#nary a dull moment in here

[lokisgoodgirl]

The Spare [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Alternate perspective of Two Gods One Heart from Loki No.3 live from the 'Cuck Chair'. Absolute nonsense. Although if we're splitting hairs, read that one first. (w/c 1.5k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Who the eff knows. Threesome. Cucking. Loki being a bitch to himself. Jealousy. Masturbation. Silliness. MMF. Fanfic of my own fanfic. A/N: I literally wrote this in like an hour and a half so please adjust your expectations accordingly😂 Just a bit of fun.

How the hel did it come to this?

Loki watched from the shadows as two identical versions of himself stripped their shirts and threw them down, grinning. Their leather trousers vanished in a garish flash of green from the hand of the ‘true’ him. Show off.

His own leathers still clung to the long lines of his thighs. Mocking him. Bastards, all, he thought bitterly, and not for the first time. The laughing, handsy Lokis’ had turned to fixing each other’s hair in a manner which could only be described as conspiratorial. How I hate them.

“You don’t need to be so bloody smug about it,” he said sourly, and folded his arms. The two men smirked in his direction and went back to faffing around.

“Must you infiltrate this haven of sensuality with your frigidity?” Loki’s Alpha form cracked his neck to the side, and in the chair, he felt a dull release echo in his muscles. “You drew the short straw.” He widened his arms, “You knew the rules.”

“You cheated.”

His Alpha smiled cruelly. Loki had never understood what you saw in that smile. Why you loved it. “Of course,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You would do the same.”

“I do, do the same, you twit,” Loki snapped, feeling his cheeks heat and grateful for the shroud of half-light in his corner of exile. There was nothing more exasperating than arguing with himself. He was always right, and it made it very difficult to get the upper hand.

To that, Alpha Loki said nothing, only turned to the other victor in their pathetic straw-related contest and ushered him onto the bed.

I shall not forget this. Loki straightened against the high-backed chair he had arranged here earlier for this very purpose.

She had specifically requested an audience, naughty minx that she was. And yet, the fact that he would be inside his own, frustrated, mind while the fun unfolded in front of him had somehow escaped his logic until this moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose, ignoring the inconvenient swell of lust between his thighs.

“Cuck-Loki?” the other duplicate of himself postured sweetly. He looked up, stunned at the flagrant audacity. “Blow out the candle to your side, will you? Too obvious you’re there.” He winked.

Cuck…Loki.

If those words had passed anyone’s lips other than his own, he’d have wrenched the offender’s arsehole through their throat with nary a second thought.

His molars pressed together and a sharp twinge raced up his cheeks as Alpha Loki sighed, and slid a long, pale leg over the side of the bed. “Save the menacing eroticism for our darling woman…” He folded his hands behind his head. “It’s wasted on us.”

The second Loki slid a hand down the other’s chest and gripped his cock. “I don’t know about that. You have to admit…no one does menacing eroticism like we do.”

They started kissing.

Cuck-Loki rolled his eyes, so busy trying to remain unaroused at the soft moans rolling from Alpha’s throat that he barely registered the gentle click of the door closing.

“Come to bed,” his true form growled towards the door, and Cuck-Loki’s eyes slid to the side, barely breathing, catching the outline of your silhouette drift across the floor.

Norns, you looked incredible.

The lingerie he’d bought last week for no reason other than he worshipped you, the set which had prompted your request for this very act, this very night. ‘Two of you fucking me, and one watching,’ you’d said with a virginal blush and a wicked grin that made his loins ache. ‘Don’t tell me which is which.’

An inexplicable jealousy clawed up his throat as the other duplicate said, “Keeping us waiting…” in his most honed, cunt-drenching voice, and he saw your thighs clench.

He wanted to launch himself from the dark corner and bury himself between your legs, making your knees buckle beneath his tongue, usurp the plans of those other two who might think they could pleasure you, but…

He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath. Control yourself. This is what she wants. She wants to know you’re coming undone. But fuck, it was torture.

His cock was throbbing lead, pinching painfully against the seams of his leathers. Damned Minx, he thought again. Sent to test me at every turn. But that was what he loved about you, and so, Loki opened one eye, and then the other.

The other two of himself were bickering.

Loki smirked.

Ah, hubris, thy name is Laufeyson. An inevitable series of events unfolded in his mind. The two rubes on the bed would get into a predictably competitive fracas, leaving he, the knight in straining armour, to save the day and fuck the damsel to within an inch of her sanity while they watched.

He rolled his shoulders back at the exact moment you reclined and one of himself manoeuvred between your legs.

Cuck-Loki frowned.

“Good girl,” Alpha cooed, and his eyes flickered upward, meeting his own. Loki wanted to punch him. Punch his own, flawless face into a bloody, formless pulp. His name gasped from your throat; ragged, before being claimed by a kiss.

He could taste you: the sweetness of your saliva, the heat of your need, and the unmistakable, earthy ambrosia of your arousal in the back of his mouth.

His hands flew to the armrests, neat fingernails punching through the embroidered upholstery. He punched the heave of his breath down his throat, swallowing it as abruptly as you were swallowing Alpha’s cock on the bed.

Jealousy melted to something new, something wild. He could sense the ghost of your lips wrapped around his manhood, the light scratch of nails at his lower back, the silky slip of your cunt against his lips. A cloud swelled between his ribs like mist; a climax, like smoke under glass. Dulled. But there.

Gritting his teeth, Loki’s fingers flew to the fastening of his trousers. He’d been determined to remain here: forgotten, stoic. Fulfilling his purpose as the spare, as the observer there only to witness pleasure; to enhance it by his omniscient impotence.

To hel with that, he thought as his cock sprung into his hand: hot, desperate, and he gripped it with a grateful, staggered sigh.

“I’m giving her what she wants,” he heard one of himself say to the other with conviction.

I’m giving her what she wants.

Loki’s lips pressed together as he watched two of himself surround you, and your perfect body slotted between them. You’d hooked a leg over the other duplicate, kissing him wildly as his cock pushed inside your sweet cunt and his eyes rolled back.

Loki’s grip tightened, the swipe of his palm over his flesh quickening. With every drag, the unsated desperation heightened.

Alpha Loki snapped his fingers and a phial of Asgardian oil, the good stuff, appeared in his fist. He shot Cuck-Loki a wink as it dripped over his fingers and he lowered the hand between your asscheeks.

You moaned softly, oblivious, as Alpha mouthed ‘catch’ and tossed the half-empty phial through the air.

Loki caught it.

He emptied it over his cock like an animal, never taking his eyes off your squirming body as he took you from the front and from behind; your body ratcheting between sources of pleasure and sounds he’d never known you could make twisted through the air. His mouth was open now, just like his counterparts, unable to stifle the panting, primal need searing his throat and overwhelming his senses.

He could feel all of it: the tightness of your ass, the grip of your cunt, the heat of your breath and the thump of your heart. Harder. Stronger. Pressing down on him like stones.

Gods, it was torture. Gods, it was perfect.

“Come inside me,” you sobbed, far louder than you’d ever have intended.

Something inside Loki shattered.

It was too much—everything—a series of explosions snapping the synapses of his brain like Asgardian fireworks on the darkest winter night. He loved you. He loved you. More than anything—everything—and as all other thoughts vanished, he clung on to that.

Hot, white seed erupted over his fist. He bit back a scream. But he needn’t have bothered. The Lokis on the bed were ripping through their own orgasms, drowning him out, and as Cuck-Loki’s brain scrambled, breath evaporating in his lungs and muscles spasming, he felt the force of all three.

Seconds slipped into each other like the brush of your lips, and Loki’s senses returned. Hair was plastered against his forehead, cum dripping between his fingers as he slumped in the chair. Undone, he reminded himself. As she wanted. He smiled, closing his eyes.

A familiar tingle began at his feet and worked up his legs, his hips, his heart.

And then, your shoulder-blades were nestled against his chest: naked, hot, real. He slid his hands up your breasts, pulling you close.

He was as near to you as it was possible to be—still sheathed inside you, cradling your trembling, wrung out body warmed with happiness. A happiness he had created. A happiness that was everything: trust.

Loki kissed the curve of your shoulder, and his heart fluttered as you made an embarrassed chipmunk noise against the pillow. You’d chosen wrong, but he didn’t mind. As long as you always chose him.

“I love you,” he murmured tenderly against the damp sweetness of your skin. “And that’s something I’ll never share.”

🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️Tags in comments. x

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: EEoD Ch. List

Summary: The time has come and the baby wants out one way or another.

Warnings: 🔞Enter at your own risk ⚠️ smutty and dark imagines of BTS as vampires does involve blood drinking, p in v sex, multiple partners, polyamory, breeding kinks, obsessive partners

Ch. 4 Birth

The day came in a storm of agony and ecstasy. Your labor started late into the night. Sharp, heavy contractions wracked your body as your boys rushed to your side, their eyes wide, fangs flashing as panic and hunger mixed inside them.

“She’s starting,” Jin whispered, his voice both reverent and fearful.

“It’s too soon—” Hoseok breathed.

“No,” Yoongi growled lowly, eyes glowing. “It’s time.”

Namjoon was calm but tense as steel. His large hand cupped your belly while you moaned, beads of sweat clinging to your flushed skin. “We’re here, sweetheart. You’re strong. You can do this.”

The room vibrated with energy — thick, suffocating, filled with seven ancient vampires on the brink of losing every shred of control. The rich scent of blood was everywhere — your blood, theirs, the unborn child’s heartbeat pounding like a drum they could all hear.

The instinct to protect you warred violently with the instinct to feed.

Your pain triggered something dangerous in them.

Jungkook hovered at your head, holding you tightly, whispering encouragement while his entire body trembled to hold himself back.

“Your blood… it’s everywhere,” Jimin rasped, pupils blown wide. His fangs pierced his lip, trying to contain the desperate hunger twisting inside him.

“I can hear both heartbeats…” Taehyung growled, his claws digging into the wood of the headboard. “It’s… driving me insane.”

Namjoon barked at them, eyes flashing. “Control yourselves.”

But you saw it — how close they were to snapping.

As your contractions peaked, the pain sharpened into something blinding. You screamed — and the sound made all of them growl at once, fangs dropping as their predatory instincts surged.

Hoseok practically choked on your scent, his voice breaking: “She’s bleeding. I can smell it.”

“Don’t touch her,” Namjoon warned, blocking them with his massive frame as you cried out again, gripping Jungkook’s hand so tightly your knuckles turned white.

Then, through the haze of agony, you whispered: “Don’t hold back… drink if you need to.” The moment the words left your mouth, their iron restraint shattered.

Yoongi was first — fast as a shadow, his fangs piercing your shoulder, drinking carefully but desperately as your blood filled his mouth. Then Jin. Then Taehyung. Then Hoseok, Jimin, Jungkook — all taking turns, mouths slick with your blood while you screamed through another contraction. Their feeding somehow soothed you. Their venom dulled the edge of pain while feeding their monstrous needs, the dark ritual binding you all closer than ever.

Namjoon stayed focused, guiding you through every push. “You’re almost there, my queen,” he rasped.

And then — with one final scream, your body gave way. The baby slid free into Namjoon’s steady hands — slick, tiny, beautiful, its little heartbeat pounding wildly as its faint cries filled the room. The child was perfect — pale as snow, with tiny, sharp teeth already peeking from pink gums. A baby girl. Their hybrid.

Tears filled Namjoon’s crimson eyes. “Ours.”

The others closed in slowly, their faces twisted with awe and reverence.

You barely registered them cutting the cord, cleaning the child, carefully swaddling it — you were too weak, nearly unconscious, your body trembling and drained. Your head lolled back against Jungkook’s chest as the others hovered protectively.

Jimin laid the tiny baby girl named Nari against your chest, his voice a reverent whisper. “You’ve given us everything, angel.”

Namjoon’s lips brushed your sweat-soaked forehead. “Rest now, my love. You are safe. You’ve done so well.”

Their queen had survived. And now, they had their legacy.

But their obsession? Had only just begun.

**Thank you for reading!!**

**tags open**

[daytaker]

Congrats on 250 followers! ^_^ Could you do the 'only one bed' trope with Lucifer?

At long last, I come bearing a drabble. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

The Puppetmaster

Ship: Lucifer/Reader Genre: Humor and fluff Word Count: 825 CW: Dubcon but it's cuddling? Also (joking) mentions of peeing as a kink. I'm sorry I'm like this.

[Part of my 250 Followers Mini Event!]

You were suspicious from the start, because it wasn’t like Lucifer not to plan ahead.

Now, you’re not even suspicious. There was no way that Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, would be spooning you if he didn’t absolutely intend to. His brothers? You could buy any of them claiming they just grabbed onto you in their sleep, or at least accept the room for reasonable doubt. But Lucifer? Never. Not in a thousand years. This was intentional. This was premeditated. This was planned.

You should have known this was going to happen.

You did know, actually. You would have been fully prepared if not for the mind tricks of Lucifer, the all-seeing Puppetmaster.

“Unfortunately, it seems like our accommodations tonight will be lacking in one respect.” Lucifer nodded apologetically to you as you made your way to the hotel room you’d be cooped up in until morning. He unlocked the door, and the moment you stepped inside, you saw the problem: the single queen-size bed, and nary so much as a sofa to serve as a substitute.

“It’s…fine,” you’d said, trying to brush it off as insignificant, even as your instincts began whispering to you that something was amiss. “It’s just for one night, and I trust you not to pull anything weird.”

Lucifer smiled at you when you said that. Not a kind, appreciative smile. No, it was the smile of the wise man humoring the fool. It made you uneasy.

“...Lucifer,” you said in a warning tone you normally reserved for Mammon.

“Hm? What is it?” He was taking his pajamas out of his suitcase, and his voice and expression were so nonchalant—dull, even—that you started to second guess yourself on that look you thought he gave you.

“Uh… I was just going to ask to use the bathroom before you step in to change,” you said, thinking to yourself what a nice save that was. Lucifer bowed his head and politely gestured for you to proceed.

…Oh, he would gaslight you into thinking you hadn’t seen anything, all to serve his twisted, demonic ends of cuddling you when you least expected it, at a time when you’d wake up, dazed and with a full bladder and no escape in sight. In fact, he probably made that initial, wolfish expression for the exact purpose of then playing innocent so convincingly that you’d stop suspecting him. He was just playing mind games with you at this point. He was toying with you.

As the two of you climbed into bed for the night, you each kept respectfully to your own sides. After a brief and awkward goodnight, he turned off the light, and you laid awake and stared at the ceiling.

Why…was there just one bed?

The question wouldn’t stop nagging at you.

Lucifer didn’t book this room in advance. The circumstances that led you here were unexpected delays that meant you couldn’t make it home at a reasonable hour. But… But…

Would Lucifer allow this to happen if he didn’t want it to? No! Absolutely not! Lucifer normally would have taken the chance of delays into account in his travel plans. He would have been prepared for this eventuality.

More than that though. In what sane world would Lucifer allow himself to be subjected to the humiliation of sharing a bed with you for any reason that didn’t include his deliberate, conscious choice? In which case, what was he pulling right now? You didn’t really think he was going to attempt anything truly nefarious, but your unease didn’t go away.

Nor should it have.

It’s about five o’clock in the morning, you need to pee, and you’re being prevented from making a smooth escape to the bathroom by Pride himself. The Machiavellian bastard. The way he played you like a fiddle. 

Maybe you should just let it out. Maybe that would teach him. 

But what if he knows about that too? What if this is all playing into his hand? He’s not into that, is he? What if he is? What if this entire scenario was orchestrated carefully from the beginning to get you to this point, where you’re trapped in his arms and feeling spiteful enough to wet the bed?

You feel a huff of breath behind your ear, then you hear the low pitched grunt of a baritone-voiced demon waking up.

“Lucifer!” you hiss.

“Mm?” He releases you, stretching his arms over his head calmly. “Good morning. Did you rest well?”

“Why were you hugging me?” You shoot an accusatory glare at him. You know about the piss kink. You have your ammunition locked and loaded.

“Because you’re lovely and warm, and I enjoyed the proximity. I hope I didn’t offend you.” He meets your gaze with an expression of such good-natured and genuine affection that your heart almost comes unmoored.

It’s a masterstroke. You have been defeated. Red-faced and groaning, you slip out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

just a dream

the dustard thoughts won 🧣💖 i can't help but make it melancholic sorry guys 😔😔 also shoe symbolism yeehaw 🗣️🗣️🗣️

somewhat experimenting with my writing here again, i guess. but if you read that mermaid bunny fic then this should be in somewhat the same veins. i literally have no original thoughts 💀💀

it is cold when you stumble through the forest, searching for your way back home.

you don't realize you have lost your right shoe until your foot sinks in the ice-crusted slush, sending a shock up your system. you may have lost it in the scuffle, maybe - you're not sure, and you don't want to go back. a breath of mist curls from your teeth as a sigh escapes your throat.

and then, you see him.

emerging from the dark like a smoldering ember, a lazy-moving wisp of smoke following as he glides over to you, silent as a ghost. you blink, and he is there, a few feet in front of you. the cigarette in his mouth glows faintly, a dull orange in the vast expanse of white. you feel the weight of his assessing stare - at your uneven gait, your disheveled look, your one bare foot slowly going numb in the cold.

he doesn't speak. doesn't ask any question. just exhales and crouches down, kneeling on one knee before you.

you freeze, as he slowly tugs at the laces of his shoe. red, sneaker. looks like the same model as yours. he takes off his shoe and looks up at you, expectantly.

"here," he says, voice rough like flint scraping against stone. "take this one."

you hesitate, but only for a brief moment. your foot, cold-bitten, slides in the offered shoe. it fits. perfectly.

something feels uncanny about this. you feel shivers run down your spine, but not from the cold. before you can think to say anything, he's moving again. still kneeling, he reaches for your foot, halfway in the shoe.

you don't stop him.

fingers tug the tongue of the shoe into place, knuckles brushing at your ankles almost innocently. he's slow, meticulous, as he crosses the lace, one eye after the other, looping them with an eerily practiced ease.

you realize you're staring, and grip at the sleeves of your dust-laden jacket.

smoke blurs your vision. the scene turns hazy, unreal, as if it was only a dream. maybe it is, maybe this is only a product of your imagination. just like the ghosts in your periphery, the shadows of yourself dragging across the white snow. a trick of the cold, a fever dream conjured by a sick mind quietly suffocated by the avalanche of thoughts.

the knot pulls tight, like a noose.

he exhales, slow and deep, the puff of smoke obfuscating your sight of him even further. you close your eyes. and then open them. he's still there.

"come on," he says, as if nothing happened. "let's get you home."

and so you follow him. the warmth of his shoe envelops your right foot, leaving the other one cold and lonely. you stare at his back, then down at your feet. one red shoe, and the other tainted with red.

he doesn't complain about the cold, stepping into cold snow puffs with nary a flinch on his face. warm, like a furnace, you think. like a fire, a lamp in the night, calling moths to itself. and you are one, fluttering behind him, wondering if you burn upon contact, thinking if any of this is real. if he is real.

by the time you reach your door, night has fallen. he lingers at the doorway, not coming in, hand in his pocket as he drags his last smoke. you expect him to ask for his shoe back, but he doesn't.

"try not to lose it," he says instead before turning around and disappear back in the dark from where he comes.

you fall asleep on the kitchen floor, near the open fridge. you see yourself at the top of the towers in new home, sitting at the edge, swinging your legs back and forth. one red shoe and one blue shoe, glimmering in the quiet city below. you can almost feel the wind brushing across your face. and you wonder, if you fell from here, would it be so bad? maybe. maybe it would be rude not to return his shoe before everything.

you still haven't learned his name, but you have a feeling that you should know already.

when you jolt awake, the shoe is still here, still laced around your foot. perfect fit as it should be.

[roguephenon]

IV: The Delightful Tale of Sector Z and the Last Soopreme Leader, Numbuh Three

Link has been reestablished. Now resuming trans—

ERROR. ERROR.

Re-calibrating…

The Big Super-Computer-ma-bob apologizes for this inconvenience.

Please enjoy this supplementary operation report while database is reconstructed.

:Accessing way-back mission archives:

Now loading kids next door mission:

Operation: T.E.A*

Terrible.

Evil.

Arises.

*Warning. System has tagged operation designation as a duplicate. SYSTEM ADMIN, please rectify…

many, many, years ago

In space, no one can hear you scream.

Unless you were on Kids Next Door Moonbase.

There? People could hear you screaming out the wazoo.

Why, there was so much screaming going on there; it was practically white noise for Global Command. If there ever was a moment when there wasn't the lively chatter of a buhmillion kids from all walks of life communing on the base to end all bases, then it was either winter holiday break or something was terribly, horribly wrong.

At the moment, it was barely Thanksgiving. And given how quiet the Moonbase currently was, it was safe to say the silence was due to the latter scenario.

I.e. something bad was going down.

In docking bay eleventeen, a gaggle of operatives stiffly patrolled the area. Their movements were almost robotic, and their once bright eyes were now dull and listless as they meandered about, attending to some command with nary a fuss.

"Come on, guys! Snap out of it!" came a muffled shout from a holding cell. A fist pounded against the metal door, frantic eyes glaring out the tiny peephole. "You gotta fight it!"

The guard of the door, a random cafeteria working armed with a SCAMP rifle, narrowed her eyes at the door. "Be…quiet…"

Her tone lacked agency. Devoid of any emotion.

The prisoner redoubled their efforts, the door trembling under their futile efforts. "I got injured operatives and scared cadets in here, you jerk!" His voice was littered with panicked urgency. "One of them needs an inhaler! ASA-NOW!"

The cafeteria guard ignored him, focusing on her single-minded directive.

Suddenly, the docking bay lit up as a single SCAMPER hovered up to the loading terminal. Nearby, an out of place DOH-DOH Squad officer jerkily directed a gaggle science nerds to form up around the galley plank.

All children present crowded around the ship, the sights of their rifles steady against the hull's structural weak points.

The door to the SCAMPER hissed open, weapons humming madly in response.

"Don't…move," the kid in charge demanded of the unknown pilot. He glared. "State…your…business."

From the bowels of the ship, an accented voice cried, "Pizza delivery!"

"We did not order a…" the guard blinked, everyone looking down confused as a pizza box was chucked in the middle of their group. "…pizza?"

The cardboard lid slowly opened on its own, an angel choir sounding off as they all bore witness to the golden glory of the fabled Ninety-Nine Cheese New York Style Pizza.

Even in their mind-addled stated state, all operatives present couldn't stop their mouths from salivating.

Steam rose from the pie's crust as the cheese atop it began to boil and bubble.

SPLOOOOOOOSH!

The uncut, medium-sized pie exploded in a gooey burst of Parmesan, Asiago, and mozzarella. The force blew back all caught unaware, their bodies glued and trapped to nearby surfaces by hot, sticky cheese.

The way clear, a small figure cockily ambled out of the scamper. An African-American boy strutted onto the Moonbase proper, dressed in a worn, orange jumpsuit, the torso folded down to reveal the stretchy white jersey baggy against his chest. He kicked the toes of his Nike sneakers against the deck, pumping up his kicks for the inevitable butt-whooping he was about to dish out.

Jerome Kingsly used the nozzle of his blaster to adjust his shades, combing through his messy fro whilst his lips curled into a self-assured smirk. "Down in Brooklyn, we call that the Nine-Nine Special."

"Numbuh Nine-Nine! Over here!"

WARNING. This a long chapter. Please give yourself breaks :3

[otgfmybeloved]

Pinescone Vampire AU 2!!

I’m really glad you guys like it! Here’s the first part! It ends right before the section from the previous post starts :) I have another long section planned out but I’m trying to figure out how to format it

Pacifica was, like always, fashionably on time. A regular girl could be late, perhaps even fashionably so, but Pacifica, with her silky black slip dress, her shining blonde hair with nary a strand out of place, and her winning smile, could only be fashionable. Late was an impossibility. The party only started when Pacifica walked in. Even though she was supposed to have met Dipper nearly an hour ago.

Dipper, though he could not see her, could sense the moment she stepped into the building, and he straightened a bit in his seat and smoothed out the wrinkles in his white button-down. Pacifica’s aura was immense and demanding, yes, but what caught Dipper’s attention was the rabbity heartbeat that pittered alongside her cool, slow, and steady one. She’d brought a living plaything, as expected.

Really, when Dipper spent hours fussing over his appearance, practicing his cadence and tone and new slang, begging Mabel to help him dress in a trendy, current-era style, he wasn’t doing it for want of Pacifica’s approval. Mabel teased him about it endlessly, and he always retorted in a childish way that it wasn’t because of Pacifica, but he could never articulate exactly why he felt such a need to practice and prepare. Really, though he could hardly admit it to himself, he did it for the humans Pacifica always brought along. Dipper was by no means trying to steal them away from her– generally, he had no interest in eating or seducing them whatsoever, and whatever qualms he may have had about Pacifica wining, dining, and bleeding them dry were dulled and silenced by decades of doing about the same himself. Dipper worked hard to make sure that humans were just food to him. It was simply a necessity. Not all of the extravagance Pacifica prepared around the whole ordeal, but the blood. It was a fact of life in death: death brought life. And if Pacifica wanted to have fun with her victims, allow them one last pleasure before their end, Dipper could not judge. In fact he appreciated it greatly when she invited him to these dinners. They were his chance to interact with humans who trusted Pacifica and therefore Dipper as well, humans who wanted to speak to him, who thought of him as being on the same level as Pacifica herself, and most importantly, humans who were not for him to eat. It was his chance to live again. If only for a few hours.

The worst part of it all was that Dipper generally very much liked these humans, or at least he liked playing pretend with them, but he knew from the moment they walked in and smiled at him that they would be dead before sunrise. No chance at a true friendship, no chance at anything new. Pacifica often invited him to join her in the feast, but he always declined. It felt so wrong to dine on someone he had just been dining with. Dipper preferred his victims to be anonymous nobodies so he could convince himself that he didn’t need to feel bad about ending their lives. Mostly he managed to subsist on animals and blood bags, but sometimes the need for human blood was too great. He did what he had to in order to survive. Pacifica did a little more than the bare necessities, but that was just her nature. She was larger than life, and needed more simply to sustain her persona.

The night started the same as any other. Pacifica and her human of choice walked into the room, Dipper stood to introduce himself and shake hands, but– but tonight something was different. The man at Pacifica’s side was very unlike the other guests she brought around. Where they always stood tall and assured, charming Dipper from the moment they met, this man’s smile was a bit too nervous, his stride too stilted, his smile too twitchy, and his shirtsleeves too short. When he spoke, it was not with the confidence of Pacifica’s humans before him, but with the quiver of nerves. When he looked at Dipper, his large hazel eyes caught in the ambient light, Dipper was utterly bewitched. When they shook hands, he was electrified on contact. Suddenly, very suddenly, Dipper was more aware than ever before at how warm the hand was, how firmly it gripped his (nowhere near as firm as Pacifica’s past guests, but the sensation was somehow stronger), just how human this being was. He was not a practiced performance of charisma and formality all dolled up in a nice-fitting suit, not some preppy businessman plucked up from a hotel bar and trying to prove his worth, he was simply human.

Dipper was so entranced by this man that Pacifica had to physically separate their hands by grabbing Dipper’s arm, as Dipper had entirely forgotten to let go. As soon as the man’s hand was gone, Dipper felt cold– colder than before this man had walked into the room, colder, possibly, than he had ever felt. Pacifica pulled out a chair at the table for the man, and they all sat down together.

“I apologize for my dimwit friend,” Pacifica was telling the man when Dipper snapped back to reality. He had been attempting to leech some of that warmth back by simply looking at the man’s skin. It was not working. “I swear he meant to introduce himself.”

It was a moment before Dipper caught on. He cleared his throat guiltily. “Oh! Yes, hi, I’m Dip– Mason. It’s nice to meet you, um…?”

“Wirt,” the man said good-naturedly. The smile lines around his eyes and mouth were making Dipper feel things he swore he hadn’t felt since he was human. “It’s nice to meet you, too. And– sorry, but your name was– Dipmason?”

Dipper’s expression froze in a half-smile as Pacifica’s roaring laughter rolled over him. “Um, no sorry. Sorry, I’m Mason. Just Mason.”

“Oh!” Wirt said, his eyes widening. “Sorry, I don’t know how I–”

Pacifica cut him off simply by running a gloved finger along his jaw. Dipper watched in rapt excitement and horror as Wirt’s cheeks pinkened.

“You’re so funny,” Pacifica murmured.

Her techniques of seduction were insuperable– clearly, her continued fortune and fame were a testament to her power– and yet Wirt seemed… almost immune. Dipper could recognize the expression in his face and the language in his body immediately: insecurity. Wirt could not be fully hypnotized by her wiles simply because he did not believe himself deserving of her. All of Pacifica’s wannabe movie stars, smooth-talking businesspeople, and aspiring politicians were so overly-confident that they actually considered themselves to be her equal. They were not, by any means. But Wirt knew his place. And he was terrified. His already racing heartbeat quickened when Pacifica touched him. Dipper wondered where on earth she had even found him. Someone like this simply did not exist in the spaces Pacifica frequented.

After the pleasantries and over the appetizers Dipper finally asked, “So how did you two meet?”

Wirt looked as though he had been struck by something– his mind was probably running all over the place trying to understand the dynamic he had just walked into. Did he think Dipper thought he and Pacifica were dating? Was this a date? Dipper gave him a small, reassuring smile as Pacifica answered.

“We met a few months ago. He’s my interior designer,” Pacifica said. “He’s helping me with the new house.”

Dipper couldn’t help the way his eyebrows raised. That seemed like a relationship that took time, but these nights always ended the same way. He gave Pacifica the slightest of quizzical looks.

“All the designs are already laid out, don’t worry,” Pacifica told Dipper. “I’ve already hired someone to stage them.”

So no more need for Wirt, then. Dipper felt suddenly sick. His hand shook slightly as he raised his water glass to his lips. He’d never allowed himself to take much issue with Pacifica’s method of hunting and toying with her food, but tonight Dipper couldn’t help himself. He was overcome with grief for a man he barely knew.

It wasn’t long before the first course was brought out. There was considerably less soup in Dipper and Pacifica’s bowls than in Wirt’s, but Wirt didn’t seem to notice. Dipper did not come to these dinners for the food– in fact, he dreaded that aspect the most. Sure, the food tasted nice, but was any of it really worth the vomiting he’d have to endure after the meal? Pacifica always ensured that the vampires at the table could enjoy a bit of the food to seem normal while making the regurgitation situation that always followed a bit less awful.

A few minutes into the first course, a waiter came by to serve wine. Pacifica always merely pretended to sip at her glass. Dipper never touched his. But the guest of honor was always happy to drink, and after a while they hardly noticed how their glass never seemed to fully empty. It was a sick trick on Pacifica’s part, but she said it made them more pliable and willing, and the blood tasted sweeter.

Through the first and second courses, Pacifica had the floor. She talked mostly about herself, her gripes as of late, her opinions, and then she gushed to Dipper about the designs Wirt had made for her new house. That then caused a tangent about how frustrating the builders were, how expensive everything was nowadays, how every designer she’s tried to work with was so annoying, and so on and so forth.

Dipper watched Wirt closely throughout the conversation. Every time the spotlight was on Wirt, he reached for his wine glass. A nervous drinker. This was not going to end well. Pacifica would be dragging his unconscious body back to her feeding room by the end of the night, but Dipper couldn’t say anything to him about slowing down without blatantly turning against Pacifica.

[skzkiyoon]

❤️ FATHER AND DAUGTHER

CONTACT NAME: papá 💕

she has a solid relationship with her father, it’s always been like that since she was born. she was more of a daddy’s girl than anything, but she loved her parents equally. her dad always had work but always made time for her and her siblings before the mother passed away. she still continues to enjoy hanging out with just her dad because of the inside jokes they have and humorous things he says. they’re both the type to laugh at something random over the phone or when they see something in person. kiyoon has never had a fight with her father, their relationship has always been very stable. through her depression state of her mother passing, her father was there for her through everything. he was supportive of her dream to become an idol and has supported her throughout her entire journey. he has come to every concert and fan meeting. her dad tries to be funny by showing up as a “fan” at fan meetings and says hello to all the other members before he spooks her by surprising her. it’s always fun when the entire family gets together during parties or concerts because it’s always lively. kiyoon and her dad are an unstoppable daddy-daughter duo and nothing has ever changed that.

❤️ OLDEST SISTER AND YOUNGER BROTHERS

CONTACT NAMES: ha-yoonie 🫠, bby bro aisan ❤️

it’s ironic that ha-yoon is twins with nari but hates her guts, whereas when it comes to kiyoon he’s always chill. even though he was raised by both is parents before the incident, he would always stick to his older sister’s side. when he was a baby, kiyoon got to hold him in her arms. kiyoon and ha-yoon are 6 years apart, but it always seems like they’re the actual twins. they get along well and as normal siblings do they’ve had a couple of arguments here and there growing up, but their relationship has always been stable and they’ve never gone out of contact ever since kiyoon became an idol.

aisan is the youngest of all the siblings, him and kiyoon are 9 years apart. she’s never actually had a sibling fight with him, he’s always been a very good kid growing up and got to experience fun every day. it was lively growing up with aisan when he was only a toddler because he was one of those kids who had so much energy. you would tell him no to something and he would go do something again and you would have to tell him no yet again.. and so on. you’ve only had to get onto him once or twice but really he’s always been well behaved. growing up now he’s in his last year of highschool. he’s grown up to be such a great kid and you express that to him everyday.

❤️ OLDEST SISTER AND YOUNGER SISTER

CONTACT NAME: lily pad 🍀💌

nari and kiyoon are definitely attached at the hip. when kiyoon isn’t busy doing her normal work things, and it’s always a fun time. nari is practically a mini version of kiyoon, she’s just way more nice and playful. nari’s got the nickname “lily pad” because her name means lily, so her older sister thought it was a great idea to give her that nickname. car rides are always the best when it’s just the two of them, they both blast music in the car. nari was the one to suggest that kiyoon get 15 inch bass speakers in her car. nari will take the aux in the car just to blast spanish music such as anuel aa, daddy yankee, or nicki jam. never a dull moment between them, especially when they’re the life of the party. their bond has always been strong and it only grew stronger as the years went by.

❤️ MOTHER AND SON

YEOSIN

kiyoon has had her cat since 2021, loves her cat very much. yeosin is a white and black maine coon cat that is always grumpy. yeosin lives with kiyoon’s family as of right now, but they live fairly close so she can visit her cat anytime. kiyoon was the one that adopted yeosin and they’ve been together ever since. yeosin is very fond of his family and even though he’s always grumpy he’s never done anything wrong. he has the best life with his mom and other family members and is very playful and cuddly.

[moriche]

Fear in a Handful of Dust - Chapter 20: All That We See Or Seem

Veryn speaks to Nibani - and realises he needs to relay that conversation to Sharn in turn. Rating: M Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Gen with a sprinkling of romance. Summary:

Convict. Blade. Telvanni. Nerevarine. ▲ ▼ ▲ He’d been branded an outcast, left to rot in a cell for years. So when Veryn was offered a deal — to work for the Blades and serve out the remainder of his sentence in Morrowind — he took it with both hands. Yet as the Sixth House continues to rise, Veryn ends up tangled deep within a web of foreign spies, twisted cults and strange dreams. Ever haunted by the ghosts of Cyrodiil, he has no choice to carve out a new beginning within the harsh, alien surroundings of Vvardenfell. An epic, tightly plotted Morrowind novelisation about politics, friendship and trauma - and about finding yourself in the gray maybe. Currently updating roughly every month.

Chapter Art: Fineliner on paper, 6x6 cm.

Excerpt:

The passage brought him to a cavernous room, easily the size of an Imperial basilica. Despite the extensive amount of space around him, the smooth, creamy walls seemed to press in on Veryn, threatening to bury him alive. He could not shake a sense of wrongness about the architecture: the floor, walls and ceiling all connected seamlessly, with nary a corner in sight. Multiple corridors branched off to the left and right at regular paces, their paths curving slightly downward, and it seemed as if he were standing within the hollowed sternum of some ancient beast, come to rest here in a time long past. A dull buzzing filled his ears, a humming drone that echoed through the cave — and then a heartbeat, thudding along with his own, accompanied by the skittering of a million tiny legs. For a moment, Veryn stood frozen as thousands of beetles swarmed the walls around him, turning bone to glistening lacquer, thorax and elytra marked with the sigil of the Sixth House. Heartrate spiking, blood draining from his face, he Recalled, catching a glimpse of three glowing sparks, peering at him from the depths of Mamaea. Brother, the Sharmat whispered within his mind. Kin. Servant.

[lianlong]

@arbitergeneralㅤ:

“ a - yinyue, are you awake? ” jing yuan’s head appears from around the corner — golden eyes a soft, comforting glow in the dull early morning. he found the high elder near a lotus pond and could have sworn he had fallen asleep with how still he appeared. regardless of an answer or not, the cloud knight captain closes the distance between them — sitting cross - legged besides yinyue and resting his head on a shoulder. “ i am… also tired, ” jing yuan mumbles with a yawn — falling asleep as soon as his eyes closed.

ㅤㅤThough it might appear as if the dragon slumbered, in truth, HE WAS AWAKE — his senses still sharp enough to hear the other's approach long before Jing Yuan even said a word. The High Elder often visited these lotus ponds to meditate, to clear his mind from the burden of duty. Most days, he would sit here alone in solitude, with nary a soul to disturb him. Yet the lieutenant's presence was not an unwelcome one, but rather the opposite.

ㅤㅤWhen Yinyue's eyes fall open, only enough to half-lid his gaze, his visitor was already beside him, and a moment later, he found Jing Yuan comfortably settled against his shoulder. None else would think to be so open with him, safe perhaps for their other companions — a bystander may even assume this to be deemed pure insolence, yet the thought to shift away and regain some distance never occurs to him. He visibly relaxes instead, subtly leaning into the familiar gesture. The man by his side felt not unlike the warm rays of the sun dancing on the water's surface, a gentle, comforting light ... a celestial body made flesh. Whether it was intentional or not, he offered something the STILL DEPTHS OF THE DRAGON'S HEART had been devoid of for years.

ㅤㅤ❝ — Rest well, A-Juan. ❞ㅤHis words come a quiet murmur, only for the other to hear — a moment of open fondness, just as sleep begins to drape itself over the leonine knight's form. Carefully, as to not wake him, Yinyue's tail coils against his back, mimicking an embrace for a person most beloved.

[campmurderparty]

barbie & suvi.

For a long time, barbie had hoped she’d open the front door and see suvi looking back at her. She dreamed of her returning, either staying in town for good or leaving again and taking barbie with her. After years of nary a word, barbie slowly gave up on that hope. She stopped dreaming of her life out in the world with suvi. She never forgot her, but she had to pretend she did. For her sanity. For her heart.

Turned out, suvi would end up on her doorstep one day… just sixteen years too late. Blinking rapidly, she wasn’t sure she was truly seeing suvi or just conjuring her up for a moment before suvi said her name. It was real. She was real. It didn’t feel relieving. It felt like a cruel joke. She had waited so long for her return, a piece of her heart missing, and now suvi had returned. That piece of her heart came back. So why did she feel so angry? So confused?

“Oh.” barbie faltered, glancing down at her heels. “I’m sorry.” barbie’s own father died several years ago. She wondered if suvi ever heard about it, but as far as she knew, suvi cut off contact with everyone in town. Like barbie, suvi had an incredibly complicated relationship with her own family. To hear she returned after her father’s death was equal parts understandable and surprising. She felt a dull pain in her heart that suvi still hadn’t returned for her, but barbie knew better now. Clearly, the love she felt for suvi when they were teenagers was a lot stronger than the love suvi had for her—if she had any at all.

Suvi didn’t know where else to go. Barbie pressed her lips together, nodding her head back as she processed the information. “Hm, okay.” the weight of the items in her arms grew heavier by the second. Readjusting her shoulder bag, she tried to think of an appropriate response. “I’m kind of late for work, suvi.” that wasn’t what she wanted to say. She wanted to scream where were you, suvi?! She wanted to scream, but kept a handle on her emotions. Slightly. “I don’t… I can't have you stay here while I'm at work, okay?” she didn’t think suvi was a thief or anything, but then again, she didn’t know suvi at all anymore. “Do you have a hotel room or something?”

[disquietedpalefish]

Throwin’ this out there in case any of you Resident Evil or Silent Hill lovin’ folks might be interested.  ;)

[mirageofficial]

      ─      WELCOME  TO  MIRAGE.MP3   ! !

                (  EP. 01     UNRELEASED  MUSIC  )

     ─      MY  WORLD!!       ( 2019 )

" welcome to my world, a place far away from your fears "

" when our different colors paint the same dream, we're free "

" this is the moment when two different worlds are one "

MY WORLD is the song that was originally meant to be MIRAGE's debut title track, written in early 2019 and scrapped from the tracklist of LUCID DREAMING : LEVEL1. most of MIRAGE regrets removing it for the sake of it’s sound, but they chose to not release it at debut because it would fit their lore later on in their discography. teased and leaked by fans, many theorize it will be on the tracklist for their first comeback after the 2024 hiatus.

     ─      DEJA  VU!!       ( 2021  )

" it feels as if i had a dream in a dream, my body knows you "

" all my senses are dulled by your magnetic attraction "

" i'm confused about whether it's an illusion or an illness "

originally written by the producer unit & their studio team, DEJA VU was abandoned by MIRAGE because they felt it would potentially only be seen as a seductive track—not for its actual meaning. instead of scrapping the song (which was written by the producers until the first half of verse two), MIRAGE passed it to ATEEZ. it became the title track of ZERO : FEVER, PART 3 and the lyrics were completed by HONGJOONG and MINGI.

     ─       WHO  I  AM!!       ( 2021  )

" i'm the writer of this story, the genre is fantasy "

" look at me now, all the trivial things have become distant "

" you are someone's dream come true, a deja vu of some perfect day "

written and briefly recorded in 2021, WHO I AM was projected be one of the title tracks for the 2022 THIS IS A MIRAGE project. the message was perfect for their second studio album, it’s packed with self-confidence while encouraging listeners to stay true to themselves and write their own destiny… just like MIRAGE. sadly, as the album was being developed, the girls and their team felt it couldn’t fit anywhere in the tracklist—that it's sound was far more fitting for FESTIVAL—hence, why it has never been released.

     ─      CYPHER!!       ( 2022  )

" i made a wish, amen, but also… mayday "

" there's no referee, there's no one on my side "

" save me from this empty world "

CLICK FOR LYRICS!!

CYPHER is the unreleased track from the rap unit of the group, these three are also its producers. originally meant to be a b-side for the REBIRTH project in 2023, CYPHER was rejected for this comeback from the company due to its explicitness & concerning lyrics. their management felt that where it’s crucial to be honest, the song would cause mass backlash from the general public for calling out the music industry/big three companies’ privileges/schemes unfairly impacting them.

today, CYPHER still remains a song that the unit wishes to share with their fans, it shares their vivid struggles with mental health and their desire to keep going as MIRAGE. it’s a taste of what the group’s music would be like if they kept their rap concept.

TAGLIST / @neocityocs @alixnsuperstxr @darkestlovers @kadieswrld @ino3zi

JOIN THE TAGLIST HERE

[cielenruine]

"Someone must protect the retreat. I've done this my entire life, you need not risk yourself unnecessarily." His voice betrays nothing in his face. Stoic and clear, not a wrinkle of worry in his features even as his axe found itself dulling against an onslaught that was not ceasing. Instead, as he secures a moment's peace, surprise finds him. "Bernadetta-!" The arrow strikes true past him. Not a flinch as they both find themselves left to secure the safety of at least half of their group. He hadn't thought her the sort, but there was nary a bit of hesitation in her words, as she left for others what they would like to see returned. Ah. He hadn't given Lambert that sword back had he. "Thank you." He turned to her and steadied himself. There was a smile on his face as he took a step forward to hold back two of their assailants. She had already struck true before, she would again. "It's a double edged sword you know." There is an earnestness in his voice. There was no reason to put up any front here. "No one wants to die alone, but no one wants to see someone die where they need not to." He had been prepared to fall alone. It was only fair that someone like him would... "Its reassuring." The lance had struck through the heart of one just as the other raised their sword to cut him down.

leave room for dessert || bernadetta, hugh, maria & matthias

toaepiphany2025 finale // lord on a broken throne wc challenge(250)

[eternalmarika]

ruin. - Blaidd/Tarnished

Summary: Blaidd is a man of many facets. | pwp

Word Count: 4148

Content warning for canon-typical violence (one short combat scene) + some biting and mild blood kink

Author’s Note: I wanted to practice writing some combat and then things got sappy why does this always happen to me. also i have a playlist for these two because i’m down horrendous. you can listen here

Ao3

-----

When Blaidd fights, it reminds Aderyn of a dance.

The way he arcs and spins, sweeping out his greatsword effortlessly as an extension of his arm. He looks weightless; quite the accomplishment for a man of his stature, his presence.

When they fight together, Blaidd taking attention upon himself to distract from Aderyn's glintstone sorcery; it makes them burn for him. The Tarnished finds themself distracted, far too often, simply watching. He splits the air with his growls, dives over enemies to take their flank, bringing down the honed edge of his blade to rend foe and ground alike. Yet still he is poised, very nearly graceful; he's been a seasoned warrior for far longer than Aderyn has even been alive, and it shows plain in his every deliberate movement, in the confidence and swagger that all but drips from him in every moment of combat. A sharp contrast, to his soft-spoken kindness and compassion. Blaidd is a man of many facets, which Aderyn has delighted in uncovering.

As it is, when the pair find themselves up against a formidable foe in the form of a dragon, Aderyn finds it a bit difficult yet again to focus on unleashing their sorcery. They run wide of its wing, holding tight to Torrent as they weave luminescent spells towards the great beast, trying their best to avoid a snapping jaw of fire. Still their eyes wander to the wolven warrior, where he moves low to the ground but swift as a breeze, snarling at the dragon and rolling down to sweep his greatsword across its vulnerable legs.

He makes it look easy, Aderyn thinks with a small pout, digging their heels into Torrent's side to jump over a wing lashed out. They watch him dodge and fight, see plain his strength and power, and feels a tightening in both heart and stomach.

They worry for him, despite knowing it's needless. He's plenty capable, and clever in spades; nothing could harm him after so long spent draped in armor with sword in hand. Still they fear for him, for any potential harm that could befall him. They're rather fond of him, and can't stand the thought of seeing him hurt.

The dragon rears up, breaking Aderyn from their thoughts with a thunderous roar. Their eyed widen as a curse slips from their mouth, and with both arms raised they coalesce a storm of ice, shooting it towards the beast just as its legs buckle and fail. Blaidd effortlessly slides beneath the storm, working in tandem with Aderyn without the need to even look; rolling once before springing up with a sharp cry at the dragon's head. He grabs hold of a horn, uses the momentum to swing himself forward, and shove his blade as deep as it will go into its eye.

Three cries split the sunset as the dragon screams, Aderyn screaming Blaidd's name with eyes gone wide -heart lodged somewhere in their throat; did he just throw himself at a dragon's fucking mouth?- and the wolf throws back his head and howls, loud enough to thrum through the Tarnished's bones. Blaidd pulls free his sword, launching himself backwards and arcing in the air until he lands in a low stance, greatsword over his shoulder, and together they watch as the dragon disperses into starlight.

And then it's over. Aderyn throws a leg over Torrent with a grateful rub of their palm over his head, and slides to their knees in the grass when he disappears. There's a queer sort of ringing in their ears, hands fumbling until their staff falls beside them and lands with a dull thump, but they cannot bring themself to care at present. They've just taken down a beast of legend, with nary more than some scratches and bruises. Aderyn's mana reserves feel dangerously low, making them sluggish and their heart pound; and Blaidd seems merely out of breath, and he tosses back his heavy fur cloak and turns his face skyward, teeth freely bared as he howls their victory once more.

Aderyn blinks once. Twice. Thrice. A small bubble of laughter passes their lips, and they cannot suppress the smile that slowly unfurls. They've just killed a dragon. The Tarnished runs a trembling palm down the side of their face, smearing dirt and sweat along the edge of their jaw, and looks once more to Blaidd. He towers above them even at a distance, point of his sword shoved to the dirt as he leans heavily against it, breath coming quickly. He looks - not merely triumphant, but excited. Pleased, beyond compare. The setting sun highlights his edges and angles in burnished gold, and for a moment the Tarnished is speechless.

Adrenaline courses heavy through their veins, as Aderyn realizes all at once that they really, really, need to touch him.

The integrity of their knees betray them, however, and the moment they move to stand -all but throwing their rapier to the side in their impatience, cloak ripped off and following soon after- they drop back down to their ass again, laid flat in the dirt with arms and legs spread wide.

Perhaps their mind needs a moment to come to terms with what they've just done; but the body is halfway to clawing in desperation already. Their mind rushes, chest feeling tight and belly full of fire. Core pulsing with every hurried beat of their heart, it takes them too long to notice that they've soaked through their smalls, cunt feeling achingly empty.

Blaidd calls their name but they're too far gone to notice, still staring uselessly at the sky whilst they try and focus their breathing. He kneels down beside them, hands already hovering as he runs his gaze up and down their prone form, checking for blood or burns.

"I'm fine," they assure him with a lazy wave of the hand when their mouth decides to start working again. "Not injured. Just a bit - That was something, wasn't it?" Aderyn fumbles with their words, laughing breathlessly as they turn every moment of the battle over in their mind.

Blaidd makes a soft noise of agreement, though otherwise remains silent. Not unusual by any stretch, but something about the quiet feels - almost heavy. Aderyn's brows furrow, and the struggle to sit up with their weight on their palms.

"Alright?" They ask softly, looking him over with a keen eye. His cloak's a bit singed from errant dragonfire, but otherwise he seems right as rain. Even still, his eyes are narrowed and he breathes not a word as his nostrils flare and he moves to lean over them.

A flush burns Aderyn's face as they watch him move until he kneels between their spread legs, towering above them. He cages them in easily, hand trailing forward slowly to grip their ankle, bending their leg and moving them as he pleases. And they let themself be led; pulse stuttering and breath coming faster, still riding the adrenaline and so eager to be touched.

Blaidd noses at their bent knee, sharp edge of his teeth catching on their leathers. He breathes deep as he leans over them, inhaling their scent and growling low when he moves to press his nose right between their thighs. Aderyn's back arches on instinct alone, any potential embarrassment thrown readily out the window at the feel of delicious friction, tenderly pressed to their aching cunt. Their hands move to grip his shoulders, fingers tightening in his cloak and pulling him down.

"Drenched halfway to your knees. Wanton little thing," he murmurs, voice pitched low. His claws dig deep into the underside of their thigh, holding them steady as Aderyn writhes beneath him. It's all a bit strange, really; they could have died any number of times today, and now all they can think about is ripping away every layer that remains between them, to feel him pressed flush and to lose themself in his embrace. Hell of a high, dragon hunting.

"Are you just going to sit there or are you going to do something about it?" They ask, sounding very near to desperate as Blaidd sits back, shining eyes trained on theirs. He makes a thoughtful noise, head tilted to the side, before his other hand shoots forward to mirror the first, claws biting deep enough into their thighs that the leather of their armor creaks. Aderyn's flush returns full force as they're yanked forward, a shocked yelp passing their lips when he pulls their legs around his waist, their heated core pressed flush to his groin. They look up at him from their back, blinking owlishly and biting down hard on their bottom lip.

Blaidd leans down, dragging his teeth along the line of their jaw. He chuckles, loud and warm, when Aderyn only gasps and grips tighter to his shoulders, the moment he grinds his hips forward.

"I can imagine a few things to do about it," he whispers, snout brushing the side of their neck as his hands travel to the curve of their ass, dragging them impossibly closer and stealing what little breath they have. His armor keeps them from feeling anything hidden beneath, but they know with certainty that he's as turned on as they are; fresh off an impossible battle, the Tarnished's heady scent cloying on the air and settling on his tongue. One look is all it takes for Aderyn to understand he's keeping himself in check, tightly coiled in an attempt not to hurt them.

"You're an imaginative sort, I surmise," Aderyn replies, swallowing thickly with a dry mouth. Their lashes flutter, back bowing at the thick press of him armor to their core. That needs to go as quickly as possible, elsewise they're likely to start begging.

"The things I've wanted to do to you," Blaidd says as he pulls back, voice rough and low. He drags his claws over their ass, hips bucking forward to drag another stuttering gasp from their throat.

"Anything," Aderyn whispers immediately, instinctively; their voice far more gentle than he expects. They lock eyes with Blaidd, one of their hands moving until they can curve a palm against the side of his neck. Grounding, tender; not heat of the moment, but a vulnerable burst of honesty as they feel the hurried jump of his pulse beneath their hand. "For you, anything."

He's quiet, for a breath; simply watching them as they struggle to sit to full height, though he lets slip a sweet sound from deep in his chest when Aderyn's palms cradle his face, thumbs following the long line of his scarred snout.

"Anything," they whisper once more, dark eyes filled with something far too warm to put a name to.

"And if I wished to ruin you?" Blaidd asks, in a rare show of something that belies his ferocity, and not the gentle-handed and kind man they know him to be. Instead he holds them tighter, points of his claws splitting the leather of their trousers and making Aderyn shudder beneath him.

"Then I would offer freely all that I am, to be ruined by a man such as you," they reply softly, honestly. Baring their trust and their desire, ribs cracked open and heart pulled free of its confines, to be offered and cradled in loving hands.

Tenderness is not something a Tarnished is accustomed to, especially so when wandering the Lands Between. Fighting for survival with every step, barely any time left over to take a breath, much less slow down and allow oneself a single moment to bask is some long-forgotten gentle respite.

But this Tarnished can feel it plain. With every breath, every movement. Blaidd closes the distance between them, caging them within the circle of his arms, to press his forehead to theirs. Aderyn's eyes flutter closed as they feel the soft brush of his fur, the way he surrounds them on all sides. Their hands move to the back of his neck, keeping him tethered close as they tilt their head up, pressing a soft kiss just above his nose.

"I'm yours," they whisper into their shared breath, exhaling as Blaidd inhales. "All of me, if you'll have it."

Neither of them are terribly loquacious; Blaidd to-the-point and Aderyn incapable of keeping their mouth shut for five minutes. There is no passionate poetry spilled between them, nor is there anything flowery in their words. But there is, if you look close, no small amount of freely-given affection.

"I would have you," Blaidd answers in a soft voice, a sharp contrast to the way he reaches a hand to pull their tunic harshly to the side, until the fabric rips and sags over their shoulder. Aderyn's eyes roll back the moment his jaw covers their bared skin, teeth biting deep into the flesh of their chest and shoulder. Blood pools and pours down their armor, coats his tongue and paints the air with the scent of sharp copper. He's large enough to cover their entire shoulder, and it's only for but a moment that Aderyn wonders if they're about to bleed out at the hands of their lover. The thought alone serves to reignite the low-burning fire of arousal deep within their core, flesh torn open serving to mix in a heady rush of pleasure-pain that has them gasping his name, hands fisting tightly into his fur.

Love isn't without its own violence, after all. A little bloodshed between two warriors is par for the course.

Blaidd marks them carefully, almost expertly; tears them open without any true danger, avoiding arteries and only serving to leave deep imprints of his teeth, that any who see will know exactly from whose jaw it came from.

They both know that Aderyn cannot die, not truly. If mistakes were to happen it would be nothing more than an apology and moving on. But this is symbolic; they trust him, more than they can say. And he wants to leave his mark, to claim them as his own.

Perhaps, even, to ruin them.

"Please," Aderyn whispers when he releases them, rough tongue laving over the bite marks just above their clavicle. The blood pours down their chest almost lazily, already beginning to clot and slow. There's a steady pulse thrumming through their bones, and they find that whatever carefully-honed control they'd once possessed is beginning to slip through their fingers. "Please, Blaidd. I need you."

"For you, anything." He parrots their earlier words, eliciting a dazed smile from Aderyn's mouth. He has their blood staining his teeth and yet still holds them carefully, constantly aware of how very fragile they are in his hands.

But they are both out of patience. Blaidd pulls away from them with a parting nip to their ruined shoulder, making Aderyn gasp sharply. The pain is dull, and when they roll their shoulder back all they can feel is Blaidd, when they look down beneath their tunic to a mess of smeared blood across pale skin and torn skin, all they can see is his affection. Arousal sloughs thick through their veins, and all at once they need to feel him inside them, a desperate need to be utterly ruined.

Blaidd gives them enough space to pull at the shreds of their trousers, impatiently kicking them off. Their hands raise to pluck apart their torn shirt, ripping it further until the fabric spills down their arms and fully exposes their chest.

The moment they're bare a hand delves between finely trembling thighs, soft sighs slipping from parted lips when they trail their fingertips through damp hair, between slick folds. Blaidd watches rapt as he yanks the ties of his armor, removing the bare minimum and all but ripping apart the ties to his leathers beneath. He pulls free his cock, heavy in his palm as he brings the other hand to his mouth, using teeth to pry open a gauntlet and send it flying to the grass beside. He bats Aderyn's hand aside, thick fingers gliding through their arousal and the heel of his palm pressed tight to their mound, eliciting a sharp gasp from their mouth. They grind against him, seeking that spark of friction against their swollen clit

Aderyn throws back their head and keens, a high and wanton sound. Halfway to delirium already, they cant their hips forward, bringing a hand down to slip two fingers deep within their heat. They work their hand steadily, sliding in a third as they stretch and shiver and moan, beneath Blaidd's towering frame. He drinks deeply of the sight, claws catching on the back of their hand as they fuck their dripping cunt, guiding them along with purposeful rubs of his palm. Their core tightens as arousal spills from them, and impatient for more Aderyn spreads their fingers, crying out sharply. It isn't enough, but it will have to be. They wish to feel it, feel him; splitting them open and taking his place between their spread legs.

The inevitable pain will only heighten it all.

Aderyn pulls their soaked hand free, gazes at the shining slick coating their fingers, and looks up to Blaidd with eyes heavily lidded. He catches their raised arm, fingers wrapping around their slim wrist, and pulls them up to bring the hand to his mouth. His tongue runs from wrist to the tip of their middle finger, rasping roughly against their palm; a low, pleased sound rumbles from within his chest at their taste, and before Aderyn can even put thought to feeling embarrassed about it, he's spreading open their thighs further and kneeling before them.

Their muscles twitch with every movement as they bring their knees to his sides, ankles locked together against the small of his back. Blaidd leans down over them, hand beside their face with his nose brushing over the bite he'd left on them. It stings, but they chase the feeling; hips shifting forward to encourage him to move, head turned to the side to expose more of their ruined shoulder. A badge of pride, a point of sheer delight. Blaidd lightly drags his teeth over their raw and tender skin, opening the wound to make it bleed anew, the moment he takes himself in hand and brushes the tapered tip of his cock through their silken folds. The glide is easy, wet and wanting as they are; Aderyn arches their back and breathes out his name, fingertips dragging through the grass when he slides home.

The stretch burns, as they knew it would; halfway there and Aderyn claws at the grass, core set aflame as Blaidd pulls his cock from their slicked hole. They take a breath, will themself to relax; he thrusts forward, going an inch or two deeper, and for a moment Aderyn swears they feel him nestled in their stomach.

He fills them very nearly perfectly, cunt tightening around his shaft like a vise of silk-wrapped steel. They clench hard through the burn, chasing the high he brings them as he rocks his hips forward and back. He thrusts slow and shallow, giving them time to adjust; his cock widens and flares at the base, thicker than their wrist, and though he growls lowly, impatiently, still he holds himself back from doing them harm. He bites down once more on their shoulder when his movements turn faster, cock sliding easier into their cunt as the stretch and relax around him.

Aderyn gasps when he thrusts into them harshly, feels the swollen knot at the base of his cock brush against their folds. Their back arches clear off the ground, toes curling and legs tightening around his waist as he fills them to the brim. There is a moment of held breath, as they swallow down their every cry and simply allow themself to feel. The ache in their shoulder and back, the pleasant tingle deep in their core, delicious stretch of their dripping cunt around his thick shaft. They cannot find their breath, when Blaidd pulls himself from them until barely an inch rests inside, before snapping his hips forward.

The armor he still wears drags against their bare thighs as the wolf loses himself with a snarl, but Aderyn barely notices the bruises that bloom on their fair skin. His groin slaps against them as he splits them open, heavy cock rubbing against their walls in a way that sets their nerves alight. Pleasure welling up from within with every pump, every thrust; Blaidd takes no quarter as he sets his pace, bruising and fast as he slams into them, again and again.

Stars dance behind their heavy lids as Aderyn jerks their hips, meeting his every thrust as their cunt pulses in time with their rushing heart. Their breath comes in shaking gasps each time he fills them to the breaking point, splayed open and dripping with utmost desire and desperation. They clench hard around his shaft, summoning the energy to curve the corner of their mouth into a small smirk at the sight of his eyes darkening at the pressure. Blaidd keeps his eyes locked on their face as he presses impossibly deeper within them, claws raking through the dirt and something akin to their name, whispered tenderly through his growls.

Molten heat drags through their veins, expression pinched into something half-feral. Aderyn throws back their head, dark hair sticking to the side of their face and neck from blood and sweat. Their core tightens and clenches with every hardened inch of him sliding home, setting them alight from the inside out. Warmth licks up their spine and surges through their veins, lips parting in a silent scream as their cunt clenches, encouraging him to go harder, faster, I can take it -

Blaidd's thrusts turn erratic, and through the haze Aderyn feels something akin to pride. He's losing composure, and it's happening because of them. His groin slams against them, making them cry out sharply; they know there will be a plethora of marks later, from the rough drag of his still-armored body and the punishing strength of his thrusts. Aderyn's vision blurs as the tightening in their core threatens to snap, and they bring a trembling hand to where their bodies join, pads of their fingertips circling their swollen pearl at the top of their cunt. The effect is instant, as they drag their heels down the curve of his ass, scream caught in their throat when the pressure against their clit becomes almost too much. Just a teasing touch, just a taste; the sensations are too much yet not enough, sparks dancing on their skin as their fingers circle faster over that small bundle of nerves, cunt pulsing around his thick shaft.

Just a little more, a little nudge, and they -

Blaidd moves, quick as a flash, to bury his teeth in their shoulder. He bites down roughly, making Aderyn cry out as they bend and arch, hand nearly blurring at their cunt as they feel their peak rush forward. They crest the edge as he slams forward, burying himself as deep as their body allows; they come with his name dancing on a scream, and their blood blooming bright across his tongue.

Hands wrap tight to their waist, claws dragging scores of raised lines over their hips. Blaidd holds them steady as he growls against their shoulder, thrusts turning sloppy as he fucks them through their orgasm, pulling them harshly forward and burying himself to the hilt. Trapped by tooth and claw, Aderyn clenches their aching cunt around him as he thrusts hard into them once, twice, thrice; he releases their shoulder to a mess of smeared sweat and blood, throwing his head back as he paints their inner walls with his spend, holding them tight enough their bones creak.

Aderyn trembles beneath him, swallowing down air as their pulse pounds in their ears. Their thighs tremble and their shoulder screams, but still they rock their hips, slowly, milking his shaft for everything he can give them, lashes fluttering lazily. They bite down on their bottom lip as Blaidd shudders through his peak, chest rumbling a low growl.

Things turn quiet after a time, with naught but shared heaving breaths and the steady weight of him against them. Aderyn struggles to lower their legs, muscles locked and feeling both weightless and far too heavy as they all but melt to the grass below. They hiss quietly beneath their breath as errant aches make themselves known, core pulsing pleasantly even as their thighs chafe with every breeze. Blaidd pulls his softening cock from them, takes the time to run his tongue over the torn bite on their shoulder, and all but collapses at their side.

Aderyn lets slip a small bit of laughter as they curl to face him, hand reaching blindly out until their fingertips brush the thick fur of his neck.

Hell of a day.

[investigativelewis]

August 12th.

Dear Sunny @tangyguk,

Here we are, writing the letter you looked so forward to! Take the words with all the love in the world, as all that we have written here is sincere and full of affection.

Our dear sunshine is as excited and happy as the sun itself, no wonder that's her nickname. You fill our chat with joy and your eagerness to participate in everything is something to envy—in a good way obviously!

Waking up to a hundred texts can be overbearing, we admit! But the group wouldn't be the same without them. Nor without you in general. There isn't a dull moment whenever you are around.

And it had always been that way. From the moment we said the first hello, you had shown us everything you possibly could. Happiness, sincerity, power of will, just like a Sunday morning. If we have so much going on, and so much to be thankful for, that is certainly because of you.

So to you, Sunny side up, we want to wish you nothing but a beautiful and full life. Full of love, full of life, full of wonders. Much travel, and a million different things to see! Remember us whenever you can, and keep us close to your heart just like we keep you.

We love you dearly, and we will be always here. Waiting for your passionate talk and million little things. We cannot have a good day without running into you first.

May your life be a world of possibilities. May it always shine you a light, wherever you go!

And if you are ever lost or out of light, we will be here to take your hand and lead the way. We promise to always be by your side, no matter the distance. Together, forever!

To us, you are a bright star, one that give us strength and hope to always face a new day.

So let's face it together, and go all the way, as you always say! Because if it's by your side, there is nothing we can't really do.

With a lot of love, and dear friendship,

Arina @rcseluv, Eli @magicshopew, Lu @cottonjaw, Chae @bibliotae, Yuna @yundota, Tae @agustlee, Nari @narimiese, Sarah @investigativelewis, Harin @callmeharin and Hani @itshanic 🧡

Your dream team.

[draconic-ichor]

If you're still taking requests; Morgott and the Tarnished dirty talk? I need to read sexy banter 🥺

I had a bit of fun with this one!

Distraction

Morgott/female tarnished

Elden Ring dabble

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, suggestive speech

Summary: Morgott and the Lady Tarnished try to drum up a bit of fun during a boring assembly

It was customary for the royal couple to attend assemblies within the capital. Morgott and the Lady had been sitting through the one currently for a good few hours now, the speaking nobles droning on and on seemingly endlessly.

Even Morgott was beginning to tire, the tarnished bored beyond measure. She began to shift about in her chair, organizing and reorganizing the desk they were both sat at.

“Peace, beloved mine.” Morgott whispered, placing a hand on her thigh under the desk.

The Lady Tarnished stilled, giving him an impish look. She spread her legs a bit, urging his hand on.

She didn’t quite know what she was after, any type of spice to this day would be welcoming; Morgott was less than accommodating, however. He simply pulled his hand away, trying to sooth, “We’ll have time for all that later.”

The tarnished deflated a bit, listening to the dry speaker for a time more. Unable to condemn herself to death by dullness she shifted a bit closer, getting Morgott’s attention.

“And what would his Lordship do exactly?” She whispered, giving him a look both challenging and sultry.

“I have some ideas…Nary a word of which should be uttered here with so many prying ears.” He whispered back.

The Lady slid a blank paper along the desk until it was on Morgott’s side, smirking, “Then write it.”

“My Lady can’t possibly wish to hear my secrets so badly?” He chuckled quietly.

“Humor me.” She leaned on her folded hands, not yielding.

Morgott sat still for some moments, seemingly paying renewed attention to the assembly. With a huff he suddenly took a quill to the paper, face stone. From any outside perspectives it would seem he was just writing up any common letter of business.

The Lady knew better however, having to bite her lip to contain her ever bubbling excitement.

Morgott slid the paper back, gaze forward.

The tarnished attempt to glance at it as smoothly as possible.

It reading:

‘Firstly, I shall put that beautiful mouth to better use than distractions during business. My beloved finds herself quite the hungry little creature…I intend to quell that appetite fully.’

The tarnished read it over, taking up the quill herself to scratch a response. She slid the paper back once finished, proceeding to pretend interest in the assembly once more.

Morgott’s good eye shifter down to read:

‘I’ll gladly put my mouth to my King’s uses, although his assets may require more than simply my mouth. He is quite an endowed King after all.’

She heard him make a sound before the paper was slid back for her to read. The couple playfully wrote back and forth, all while pretending to keep up with the assembly and maintaining stoic expressions:

‘How dost thou wish to service her Lord, hm?’

‘By mouth, by breast, any part my Lord finds purchase. I’ll kneel before his throne pliantly.’

‘Thou art quite…pliant.’

‘Only for his Lord.’

‘An honor I hold dear. I quite enjoy twisting thee upon thyself like a sugared confectionery.’

‘I enjoy when you press me into the bed like a beast.’

‘Perhaps we can indulge both fancies after the assembly?’

‘I’ll have to check my schedule, his Lordship keeps me quite busy.’

‘I’m quite positive he would not miss thou for an hour.’

‘Just an hour?’

‘After all this banter, the possibility is likely.’

‘Does the descriptive use of ‘horny’ apply to my Lord in more that his appearance as of late?”

‘It would be an adequate use of the term…”

‘Poor thing.’

‘Doth thee value thy current dress?’

‘Not particularly. Why?’

The Lady received the paper back, now quite full of delicate inked words. But as her eyes glanced down to read his response her cheeks reddened. She looked quickly up at him, in shock. Morgott sat unmoved, a shadow of a smirk painting his lips. The Lady looked back to the paper:

‘As soon as this damned assembly comes to a close I’m going to tear it away piece by piece with my teeth. I promise thee.’