#shade has been cast

[jolikmc-thoughts]

I noticed that my thoughts on the "SalC1 Escapes Crystal Trap on 2b2t" video got a hit or two. So, I go to check it out, and…

 

 

[wornkindness]

saw someone say that chris pine, should have played fiyero instead of jonathan, which come here, i wanna chat

[cathodic-clairvoyant]

There's a lot about discussion of hdwr that baffles me (not all discussion to be clear, because i do think there's a lot of good discussion about hdwr. But equally so are there the ones that make you wonder if you're reading the same story) and I think one that is especially annoying is the constant infantilization of miwa as this passive eternal victim. It drives me up a wall because this is quite literally an issue she's struggled with within the text of the story! She had an arc about how she dislikes how people treat her this way like towards the beginning of the story! And like even ignoring that, this story is about like nuanced and realistic portrayals of being in relationships and learning how to navigate them and so it's like what's the point if you're going to immediately reduce the characters to "the victim" and "the victimizers?" Is that even interesting? Is that a useful lens to look at interpersonal relationships?

[no1ryomafan]

We’re gonna ignore the fact it’s nearly 3 am while I type this but I’m gonna for once embrace my true cringe-I say as cringe is dead-and admit at least here since I said it on twit but not everyone follows me there that I’ve been cooking up a getter crossover fic with mega man ZX of all things. Why? Well next to mega man being what truly sparked my obsession for robots and ZX is my favorite series of the franchise there is a scary amount of similarities between the two that a crossover unironically fucking works well. Like I don’t think it was anything intentional, ZX definitely has some mecha influence like every other mega man series but it was more so (obviously) inspired off of toku if we focus on an genre in Japan. However both in a way can be boiled down to “humanity’s future is tied directly to machines” and “destiny is my path to choose” in terms of narrative themes so they legit stick together sososso well.

(also I noticed like- Arma!Kei and Go and Ashe and Grey are almost scarily fucking similar minus Ashe&Grey actually getting to know each other since that sadly doesn’t happen-in the manga they do meet but they aren’t related rip-in game but I might need to save that for a different post even though it’s not at all in the au since there’s no place for it I just I rotate it constantly)

Me and my beta reader were so insane enough that for nearly a YEAR we figured out this au because it was just “what if ryoma but in ZX” for the longest fucking time I’m not fucking exaggerating because it’s a semi trend of mine to want to throw ryoma into other series even if I’ve mostly restrained myself with this 💀 But when the fic is up I will likely be tagging it under ZXG so it’s easy to organize so yeah.

[dreaminginmysoup]

People always like to theorize who in the cast Silver is a descendant of and ignore the truth: he's related to all of them.

[autism-corner]

shipping used to be fun

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[thedeepmiracleperfection]

like others have said it's very comforting to me to know that this fandom is over 30 years old and that for about 27 of those years (I believe the show was first announced in 2017) it was what is called a "dormant fandom".

for most of the history of good omens, the book was the one and only piece of media we were ever going to get. yes the radio show was a thing, but it was fairly recent in GO's history. We take for granted how much the show has become the fandom, so much so that for many people the show IS the definitive "good omens". Just a few years ago there was no david tennant and michael sheen, there were no longing glances and micro expressions and soundtrack and francis mcdormand voice over and body swap and certainly the idea of a sequel was so far fetched it felt like a crack idea.

and yet, there was a fandom. it may not have been particularly large or especially active, especially as years went on, but it was dedicated and it was there. there were book-based fanfictions being written and posted online as early as the 90s (some of which I think you can still find because they have been retroactively posted on ffn and ao3) and up until 2019 when the show aired. it's actually super interesting to go back and look at old works for this fandom and see the difference in what the widely accepted headcanons were and what the general fanon designs for Crowley and Aziraphale were like.and how obvious the shift was after the show came out.

anyway the point is, if the fandom could survive decades on a novel and people's imaginations, it can certainly survive on two incredibly entertaining seasons and what is hopefully an acceptable final movie. the fandom may not always be as active as it is right now. I actually consider the fandom to be less active right now than it was when the show first came out. if anyone remembers what it was like in 2019 and early 2020, that first year of the show being out was crazy. it became tumblr's most tagged ship of 2019. thousands of fanfics were written and posted that year and i believe good omens has maintained at least the top 10 spot in the AO3 ship list every year since. at least it's usually very high placing. but even in just the almost 6 years that the show has been out, I have seen many creators and many fans come and go. there are some big names that have been staples and I've been in the fandom all the way through, and there have been some who were hot for a minute and then moved on to other things. it happens in every fandom. it's natural to wax and wane as time goes on.

my point is- mah point is dolphins- no my point is that this fandom will never die. We will always be here lurking in dark graveyards with hand baskets with antichrists in them. Good omens has completely and irrevocably changed my life, and no matter how engaged I am in the fandom in the years to come, it will always have a tender place in my heart and I will always come back to it. As long as nightingales sing and the Earth isn't blown up, so too will I be here. And I know there are many others who feel the same.

Will the Good Omens fandom remain active after season 3 comes out?

Honestly, this is the only detail that doesn't really make me want s3 to come out anytime soon.

I didn't have much experiences in big fandoms before so I don't know and im quite scared the love of the fandom will run out of steam one day or another after the end of the sho.w

[debtsunpaid]

tag drop for ANIMA / ONDINE NASIRIAN / ATALAKUNTILLIOKAN, one half of a twin god searching for the other! their collective song is 'nina cried power' by hozier.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Golf day || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: INSPIRED BY THIS TIKTOK

Warnings: pure fluff hehehehe

Word count: 497

A/n: if anyone has any tiktoks that they want me to turn into a Rafe fic, send them thru pls!!!! I love finding random vids on my fyp that are so Rafe coded. ALSO BEGGING FOR MORE DAD!RAFE REQUESTSS

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Do you think she’ll enjoy it?” Rafe questions, turning his head to you, his eyes lingering on Mabel, comfortably nestled on your lap. He looks genuinely concerned, his brow furrowed with worry.

“You know she loves watching you do anything,” you reply with a reassuring chuckle, trying to soothe his anxiety. As you adjust the tiny hat on your daughter’s head, you can’t help but smile at her innocent excitement.

It was Mabel’s first time at the golf course, and Rafe had been on edge all morning. He’d peppered you with questions like, “Don’t you think it will be too hot?” and “What if she gets bored?” His nervousness was palpable, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

You had spent the morning reassuring him, reminding him repeatedly that Mabel would be perfectly fine. You knew she would be thrilled just to watch her dad play golf, her eyes following his every move with awe and admiration.

“Do you think she’ll like this spot?” Rafe asks as the golf cart comes to a gentle stop under the shade of a large oak tree. “Babe, you’re the one playing,” you giggle, enjoying his overprotectiveness. Rafe laughs softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Mabel, do you like it here?” he asks, his voice tender as he tickles her chin. Mabel responds with a delightful giggle that melts your heart.

You adjust Mabel on your lap so she’s facing Rafe, her wide, curious eyes tracking his every move as he unloads his golf clubs. The sun casts a warm glow over the course, and you can’t help but admire how handsome Rafe looks in his golf gear. “Doesn’t Daddy look so handsome, Bels?” you murmur to Mabel, pressing light kisses on her rosy cheeks. She giggles uncontrollably and tickling sensation.

Rafe turns at the sound of her infectious giggles, a broad smile lighting up his face. “You girls doing alright?” he calls out, his eyes sparkling with joy. You chuckle, giving him a thumbs-up and lifting Mabel’s tiny hand to wave at him.

Remembering that Rose wanted a video of Mabel’s first time at the golf course, you quickly pull out your phone and aim the camera at Mabel’s expressive face. She’s watching Rafe intently, her anticipation palpable.

As Rafe lines up his shot, you can see the concentration etched on his face. The moment the club makes contact with the golf ball, sending it soaring through the air, Mabel flinches in surprise. You can’t help but laugh, immediately clamping your hand over your mouth, feeling a bit guilty for laughing at her reaction.

Rafe shields his eyes with his hand, squinting into the distance to see where the ball landed. Satisfied with his shot, he turns back and walks towards you and Mabel, a broad smile lighting up his face. “Daddy’s pretty good, isn’t he?” Rafe chuckles as he reaches you, gently lifting Mabel from under her armpits and pressing a loving kiss on her round cheek.

You quickly snap a photo of the sweet moment. Their joy is infectious, and you can’t help but chuckle as you send the video and picture to Rose. Mabel’s earlier reaction to the sound of Rafe hitting the ball plays in your mind, making you smile.

Rafe notices your amusement. “What’s so funny?” he asks, his curiosity piqued as he sees you smiling at your phone. You glance up, grinning, and show him the video of Mabel’s startled reaction to his golf swing.

“Aww, I’m sorry, babygirl,” Rafe says with a laugh, his eyes softening as he watches the video. “I’ll let you know when I’m going to hit the ball next time.” Mabel, already captivated by her dad’s presence, giggles and reaches out to touch his face, her earlier surprise forgotten.

Rafe’s heart melts as he cradles Mabel in his arms, swaying gently. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice filled with love. Mabel coos in response, her tiny hands grasping at Rafe’s shirt.

[clownfuckertavros]

a theater near me is actually screening the new digimon movie and I'm losing my mind

[dearieshima]

blue

feat. lovely banter with zayne in the morning

c.w. should I label this as improper use of medicine? 💀, very suggestive, fluffy, MDNI, 1k+ words, fem reader

In the softest hour before dawn, when the town of Linkon lay wrapped in the hush of a blue so tender it felt almost sacred, Zayne sat at the edge of your bed, the early light casting his form in gentle shades of indigo and sapphire. Shadows stretched long as as he carefully buttoned his shirt, his fingers moving with a deliberate rhythm, hoping not to disturb you.

In that quiet intimacy, your arms, weighted with sleep, reached for him. He startled, the tension in his shoulders easing when he turned to find you awake, your eyes carrying the gentleness of lingering dreams. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, his voice a lullaby. His hand slid softly over your hair, and then he gently adjusted the blanket around your frame.

"Mmm, so you're the type of guy to see yourself out after spending the night with a woman?" you murmured, a playful edge laced with drowsiness.

Zayne let out a soft hmph, the sound warm and tinged with a hint of amusement. "I'm the type of man who has a very busy day ahead of him," he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

His hands moved to work on his tie, his fingers maneuvering the silk with skilled efficiency. "You," he added, pausing for a moment to look down at his work, "have the luxury of staying in bed, asleep, for another couple of hours."

You raised, the blanket slipping and pooling at your waist and exposing the erotic canvas of your skin in the hues of healing.

Mauve hickies adorned the column of your neck like a necklace. Plum love bites, puffy and tender, marred the smooth swells of your breasts, peeking out from your white lace bra. On your waist, a ghostly imprint of a possessive hand lingered.

Zayne froze, his hands clutching his loosened tie as his jaw tensed almost unseen. His eyes, however, remained thawed and warm to shift with such frequentness to drink you in.

He blinked rapidly before resuming his motion, loosening the tie around his throat as if it was the reason behind his loss of breath. He inhaled before he gently beckoned you to lay back down and attempted to tuck the covers back over you.

"Don't sit up. You need your sleep," he said softly, his voice slightly deeper than usual. Despite his words, there was a hint of guilt and tenderness in his tone, betraying his concern.

You pushed aside the covers and leaned into his shoulder, your fingers curling into the hem of his shirt. “Lemme... Lemme iron your shirt.”

Zayne’s resolve faltered as you pressed closer, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his sleeve. The scent of your love making still lingered on you.

“You expect me to think you can hold an iron when you can barely hold your eyes open," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His hand found your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “You'll have me hurrying up the process so I could rush you to the ER.”

You blinked up at him, your eyes heavy but earnest. “Can I have some water?”

He sighed but rose without complaint, returning moments later with a glass of cold water in one hand and a couple of pills in the other. Setting the water on the nightstand, he sank back onto the edge of the bed. His gaze swept over you, taking in the exhaustion etched across your features—the faint lines of fatigue, the dark shadows under your eyes. He knew how much your work as a hunter drained you, though he also knew now wasn’t the time for a lecture.

Which, of course, didn’t stop him.

"The first one is ibuprofen for pain relief," his eyes flickering to the bruise blooming on your throat, "and the other one is a multivitamin, which, by the looks of the full capsule in your medicine cabinet, is one you should've been taking daily, prescribed by your doctor."

You pouted, your voice soft. “I just forgot. And they taste weird.”

"You forget a lot of things," he said, his tone half-chiding, half-concerned. His fingers deftly cracked open the vitamin capsule, holding the pill up between you. "They're medicine, not candy. They're not supposed to taste delicious."

“What are you—?”

“Making sure you actually take it.” His hand tipped your chin upward, thumb and forefinger firm but careful. His voice dipped into something commanding. “Open.”

Your lips parted, your eyes meeting his as he leaned closer. He placed the pill on your tongue, but the flick of your it against his fingertip drew an audible hitch from him.

Zayne froze for a heartbeat, his eyes darkening with something unreadable, something heated. His thumb lingered on your lower lip, tracing its curve as his gaze held yours.

“Swallow,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, his breath brushing against your skin.

You obeyed, your throat working as the pill went down. His eyes tracked the movement, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. His thumb stayed at your lip a moment longer before he pulled back and handed you the water.

“Good girl,” he said softly, the words laced with a low, almost teasing warmth.

You drained the glass in one go, setting it back on the nightstand with a faint clink. Your eyes met his again, the weariness in them replaced with a spark of something else entirely.

“Now I’m really not tired,” you said, your voice breaking the quiet tension in the room.

Zayne leaned back, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. He was aware of the drowsiness that was about to settle in soon, thanks to the ingredient in the pills named Diphenhydramine.

Zayne pulled the covers up to your chin, his fingers gently tucking the fabric around you. He took a moment to admire the sight of you, wrapped up in your nest of warmth, the faint warm light of the early morning seeping through the windows, clearing the chillness of the blue. He should have left a while ago.

"It'll hit you soon," he said. "You'll be dozing off before you know it."

"Rest," he murmured. His hand lingered, squeezing your shoulder gently before pulling away. "I have to go."

"Wait," you said, tugging lightly on his sleeve. "Have a nice day at work."

"I will."

"And don’t eat too many sweets. Remember, your dentist said sugar-free," you added, smiling softly.

"I’m sure one pastry won’t hurt," he teased.

"Your lunch is in the fridge... don’t forget it," you murmured through a yawn. Zayne has been deliberately leaving his lunch behind for weeks now, a thin excuse for you to stop by later and see you again.

"I won’t," he lied smoothly.

Your breathing slowed, the weight of sleep pulling you under.

Zayne feigned a glance at his watch --and God, he really should've left by now-- pretending he had important duties that needed tending to, but secretly reveled in the extra few minutes of banter and banter with you.

Then it happened.

"I love you," you whispered, the words tumbling out mid-yawn, the 'you' stretching softly as your eyelids drifted shut. It was the first time you’d said it, the confession slipping free without a second thought.

Zayne froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. For a moment, he just stood there, watching you as you surrendered to sleep. It's the medication talking, he silently told himself, even as the words echoed in his mind, sending a warmth spreading through his veins.

He gently placed his hand on your head, his fingers carding through your hair in a soothing manner as he watched your eyes flutter closed.

Zayne watched as your breathing slowed into the soft, even rhythm of sleep, your face relaxed and peaceful. He lingered for a few more seconds, his gaze tracing the lines of your face, committing them to memory. He bent down to kiss your forehead. "I love you, too. I'll see you in the afternoon."

As gently as possible, Zayne removed his hand from your head, the touch light as he slowly made his way to the door.

[rafedarling]

𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

requested by @gracerose68

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: five years after outer banks ended, drew and you are enjoying life together, despite your ten-year age gap. loved by the entire cast, you are considered part of the “obs fam.” during a group vacation to ibiza, you starts feeling off and realizes you might be pregnant. caught between your fears of drew’s reaction and the unwavering support of your “siblings,” you discovers that love, family, and unexpected surprises can lead to beautiful new beginnings.

warning(s): english is not my native language. unplanned pregnancy, emotional vulnerability, fluff, humor, mild swearing, supportive friendships.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated.

Your and the other actor of Outer Banks group chat was always filled with energy.

Chase: “Ibiza is happening! Flights booked. Who’s ready for sunburns and bad decisions?”

Rudy: “I call dibs on the best room. Drew, don’t fight me this time.”

JD: “This isn’t Outer Banks, Rudy. No treasure hunt to claim a room.”

Madelyn: “Can we focus? Who’s bringing sunscreen?”

Madison: “Y/N will bring it. She always has everything.”

You glanced up from your phone and smirked at Drew, who was scrolling through the same messages.

“They’re not wrong.”

“You’re like the group’s mom,” Drew teased, pulling you closer on the couch.

“Well, somebody has to keep you lot alive.” You poked his side, earning a soft laugh.

The trip to Ibiza had been a long time coming. Between work schedules and personal commitments, it had been years since the Outer Banks cast had been in the same place together. Despite not being a cast member, you were as much a part of the group as anyone else. Drew’s friends had embraced you with open arms, making you feel like family.

It wasn’t always easy being ten years younger than Drew. At 24, you were still navigating adulthood, while Drew, at 34, was more settled. But your love for each other made the age gap feel insignificant.

The first day in Ibiza was pure of laugh and every other things. About the villa, it was breathtaking, with whitewashed walls, infinity pools, and views of the sparkling Mediterranean. Everyone quickly settled into vacation mode, with plans for beach days, exploring the island, and late-night conversations by the firepit.

By the second day, though, you couldn’t shake the nagging exhaustion and nausea that had crept in. It wasn’t like you to feel so drained, especially when surrounded by people you loved.

As the group lounged on the beach, Drew noticed you sitting quietly under the shade of an umbrella.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching beside you. “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

You forced a smile, brushing off his concern.

“Just tired. I think the travel caught up with me.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t push.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Always.”

Later that afternoon, a small girl wandered toward the group, her tear-streaked face melting everyone’s hearts.

“Where’s your mommy?” you asked gently, kneeling in the sand to meet her gaze.

The little girl sniffled and pointed toward the other end of the beach. Without hesitation, you held her hand, reassuring her until her mother arrived.

“You’re an angel,” the mother said gratefully before walking away.

“You’d make such a great mom,” Madison said, nudging Drew with a grin.

“She really would,” Drew agreed, his eyes soft as they met yours.

Your stomach flipped, but not in the good way. His words felt like confirmation of what you’d been suspecting but were too scared to admit.

That night, while everyone gathered in the living room for a movie, you excused yourself and retreated to the bathroom. With shaking hands, you retrieved the pregnancy test you’d packed.

The seconds felt like hours as you stared at the test, unable to bring yourself to flip it over.

A knock on the door startled you.

“It’s Madelyn. Are you okay?”

You quickly hid the test and opened the door, forcing a smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Madelyn’s sharp eyes darted to the trash can, where the box sat in plain view.

“Y/N…” she began, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern. “Are you pregnant?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded.

“I think so. I haven’t looked yet.”

Without hesitation, Madelyn wrapped you in a hug.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise. Let’s look together.”

With trembling hands, you flipped the test over. Two pink lines. Positive.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, the weight of the realization crashing down.

Madelyn pulled you close as you started to cry.

“It’s okay. Drew loves you. He’s going to be so excited.”

“But what if he’s not?” you sobbed.

“We’ve never talked about kids. What if this ruins everything?”

Madelyn shook her head.

“Stop. Drew adores you. He’s not going anywhere.”

Madelyn helped you gather the girls for a “mandatory ladies’ meeting” in the bathroom.

“Are you dying?” Rudy called after you jokingly as the girls shuffled upstairs.

“Very funny,” Carlacia shot back before closing the door.

Once everyone was inside, you took a deep breath and shared your news. The girls gasped, their reactions quickly turning to excitement.

“You’re going to be such a good mom!” Kelsea squealed.

“If Drew so much as blinks wrong, we’ve got your back,” Madison added, earning a round of laughter.

The next day, the guys decided to go bungee jumping, leaving the girls at the villa.

“You’re seriously not going to tell him yet?” Madison asked as you lounged by the pool.

“I’m scared,” you admitted.

“You can’t keep this from him forever,” Carlacia said gently.

“I know. I’ll tell him tonight.”

When the guys returned, you greeted Drew with a tight hug. “I missed you.”

“I was gone for a few hours,” he laughed, kissing your forehead.

At dinner, panic set in again when the waiter asked what you’d like to drink. Thankfully, Madelyn saved you by whispering to the waiter to make your cocktail virgin.

After dinner, the group gathered by the firepit, and the girls urged you again to tell Drew.

“You’ll feel so much better once it’s out in the open,” Madison said.

With a deep breath, you pulled Drew aside, leading him down to the villa’s private pier.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his worry evident.

“I have something important to tell you,” you began, your voice shaking.

Drew’s brows furrowed. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, tears streaming down your face.

“I know we haven’t talked about this, and if you don’t want —” you continue.

“Wait,” Drew interrupted, his eyes wide. “You’re pregnant?”

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

Drew pulled you into his arms, his grip firm yet comforting.

“Y/N, this is amazing. I love you. I love us. We’re going to be fine. I mean much better than fine.”

His words brought a fresh wave of tears, but this time, they were tears of relief.

Back at the villa, Drew insisted on sharing the news with the group.

“We’re having a baby!” he announced, his grin infectious.

The group erupted in cheers, with the guys tackling Drew in a congratulatory hug while the girls swarmed you.

“You’re stuck with us forever now,” Chase joked.

“You’ve been family for a while,” Rudy added, “but this seals it.”

As the night wound down, Drew pulled you close, his hand resting protectively on your stomach.

“You’ve given me everything I didn’t know I wanted,” he said softly.

You smiled, your fears finally melting away. Surrounded by love, you knew this was the start of a beautiful new chapter.

[cursedyuri]

a/n: surprise! here’s a little somethin’ while i work on my next fics. mwah mwah happy saturday!

cw: 18+ as always, minors dni. sub!ellie, dom!reader, oral sex (e receiving), choking, tribbing, some…controlling aspects, multiple orgasms

ellie’s got it bad for you.

so bad, she doesn’t have it in her to be embarrassed when jesse and dina catch her staring at you in the middle of band practice, eyes glazed over, nodding along with whatever they’re saying even when she’s got nothing in her head but you you you.

it’s frustrating sometimes, what you do to her. she’s less efficient as a songwriter and guitar player—always casting glances at you in the middle of practice, chewing her lip till it damn near bleeds because it’ll keep her from making a mess of her boxer briefs. always picturing your pretty lips around her strap, you kneeling before her while she face-fucks you till you gag and choke. always tilting her head when you stand up from your seat beside her, going off to rifle through your purse for something, just praying she’ll get a glimpse at your panties when your skirt rides up.

when the rest of the band filters out and it’s just you two, she gets you in her lap, kissing you silly. you’re so perfect in her arms, smiling shyly when she pulls back and covers your face in chaste, adoring kisses.

“we should go,” you say, glancing at the clock on the wall. she frowns and you catch it, adding, “i really need to study, finals are next week.”

“you’re gonna kill ‘em, babe,” she assures you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. your cheeks go pink. she could eat you whole. “smartest girl i know. smartest person, actually.”

you giggle, a sound that makes ellie’s stomach flip. and then your expression shifts from carefree to hesitant, and she furrows her brows. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing, i’m sorry—i was gonna ask if you wanted to help me study? i have flash cards.”

ellie grins. “i can do flash cards.”

it’s not the first time ellie’s been at your house, but it is the first time she’s pulled into the driveway and noticed that your parents aren’t home. she casts a glance at you in the passenger’s seat while she pulls the keys from the ignition, but if you notice that she’s wondering about the lack of two mercedes in the driveway, you don’t let on. you give her one of those sickeningly sweet smiles and her heart hammers.

inside, you stop in the kitchen to fix a couple glasses of pink lemonade with twisty straws and fresh lemon slices, then lead her up the stairs to your bedroom. ellie tries (and fails) to avert her eyes from the place where your thigh-highs squish into the meat of your legs, the skin pooling out of the fabric good enough to eat. she has to think about the worst things to keep her cunt from throbbing. dead puppies, shit like that.

“i’m so stressed,” you confess as you open the door to your bedroom, ellie striding in behind you.

“why, princess? you’ll do great.” she takes her glass of lemonade when you offer it, sips from the straw and beams at you.

your room suits you perfectly. all shades of white and pink, floral print everywhere, heart-shaped pillows, cute bunny plushies organized carefully on the bed. it smells like sugar cookies and your perfume. ellie watches you locate your study materials, then sort through them till you find the necessary flash cards. she starts looking through them while you climb onto the bed, your skirt riding up to expose a new sliver of your thighs. if there is a god, he’s got it out for ellie today.

“come here, el,” you pout, holding out your hands for her.

“don’t be impatient, now.” she joins you on the bed despite her better judgment. looks down at the flash cards and struggles to read the first one because her blood is rushing south at a dizzying rate.

“uh—eukaryotic cells.”

“cells which have a nucleus enclosed within the nuclear membrane.”

ellie gapes at you. “okay, smarty pants, you got it. prokaryotic cells?”

you answer and she shuffles through to the next card, continuing to prompt your spot-on definitions until it becomes clear that you’re more than ready for your final. it only takes five minutes to make it through the entire stack of cards. and then you’re asking her to kiss you.

“baby,” she mutters, leaning over the side of the bed to set the flash cards onto the floor, “i’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

just like every other time, your mouth tastes like heaven. sweet from the pink lemonade, your tongue dances over hers, soft moans leaving your lips for her to swallow eagerly. the two of you have made out more times than ellie can count on both hands, but it never leads any further. something always comes up—you have to get to bed, dinner’s ready downstairs, things like that. more often than not, you stop because ellie feels like she’s going to lose control of herself and scare you away.

but this time, it’s different.

your hands, soft and warm, skate up ellie’s tattooed arms. your perfectly manicured nails rake through her hair. your eyes are blown nearly black with lust when you pull away, staring up at ellie like you’re silently begging to be fucked.

“ellie,” you whisper, frustrated by the sliver of mattress that separates the two of you.

“yeah, yeah, angel, i’ve got you.” she closes the gap, climbing between your spread legs until she’s hovering over you. she nudges her nose against your cheekbone. “so pretty underneath me.”

and god, you are so pretty underneath her. white off-the-shoulder top skewed from her touches, lips swollen, soft locks of hair splayed around your head. that look in your eyes that says i’m yours, please take me. she wants to hear you scream her name.

the lewd, wet sounds of your make-out sesh go right to her cunt; she doesn’t even realize she’s grinding down against you until she feels your hips move in response, in search of friction. the sensation draws a ragged moan from her, and then she’s grabbing at your thighs with a touch that will certainly bruise. you won’t be wearing a skirt this short tomorrow.

“take this off,” you breathe when you pull back from the heated kiss. you’re tugging at her tattered band tee. “and your pants.”

a surprised huff of laughter leaves her lips. “whoa there, sweetheart. you sure?”

her eyes find yours. she’s just as turned on as you are, but she can still stop while she’s ahead. now, if you get her down to her boxers? that might not be so easy to come back from.

you stare back at her, unblinking. “i’m sure.”

sitting back on her heels, ellie keeps her eyes on you while she works her shirt up over her head. she revels in the way your eyes leave hers, only to admire the sight of her naked torso, her ample tits with dusty rose nipples. your tongue swipes over your lips. her clit twitches.

she has to get up to take her pants off, and when she does, she notices that you’re not making any efforts to undress yourself. she stops with her belt unbuckled, button undone, zipper pulled down. “what, i don’t get to see my girl naked?”

“only if you’re good,” you say with a wicked smile. it catches her off guard, hearing a comment like that from you, but it does encourage her to push her jeans down to her ankles.

when she gets back on the bed and kisses you again, you’re not as soft. not as pliable, like putty in her hands. no, you’re insistent—your tongue breaches her mouth almost instantly and you lick into her until he’s nearly panting. you’re sitting up in your disheveled clothing, holding her face and kissing her like you’re going to swallow her whole. given the fact that you’re usually the one on the receiving end of kisses like this, ellie’s surprised. she breaks the kiss and gives you a look - one you feign ignorance to.

“i’m—sorry, am i reading this wrong? i thought… aren’t you a virgin?”

you smile at her, eyes heavy-lidded. “oh, ellie, baby.”

the way you sound makes her go dizzy for a second. sultry, raspy, sexy. your voice must’ve dropped a couple octaves. you’re not a virgin, she suddenly realizes, not even close. not when you’re dipping your head into her neck and smothering her with hot, wet kisses, your hand moving to grope at the wet spot soaking through the thin fabric of her boxers, fingertips tracing heavy over the outline of her pussy. a moan leaves her lips before she can think to stifle it. worse, she bucks her hips up to chase your touch.

you suck your teeth. disapproving.

“eager, aren’t you?” you move to climb off the bed, kneeling beside it. the sensation of your fingers, skating right over the waistband of her boxers, makes her whimper. she whimpers.

“baby, you’re killing me,” she chokes out. you run a french-tipped nail over her sparse happy trail. she bites her lip.

“i know,” you respond, and your voice is still sickly sweet. “but i’ll take care of you, el. don’t you want that?”

she’s not sure what that means exactly, but she finds herself nodding quickly.

turns out that it means eating her pussy like a fucking porn star.

you’d ripped off her boxers in one swift motion, then spit a glob of saliva onto her flushed, aching clit. wasting no time at all, you’d slid your fingers through her cunt with the lubrication of your own spit, and finally, when she didn’t think it could get better, you’d put your mouth on her. and that’s what it’s been like for the past few minutes. you’re tongue-fucking her now, face buried so deep between her legs she can’t imagine how you’re not gasping and sputtering for air.

“jesus christ, babe,” she gasps, involuntarily thrusting her hips up. your tongue pushes further into the constricting heat of her cunt and she throws her head back, overcome with bliss. but then you’re pulling back, mouth leaving her soaked pussy. the loss makes her whine again.

“wh—what happened?” she’s dazed.

“you’re being a fucking brat,” you respond as you rub a hand over your mouth to wipe away the wetness. “can’t just let me eat you out, huh? have to push it. god, ellie.”

you sound genuinely pissed off, so she flushes red with embarrassment and gives you an apologetic look. “i’m so sorry, i couldn’t—”

“—couldn’t control yourself?”

she stares, mouth hanging open. you laugh, a humorless chuckle. and then you’re standing up, reaching under your skirt to slide your panties down your thighs.

“listen, baby,” you say as you step out of your underwear and move to straddle your girlfriend’s thighs. “if we’re gonna fuck, you need to learn how to control yourself. be a good girl for me. can you do that?”

in all of her daydreams about your first time having sex as a couple, she’d never imagined this.

“yes,” she hears herself say. “i can do that.”

“do what?”

“i can…” ellie’s cunt weeps another rush of wetness. “i can be a good girl.”

satisfied, you reach down to swipe your fingers through her folds—still sticky and wet from your unfinished head. “when i ride you, i don’t want to hear a sound. okay?”

“o-okay.” she’d agree to anything at this point. she’s under a trance. your rose-scented, strawberry-flavored hypnotism.

when you finally slide into a comfortable position, bare, soaked cunts sliding against one another, she bites her tongue so hard she swears she tastes blood. a strangled, ragged sigh leaves her nose, nostrils flaring as you lift your hips and move them back again. you’re wet, soft, and skilled with your hips. everything she’s dreamed of and more. she wants to moan your name, but the way you’re looking at her, like a siren ready to drag her underwater, it keeps her from making a single fucking peep. she lets you take what you need, content to stare in awe as your tits bounce beneath your pristine white shirt.

“doing so well for me,” you praise, hips circulating in a good rhythm now. “you can talk, baby—tell me, how’s my pussy feel?”

“fuuuuck,” she practically wails, “you’re so good, god, feels s’fucking good.”

“mm,” you hum. you’ve found a rotation to hit a spot that fills you with white-hot pleasure, and each time you lift your hips and rub against her again, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to an orgasm. “your cunt feels good, el. might come soon, would you like that?”

she nods. you can feel her hips twitch, like she’s dying to fuck herself up against you, but you’re so close to the edge that you don’t have it in you to chastise her. you do, however, have it in you to tell her, “beg for my cum, then. be a good girl, you said you’d be a good girl.”

“please,” she gasps, feeling your cunt twitch against hers, “please, baby, need your cum.”

she’s getting close too, so she doesn’t feel embarrassed that you’ve got her whining, desperate for you to cream all over her. it’s hot, actually, the fact that she’s begging for you. her sweet, innocent little girlfriend, giving her the ride of her life and making her beg for you. she’d never considered this. stupid of her.

emboldened by her impending orgasm, ellie reaches for one of your hands and moves it from her shoulder to her throat. her eyes are wide and pleading when you look down at her. relief overcomes her features when you adjust your grip and then squeeze, her pulse thudding beneath your fingertips.

this is new for her. it’s all new for her. but when you come with your hand around her throat and your cunt sliding, drenched, against hers, she can’t help but scold herself internally for not doing this sooner. you don’t whimper or cry when you come, but you do say her name, drawing it out in that low, gravelly voice of yours that she hadn’t heard until today. and that’s enough for her to reach her own high, coming with a ragged groan. a mistake that she doesn’t process until she’s spent, panting, still dizzy with the fading pleasure that leaves her in waves.

you’ve gone still on top of her.

she looks at you and finds your expression displeased.

“i’m—shit, i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry, sweetheart, I really wasn’t thinking.”

“i can tell,” you say, voice flat. she moves to lift you from her lap, intending to get up and clean you both up, but you swat her hands away. “did i say we’re done?”

she stutters for a second before she can get out real words. “no, you…didn’t.”

“i can tell you’re going to be a tough one,” you sigh, “but you’ll learn.”

and with that, you start moving your hips again. the overstimulation on ellie’s still-sensitive clit makes her jolt, but one pointed look from you has her going still again. your hips form slow, narrow circles. cum seeps out of your cunt and leaks down onto hers.

after an agonizing minute or two, the pain of overstimulation melts into pleasure. you notice ellie’s expression change, a wrinkle forming between her brows again.

“there’s a good girl.” your praise is music to her ears. her lips open to allow her to breathe as heavy as she needs to, heaving gasps that go straight to your sopping cunt. you gush even wetter.

“mmph, fuck,” ellie groans. she shoots a worried glance up at your domineering face, but when she finds that you’re gazing down at her with unbridled lust in your eyes, she relaxes again.

“you can make as much noise as you want now, pretty girl,” you assure her. “i wanna hear how good i make you feel. even when you’ve—mm, even when you’ve been a bad girl. and you don’t deserve it.”

if she weren’t already turned on again, she is now. you start to ride her in earnest again, fucking down onto her in a rhythm that has the entire room ringing out with sounds of skin slapping against skin. she grabs your hips to hold herself steady, but then you push her shoulders until she falls back onto the mattress. your hands grab her wrists, and she’s entirely unsurprised when you pin them above her head and ride her faster, harder—she’s unsurprised, but it still makes her cry out in pleasure.

“baby, i need you to apologize,” you coo down at ellie as you continue your relentless riding.

“h-huh?”

“apologize for coming without permission,” you clarify, voice just a little strained.

“oh,” ellie says. her brows are pulled together; her face is all twisted up in an absolutely sinful expression, one that makes your cunt feel impossibly wetter. “i’m sorry, babe, i already said sorry.”

“then say it again, if i tell you to.” you lift your hips until you’re barely touching her, and when she starts to sputter pathetic, whiny apologies in an endless stream, you drop your greedy cunt back onto hers.

“you really are a brat,” you tell her. it’s getting harder to talk to her like this, straight-faced and patronizing, because you’re getting close again. but you steel yourself and go on. “such a bad girl, what should i do with you, hm?”

“anything,” ellie blabbers, wrists flexing in your grasp, “i’ll do anything—i’ll let you do anything to me.”

“oh?” you smile, still gasping lungfuls of air, exhausted but chasing your second climax. you lean forward and lick along the angle of ellie’s jaw, up up up to her ear. she shivers violently as you whisper, “you’d let me fuck your tight little hole?”

you can’t see her face with your mouth against her neck, kissing and sucking and biting at her sensitive skin, but you imagine that she looks shocked. and you don’t blame her. you’ve got your good girl act down, you have for years. and ellie fell for it, bless her heart. she probably thought this would go differently; probably imagined she’d be the one overstimulating you and making you whine and beg and whimper, shaking like a leaf as you near another orgasm. but here you are.

and you’re glad she so obviously likes it.

“yes,” ellie hisses through her teeth. “yes, yes, i’d—you could fuck me, whatever you want.”

“bet you’d love it,” you tell her honestly. “you’d love having your pretty pussy stuffed with my cock, wouldn’t you?”

you’re practically dripping sweat at this point from the exertion of tribbing, clothes clinging to your body with perspiration. under your skirt, ellie’s pelvis is drenched with sex.

“yessssss,” she cries out, eyes squeezing shut. “i’d l-love it, yes, fuck…”

“are you gonna come for me, pretty girl? you can—you’ve already made such a mess.”

she’s nodding, gasping. crying, even. you don’t notice until she sniffles, drawing your attention to her reddened face. her cheeks shine with tears. you coo a gentle good girl at her and she lets a high moan loose.

“come, el. come for me.”

she doesn’t need much encouragement, she really doesn’t, but your command pushes her over the edge. coming with a cry that nearly tears her throat apart, she shakes and shivers in your hold until you finally let up and slow your rolling hips. ellie looks so beautiful when she comes, and right after, too. dazed, pussy drunk, eyes foggy. lips chewed raw. tears still wet at the corners of her eyes.

“you didn’t come again,” she points out. she sounds so small.

“i know,” you agree. “but you can fix that, sweet girl.”

finally releasing her wrists from your grip, you roll onto the bed beside her on your back. you reach a hand between your legs and swipe your fingers through the puffy folds of your cunt, releasing a satisfied hum when you feel how soaked you are.

you’re surprised when you look up and find her already making her way between your legs, eyes glued to your pussy.

“i can fix it,” she repeats. “can i taste you?”

“oh, ellie,” you say, “i knew you’d be a good girl. go ahead.”

[trappolia]

rafayel misses you.

it's ridiculous, given that you and him occupy the same space. his head has made an imprint upon your lap from how long he has been laying upon it, and your body instinctively curls over his as if to defend him — him, of all creatures — from the big bad things out there in the world.

it's a rare occurence, surely, considering the line of your work, and rafayel knows that he should feel some semblance of gratitude for you— but there is a selfish part of him that wonders why this is so rare. why is it that he should feel grateful that you only occasionally take time off to spend it with him instead of running after wanderer tracks like some headless chicken.

what irks rafayel the most is that even now, your mind is elsewhere; pondering about your next work day, your next course of action in your investigations regarding the aether core, everything in between— but never him.

"do you love me?" he blurts out suddenly.

rafayel hears you hum, and the dappled shade your frame casts over him where he lays upon your lap shifts as you look down at him. there's a soft smile upon your face, though your eyes shine with a glint of curiosity— puzzlement.

"of course i do," you say, as if it were obvious— as if rafayel could feel it.

and he does. he knows it, deep down in his heart and in his soul, that you love him as surely as the wave comes back to shore; you'll always come back to him at the end of the day, and rafayel thinks that it should matter.

it should matter. it should. that's what he tells himself then as he closes his eyes, turning his head to bury it in the soft of your stomach— and will all his wretched thoughts away.