on the tip of Gaz’s left nip. “Coming here when you know us higher-ups are just looking for an excuse to berate any soldier caught red-handed where he shouldn’t be. And yet here you are, handing me the opportunity on a silver platter.” The tips of his fingers trace around his darkened areola, flicking the hard nub for a second before the rough digits pinch it. Seeing that Gaz has calmed down, his other hand moves away from his mouth, hovering above it just in case Gaz tries to shout again.

“Lieutenant-” Gaz gasps, arms shooting up to rest against the wall. Holding himself up by his forearms.

“I know it’s obvious, but let me remind you, Sergeant. Be quiet.” The hand on Gaz’s chest is rough, fingers pinching and groping in a way that leaves him gasping wetly. “Any other person wouldn’t be as nice as I am now.”

His free hand presses against his navel, making Gaz yelp. He bites his lip, teeth sinking into the fat there to muffle the sound of his desperation. He can feel the way Ghost’s fingers course through his curly hair, moving further down to curl around the thick bush framing his cunt. He’s quivering with want, legs spreading invitingly as to tempt the Lieutenant’s large pale hand to move to his dick, to press each rough callus against the sensitive skin. For Ghost’s fingers to pull back the hood of his clit and pinch at the swollen flesh until he cries in the man’s strong arms.

His boot comes up to kick Gaz’s feet further apart, and the hand on his navel moves to wrap around his hip, pressing bruises into the dark skin and moving him with ease so that his stomach and abdomen are flush against the wall again. There’s a loud thud as Gaz’s chest hits the wall, and he shivers when he realises his crotch is pressed against the hole again.

You’re listening to the scuffle and muffled speaking from your cold side of the wall; but soon a sharp whistle breaks you out of it, making you perk up at the sound. It’s weirdly muffled, and you look up to see that the sergeant’s body seems to be covering the hole. Maybe that’s why it’s so muffled. Ghost pulls his hips back, and whistles again. And the sound of quick, continuous clicking comes through the hole clear as day. Realisation pours over you like a bucket of ice. He’s calling you over like a dog, cajoled back into position behind the hole like it’s what you’ve been trained to do. And like any trained dog, you heel. Crawling over as best you can, dick swinging between your legs as you flush, just to sit back on your heels behind the wall. Your hands press against each side of the hole, giving you slight stability. One hand ball into a fist and knocks on the wall, to confirm your position. A chuckle welcomes you. Then the sergeant’s hips are pressed against the wall once more, and you moan at the sight.

The taste of the sergeant is mouth-watering when you lean in to drag your tongue back over his folds. You take your time, dragging the tip of it over his hole and flicking the underside of his cock in the updrag. The sound of a yell being cut off is your reward, and consequently you share in the ecstasy of it by wrapping your chapped lips over his pulsing t-dick, and straining your ears to hear the sound of Ghost and Gaz.

On the other side, Gaz’s cheek is pressed against the cold wall. Held there by Ghost’s marred hand wrapped around his jaw and nape, keeping him pinned. His other hand resting and pushing against his lower back, brown eyes tracing the unnatural curve of the Sergeant’s spine.

“That gymnast background certainly comes in handy, Sergeant,” he murmurs into his ear, balaclava pulled up to rest on the bridge of his nose, “can’t imagine any other man with an arch like this.”

He feels the rough fabric of Ghost’s pants press against the bare skin of his ass, the Lieutenant’s hips slotting against him seamlessly. The hard bulge pressing right above the crease of his ass is heavy, barely kept in his trousers by whatever pair of underwear the man had decided to wear today. He’d rock his ass back to feel it better, if he could. But the firm hand on the base of his spine keeps him pinned and pliable against the wall, only really bothering to try and weakly push his luck by rubbing against Ghost as best as he can. The action causes his hips to move away from the hole just slightly, and yet the whine that claws its way out of your throat is deafening in both rooms. And Gaz can’t help but rut against your desperate tongue as you chase after the taste of him.

Maybe it’s the way Gaz keeps squirming and undulating in his hold, or maybe it’s the wet, desperate sounds you keep making from your own side of the wall. But Ghost can’t help but bring a hand down to loosen the buttons of his jeans and push the thick fabric down just enough for the bulge in his briefs to poke out. He’s quick to pull out his dick, slapping it down to rest back between the dimples on Gaz’s lower back. His cock is heavy, thick in the palm of his hand. The tip is an angry red, and leaking all over the Sergeant’s pretty skin; he moves both his hands to grip at his hips, and sinks each thumb into the dip of Garrick’s back dimples just to watch the way the sergeant shivers and arches his hips further into his grasp. It’s tempting, to just guide his dick lower and lower and just sink into that wet heat that the poor soldier is lapping up on the other side. Sink all eight inches in there and leave something for the boy to lap up once he’s done. But he’s a smarter man than that, a more unyielding man than those young cadets who would sink their dick into any wet hole without thinking of the consequences. So he buries his face into Gaz’s shoulder instead, nipping and dragging crooked teeth over tense muscle. He turns his head, beginning to tease and lick at the little spot beneath Gaz’s ear, over his jaw.

“‘M gonna fuck your thighs, Sergeant,” he breathes, voice rough and thick, like sandpaper, “and you’re gonna let our little dog on the other side service us both.”

It’s an order that he can’t even follow. All he can do is moan and move to press his legs tightly together, to give Ghost something slick to fuck himself into. Because his slick is all over his inner thighs, stray drops of it crawl down the side of his leg just to get soaked up by his field uniform trousers. He pushes his ass back, his head tilting back to rest the back of it on the thick plane of Ghost’s shoulder. Exposing the tender curve of his throat, the bob of his Adam's apple. He feels Ghost drags his dick down past the curve of his ass and begins to prod the head between his thighs. Slowly, excruciatingly so, his thick cock sinks between his thighs. Rubbing and pressing on his pussy lips, and the tip bumping fleetingly against the sensitive underside and crown of his clit. His thighs buck and tense, and Ghost has to press his forehead between Gaz’s shoulder blades to stop himself from moving too fast. He wants to enjoy it, to savour the slick pressure of Gaz’s inner thighs around his dick, the fat and muscle wrapping perfectly around his dick and he’s afraid that once his hips press against Gaz’s ass, that the tip of his dick might not even peek out on the other side. It’s warm and wet, and he can feel each muscle ripple and flex as Gaz fights to keep himself still. He almost wishes he’d have sunk himself into Gaz’s wet cunt instead, and can imagine just how hot and silky his walls would feel around him. How he’d tremble and shake to fit his fat cock in. But this is just as good. To feel the Sergeant’s thighs around him and knowing that the soldier on the other side of the wall will lick at the head of his cock too, eager to please his higher-ups.

You draw back, nose, mouth and chin wet with Gaz’s slick and eyes half-lidded in pleasure. The pressure in your trousers is agonizing, and so you reach down to undo your trousers, as you watch Gaz’s lower body through the hole. You watch, as his thighs twitch, and as between them, something causes the surrounding muscle and fat to dent and furrow, until the head of Ghost’s cock peeks through just the tiniest amount. The red tip squished between dark thighs and dripped precum down the crease of them. And it looks so tasty, you can't help but lick your lips. Just a little push more, and the tip fully pokes out from between his thighs. And you're too focused on your own pleasure, too wrapped up in the feeling of finally fishing out your own erection from the confines of your underwear, that all you do is watch as Ghost seems to begin thrusting at an even pace. Just watching the head disappear every other second, and matching the pace with your hand around your cock. Gaz's own dick pulses with each thrust, so neglected that you can see each throb run down the small length of it.

There's a sharp whistle, quick and unforgiving. And you dive back in, palming yourself as you bury your face back between Gaz's legs. It's a hard job, this time. Trying to focus on both Gaz's cock and the tip of Ghost's, switching frequently as to not leave one or the other too neglected. Because every time you get lost in the taste of Ghost’s spongy head, Gaz’s whines grow in volume and he smacks his hips brashly into the wall. And if you focus too long on suckling on Gaz’s clit, Ghost’s knuckles rap against the wall as if to remind you to service them both; to forgo favouritism and give him a little helping hand, too.

Gaz’s first orgasm of the night comes from a stroke of pure luck. The length of Ghost’s cock shifts and gets pushed up higher by the fat of his dark thighs, and the head catches on the underside of Gaz’s own cock, just as teeth graze the sensitive bundle of nerves of his crown when you drag away from it. The sight he makes is picture worthy, makes the Lieutenant wish he’d brought his camera along. Swollen, teeth-bitten lips falling open in a breathless gasp, as Gaz’s pretty brown eyes roll back and his eyelids drop and close to leave just a sliver of white visible. His Adam's apple bobs, the skin highlighted by the thin-coating of sweat just to tempt Ghost into sinking his teeth into him and never letting go. Each muscle in his body tenses and contorts, the dim light through the window defining each line of tense ligaments, even despite the late hour.

But it doesn’t matter how pretty he looks as he comes undone; or maybe it’s because of how pretty it looks that Ghost wants to continue. But whichever one it is, the outcome is the same. Ghost’s hands wrapping around those twitching hips and rutting harder and harder, angling himself to hit that sweet spot with each thrust, just to hear the cries and yells from the sergeant. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore that they have to be quiet, not when the sound of Gaz being double teamed by a goddamn rookie and his own Lieutenant was so delightful. Ripping down the Sergeant’s charismatic persona, just to work him into depravity. Working him enough that he seems to be dragged into the second orgasm of the night.

His eyes are unfocused as he feels a pressure in his abdomen. It takes a few more mind numbing thrusts, and another stronger yet disappointingly empty orgasm for Gaz to realise that not everything is going straight as planned. The pressure in his bladder is unavoidable now and, as Ghost crowds him closer to the wall, the constant shoving makes it much clearer and much more painful. But it’s hard to talk around the fog in his head, tongue heavy and unresponsive as it begins to loll out of his mouth. He gasps wetly, hands moving clumsily again to push at Ghost’s hips and to try and push your head away too. There’s a loud whine from you, as Gaz’s hand finds your mouth and pushes against it. Your tongue lapping at the space between his fingers in an attempt to appease him. Ghost is less lenient. He chooses, instead, to dip his head down and sink his teeth into Gaz’s nape, fingers digging hard into the fat of his hips in a way that’ll bruise and sting in the next coming days with any movement.

“Lieutenant-”

A growl reverates through his spine, turning to shivers half way.

“LT, please- I need-” There’s his hand again, scrambling to hook into the loop of Ghost’s jeans and push him back. “Just a minute, please! I need to- to use the bathroom. Won’t take long at all just-”

“What’s stopping you?”

Gaz’s forehead smacks into the wall. Eyes shaking with the effort to focus despite LT’s cockhead sliding against his.

“Well?”

“I don’t, I don’t think I understa-and, LT.”

Ghost leans further into him, like he’s trying to mould the shape of Gaz into his front. Like he’s trying to carve the shape of him into his chest. The hand on his right hip slides around to lay flat against his stomach before dragging down and down. Until his index and middle fingers are framing his t-dick, pinching it between the fat digits and causing Gaz’s knees to buckle. He pulls it up, ignoring the pulsing that Gaz is sure he can feel even through those thick calluses dragging into his sensitive skin.

“Go then. I’m sure our boy will appreciate the drink too.”

Gaz’s hand slips from your face then. His fingers drag down your lower face until they drop entirely off of it. Once freed, you’re happy to sink your face back between his folds, lapping at the space between the Lieutenant’s fingers to give attention to the Sergeant’s clit. And he cries. Fat globs running down his already sweat-soaked face, overwhelmed by the feeling of so many things hitting him at once. An orgasm rips through him, a weak moan falling off his lips as he tries to regain his bearings.

The Lieutenant’s cock digs deeper between his thighs, and he can feel Ghost’s other hand move it up closer to his folds. He can’t see it, with how blurry his vision is with tears. He can feel the pressure double, his dick feeling sore and bruised from the sheer amount of pressure and stimulation it’s taking. Unused to it all, having jumped from jerking off every two nights to being taken apart by two military personnels who seemed to know his body better than himself. And it’s getting harder to hold himself back, his brain is too scrambled and he’s a good soldier, a good boy. And-

"Piss, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

The words, mixed with the fourth orgasm of the night, act as a sort of sedative. Like the type he’d seen Captains and medics use with unrulier soldiers, the sort that took seconds to send a body limp. And that’s what it feels like, as his body drops just for Ghost to pick up the slack once more, one arm coming to hold him upright. The other-

His hand is still holding his crotch, fingers pulling his dick up to keep his folds open as his bladder empties right on your face. You aren’t stupid, had heard Gaz’s useless begging. And despite your dignity, if you truly had any left, you lap up that too. It’s hot, and bitter, and would be gross, if you were any less dirty. But like any good dog, you lick up the treat as it comes, giving up on getting it all in your mouth and settling on the fact that you’ll just have to be covered in it. It runs down your lower face and past your neck, soaking up the front of your shirt and spilling onto your sweatpants and boxers. It goes on forever, until the stream begins to lessen and dribble, until all there is left are a few little droplets. Which you clean up of course.

You pull away then, a strangled groan leaving you as your hand tightens around your hard dick, and pumps once, twice just to spill all over the dirty floor, mixing with the piss and the sweat.

“Good boy, soldier. Stay there.”

There’s the sound of a body being set down on the floor, soft mumblings that you can’t quite make out through the wall. Then footsteps, petering out slowly until all you can hear is your own heartbeat in between your ears and the soft breathing of somebody on the other side. Probably Gaz. Then there’s the sound of the door, and light from the hallway streaming in from it.

The silhouette of Ghost in the doorway should be terrifying. And really, it does send your heart hammering in your chest. But your dick also twitches feebly between your thighs, slowly chubbing up again from its softened state. You can’t help but glance down at yourself. But there’s nothing left to salvage. Your clothes are dark from the piss and sweat soaking the material, and you just look a mess. The mere seconds it takes the Lieutenant to amble over to you it’s useless for you to do anything but watch, rapt, as his body begins to loom over you. He stops just a few inches from you, face level with his hips and with his dick, still sticking out from the gap of his zipper and rock hard.

“You look filthy,” he says without preamble, “didn’t know we raised street dogs.”

You shiver, eyes half-lidded and wet. You cough weakly, face tilting to look at the floor. His hand comes down to rest on your head, before curling his hand to pull your face up to meet his again. The other hand grabs at your chin, the thumb dragging over your jaw before digging into your cheek and prying your mouth open. Saliva connects your tongue to the roof.

“You’re gonna let me use you to get off,” he mumbles, fingers tightening around your jaw, “and then I’m sure Gaz will be happy to use you again.”

He brings you closer, till the head of his dick traces your lower lip, precum shiny against the skin. Your tongue darts out to lick at it, and he takes it as a green light to sink his cock into your throat. It doesn’t take long at all, really. His dick throbbing in your mouth by the fourth thrust, his hands moving to hold the sides of your head by the time your throat begins hurting. He’s using you as a fleshlight, unforgiving and relentless. He sinks the full length as he comes, his balls slapping on your chin and becoming slick with whatever come you fail to swallow and instead let dribble past the corners of your mouth.

He pulls back, and you gasp. Licking at your mouth for whatever you can reach that way. You look up, to Gaz leaning against the wall behind Ghost.

"Round two?”

Credit to Cafekitsune for their gorgeous dividers!

[pierregazly]

you were my best friend first ꨄ  charles leclerc

charles leclerc x reader

warnings: fluff, charles is the sappiest drunk, monaco 2024, mentions of drinking/being drunk [1k words]

request: 🫶🏻 Charles Leclerc + prompt 8!! Thank youuuu 🤍 ["you were my bestfriend, before you were anything else, love."]

The Monaco sun shined down on him, his head was tilted back, embracing the warmth that radiated against his skin. Soft sighs of triumph leaving his lips as beads of sweat began to gather against his forehead.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes followed his every move. He was exquisite in every way, and it was like he just knew it. The love that emitted from your heart for the Monegasque man was never-ending, all-consuming, and exactly the type of love you had always dreamt of, had always daydreamed about when you thought of the person that would once be that person for you.

Your eyes still shined bright with unshed tears, the sounds of the Monegasque anthem being sung from around you prompting one small bead of liquid to drip down your face. The pride racing through your body was indescribable. You could practically feel Charles’ happiness, his sheer relief, coursing through your own body.

Arthur’s arm was tossed over your shoulder, pulling your body against his side as he screeched the lyrics of the anthem into the open air, his own cheeks riddled with tears of pride for his big brother. Really, everyone around you had red cheeks, and a copious amount of shed tears.

This was the moment.

The moment everyone in Monaco had been yearning for since he qualified on pole, since they realized that this may finally be his chance. His family, his friends, his country-folk, his Monarchy, it was the moment every single person had been rooting for him for, for years.

It felt like forever while you waited for him to make his way down from the podium, being stopped by every person he passed kept him occupied, a toothy-smile so prominent on his features as his arms wrapped around almost every person who put their arm out to stop him in his path.

Once your eyes finally made contact with his, he rushed over, throwing his arms around your body and pulling you tight against him. You couldn’t decipher the words he was yelling into your ear, but the tone, the happiness, it was so obvious. 

“You did it, you did it!” He eagerly nodded his head down at you, pressing his lips messily against yours, the smile as he did so prompting the corners of your lips to tug up alongside his.

Charles pulled back to look down at you, his glassy eyes conveying words you knew he couldn’t say right now.

“Thank you for being here, mon coeur. I’m so… just thank you,” he said.

You smiled up at him, your words caught in your throat as you tried to keep the looming tears at bay. 

“I’ll always be here, Cha,” you said, a soft smile gracing your face as you continued to look up at him, feeling like the two of you were stuck in your own little world.

It didn’t take long for the festivities to begin. People graced the streets, singing songs of celebration, the clubs began opening their doors, the champagne had already been popped.

The gala dinner passed by quickly, the starstruck feeling of being so close to the Prince and Princess of Monaco was diminished by the drinks that continuously felt like they were being magically refilled in your hand. Charles’ arm hadn’t left your lower back, his body having begun to mould itself to you the longer the night progressed. 

“Are you still okay to go to the club, mon coeur?”

Quirking an eyebrow up at him in confusion, you nodded your head with a slight laugh.

“Cha… tonight’s about you. I will go anywhere you want me to, my love. Just take my hand and drag me along,” you said.

A grin replaced the soft look on his face, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head as he pulled your body tight against his again.

The music in the club was thunderous. There was no other way to describe the energy of the environment as anything other than triumphant. Everyone felt like this was a triumph for them, watching the person who had felt for years that Monaco could never love him back… to finally feel the love that he had always given so freely. 

Neither of you had realized how much you had drank until you were holding each other up, the Monaco flag held over your heads as someone; still unsure as to who, dragged the two of you along and out to an Uber. 

Charles giggled in your ear every time his feet flew out from underneath him, almost dragging the two of you down with every third step he took.

“Can’t believe you were really here to see me do it, baby,” he whispered in your ear, once the two of you were settled in the Uber and back on the road.

“M’good luck charm, mon coeur,” he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, prompting a shiver to shoot through your body.

“Oh Cha, wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You’re my best friend, my love,” you responded, a soft smile on your heated cheeks.

“You were my best friend, before you were anything else, mon coeur. Gonna talk about how I couldn’t have won Monaco without you during my wedding speech, mon coeur. Make everyone jealous, cause you’re so great and you’re all mine,” he rambled on, slurring his way through his multiple declarations of love for you.

Drunk or sober, the feelings that swam through your body had you nuzzling closer to the Monegasque as your apartment building came into view. You had loved him for years, had been the backbone of so many unfortunate weekend endings; had been there for every high and low in his Formula 1 career.

Every unhappy Sunday had led to this moment, Charles whispering declarations of love into your shoulder, as the banners and chants continued amongst the country. The raw, unfiltered love for the man beside you prompting drunken tears to fill your eyes.

He was Monaco’s hero, but he was your best friend first.

im so sorry it's taking me so long to get these out lol... i havent been in the biggest writing mood lately, but i finished a book tonight in two hours and decided i needed to finish this one. this one NEEDED to get written. love you all 💗

[dross-the-fish]

A follower tagged me on a post that was talking about how Edward isn't actually a bad guy but rather he's misunderstood and I'm not going to reply to that post because I don't want to start drama on someone else's blog but I've seen the sentiment brought up a few times so I'm going to make a blanket post about the topic rather than single anyone out. The post I was tagged in mentions the trampling of the child and seems to frame it like an accident so I'll start there and I'll let Henry himself tell you how he views that incident. "An act of cruelty to a child aroused against me the anger of a passer by," He outright says it, it's an act of cruelty. He doesn't deny that. And that's what I hate about fanon Hyde. A lot of interps seem to forget that Hyde is a middle aged man struggling with a repressed sadistic streak and not a social awkward teenager. I think the most concrete evidence we have of Jekyll/Hyde's nature is in Jekyll's letter and how he describes himself and his relationship to Hyde. “To cast in my lot with Jekyll, was to die to those appetites which I had long secretly indulged and had of late begun to pamper. To cast it in with Hyde, was to die to a thousand interests and aspirations, and to become, at a blow and forever, despised and friendless. The bargain might appear unequal; but there was still another consideration in the scales; for while Jekyll would suffer smartingly in the fires of abstinence, Hyde would be not even conscious of all that he had lost.” As afraid as he is of losing the life he's built for himself there's so much LONGING to be Hyde despite the evils Hyde has done. He wants to indulge in his appetites and he knows if he embraces Edward he won't even grieve his losses. I find it interesting that he notes that becoming Edward would cost him his "aspirations and interests," because he would be losing everything to his vice, choosing pleasure and indulgence over his own goals and ambitions. "If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also," Henry Jekyll is a complex and repressed but also very selfish man and here's where the interpretation of Edward as a metaphor for addiction comes most strongly into play. Jekyll shows textbook signs of a drug user: experimentation, denial or minimization of the harmful effects, attempts to quit, withdrawal when he goes too long without being Edward and eventually he develops a dependency and falls into a spiral. The fact that he's taking a potion just drives the imagery that much harder. Even the description of the effects of the potion itself mirror drug use. "something indescribably new and, from its very novelty, incredibly sweet. I felt younger, lighter, happier in body ; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a mill race in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul. I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked" It's agony at first but once the "high" hits and he becomes Edward he feels good and his inhibitions are gone. He can indulge every depraved and twisted act his heart desires without having to take the hit to his reputation or the responsibility. “since then I had been obliged on more than one occasion to double, and once, with infinite risk of death, to treble the amount” - Jekyll risks an overdose because he keeps taking more of the serum. This illustrates his dependency on Hyde and his inability to quit. One thing I've noticed about Hyde interps that favor the lighter, softer, readings of the character is that they almost always neglect the characterization of Henry Jekyll. Either depicting Jekyll as the good half or all but erasing them from their fanon version of Hyde and that's something you can't really do because it misses the point of Jekyll and Hyde. Which is about Henry Jekyll and his repression and his eventual turn to a destructive outlet.

"The pleasures which I made haste to seek in my disguise were, as I have said, undignified; I would scarce use a harder term. But in the hands of Edward Hyde, they soon began to turn towards the monstrous. When I would come back from these excursions, I was often plunged into a kind of wonder at my vicarious depravity. This familiar that I called out of my own soul, and sent forth alone to do his good pleasure, was a being inherently malign and villainous; his every act and thought centered on self; drinking pleasure with bestial avidity from any degree of torture to another, relentless like a man of stone. Henry Jekyll stood at times aghast before the acts of Edward Hyde." once the leash is off Jekyll is shocked by what he's capable of, what Hyde is capable of. The words used by Stevenson paint a lurid picture, Depravity, bestial, torture, villainous. He can't outright say what Hyde is doing but it's pretty clear he has a sadistic streak. He also lets slip at one point by using "My" instead of referring to Edward as separate. "My vicarious depravity." He's aware, he is complicit and he enjoys himself. You cannot separate Jekyll from Hyde therefore any interpretation of Hyde as being soft, innocent, unaware or merely mischievous is not only incorrect but it directly contradicts the purpose of the story and strips Jekyll of his complexity. If you can't like this character as he is written then you don't like this character. There are some things you can leave up to interpretation but Hyde's sadism and Jekyll's addiction to Hyde are both very clear cut and Jekyll's confession spells everything out in a way that you'd have to reach pretty far to claim that Edward is being misrepresented by Utterson throughout the bulk of the novel.

[mrchiipchrome]

New Girlfriend

W.C. - 1.8 k

prompt 18. -Only I belong with you and only you babe.

prompt 20. -I hope you find peace for yourself, -New girlfriend ain’t gonna fill the void.

a/n: 1. I only know how to intrduce myself in Spanish, so excuse if it's wrong, 2. there's a list of prompts linked in my masterlist if you want to request:)

----------------

3 years. You had just spent three damn years loving someone who was willing to chuck all that away in a second. Three wonderful years tarnished in the span of a minute, just because she decided that you weren’t enough for her.

Just because Alexia decided she was bored, of you and of your relationship.

When she just a week ago told you that you were done, over text nonetheless, you simply couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Everything was going so well, she hadn’t given you any indication of being unhappy whatsoever.

When the shock passed, the despair set in. What could you possibly have done to warrant being broken up with that way? Had you really been that bad of a girlfriend?

The thundering crack of your phone screen hitting the floor marks your breaking point, curling up into a ball on the floor and sobbing until nothing more comes out. 

You’re not even surprised that she doesn’t return back to the shared apartment you once saw as your home, now everything was just a reminder of her and how she’d been yours only seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks before.

And no matter how much you cry, how much secretly wearing her hoodies tears a hole in your heart all over again, you know that she’s not yours anymore. You’ll never feel her feather light touch late at night again, never feel her lips pressing against yours again, never feel her nails scratching at your back.

Her new girlfriend was so much prettier than you, kinder eyes, glossier hair, better lashes, bigger tits, rounder ass. How could you ever compare to that?

Seeing her face everyday at training had you close to breaking down in tears, every look into your favorite pair of eyes bringing you that much closer to the edge.

The only way for you to not fold in two every single second you spend in her presence, is to outright ignore her. 

Something she doesn’t take too kindly to.

Dragging your feet against the floor, you’re instantly reminded of how Alexia used to chastise you for doing that exact thing.

All of a sudden, you can feel your shoulder being pulled on harshly. Stumbling back into the body of the mystery person, you can feel the familiar curves under your fingertips, her fingers clutching painfully at your shoulder. 

“Can we talk?” She rasps out, staring into your eyes with an indescribable amount of venom. The way she was looking at you, you’d think you were the one who broke up with her over text.

“No” Pulling your shoulder away from her iron vise grip, she doesn’t even get a glance in her direction.

“No te alejes de mi Y/n, you do not walk away from me.” Her thick spanish accent covers the english words, the once charming zing of her accent now only making you want to throw up.

“There’s nothing to talk about Alexia. You broke up with me over text, you didn’t even have the decency to look me in the eyes as you threw away 3 years.” Now it was her turn to not look you in the eyes, turning her eyes down to the sidewalk. 

“Say something then Alexia, that’s what you wanted to do right, talk.” You see how her lips move but no words come out, almost like she was expecting you to just lay down and admit defeat. Foolish of her.

“Good talk Alexia, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and, don’t forget to pick your things up from the apartment.” Turning on your heel, you feel her stare into the back of your head.

“Will you stop being so sour? I broke up with you a month ago, get over it!” She screams after you.

“Are you that far removed from reality Alexia? You think a MONTH heals your heart from being crushed?” You shoot back, in disbelief at her lack of knowledge of feelings.

“Dios mío Y/n, I hope you find peace for yourself” She tells you calmly, feelings spilling into her voice despite her attempt at composure.

“You do know that a new girlfriend ain’t going to fill the void right? She’s not going to love you like I do, like I did, she’s not going to be there for you like I was. When you realize that, you will come crawling back to me.” You spit back at her, equal amount of emotion in your voice as in hers.

When you turn away from her this time, you actually walk away from her and to your car, driving away from her and the argument. 

That evening is spent drowning your sorrows in ice cream and Alexia’s old very expensive wine. She wouldn’t miss it, she’s got 1000 other things to worry about.

Foolishly, in your drunken stupor you decided that it was a brilliant idea to agree to a night out with the team…including Alexia.

The anticipation of that Sunday night created a lump of anxiety that sat uncomfortably in your stomach, growing like a balloon being blown up until it fully consumed you. 

Foot tapping against the floor, you check your watch for the umpteenth time, fingers starting to fiddle with the buttons on your shirt. You were sure that the loose button would manage to come off before Pina and Patri would pull up, the two planning on getting drunk beyond recognition.

Sucking your teeth, you accidentally bite down on your tongue when you hear the loud noise of the car’s horn.

“HOLA Y/N” Patri shouts in your face directly after you’ve sat down in the backseat, the young girl reeking of alcohol.

“Someone’s already started the party, ey?” You get out through a hesitant chuckle, Pina meeting your eyes through the rearview mirror. 

Without much fuss, you all get to the venue, though the ball of pure anxiety was settling in your throat uncomfortably. The confidence you had only days ago was long gone, nervous picking at your fingers showcasing that.

When you stepped foot in that bar, the smell of alcohol and far too strong perfume hit your nose, overwhelming all your senses.

Yet everything seems to calm as soon as you catch sight of your ex, simply put she looked out of this world. 

No, you tell yourself, I can’t think of her like that anymore.

“Y/n/n let’s go to the bar, I need something to drink!” Pina close to shouts directly into your ear, the young girl clutching onto your right arm like her life depended on it.

You let yourself be pulled along by the two younger girls, setting your body down in one of the barstools, Pina and Patri each hanging off your shoulders. They each order their drinks, waiting for you to do the same.

“Just a coke please” The bartender sent you a quick wink before moving away, Thing 1 and Thing 2 ohhhh-ing loudly. 

“Your drinks ladies!” The pretty bartender hands you the glasses, your coke still in its glass container. Before you leave to join your friends, the woman slides you a piece of paper, her number written on it.

The blush stays on your face all the way until you reach the large table, ready to put your bottle down on the table. It seems like a certain someone was waiting for you to rid yourself off it before pulling you away from the rest.

“Hey, leave me alone!” You shout, not having seen the face of your perpetrator, but the nails digging into your arm gave you a slight indication as to who it was.

Next thing you know, you’re being pushed up against a wall, familiar lips locking with your own. Alexia presses her body up against yours tightly, leaving as small of a space between your bodies as she could.

Pulling your lips away from hers, you quickly wipe your sticky lips.

“Alexia, what are you doing?” The absolute disbelief in your voice makes her look at you like you were stupid.

“I saw how that fucking bartender was hitting on you, I had to send her a message. Only I belong with you and only you amor” She’s got a smug smirk on her face, looking back at the stunned bartender.

“No, Alexia, you broke up with me. You don’t get to do that because we’re not together anymore, I am not yours Alexia. I can date and fuck whoever I want, and you can’t do anything about that and it’s your fault.”

Walking away from her, like you’d done only days before, she once again calls out for you.

“You were right, she wasn’t like you. I have no explanation for why I did what I did, but I just want to apologise, it wasn’t…fair of me.” Her pauses between some of the words show how she’s truly trying her best to apologise.

“I want you back Y/n” You couldn’t even lie to her, say that you didn’t want to get back together, because it was the only thing you’d been thinking about these last few weeks.

Sighing, you look at your watch, before taking her hand and pulling her out of the doors. The cold evening air nips at your skin as you start to talk.

“You broke me Ale, and it’s going to take awhile to make up for that. If we’re getting back together then it’s on my terms, okay?” Alexia nods vigorously, she’d clearly do anything to get you back.

“Can I kiss you?” The timidness in her voice has you close to awwww-ing, leaning back against the brickwall while Alexia leans against the railing parallel to you.

Her intense gaze stays on you as you rest your head back against the cold hardened clay, exhaling through slightly chapped lips. The cloud that forms in the air presents the contrast between the warmth of your body and the cold of the night.

“That’s all I want” This time your lips lock in a calm dance, all the feelings of sorrow and longing being expressed in a single kiss.

"How about we get out of here?” Her hands lay flat against your chest, fiddling slightly with the material of your shirt. A slight chuckle escapes you, making Alexia look up at you through her eyelashes.

“Oh, amor I’m driving Thing 1 and Thing 2 home. I promised them I’d stay over at their place and take care of them after.” You kiss her hairline as she herself chuckles.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, she places her head on your chest, the vibrations of the tune you were humming sending her heart into overdrive.

“But we could stay out here for a while instead, I like having you back in my arms.” The only response you get is a kiss pressed to the column of your neck.

It would take a while for Alexia to get you back, it didn’t matter if it took 10 days or 10 years, as long as she got you back. 

[streamdotpng]

I want Hermit Enid to see what could have been in the streamer Au, to see what she could have had if it wasn't for her brother.

You cruel cruel anon

It starts with enid waking up

Theres a smell in the room, of something fond, of something enid hasnt smelt in so long. It scratches under her eyes, biting and toxic.

Wednesday?

Enid cracks open her eyes, squinting through the dimmed shadows of.. Her room?

No, that's wrong.

The werewolf rolls over and braces herself against the floor, her heart drumming. Where is she?

Her fingers touch a furry carpet, a very bright pink carpet and god how long has it been since enid has been smacked with such vibrancy?

Not since four or so years ago, thats for sure.

Enid props herself up, looking around in a confused wonder. Squinting at the fairylights around the ceiling and gawking at the rather interesting amount of taxidermy hanging along the walls.

Is that a deer skull??

Did she break into wednesday's house? It'd explain the smell but.. How did she get here? The wolf knew she had a rather rough night the evening before but this badly?

"Enid?" a voice calls out from behind the door, so soft and so- "are you awake?"

Its Wednesday.

Okay, so she was welcomed here.

Enid's shoulder's relaxed as she padded across the floor but just as her fingers brushed against the door handle, she froze.

There was a band along her ring finger. A glimmering white gold.

Enid doesn't wear jewerlly, she couldnt bear to wear rings ever since..

"enid?" wednesday calls out, her voice rising to what could almost be concern.

Ever since wednesday's wedding day.

"are you going to open the door or am i going to be stuck holding the food?" wednesday's dead drawl knocked the wolf back to her senses and so she opens the door to a woman she hasnt seen in years.

She's wednesday, is all enid can think about.

Beautiful, lovely Wednesday. All freckled skin, raised brow and holding food in a tray like mentioned.

Call it autopilot or enid always been one to please but she cant help but stumbled back to make way for a coffee sipping wednesday.

She looks absolutely comfy, dressed in her batman pajama pants and buttoned shortsleeve.

Enid looks down at her spiderman themed bottoms and cant help but blink in wonder.

Just.. What is happening?

"dear?" wednesday calls out.

It takes a while for enid to realize that it was her wednesday was calling for. When it registers, enid's eyes immediately snaps to wednesday in shock.

"dear?" she murmurs. Dear? Wednesday would never call her dear.

What is she talking about? Wednesday used petnames once in a while. Shes a sweetheart!

Wednesday tilts her head to the desk, where some scrumptious looking food lays. "are you not going to eat?"

"food, right right-" enid says, like she totally understands what she's saying before the rest of her words proceeds to die in her mouth as her eyes catch sight of a matching ring along wednesday's finger.

Oh.

Immediately, all enid's questions were answered and an indescribable feeling settled into the pit of her stomach.

Its one of those times.

"im sorry, dearest," enid murmurs, like she truly was dear to the Wednesday Addams Sinclair. She walks up to wednesday, her hands just about hovering above her back as she leads her dearest down to her chair. "im just having a rough morning is all."

Wednesday doesn't look surprised as she looks up to the werewolf but her face twists to something so caring that it shrivels up any words enid could say.

Her hands are so cold as they hold onto enid's face. Cold yet grounding, truly a way to describe wednesday.

"its okay," wednesday says and enid blinks, realizing that maybe she does miss her bestfriend a bit more than she should. "do you want me to message the team that we are sick?"

"we?" enid wheezes, her throat so dry at just how much everything is right now. There's a tear sliding down her face and wednesday is wiping it away and ohmygo-

Wednesday's face doesnt change as continues to hold enid like she's the most precious thing in the world "yes, we."

The emphasis nearly makes enid sob right then and there.

"we are married, enid-" and there enid goes, crying because oh does she wish that was true. "we are a team. We always have been."

It settles with enid hugging wednesday, her hands heavy as she just about tries to weld them together.

If only.

Enid wakes up to an ache in her chest.

She wakes up to the smell of dust clinging onto her walls and the careful whirring of her fan.

She wakes up alone.

Enid doesnt get up, instead she grabs at her blanket and tucks herself deeper into her cold bed.

Its too early for this.

Or, if you mean enid knowings that theres a reality out there where if her twin didnt exist she and wednesdsy coudlve been together? You bet enid is bitter. Bitter and hateful and so angry

But after all that is done brewing deep in her heart, enid will be left with a painful wonder of "why not in this universe?"

[the-rollerchloster]

Some Thoughts On Cockles

I went into a cockles thought spiral brought on by the amount of Michael Sheen and David Tennant I am seeing on my dash.

No one, and I mean NO ONE, is doing it like Jensen and Misha.

I feel like there’s some kind of social commentary there; something about the intersection of how starved we are for legitimate queer representation AND seeing men in friendships without toxic masculinity.

It’s why Rob and Jensen are so fun together too. Or Rob and Rich. Or Misha and Darius. Or expanding outside of SPN, it’s also Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan. Taika Waititi and Rhys Darby. Oliver Stark and Ryan Guzman. These are all fun, cute, intimate friendships, which people have every right to “ship” in their own way. But to me, they could all go either way. It’s fun to think about “what if they’re in love” but at the end of it all, if someone said “they’re just good friends with no toxic masculinity” I would believe them, no questions asked.

If/when someone says the same about Jensen and Misha, I vehemently disagree, because there’s so much more to it.

It’s lightning in a bottle, profound bond, desperate collision of worlds that is indescribably adorable, unfathomably intimate and undeniably insane. No one’s doing it like Jensen and Misha. And no one ever will. Nor should they want to or need to.

Of course, this is all my personal experience, but no one has ever pulled me in the way they have and continue to do. Their chemistry creates a vortex that draws people in, and like the unknown creature you can’t look away from in that Sandra Bullock movie with the blindfolds, once you’ve seen it, it drives your every move.

There will be people that have multiple real person ships of which cockles is just a cute thing they think about sometimes. And there will be Cockles Shippers™️ who feel about JenMish the way I feel about MichaelDave. And that’s all completely fine. But much like destiel, I can’t see a time when I will experience another cockles.

[crookednachogalaxy]

Bowuigi Fanfic List

alrighty, considering that i like reading and re-reading bowuigi fics every once in a while (read: daily), i figure it's about time i curate a lil list of fics i enjoy so i don't have to wade through ao3 everytime i wanna re-read something. and im posting it so that anyone else can enjoy it as well!

i will try to keep it regularly updated, but no promises heh

i want every mentioned author here to know that i absolutely adore your fic(s)!!!!! thank you for putting your creativity out there and sharing the worlds and stories you've created with the rest of us. the amount of joy i feel getting lost in your worlds is indescribable.

kinda goes to show with how long this list ended up being...

disclaimer: these are all fics that i personally enjoy reading. as such, sensitive or triggering topics lirke homophobia, medical trauma, etc. may be a part of certain fics. please always check the tags and read at your own discretion!

One-shots

My Husband, Bowser by LonelyMarowak

Falling in Love by candlelightning (series)

Bowser's Sacrifice by MyHeroZero

Important Gift by DeckofDragons

Castle Surprise by DuxInteritio

Days by Useless19 (series)

Stalemate Series by loudmouthraccoon (series)

Dancing Decisions by DuxInteritio

hot and crispy pill bug. by elastic honey (infernoconcealed)

Dream Sweet, Dream Deep by timeslippingdownyourspine

Bowuigi's Christmas by CircusSparkles

Bowser is Too Big (But Not for Luigi) by ink182

my handsome, my dear by MrsLuigiVargas

Nerdy Robot Fanatic flirts with Lizard King, more at 10 by Royal_Knightmare

Unpredictable by CheeseCakeParty

Lullaby for Junior by Lady_B20

A Quiet Night by DamianTheGamian

Under the Stars by KI56

The Discovery of the Past Shows the Truth by KI56

Love Potion - Bowuigi by trih

The Haunting Princess by Llamaal

Love & Live by soukeye

Princess Luigi by whispersoftheraine

Sleepwalking by wogwoman

Eggs Don't Lie by Llamaal

Unexpected Love by usxuk

Eyes So Bright by BlueBerryOatmeal

Completed Fics

A Love to Die For - How This Love Became by LonelyMarowak

arrivederci by ValentineRunaway

strong and delicate by ValentineRunaway

Share your heart to the Koopa King by BeanieRocket

Secret Admirer by NonbinaryCookie

.:Same Man I Was Before:. by DarkwingSnark

Infiltration of the Heart by VesperOfRoses

When kidnapping goes very very right by TeamRocket9

Why? by AngelXD2

Left Behind by LadyZephyr2019

Captured Luigi Captures Some Attention by Ckatmyla

Bowser's Flower by CherylTiger

A Dream of Sunny Skies by Skippy_Watts

Chained Together by LoveSamanta

Shadows by Dumpsterfiredude

An Egg in a Trying Time by MrsLuigiVargas

Sitting On A Curb by ZoiIsSomehowHere

Going Against the Current by CreativeSnek314

Ongoing Fics

.:Come Be Lonely With Me:. by DarkwingSnark (sequel to .:Same Man I Was Before:.)

it's hard to take a gamble by akiko

It was only a kiss (How did it end up like this?) by Anonymous

True Love's Kiss by Rawrpeep

The Tide of Peace that Brings New Horizons by KI56

Diamond Eyes by AngelXD2

Impurities (Bowser x Luigi) by bowuigiiscannon

Princess Protection Program by TheSilverSpy

Stella Stellina by GimmieSmoreSin

Invasive by batneko

herbes de provence. by elastic honey (infernoconcealed)

The One In the Green Gown by Lady_B20

As Told by Junior by GimmieSmoreSin (my current favourite!)

A New Shade of Green by LuluWolffy

Cooking Mama (Luigi)! by Little_RedHots_Riding_Hood

Lost and found by Vamaji

Strange and Interesting by o_utrecht

The Baddest of the Badlands by supermollio (ngm)

Luigi and the Beast by DracotheDeathEatingCupcake

Super Bowuigi Odyssey by ProtoChan

The Missing Half by MetalProphecies150

How to Take Care of Your Pet Turtle by galactic_goose

A Nutcracker and the Beast by MeiBone

You Can Do It, Bowser! by lexthecryptid

Wishes by Dumpsterfiredude

bad habit by astronout

On hiatus

To Break The Bonds Within Two Kingdoms by MyNameisNickname

Why Him? by Omido

[soppingwetlegs]

“Fangirl”

AgedUp!(24) Pro Katsuki Bakugo x Plussized/Quirkless!Fem reader

warnings: swearing, that’s really it. this is the introduction to a story I’ve been thinking about so it’s not too crazy.

Chapter 1:

I was walking home from work like every other day. My apartment wasn’t very far from the mall I worked at so I didn’t mind the trip. I enjoyed my surroundings, most people would hate being in a villain hot spot but it’s a fangirls dream. I was always lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the pros at work so I couldn’t really complain. Tonight was different though, it was quiet. Growing a bit bored on my unusually uneventful trek home I decided to pull out my phone and scroll through TikTok.

*BUMP*

“Oh shit.” I grimaced as I slammed into what felt like a brick wall, but it wasn’t a wall, but a person. The absolute last person I’d expected to run into…it was him, the #15 hero Dynamight. “Watch where you’re goin’ dumbass…” holy shit, holy shit. His deep rough voice echoed through my ears, I could barely think straight. My favorite hero was standing right in front of me. “Say something, say anything, you idiot!” I thought to myself. “H-hi…” are you fucking kidding me? I was mentally screaming at myself right now.

I look from his steel toed boots all the way up to his spikey blonde hair, my gaze was so obvious it was embarrassing but I was so engrossed I truly didn’t care. “Huh? You got a staring problem, extra?” I felt my cheeks run hot, “extra” he called me an extra, this day couldn’t get any better. I struggle to stifle the excited laughter that forces its way past my lips. “I’m so sorry…I just, um…I’m a huge fan, dynamight.” His scowl twitched, is he smiling? Holy shit I think he’s smiling.

“A fan, huh? What, you think just ‘cause you’re a fan I’ll just let ya bump into me?” He said with a dry chuckle. God, he’s so hot. “No! Of course not! I just- I- uh- well…” girl…be so for real. Finally tired of the mortifying stuttering I shut my mouth and pull my phone out, holding it up to him with a pleading expression. “What am I supposed to do with that?” He asks, oh no he looks annoyed. “Could I please get a selfie?” I mumbled. He rolls his eyes and lets out a slight scoff, turning his head and revealing his hearing aid. “The hell are you whispering for?” My eyes widened and I swallow my nerves, speaking up a bit more. “A uh- selfie, please?” He purses his lips in thought. “Will you piss off if I do this for you?” The quickness of my nod gave me whiplash I’m pretty sure but I truly couldn’t control it. With a final roll of his eyes he reluctantly agrees to the selfie and I let out an involuntary squeal before rushing to his side.

This man has gotta be a solid 6’2-6’4. Being that I’m only 5’2 and I knew for a fact he wouldn’t be bothered to squat down, I decided to stand on my tip toes…bad call. I very much lost my balance and fell against his chest. “Tch, come on now!” He grabs my waist and holds me in place next to him. It took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to be sure he couldn’t hear how hard my heart was pounding, with a trembling hand I raise my phone and smile as best as I could before snapping the photo. I try to ignore the longing feeling when his hand leaves my waist and I take a step away. “Thank you! Thank you so so much, dynamight!” I felt like a kid in a candy store. Once again that scowl on his handsome face turned up, I made him smile…AGAIN!

“Yeah, yeah, take it easy, nobody. Now get lost, I have work to do.” I nodded happily and resumed my walk back to my apartment. The feeling in my chest was indescribable, I really just met my favorite hero and got a selfie. I even had an almost conversation with him! What a day. “Hey, extra!” I turned around and looked at him, pointing at myself, earning a nod from him as he approached me. “What’s your name anyways?” He wants to know my name?! “It’s y/n.” I hear him repeat it to himself under his breath. “American, huh?” I rub the back of my neck awkwardly, laughing a bit. “Yeahhh, I’m lame.” He’s laughing, he laughed, oh my god. “Yeah you’re definitely lame, y/n. Cool to meet a real fangirl though, I guess. I normally lose fans once they hear me speak.” He laughed again, what a beautiful sound. “No way, not me.”

“Yeah? Why’s that? You some kinda freak that likes being bullied?” I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, but I laugh anyways, earning a confused look from him, he was serious…huh. “I wouldn’t say that, I guess I just appreciate how genuine you are. I think it’s cool that you don’t fall into media training. Just cause you’re kinda mean doesn’t make you any less of a hero, ya know?” His scowl returned, oh god oh fuck. “Huh…you’re weird. See you around, loser. Don’t get into trouble or I’ll blast you to hell.” And with that he walked away. I was left standing alone on the sidewalk dumbfounded, did I say something wrong? Perfect…

Still got my selfie, though…

chapter 2

masterlist

[chososdiscordkitten]

I havent slept in 24 hours I am 100% delirious writing this. rant below the cut im so sorry I keep ranting.

I think I have finally pin pointed why I like chosito so much. You know how people who grew up without a father like men who are authoritative and stern? I think it's the same for me only for an older brother. not in a nasty way at all obviously, but I have 3 older brothers and ive never not once felt taken care of or protected by them. being born the first daughter in a hispanic household, I bore the pain and the hurt for them. even If I was one of the youngest. not once have my brothers ever shown care or passion that I matter to them. so me thinks, that's why I like chosito. because he cares so much for his siblings. and when I read him telling Naoya he was sorry he didn't love his brothers, it struck something in my heart. I have only ever felt this way once in my life, Choso what are you doing to me. I feel an indescribable amount of sadness thinking abt him. does this make sense??? idk. I need a crisp cigarette. I am an ex vaper I will admit, but a ciggie would buss rn. im about to pass out. I rlly like the Choso family man x reader who couldn't care less about family trope. if anyone reads this, hiiiiiii thank u for reading my feelings. I refuse to go to therapy

[blazehedgehog]

How are you doing of late? Remember watching your update vid where you mentioned moving and thinking "thank god, this guy is way overdue for some good news." I hope it's continued in that direction.

It's complicated.

I do think, as a blanket statement, where I am right now is better than where I was six months ago. The room I am in now is big enough that it borderlines on being a legitimate studio apartment. I saw this Game Center CX clip on Bluesky and seeing the size of Inoko's apartment made me realize just how close it is to the space I'm living in. Mine's not quite that big, but I only had maybe five total feet of floor space at my brother's and now I've got enough room to get up and walk around. And I'll have even more space if I can finish sorting through all the junk I brought with me that I don't need.

Mentally is where it gets hard to figure, though, again, broadly speaking, I think I am pointed in the right direction.

Obviously, if folks read this blog long enough, some of you out there will know that I had a breakdown in high school. A real, proper, actual, no-exaggeration breakdown. I went to a very dark place and stayed there for over a decade. And at some point, I finally got a hold of myself and realized I needed to get out of that dark place. I started taking baby steps to improve myself. And it worked, to a limited degree, because progress was slow. But it's not a race.

And the short of it is, something I don't think I've ever talked about here before (though I think it came up in that 25,000 subs Youtube video) is that I never moved out. I lived with my Mom for my whole life. By the time I was taking the baby steps to crawl out of my darkness, conversations with my mom gradually shifted from "you need to move out and get your own life" to "I'm getting old and it's nice having someone around to help me do things."

And that, in itself, is a whole thing that can be unpacked and I probably won't do it here.

So she dies and I'm not ready for it. And my brother takes me in, probably more out of obligation than anything else, and I don't know what to do with myself.

So this opportunity came up, to be my cousin's roommate, and it's too good to pass up. Growing up, my cousins were some of my best friends. They are smart and compassionate and chill. The deal looks so good that it almost feels like they are pitying me. I am slowly losing my mind at my brother's place being cramped up in this space so small I can't even fully open my refrigerator door. I had to take the opportunity.

And the long and short of it is... I am now experiencing something like 20 years of growing pains in a very short amount of time. It hurts. A lot. It is some of the most stress I've felt in my entire life. Even when I was having my breakdown, and I was having indescribable panic attacks, I'm not sure I was ever this stressed.

There are a lot of long, old insecurities being touched here. I feel like I am making their lives hell right now. And it's weird to be able to say that, right? To be able to take a step back from yourself and know "I am acting irrationally" and still have another part of you that will act irrationally anyway. You almost can't help it. So it's been a lot of talking things out, a lot of me sobbing uncontrollably some days, And a lot of them trying their absolute hardest to be patient with me. Again: growing pains. Long overdue growing pains.

But I can also take a step back and know this is probably a good thing. It hurts right now, but that's because it's pain everybody else experiences slowly over the course of 20 years, and I'm basically getting it all at once in the span of three months. But I can't run away from it. I can't avoid it. Nobody can. I've just gotta get it done.

Unfortunately it's the middle of January and even for people with better qualifications than me, this is the time where the job market dries up for a month or two. Which is another big stressor. I gotta make that $700 in rent and sadly Youtube ain't cutting it in that regard. So, what, am I gonna have to turn into one of those people who begs for handouts because they can't make rent this month? I don't want to. But I might have to until something breaks.

But yeah. Regretfully, betterment progress is still pending. But I think things are looking up. They are lighting a fire under my butt out here in such a way that I think I've needed for a long time. And fire bad... but fire warm. You understand.

For one genuine positive, after years of friends pushing me to sign up, coming out to Colorado has made it staggeringly easy to register for EBT assistance. While living at my brother's I was squeezing by on about $30 a week for groceries and now I feel like I have so much money for food I can't spend it all. Or, more specifically, I've started buying higher quality food, which is probably a lot better for my health.

For example: hot dogs. I like a good hot dog. And hot dogs are the cheapest food out there. A pack of the cheapest hot dogs is like a buck. But that's probably really bad for you! If you eat two of those cheap hot dogs, that's like 30% of your daily cholesterol intake right there.

So instead, I bought Famous Nathan's. From $1 a pack to $5 a pack. Half the cholesterol. And, man, the taste is significantly better. I hadn't had a Famous Nathan's hot dog since before my mom died and I treasured it here. Because I can afford it now!

The weight off my shoulders is truly something remarkable.

[mrchiipchrome]

can you do prompt 52 with beth mead please

prompt 52; Shh, stop moving.

Field trips with the Arsenal team, that did not involve away games, were frankly rare. They usually happened once in a blue moon whenever the stars aligned and Jonas thought that the team had done a good enough job on the pitch to skip training.

Somehow the team had managed to convince Jonas to plan a day trip just after the season ended, the sun standing proudly in the sky as you sit on the bus taking you to the activity. Jonas hadn’t told you what exactly you would be doing, but it surely did take a lot of time to get there.

You spent the time divided between your teammates, playing card games or gossiping, before finally retreating back to the arms of your longtime girlfriend. You had been missing her while socializing with the others, the smiley girl’s touch enough to make your knees weak.

You slide down in the seat that had been left vacant next to your girl for the last 45 minutes, she immediately notices your presence beside her. She slides her hand into yours, needing your touch just as much as you need hers. You bring your joined hands up to your mouth, kissing the back of hers before starting to fiddle with her fingers and the few rings that sat upon them.

A slight blush covers her face as she looks at your face with an indescribable amount of love in her eyes, she doesn’t even notice the lull in the conversation when she doesn’t respond and how there suddenly is a hand waving in front of her face.

“Beth, are you listening? You haven’t been responding,” Viv says, staring dramatically at the girl. Beth looks back at her best friend, telling her that she did in fact listen to the taller girl.

Another 20 minutes go by, Beth still talking with the dutch girl while you are sitting silently, your arm now around her shoulders. The bus stops suddenly, right outside of a farm with a big red barn and different types of fencing around pieces of land where the animals could go free.

“Alright team, as you can see we will be spending the day at this farm. We will go on a guided tour, learning all about farm life before you all get to go free.” The team nods at Jonas’ words, filing out of the big bus as you stand in a line in front of the large vehicle.

The guide comes up to you, introducing herself quickly and looking you up and down. It’s not something you notice, way too much in your own world, but it is something that Beth notices. A feeling rises up in Beth’s chest. It's not news that people thought you were attractive, but it was something about this tour guide that made her want to strangle someone(preferably the tour guide).

Beth separates herself from your side as you all begin to walk on the mud caked walk leading up to the biggest barn. Under the entire duration of the tour, the woman at the front of the group flirted with you, whether that be a subtle wink or a full on flirty line about how you were so strong.

The others had seemingly started to pick up on it too, sending her dirty looks every time she sent you flirty looks and flirted so openly. The only one to seemingly not pick up on it, was you. They knew you were oblivious, I mean it had taken you a full year of very obvious hints from your girlfriend before you had asked her out, but to not pick up on such obvious flirting was beyond you.

You couldn’t understand why Beth had separated herself from you completely, not even locking her pinky with yours. Something was obviously wrong, and you would have to figure that out before she closed herself off even more.

You slip up behind her as the tour nears its end, clamping one hand over her mouth and picking her up with the other. She tenses for a moment before she starts to thrash in your hold, trying to get you to let her loose.

“Shh, stop moving. It’s me, I just want to talk in private.” Beth’s previously tense and thrashing body stills and you loosen your grip on her, hand sliding down to grip her hand to pull her with you towards the big red barn.

As soon as you reach it, the two of you hide behind it. You’re slightly out of breath from the running as you look around the corner for the group, Beth’s body between you own and the red wall of the barn.

“They shouldn’t notice that we’re gone for like 5 minutes, and to find us it would take another 5 minutes. So we have 10 total minutes to talk.” You look down at her flushed face, suddenly realizing how close you were.

Leaning down, you place a lingering kiss on her mouth, one hand on her waist and one on her jaw. You pull away before you can get too carried away, remembering why you brought her there in the first place.

“Beth, what happened before?” You ask her, looking directly into her eyes. She looks away briefly before looking back into your eyes, hers full of innocence.

“What do you mean?” The innocence in her tone matches that of her eyes, yet you don’t believe her for one single second.

“Oh really, then why were you glaring holes into the back of that guide's head? Was that because you were totally fine?” You weren’t as clueless as you first looked, you knew why she had been so distant as soon as you looked into her eyes, they always expressed everything she was feeling despite her trying to mask it.

“I- I- you-she looked at you like you were a prize to be won over with her horrid pick up lines and non subtle winks. I didn’t like it.” She mumbles, looking down towards the thick and long grass. Your hand settles under her chin, moving her head up to meet your gaze, a slight smirk on your face.

“So you were jealous?” She looks away from you again at your teasing comment, an embarrassed blush overtaking her face.

You pull her attention back to you, her eyes finding yours again as she searches for the truth in your words.

“There is nothing wrong with being jealous, baby. To tell you a secret, it was quite hot to see you glaring at that weirdo. I mean does she not know that I have the most wonderful amazing fucking girlfriend in the world?” You tell her, rolling your eyes at the thought of another girl flirting with you, especially in front of your girlfriend.

“I will love you until the end of time, no tour guide is going to take me away from you. That is certain.” You lean down, placing a passionate kiss on your girlfriend’s lips. She quickly deepens the kiss, the once simple kiss turning into a heavy makeout session behind the barn.

“Oh my god! I have to bleach my eyes after seeing that.” You two her the Dutch accent connected to your shared best friend, and when you look towards her she’s covering her eyes with her hand. “Come on before the others notice that you’re gone.”

You steal one last kiss from your incredible girlfriend before you follow Viv, Beth’s hand in yours.

When you rejoin the group you see the tour guide looking towards you with a flirty gaze. It makes you want to gag, but instead you pull Beth in for another deep kiss and make sure that she’s watching you. The girls around you cheer you on as you kiss, and you fix the woman at the front of the group with a stern look, telling her that you only belonged with one woman and that you didn’t appreciate her flirting at all.

“God I love you so much” You steal one last kiss from the shorter girl before continuing to look around the farm curiously. Beth once again looks at you with the most love filled look in her eyes, not believing she had someone who loved her as strongly as you did.

[divinityunleashed]

Character Profile - Tenebris

“ I have practiced the dark arts for a long time. Some say I'm crazy, some say I'm mentally insane. They can say whatever they like. What matters to me is that I completed my research and what I discovered was truly monumental. I was part of the research team Prince Lyon assigned to study the Dark Stone that contained the Demon King. While Lyon succumbed to the influence of the Demon King, I controlled him. He lives on through me as his Vassal, unbeknownst to the brave heroes who saved our home. And through his essence, new expansions into Dark have been opened through me and me alone. ”

Basic Information

Name: Tenebris Ornatus

Franchise/Series: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones (OC)

Personality: 

" Unless your presence helps me understand the secrets of Dark Magic, you are an annoyance. Leave me alone. "

Tenebris Ornatus (Derived from Latin as "Darkness Harnessed") is a closed-minded woman whose goal is to seek the ways of the Dark arts. She prefers that people not intrude on her business as her study of the Dark Ways keeps the Demon King within her in check. Though she is against socialization, she does believe that having friends helps her somewhat in maintaining control, but fears losing them as soon as they discover her secret.

However she has an angry side. When Demon King Fomortiis decides to take over or if she taps into him too much, her voice becomes demonic. Her original tone of voice becomes twisted and augmented, sounding deep and brooding to the point of terrifying to some. In this state, she is unable to see reason and the Demon King’s power can start to seep out; summoning monsters and horrific creatures.

Likes / Dislikes: 

Likes: Quiet Places, Magic, Reading.

Dislikes: Being disturbed, Failure

Strengths: 

Regarded by her Research Group peers as a prodigy, remaining focused and determined to learn.

After the Fomortiis incident and entry into her life, her willpower improved due to the burden she carries.

Though they have only met once, Knoll entrusts her with the knowledge she obtained during their time together under Prince Lyon.

Tenebris rarely trained but when she did, she demonstrated a calm and composed mind in battle.

Weaknesses: 

After the Fomortiis incident, she’s haunted by nightmares on a regular basis.

The burden she carries can often deter her from making friends by her own judgement. (She firmly believes that if someone was too close to her and learned the truth; about Fomortiis being within her, they could jeopardize everything.)

Fears: Losing control of her body to Fomortiis, Losing friends, Being Weak (Which aligns with her first fear)

Backstory 

" I used to be a normal Shaman, with a normal human name. Until that day when the Demon King got his grip on me. I’ve never been the same again… "

Tenebris started her research into Dark Magic initially as a Shaman under orders of Prince Lyon. During the war Grado had initiated with the rest of Magvel, she was assigned to the Research Group responsible for studying and uncovering the secrets of the Dark Stone; the prison of Demon King Fomortiis. After the events of Sacred Stones, she visited the death-site of the Demon King and found residual energy belonging to the Dark One. Eager to study it, she began jotting down all that she could about the Black Temple when all of a sudden she started losing consciousness.

Her entire body was stiff, unable to move or breathe, incapable to resist. That’s when it happened; the Demon King appeared to her. The amount of fear she was feeling was indescribable while she was within his eyesight. Then the nightmares came; an influx of negative emotion, torment, horror, despair, war and penultimate dread flooded her psyche. Her mental sanity was under threat but she maintained composure as best she could; showing fear would indicate he was winning. During the midst of it all, the Demon King spoke to her, stating that he was defeated but not completely. Residual energy from the dead monsters had invaded her soul upon setting foot in the temple, and after continuous exposure, she was under his thrall. That’s when she struck a bargain with him.

If she took him in and became his vassal, he’d have a body to work with. Fomortiis initially resisted but saw the value of another human host, and when it was too late for him to back out, she trapped him in. Using the same conditions used to summon him back to life, Tenebris used it to lock him in. Her resilience was strong enough to keep him locked away within her soul but on the outside her body changed forever.

Death flowed through her veins and it showed; her skin changed to a whitish gray, her eyes a Void Purple. She returned back to Grado after having experienced a chain of events that would break most people. She received a lot of looks from the local populace which indicated worriment and fear. Her own family wouldn't welcome her anymore when they saw her new state, branding her as a "demon spawn", "darkspawn" and various other vulgar things. She retreated away from the main capital and set up shop underground where no-one could interrupt her, as she believed that if anyone discovered her secret; the entire continent and her life would be at risk. She’d still enter the nearest town for food and medical supplies whilst ignoring the general populace glares.

One night, something unexpected happened. She was reading up on her notes and proof-reading them when she heard a noise at the entry staircase. She kept her secret closely guarded, so she assumed that this was a raiding party who wanted her dead. However when she investigated the noise, she was greeted by an unpleasant and foul sight; a Revenant. She panicked and rushed back down for one of her tomes while the monster continued moving down the steps. She was confused as to why it was here, but she knew it had to be eliminated. As she prepared to kill it, she was taken off guard when it stopped moving once it made it down the steps.

After a few seconds of the two exchanging glances, the Revenant got on its knees and bowed before her, like she was the king herself, or in this case a Queen. That was when she had a familiar sense of dread strike her subconscious, the Demon King speaking to her in her mind. He stated that now that he was a part of her, monsters are no longer hostile to her. He also told her the many deeds and feats she could accomplish whilst under his influence, and that this was just the beginning of what she could learn. Tenebris was quick to realize that this was his way of taking over her body, much like Prince Lyon, a way for him to resurrect himself again. To corrupt her, to twist her thoughts into his bidding, to recreate the doom of the world. She broke free from his influence, casting it aside. Returning to her control, she banished the Revenant to death with Flux and saw this as a way to advance her scientific endeavors.

As the days passed, she became more and more fluent with the Dark ways. Tapping into the Demon King, various monsters appeared in her expanding underground home. She studied them, learning their geology, their biology and their ways of dealing with enemies. As she tapped more and more into the Demon King's power, his corruption spread and spread within her soul. Every time Fomortiis gripped into her, positive emotions were overpowered by negative ones.

Happiness? Sadness.

Joy? Depression.

Love? Depravation.

And so forth. More and more traces of her humanity were being lost to his corruption. But Tenebris realized that these sacrifices had to be made, in order to further her scientific endeavor, and to keep him sealed away.

Even if it meant that she was no longer allowed to have a normal life again...

Powers and Abilities

"Ready to experience true terror?"

"Death is my mistress."

"Serve, or die."

"I am one with the Demon King!"

In combat, Tenebris fights with Magical Tomes. However, unlike the original Dark tomes that Shamans possess, Tenebris has harnessed the magical properties of the Demon King’s monsters and imbued them into her own tomes to use in battle:

Evil Eye - An attack used by the floating Eyeball monsters; Mogalls and Arch Mogalls, this creates purple discs of dark energy which deal moderate damage on impact.

Crimson Eye - An attack used by Arch Mogalls and sometimes regular Mogalls, this creates several purple orbs around the target before collapsing into them, dealing large amounts of damage. Considered a more dangerous varient of Evil Eye.

Shadowshot - Used by Arch Mogalls and Gorgons, this creates a large sphere of pulsating darkness above Tenebris, before it launches high-velocity spheres of energy at long range targets, dealing high amounts of magical damage.

Demon Surge - Primarily used by Gorgons, this engulfs the target and entraps them in an orb of darkness, followed by forks of nefarious lightning which converts the orb into a swirling tornado of darkness. Each stage deals moderate damage until the tornado, which causes large amounts of damage before dissipating.

Thrall of the Demon King - One of her new innate abilities granted by the Demon King's corruption, Tenebris is able to summon the various monsters and demons Fomortiis used to siege Magvel. While she can spawn a limitless amount, the more that exist greaten His control over her, which severely increases the threat of him possessing her body.

[not-poignant]

I didn't understand how it was possible to be doing so much work, and I'm glad you're finally taking a break ❤️

To be fair, I am lucky that I type very fast! I've had an awful lot of practice writing and so I'm faster at it than someone who is starting out or even someone who is 5 years into a writing career.

That being said, I have no idea how I was doing so much work as well. Prior to 2023 it was normal for me to only be working on 2-3 stories at a time (with around 5-8 chapters a week max, and my main story updated only once every 2 weeks). Not the amount I'm doing now. Things exploded with Underline the Black and my lack of impulse control (as well as the appeal of offering side stories) meant I started up two more stories alongside it. Then calm Palmarosa and Constellations and suddenly I had a lot on my plate that I felt like I had to be regularly committed to.

I was pretty burnt out prior to getting Toby (our puppy), so on that side of things, I was a little too ambitious in thinking I'd be able to juggle everything.

I have known that like, once certain side stories finish, my schedule quietens down and I think what I've been hoping for is like 'just hold out until this finishes, and then this finishes, and then this finishes. Just hold out.' But my stories take some time to complete, and 'just holding out' means sometimes waiting 1-2 years.

So yeah instead of doing that I'm going to try something sooner. I was doing the week break from Underline the Black in 2024 but it just hasn't been enough.

So like, I am very lucky I type fast! When I'm comfortable, I'll always be prolific to the point that at least some people will be like 'I don't know how you do that' - a lot of that is just experience. My typing speed is around 120-140 words per minute and I can comfortably finish a 3,000 word chapter in about 2 hours (with room to think / imagine what is coming next etc. and pausing to reread sections for clarity). Sometimes faster. Sometimes slower if the chapter is challenging. On very good days, I can write 2 chapters in a day. The last time I had a day like that was March 11th.

Editing takes me a lot longer though, and weirdly so do things like the Birthday Spotlights. I think I really underestimated how much time each one would take to do in terms of the graphics + hyperlinks + finding quotes etc.

I'm still going to be writing here and there over the next two months. But even just an update/posting hiatus and a slow down will help an indescribably amount. The reality is I haven't actually done very much at all this April and I still feel very overwhelmed (even more so because I knew I was running down my buffer of chapters for May/June), so taking the next step, and hope that's enough!

The good news is I've taken hiatuses before and I've always come back afterwards raring to go, and I'm hoping that's the case now too. :)

[yunjardi]

where the hell is jardi???

tw: self h*rm, su*cide, a bit of graphic description/imagery, things of that nature. by all means, you don't have to read this; i just wanted to be open about why i've been away from writing for nearly a year now

get ready because it's an absolute yap fest

hello, my lovelies

i feel kinda scared to post something like this because i never want to worry anyone or bring the mood down, but i feel like i need to open up in order to fully be able to come back to writing.

this is stuff that i've been struggling with since i was quite young (probably about 10), so i tend to downplay it because i always tell myself that i need to "get over it" or "just be strong" or that i'm pinning these emotions onto myself.

but this past year and a half, it's been a steady decline.

i swore to myself that i would reach out for help if i needed it, but i just couldn't find it in me to do it. i felt weak, pathetic, and scared. i didn't want anyone to see me the way that i see myself. i continued to act normal in order to mask all the negative emotions that i was experiencing, but that only made things more difficult.

it was at that point that i started to hurt myself again after so long.

"what's one cut gonna do?" is what i remember asking myself when i let the blade sink into me.

i felt disappointed at myself for a split second before i felt the "bliss" of emotions being let out as i let myself bleed. i began to remember why i used to do it but simultaneously began to wonder why i stopped in the first place when it felt so relieving.

after that, hurting myself became a regular thought in my head, something that i craved almost. i could feel myself slipping away with every cut i made on my body, but i kept fooling myself into thinking that it would make me feel better. at the back of my mind, i knew it was a temporary solution, but i just couldn't stop.

i felt like i let the few people in my life who care about me down even though they had no idea for the longest time that i had let myself slip back into that horrible habit of that i was struggling in the first place.

i couldn't get my thoughts to stop. i felt like i was being eaten alive by my own brain. i wanted so badly to feel okay again- i didn't even need to feel 'good,' i just wanted to feel okay even if it was just for a short moment.

but i truly saw no end to the war zone that my mind became, and i thought that the only way i could control it is to seize it from being able to happen again.

i remember so vividly how my body felt once i downed an unknown amount of pills: like i was about to reach freedom. i felt a numbness inside me that's indescribable.

i ended up passing out and waking up in a puddle of sweat, still in my bed where i had taken the pills in the first place.

i remember sobbing into my pillow about the fact that i had failed at taking my own life for the fourth time.

feelings of worthlessness turned into anger, and anger turned to numbness. i felt like a shell of myself again, and it was killing me. at that point, i didn't want to feel anything anymore.

just days after the most recent attempt, i tried again.

i couldn't even feel myself swallowing the pills at this point; i had gotten used to the feeling. i passed out again, but when i woke up i was sweating, lightheaded, vomiting, i couldn't stand on my own, i could barely move at all. i was in this condition for days after my attempt, and it only made me feel worse.

i knew that i deserved every bit of pain that i went through because i did it to myself and i'm the only one to blame, but i desperately wanted a way out.

i unfortunately turned back to hurting myself again because i thought that was the only way.

one cut turned into multiple, and i felt pathetic all over again.

i was ashamed of what i let myself become, and i was even more ashamed of the fact that i couldn't even bring myself to ask for help when i so desperately needed it.

i feel relieved having written this, and i can say that i'm beginning to feel a bit better.

yes, i unfortunately still find myself experiencing urges to hurt myself, but i'm getting better at coping and distracting myself. if on the off chance i end up giving in to my urges, i learned to forgive myself, reminding myself that setbacks happen and it isn't the end of the world. i'm navigating through this slowly but surely, and that's all that matters.

if any one of you are experiencing anything like this, please don't be afraid to message me or ask for help. please don't feel like you need to go through this alone.

and for the people who actually read all of this, thank you from the absolute bottom of my heart for taking time out of your day to listen. i love you and i mean that wholeheartedly.

and those of you who've been here since the beginning, i love you too. thank you for sticking with me through everything despite the fact that i haven't posted in ages. it makes me smile knowing that you all are still here.

just in case no one has told you today: you're doing great, and i'm proud of you. <3

love u,

-jardi

[demontonic]

Ethan Landry - Perverted 3

lets ignore how the last chapter i posted was in july and pretend that im a consistent writer please:3 anyways i hope everyone enjoys this because it took me so long to figure out what i wanted to do for it. if you havent read part 2 i suggest you do that for this to make sense

Word count: 2269

TW: knives, blood, murder, suicide

“Oh my god,” Your heart dropped as you realized the killing had connections to ghostface, after last night you wanted to believe it wouldn’t get this bad. Ethan squeezed your hand softly, attempting to break your attention away from the news channel. His efforts were in vain as your own mind swelled with an endless amount of thoughts and emotions. Did Ethan purposefully intend to make you swoon in order to get closer to the group? Who was the other Ghostface? Why now did the killings start when things had finally seemed normal? The room had broken off into conversations between each other, trying to figure out how they wanted to handle it. You on the other hand remain in shambles, shaking in Ethan’s arms as he pulls you back into your room.

A silence fell upon you both, there were no words to be offered in a situation like this. Sure he could try and comfort you like you hadn’t already known he was a killer and you could try and pretend you didn’t catch him leaving the scene of a crime. No matter what you two did, reality was inevitable, Ethan was a cold blooded killer and you were a potential victim falling in love with him. Nothing now could change it, prevent it, or create a path to a life in which you two live happily ever after. The facts were plain and simple, a bright red sign flashing right in front of your eyes, still you chose to ignore it. Today was supposed to be nice, you’d finally given into Ethan but to everyone else you’d won over the quiet nerd. It wasn’t until you felt Ethan’s hands cup your face gently that you’d snapped back to reality.

“I swear it wa-“

“Of course it wasn’t you but… you know who did it don’t you?”

“…”

“I thought so-“

“I’m sorry-“

“No-“

“I am I didn’t know they were gonna do it tonight I swear I-“

“No, no, no- Ethan you’re not!”

It was quiet again after your slight outburst, it didn’t anger him but then again, did he even have the right? His hands stayed glued to his lap while he watched you go through the motions in silence. He wanted so badly to know what you were thinking, did you hate him? Have you ever hated him? Would you hate him now? You didn’t even have an answer, you wished you did but the feelings flowing through your body were indescribable. You wanted to hate him, you wanted to tell everyone he was one of the killers, maybe then it would end with no more death. What you wanted and what you’d decided before you even knew you had was set in stone. You wouldn’t say anything, ever, to anyone. If they found out you would say you didn’t know but, you didn’t want your friends to get hurt. Ethan knew this, he’d wanted to sympathize and stop everything once he’d truly begun to like you but, of course he couldn’t.

“Please- just listen to me before you hate me for the rest of eternity.” The bed shifted quietly when he tried to meet your clouded gaze but it was to no avail. Swiftly he’d kneeled on the floor, his body shoving your legs apart giving you no choice but to stare into his eyes. The same brown eyes that had instilled fear into your soul when you were hiding in the alley, that had made you blush and stutter. The same eyes that had seen you so vulnerable and raw and held the same adoration you’d once felt; before you’d discovered his little hobby.

“I wanted to stop it but they wouldn’t let me, I’m outnumbered. It's plain and simple. Even if we tried to run away from all of this and salvage whatever this is, chances are they’d come for us if they finish the job. I don’t want anything to happen to you I-“

“But you want to kill the only people who’ve ever really been my family in exchange for what? Fame? Plot? Fun?”

“Revenge.”

A knock came from the door abruptly ending the much needed conversation. Tara opened the door softly, explaining that Quinn had called her Dad for information on the Ghostface killing that was undoubtedly connected to the group. Ethan had sat on the floor in front of you while she relayed the order of events. Eventually she left, saying that they’d be going to the station to answer some questions which were pretty standard by now. You’d offered to accompany the sisters but they decided it was best to handle it alone. The entire group dispersed, breaking off into pairs and trying to grasp onto the slight normalcy that remained. Ethan had convinced you to follow him to an unknown location, claiming that he would explain everything once you’d gotten there. Of course you were concerned with the sudden idea of being alone with him but you still tried to have some sort of trust.

“I… I know that this is all going so fast and happening so sudden but, I need you to know all the facts before-“

“Before what, Ethan?” He slowed to a stop when you interjected, you sounded so drained and defeated and it hurt to know he was the reason. He could try and tell you it wasn’t his fault and that he had no part in it but he did, no matter how badly he wanted to make you happy.

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, trying to comprehend why Ethan would bring you into an abandoned theater. Sure it fit pretty well for his alter ego, it makes sense considering he wanted to explain everything. At this point you’d wanted nothing more than to leave rather than bare witness to what horrors could be lying within the old theater. Of course you were right, you’d wish you hadn’t seen it, the dedication to the series of Ghostface murders. Actual evidence encapsulated in glass boxes, clothing placed on mannequins, drawings of victims and killers next to each of their own murders. Ethan walked you down to the end, it was right next to the original Ghostface killer’s display. Your necklace, gifted to you by someone you’ve held dear to your heart, was laying in one of the display boxes. Alongside it were hand drawn pictures of you and the group, and a singular box seemingly a tribute to Dewy. Your necklace had been snatched off your neck the first time you had been attacked, Amber had always admired it. The natural formed ruby was an heirloom, before your childhood friend had committed suicide she’d gifted it to you on your 16th birthday.

“My brother was obsessed with the murders, obsessed with the concept of a horror movie being real. He’d always make short films, stories, chapters to a book that he could never finish. Richie was fucked up but he was the only person who took care of me, you have to understand that Sam took the only comfort-“

“No Ethan, he’s not your only comfort at least not anymore- Ethan you have an entire life to lead. Richie made his decision, based on a wild fixation to someone else’s tragedy.”

“Wouldn’t you protect your loved ones? Would you not kill to protect that precious group you call family? That’s what I’m doing, that’s what Richie is to me, don’t you understand this is to avenge him-“

“He killed people for fun and when he was killed it ended the meaningless game he was playing. Don’t you understand the way he’s influenced you into thinking what he did was right?” Silence, anxiety, anticipation and the sound of heavy breathing separated you two. Ethan seemed to be contemplating his next moves whereas your eyes trained on the mended necklace lying on the table. It would’ve brought you to tears being reunited with the priceless gift if not for the conversation he’d initiated.

“My family was always so focused on Rich, trying to get him to be a normal kid and dealing with his problems at school. Quinn was exactly like she is now and the only girl so you can imagine what little that left me. Even through all of that he made sure I felt seen, if not by anyone else, by him.” Ethan spoke as if he already accepted the fact you’d never be able to agree with him, and he knew better than to argue. He reached into his pocket and slipped a glove over his hand before reaching over the glass box. Sliding the lip over just enough to pick up the ruby necklace before closing it back up.

“Dad got most of this stuff but Richie took this from Amber and gave it to Quinn as a last minute gift. Amber was the one who snatched it off you but I’m sure you figured that out. I fixed it without question but it feels wrong not giving it back to you.” It hung off his fingers, holding it in front of your face with what seemed like no more life in his eyes. With a small sigh you grabbed it by the roughly shaped ruby, he dropped the chain and stood silently as you admired the seamless fix. A mistake in hindsight because by then he’d placed his other glove on, slamming your head against the glass table. Thankful it was thick enough to prevent it from breaking upon impact, much less could be said about you.

Tears filled your eyes as you wailed from the pain in your temple, your legs barely holding the rest of your weight as he pushed down on you. Then it clicked, he was leaning his entire body onto you, his knife was pointed into stomach.

“I just wanted you to be able to understand the purpose of everything. You are so fucking stubborn, I don’t want to do this but I can’t let them live with his blood on their hands.”

“So you’re going to kill the one person who was willing to look past your little hobby instead of leaving your past behind? Ethan you are being fucking used-“

“No I’m not! I loved Richie, he wasn’t perfect but he treated me better than anyone-“

“Anyone? So fuck me and kill me that’s fucking bullshit, I should’ve known better than to be stupid enough to get involved with you!” Your sobs rattled your entire body, it was hard to even differentiate between his tears and yours. From where he was his tears fell onto your cheek, mixing with your own on the table. It pained him to even speak to you like this, to inflict so much fear and suffering onto you because you were right. You were trying to love him, trying to look past his faults, trying to have a normal life with him. Ethan seemed to only sabotage his own happiness especially now when he’s hurting the last person that’d be willing to love him the way he wanted.

“It’s-It’s not like that I love you-“

“Don’t say that while your knife is digging into my body you sick fuck.” Disappointment could only be heard in your cries, disappointment in both Ethan and yourself.

“Oh but it was different last night you stupid bitch!” His hand pushed your head harder into the glass, beginning to crack under the pressure. A complete 180 from the sniffling boy he was half a second ago, it terrified you despite it being one of the things that had lured you in.

“You’re such a petty asshole, I bet I was the only girl who even gave you the time of day.” Laughing in his face was his breaking point, grabbing you by the hair and tossing you onto the floor in front him. Pain riddled your spine and it was then you felt the thin wound on your abdomen. Bittersweet as the hand he’d slashed at the night before covered the leaking cut. Just as fast as he’d thrown you he was on top of you, pinning your arms down with his knees.

“Why can’t you just accept their fate? We can be together happily, alone, in peace once it’s all over. Please I’m begging you my love, don’t make me do this I don’t want to!” His face was red and wet with the rush of tears spewing from his eyes, his knife pointed at your throat while he pleaded with you. It sounded so sweet and tempting as he always was, your little obsession being your own demise was all too perfect. You knew what your choice was so you turned your head, searching for the necklace he’d lured in with. With the ruby being in sight you felt calm, at ease with your end, it felt that if anything, at the very least you’d be with your friend once more.

“Fucking kill me already you piece of shit, lowsy excuse of a man!”

The next morning everyone was convinced it was you, after not returning to the dorm it was easy to pin it to you. Yet here the group was, following Gale into an abandoned theater, stumbling upon your lifeless corpse leaned against the stage. Blood pooled around you, sourced from your throat which had been slit open. However the silver chain shown clearly under the stage lights, with ruby barely noticeable amongst the crimson liquid. Ethan in shambles crawles next to you, cradling your cold body and rocking back and forth begging for you to wake up.

The End :D I hopes you liked this small series and please don’t be shy, leave requests for any of the characters in my masterlist or horror movie franchises as I’d love to do more with the horror genre. I simply wrote the first one based off a song so it was very difficult for me to turn it into the miniseries but i promise i did my best and i hope you liked the ending<3

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