#she cant trust anyone not to manipulate her

[nerdie-faerie]

I do think it's funny that the Salvatores are the ones with all the information this season because it's usually the opposite. Despite being around for a century and half they don't actually seem to know anything about the supernatural world

They didn't know werewolves existed, they didn't know about the Originals until Rose (despite their sire being on the run from them), they didn't know about sire lines, they didn't know about the sun and moon curse (this is particularly funny because wolves who'd been around for less time than the Salvatores knew about this), they didn't know about doppelgangers and honestly they don't seem to know a whole lot about Katherine full stop. Damon knew her real name and Stefan knew her birthday but other than that they seem to be missing out on key details about their sire. Stefan didn't even know he was a ripper until Lexi showed up despite Mystic Falls being home to 20+ vampires before this and they don't seem to know much about witches either despite knowing Emily and Damon protecting her bloodline

But this season? Damon is the one that knows about Shane and the Pastor's shady relationship, that Shane also knew Haley, that Shane convinced him to blow up the council, that a Bennett witch was needed to raise Silas and despite sirebonds being rare Damon has past knowledge of those too. Stefan knows about the origin of the five and the daggers. They both learn about expression being worse than dark magic to the point it's not even considered magic and is powered by mass murder, they know about the hunter's curse and potentials and they don't share any of it with the relevant parties!

Like I know the reason that they don't know things is for plot reasons so that they learn as we the audience learns but instead it just comes across as them having been entirely oblivious for the last century and a half. Which is particularly funny when they're the two vampires left in charge of teaching the baby vampires. They don't know shit! Nobody taught them by the sounds of it. Katherine and the MF vampires had otherwise disappeared, Lexi seems to come and go as is relevant to plot and Sage despite being at least 900 years old sticks around for one day to teach them to indulge in the feed before disappearing without further information like damn

[celestialmancer]

⛈️ //

[arolesbianism]

I wanna make art for my dst roleswap au sooo bad but at the same time I think if I had to deal with even a single person deadnaming Wx on my posts I would snap

[kraviolis]

writing fics for cleo shaw is fucking HARD cus i literally started watching her when she came back from purgatory and have never really looked into her past much. everything i know about cleo’s life before she died and came back has been gleaned from cleo being told about her own life by everyone else.

[terramassakin]

Ugggghhhh...

[culbi]

you know even if billford is what brought me into gravity falls, i should have known that fiddauthor is what i will stay for

I mean, yes billford is great and i love it and it's pure angst and pain (both physical and psychological) and manipulations and agony and everything but. but. fiddleauthor is everything i value in a good ship, its a)friends to lovers. they are great friend and they get each other and they are there for each other. b) BELIEVABLE. the homophobic environment, the desperation, the fiddleford's wedding with a woman he doesn't love, the escape to gravity falls to be with the one man who Understands you. AND ford being "different" in one way, nobody suspected he was "different" in another. and wait, not "different". a FREAK. neither of them can let anyone think they are anything more than friends

and c) (optional, really, but greatly appreciated) they are a scientist and an engineer. i just love science in romance, cant help it

but lets get back to how REALISTIC fiddauthor is. and it has variants. both of them in love and dating and keeping their relationship a secret because letting anyone know is dangerous? yes. neither of them realizing what those feelings are and just enjoyind spending time together with occasional lingering touch or look? or even staying late at night, whispering to no one but moon and a man in front of them how lucky they are to have each other? sure. what about one-sided romance? fidds getting the hots for stanford or ford realizing why he had never been interested in a girl in school - you can have anything. and don't get me started on how sorry i am for fiddleford's wife, because she probably genuinely loves him. she just wants her husband to be home with her and their son, and fiddleford just... can't. that life is not for him and hes too afraid to admit it to himself, let alone emma may.

but then, hooo, then comes little billy. billy who plays with their feelings, fiddlefords in particular, definitely knowing what keeps the man up at night. he teases, he teases so much, he wants to tear them both to shreds and keep ford to himself, all broken and alone. god, if there were any gentle kisses or forehead touches between the scientists before, bill does that he posseses fords body and he and fidds have sex. and its awful. and its good. fiddleford doesn't get to say no, and even if he did, he couldnt say no. not when its ford, or his voice or his hands or his lips. and the funniest part? ford wouldn't remember or KNOW about that. fiddleford of course feels awful, feels like he used his friend, abused his trust, ruined everything. bill, manipulative bitch he is, just messes with their relationship, with fidds mind and ford sense of reality. atta boy.

in conclusion: fiddauthor is beautiful, a piece of art, and billfiddlesford is an upgrade version, special pain edition.

[m4nj1r0s]

Yandere!Izana General Headcannons

- Definitely one of the worst yanderes to be with. Sure he gives you space and stuff, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a higher-up in Tenjiku keeping a constant eye on you. It would have to be someone he trusts, like Kakucho. I can see him trusting Rindou a little since he’s more on the saner side compared to the others (apart from those weird ass poses he does 😭😭).

- Would definitely FREAK OUT if he saw Ran with you. Ran is charming and has a way with women that Izana has never really been able to understand, and he would never admit it, but it scares him deep down. Obviously, on the surface he’s pissed but that anger stems from his fear of losing you, isn’t that sweet? :)

- Manipulative, but not in a guilt-tripping way. No, no he’s a lot worse with it. He’ll take advantage of those rare soft moments to say things like “I noticed your friends all hanging out the other day, how come you weren’t there?”. But it’s all a lie, he never saw them, he’s just trying to turn you against them.

- Once he’s successfully done that, he gets someone to give them a good beating since your little friends are too beneath him. He acts as if he’s not the one keeping you inside 24/7 because “I have enemies, do you want to get fucking killed whilst you’re out? How selfish are you, woman?”. He has a way of making everything about him.. and he’s not nice about it.

- He probably took advice on girls from Shion so when Kakucho found out, he tried to get Izana to speak nicer to you. Isn’t that great?

- “It’s like you want to get killed, I’m just trying to keep you safe. Just stay inside, it’s shitty out there anyway.”

- It doesn’t really work but it’s an improvement.

- But only he’s allowed to talk to you like that, if he sees anyone from Tenjiku trying to speak to you how he does he’ll personally get rid of them. He’s not tolerating that, and he encourages you not to as well. But realistically, what are you supposed to do? It’s not like you can fight!

- And Izana refused to even teach you the basics. He’d rather have you depend on him. Yes, it’s insanely toxic considering the fact he has a shit ton of people out for him, but that’s all the more reason to keep you inside.

- Won’t let Kakucho teach you either. You can ask Kakucho to talk some sense into Izana, and he probably sees you like a sibling, so he tries but to no avail.

- “I cant have her learning to fight, she’s pretty much an idiot and will get hurt. Is that what you want, Kakucho? Get out of my face now.”

- “But Izana, what if she runs into an enemy? She won’t be able to defend herself!”

- “As if she’ll go outside without me by her side. I can take care of a woman, Kakucho. It’s not that hard.”

- And his words are true, a couple months into your relationship you won’t be going outside without him. Even if it’s just to the convenience store. You never know who you’ll run into.

[did-you-fall-for-a-shooting-star]

Hey so like. Im not good with words and emotions and all that. But. Incase anyone needs to hear it,

Emotional abuse and manipulation is STILL abuse.

If the person you are with is making you feel like you cant trust yourself and you are going crazy, if they blame every problem on you, if they make you dependent on them. You are being abused.

But I promise, there are people out there who care about you. There are people who love you and will help you in a heartbeat.

We just got my sister out. And my youngest niece. We didnt know what was going on, because he made my sister feel like all of it was her fault. She told us Monday. Today is Thursday. Now, we are dealing with the fallout. The rumors and accusations from him and his family. But none of that matters cause they are safe. And for the first time in a decade, my sister can be happy. And my niece can be allowed to be a kid. She got help from people she hadnt talked to in a LONG time. And watching her realize just how much everyone loves her and were willing to drop everything and help her. Well. It was the most heartbreaking and yet beautiful moment. Seeing my sister realize just how much support she never knew she had.

[corpsebasil]

haiii!! can i request a dark ethan landry x reader fic where she accidentally discovers that hes ghostface and he scares and manipulates her from telling the rest of the group? im obsessedddd with your ethan fics btw <33

“Don’t move.”

You stilled, phone still clutched in your hand, your breathing heavy.

You felt the kiss of the knife before you saw it, Ethan slowly walking around to face you. You sat in your apartment, the text seconds from being sent. Ethan was Ghostface. Ghostface. The one who killed Anika, who—

“What is wrong with you?” You asked, chest tight as the blade settled against your neck. He only stared down, eyebrows furrowed, as he ran the sharp edge lightly against your skin.

“Don’t do what you want to do.” He warned, reaching out to pull your phone from your hand. “You don’t want to do that. And I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“Ethan.” You moved to stand, trying to ignore the blade pressed against your skin. “Ethan come on. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That I was Ghostface?” His dark laugh annoyed you more than scared you. “Don’t be dumb, sweetheart. You were just about to tell the rest of the group about me.”

“So they can stay the fuck away.” You snapped, standing fully and taking a step forward. He moved with you, the knife never slicing your skin completely, as you gestured to the black robes he wore. “I trusted you—“

“Big mistake.” He spat, and pressed harder. You felt the sting and grabbed his wrist, holding him back. You were so close now that his face was inches from your own and his eyes, those brown eyes you’d found yourself staring at far too many times, were fixated on you. “You’re not going to say anything.” He said, tossing your phone somewhere far behind him. “Because you’ll be dead if you do.”

Your breathing was shallow as you stared at him, eyeing the boy up and down. He was your friend. Your friend. Memories of the two of you raced through your mind, memories that you’d held close during the frightening events taking place around you. Like how at the Halloween party, when no one was watching, he’d pulled you into a forgotten hallway to kiss you until you felt dizzy. Or how he’d shown up at your house with takeout and flowers, embarrassed at having ‘taken advantage of you’ when you were drunk. His words, obviously.

And then how you’d kissed him on your couch, the couch behind you, to assure him you liked him.

But when you looked at him now, looked at him as the strength pushing against your grip was threatening to cut your throat open, all you felt was an intense heartbreak that made your eyes water.

“You said you loved me.” You whispered, blinking at his hateful expression. “You lied.”

“I didn’t lie, baby.” He rolled his eyes, moving closer, his hand finding your waist. “But I cant have you telling anyone about me.”

“I won’t.” You swore. You felt him pull you in closer, the cold blade still digging into your skin. “I won’t say anything. I know you won’t kill me.”

“And why is that?” He asked, raising a dark brow. “Because you think I want you?”

“I want you.”

“No. You’re an idiot for that.” He purred, smirking a bit as he eyed you. He already knew he’d won.

“I don’t care. I don’t care if you’re a killer, or a mad man, or anything—I love you as you are, and I want you. Whether you’re Ghostface or not, I still love you. I love you because you are mine. Because you love me and—”

His kiss was crushing, shoving you backwards onto the couch. As he threw his knife away, his hands held your hips in a bruising grip. His dark laugh was startling when he bit your lip, so hard it bled.

“Gonna be a good girl and keep my secret?” He asked, and his hand moved to your throat, crushing you down against the couch. You nodded, eyes wild, and he rolled his eyes. “So predictable baby.” He scoffed, kissing you again.

He had you wrapped around his finger, and fucking knew it.

[sincerelyverena]

Can you write for sub!Oliver? I'm so desperate seeing him squirming and whining😮‍💨

⟡⁺ RUN, BUNNY, RUN

oh hi guys its been a while ! never thought id manage to get this out but here it is, n i hope u all enjoy. ive missed each n every one of u (sorta) (joking). anyways im planning to lean in on the more multifandom aspect of my account, so youll be seeing a few different fandoms scattered around. nevertheless, give it a read! mybe itll be ur thing :] ty anon for this request, much love <3

. . . OLIVER QUICK X FEM!READER ‘beautiful, violent, vulgar.’ @ajs-222 @michael-loves-chickens @surazim @soocore @fedyascoffin

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒oliver got what he wanted at a price.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒smut ﹐sub!oliver﹐dom!reader ﹐y/n catton﹐reader is a cougar ﹐oliver just cant get enough﹐reader is implied to be a shorty ﹐elspeth is a hoe﹐cunnilingus ﹐degradation﹐orgasm denial﹐marking kink ﹐lowkey blackmail ﹐farleighs there too!

ON THE HUNT FOR BETA READERS! MSG ME <3

He reminded you of a bunny, an animal.

Oliver Quick was reticent compared to the hearty, high conversation around the table that night. He was stuck out like a sore thumb in contrast to the Cattons, a family line of the prestigious. High on the grace of themselves and each other. Blissfully unaware of anyone or anything past what they offer to their inflated egos. And who were you, to make such unprincipled claims against family? Against blood?

Mother  – Elspeth, as she insists all the children call her – had always made snide, discreet digs at you. Shielded with a manipulative curl of the whoreish pinks of her lipstick. Underneath those sly comments is a white-hot grudge, directed toward her only daughter of blood and the Catton heiress everybody just seemed to have forgotten about.

‘You only think of yourself.’ She says. 

‘You only believe you’re superior because you abandoned the only people who’ll ever care for you.’

But they never cared for you. Not in the slightest.

You were the only descendant of the new-age family line that didn’t reside under the roof of Saltburn, causing waves in the circles of old money when you took your trust fund (and dignity) in a single palm and vanished to New Mexico. 

Nevertheless, to maintain access to the trust fund, you have been spending the entirety of every summer with your bloodline you inherently disowned. Money was the bottom line, the bottom line of every transaction you make with your parents. Which wasn’t a problem in the slightest, considering in their eyes, how much you were worth was the only thing cardinal about you.

You had stayed summers long enough to recognize the twisted, Catton-branded pattern your brother, Felix, had fallen into. In your eyes, he wasn’t fit to be claimed the bloodline heir. His blood is unsavory and debilitated. During the presidency of his birth, Elspeth had been participating in affairs with men who would’ve directly tainted both the reputation of the family name. As well as the bloodline.

The crimson redness of your dagger-shaped nails clinks along the side of the thin wineglass in your palm. Those morals of clean blood had been hammered into your head for decades, no matter how much your mother preached her modernized values.

Elspeth was still the same harlot she was all those years prior. 

The exact reason why instead of disturbance, thinly veiled amusement is masked between your hues as you witnessed Elspeth’s conversation with Oliver. The wrinkle of her eye crinkled furthermore with maliciousness, masked with honeyed words. Oliver reacts in a manner especially foreign to you. The apples of his cheeks pinken as Elspeth momentarily offers a palm toward the muscle of his arm, a singular touch as Oliver’s lips clamped together. Unable to respond for a beat of a moment. The cogs behind Oliver’s eyes turn and work soundlessly, having to be coorused by Elspeth herself to respond. 

Oliver was a stark difference from Felix’s past pets, brought to the household each summer for the entertainment of all. You observe him thoroughly, without shame. Nobody would question you anyway, especially the Catton children. The food chain of the bloodline stands unquestioned with Felix toppling all competition. But you were there first, and the force of that power still stands. 

All that you knew was that Oliver would be at the very bottom. A stark, white rabbit amongst the lions and wolves. The sheep's clothing they wear? Deteriorated. 

And you’d die for a chance to snap your jaws around his neck.

Even though you were barely a decade older compared to the other descendants of the Catton name, your tastes in sexuality had simmered. You have had your fair share of flings, basking in sensual attention like how your younger relatives are receiving nowadays. 

You’ve made the stark assumption that only a few strains of men and woman could cause that familiar warmth to unfurl within the depths of her core. But you were solely mistaken, as the cobalt hues of Oliver Quick met yours. They withheld the sweetest traces of caramel that caused something to stir. Something that caused the top of your bare thighs to squeeze together absentmindedly.

Oliver’s once-pinkened cheeks redden once again. He was the first to look away.

Run, bunny, run. The words bounce around your skull aimlessly, as if the density of your head were hollow. Your only set intention was the young man across the cherry-wood table, and how your lips curl upward at the thought. 

An unmistakable atmosphere of tension ridged itself between the two. Unmistakeable enough for Oliver to virtually scramble from his chair with a lowly hinged creak as soon as the black-tie dinner was to be dismissed, disappearing into the estate’s foyer without another word. In the process, silencing the remainder of the table as they escape the metaphorical weight of their chairs.

‘Someone had to go.’ Farleigh snarks, expression feigning boredom.

Elspeth offers a scoff in turn, though the weariness of her hues twinkle with stuffed amusement. ‘Don’t be silly, Farleigh.’

On the other hand, Felix’s brow wrinkles. You tune out the roar of masculine voices and a battle of ego as the two relatives bicker over the treatment of their guests. The hypocritical bounds and leaps of their voices were enough for your meal of fancy, fickle steak and fluffy, mashed potatoes to churn in your stomach.

As much as Felix preaches for his adoration of Oliver Quick, the entire household – even the thinness of the estate walls – knows that he’s only a temporary fix to his hunger for the disadvantaged. Viewing himself as a saint, veiling the sin that reverberated inside. Even Felix is willing to slip unsavory words about Oliver’s history before their friendship, especially his mother’s drug addiction. 

You shortly realized you were the only one who hadn’t uttered a single word about Oliver. Yet, at least.  You were the only person under the Catton's roof. You’ve maintained formality, and politeness in the scarce cases of passing the salt along the length of the table. But there was nothing polite in the way the relentless azure of his eyes bored into your own, obstructing every value and moral you’ve ever known.

They always said curiosity would eventually kill the cat. The claws of your nails threaten to dig into the hitch of your thigh, deep to the point of drawn blood.

You needed to know about him.

The soles of your crimson-sheathed heels click against the top of the blemishless floorings. The space between your shoulder blades bur without missing a beat, bound to be from the hawk-eyes of Elspeth Catton and her descendants that followed. Nevertheless, you push past the judgment and persevere forward toward the same foyer Oliver had vanished into.

The double-storied entrance room was as grand as the rest of the estate. Dark 

strains of oak are the main attraction, revealing the old-money origins of Saltburn. Jars of incense sticks decorate the occasional corner, the passionate white musk filling the atmosphere, tickling the back of your throat as you inhale.

The peace-brimming silence is sliced with a stressed rummaging from the door placed offside, shielded behind the wood-trimmed stairway. You prided yourself on minding your own business, but you couldn’t help but shuffle a tad closer. Enough to catch a glimpse of a singular bead of light, trickling out of the gap the door had made.

You cursed the thrum of your heels as you ventured closer. Hand strained against the top of the engraved door, sending strained words to the universe as you threaten to inch it wider and wider open.

All that secrecy disappeared from your body at the sight of Oliver Quick. It took you a few, prolonged seconds to recognize the young man amid the shadows. The sight of his scruffy, pale knees pressed against the ground. A crown of wavy, brunette locks shielded the focused curve of his eye as he rummaged through something. You couldn’t help it, fingers curling to widen the door a little more.

Creak.

Nothing could prepare you for what you witnessed before you. Even the panicked alarm that flares in the cobalt of Oliver’s hues goes ignored as he virtually snaps his head toward you. Amid his hands, various Catton heirlooms have gone untouched. Useless to some, priceless to others, and you guessed Oliver had made his mark on that.

‘What in the world are you doing with Aunty Start’s Apollo earrings?’

The words escaped you in a rush. Who knew that that your snow-white, innocent bunny had nefarious means within the Catton family? You exaggerate aunty’s last name, a slight teetering edge of glee trickling into you at the sight of grieving recognition that filled Oliver’s eyes.

 You stepped fully into the doorway.

‘I wonder what Farleigh would think about that.’

Oliver didn’t take the threat lightly, notable by the slight shake in his voice. “You wouldn’t.” He insisted. His hands scrambled, and the box propped between his fingers slipped and clattered across the oak of the storage room’s grounding.

The sole of your heel slams against the bottom of the door, widening it entirely. You entered the room with a click of the underside of your shoes, reverberating throughout the suddenly too-cold, too-hollow room you found yourself in. The only sense of illumination is the light from the foyer, trickling into the suddenly too-compact expanse.

You crouched down. Knees hitting the base of the flooring similarly to Oliver’s own, barely a foot or two away. You could hear the tameness of his breaths. The sharp, panicked gasps and swallows that only made your lips twist upward. The threat was there, looming over Oliver’s head, choking him by the throat.

‘Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. You decide, Ollie.’

‘How–’

The length of your fingers curled around the curve of his cheeks, pressed into the slight hollowness that would follow. Silencing him in turn. The splinters of illumination from the doorway behind them manage to offer an iridescent glow toward the plumpness of Oliver’s lips as you squeeze half of his alluring face. 

You hadn’t expected the first, proper interactions with Oliver Quick to wind up in his manner. But you have no intention to stop. The fashion in which his eyes bore into your own, gaze hawk-like as he stared down at you. Eyelashes fluttering. Pupils dilated.

A wave of awareness rolled through you at the sight. Those same splinters of warmth unfurled in the base of your abdomen.

‘What are you doing here, Oliver?’

Your digits eased around the sides of his face to allow him to speak. The cheeks you once grappled somewhat pinkened once more, face glowing under your undivided attention.

Oliver’s breaths grew slower and slower. As if your touch drunken him.

‘Felix invited me,’ his words were borderlining a whine, scrambling to explain himself. ‘For the summer.’

The base of your eyebrows drew together darkly. The amusement reverberating in your eyes dissolved into a slight annoyance. Your fingers traveled toward the curve of his chin, taking it into your possession in a rough matter it sends Oliver’s eyes to rounden in response. He was a sick, sick liar.

He corrected himself, in seconds. ‘For revenge.’

‘Revenge?’

Despite your concentration, you hadn’t realized the lack of distance placed between you and Oliver. The proximity is intoxicating. To the point in which you felt the soft exhale of his breath fan across the form of your painted lips. His scent disturbed the twist of white musk and dust in the air, catching you off guard.

You dipped your head further upward. A single breath away from his own. 

Oliver’s words scrambled from his parted lips, each syllable trembling. ‘Revenge.’ He confirmed with a singular breath.

That singular breath that was virtually snatched away from him as you captured those plump lips with your own. A warm hum of pleasure buzzes throughout your body, sensations setting your nerves on fire as your mouth brushes across his.

You retreated into yourself momentarily. Ears perked up as Oliver drew in a sharp intake of breath, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with a glimmer of euphoria. He inched forward. A small movement that confirmed the lust that sparks behind his hues. 

Honeyed heat circulated throughout your body as your lips locked with his own. Threads of that same heat were found within each movement of their mouths. Your cheeks burnt with stuffled anticipation. 

A soft, strangled noise reverberates toward the back of Oliver’s throat as your hands enter the proximity of his caramel-like locks. Soft to the touch, feathery. The pads of your fingers curled against his scalp. Curling. Tugging. Kisses growing with heat and passion, further and further until Oliver was a mess between your two palms.

Oliver virtually whined as you pulled away. The lipstick you had carefully applied the hour prior smeared across the edge of your oh-so-swollen lips.

The pad of your thumb ran across the form of your mouth, the crimson red dirting the length of her digit. She pulled a single finger along Oliver’s lips, smearing the remnants of the lipstick.

‘And what are you doing with my family’s heirlooms?’ You inquired, words soft with sensuality. Masking it with a casualty as you press onward. Thumb pressed immensely into the dimple of his cheek, ruddiness staining the ivory of his skin.

Oliver leaned into her touch. ‘I was just curious, that’s all.’

You knew that there was a nefarious nature in his intentions. You removed your hand entirely and raised to your feet on two heels. The sound of your soles meeting the oak floor echoes out, bouncing against the walls as you approach an ancient, traditional desk. Draped with a translucent cover. It was considered to be as old as the estate itself, yet you had no problem sitting all over it. 

Oliver watched in the process. Eyes rounded a remnant of a bashful doe. A spark of recognition appeared behind those eyes as you inclined a singular fingertip toward the space before you.

‘On your knees.’

You took a bound of pleasure watching as Oliver dropped before you. Those knees strained against the ground. Trickles of arousal unfolded in your abdomen, nerves set alight and anticipation fluid within you as he came eye-to-eye with the satin fabric that shielded your cunt. And it was hard to miss the stained wetness.

‘Y’know what? I don’t think Felix would be too happy if he–’

‘You can suck off my brother later, but you’re serving me now. Or everyone will know whatever betrayal you’re planning against them.’

Oliver choked back any other remaining protests. Witnessing as your undergarments rolled down your hips, down the curve of your thighs, sliding along your calves, and dangling from the top of your ankle. Exposing your womanhood entirely to him, your legs widened a little further. 

At the sight, Oliver leaned forward. Willing to comply. A foreign, almost animalistic thirst reflects in the light of his hues. Only halted by a singular palm. Your fingers propped atop the strewn locks atop his head, restraining him from reaching the wetness he yearned for. 

‘I’m gonna ask you this again, and this time you’re telling me the truth, bunny.’

Your words were slow. Diligently pronounced and purposeful with each syllable.

‘What are you doing with the heirlooms?’

‘I just need–’ His words escaped in fluent gasps. Your skin prickled as Oliver’s trembling breaths fanned your womanhood. ‘I just needed some dirt on Farleigh.’

‘Oh yeah?’

The length of a singular leg of yours gradually intertwined around Oliver’s shoulders. Your hand eased up as you nudged him closer toward you. He willfully allows you to guide him, nose practically touching the top of your mound. 

His words continued with a shuddered puff, eyes virtually glazed over.

‘Something that’ll disappoint your parents.’ Oliver dwells upon his reasonings further.

‘And Felix?’

He nods.

‘You dirty,  dirty dog.’

Those words only fuelled Oliver further. And before you could even consider knowingly degrading him once more, the searing heat of his tongue is pressed against the slickness of your folds. He works his mouth against your cunt, movements growing sloppier and sloppier as he basks in the sexual validation he receives. The length of your fingers find themselves in his hair once more, fluffed, brunette strands coddled around your fist as you squeeze your legs around him.

The pleasure that you receive from his mouth alone is indescribable. Honeyed, warm ecstasy maneuvers throughout you. That familiar space between your thighs aches, even as Oliver’s lips latch onto them. Merely fuelling the fire that runs hot underneath your skin, alighting your nerves on fire.

“Fuck…” You can feel him grin around you.

A finger shortly accompanies the consumption of his tongue. And Oliver’s fingers are undeniably long, pale fleshed worked down to the knuckle with the force of a few pumps. He adds another. Then another. Stealing a moan or two from the depths of your throat, forcing you to clamp your lips shut. If anyone walked in. Your cheeks burn at the thought.

You bucked your hips into his fingers as Oliver worked you open, curling into you without faltering. Plunging his digits into you, again and again until you were breathless. Calves curled around him, guiding him further and further toward your sensitivities. Welcoming his mouth back onto you once more.

Oliver’s lips latched longingly onto the little pearl lining your entrance. He murmurs sweet nothings into you, fingers easing their pace until you can only hear the subtle quickness of your heaving breaths. And his whispers. Whispers of how wet you are, and how much he longs to quench that thirst. Again and again. On his knees, basked in his most vulnerable state.

Just for you. Oliver both in time, curls his fingers and squeezes your bud. Unleashing a wave of fire that takes you by the throat, walls squeezing around the length as you come undone. Shockwaves virtually gripping you. Tremors guide you back from your high as both grunts and moans of approval escape you.

Oliver glows under the attention. He peers up at you, through the intensity of his thick lashes. Doe eyes blinking occasionally, innocently, as he pops those fingers into his mouth where he once tasted you. Suckling. Tongue flittering around the pad of his digits.

‘You’ve done that before, haven’t you?’ Your words were more of a statement than an assumption. The pulsing of your newfound arousal doesn’t show in the slightest, only glimmering behind the intensity of your eyes.  You weren’t done with your bunny, not yet anyway.

Oliver’s fingers escape his lips with a reverberating pop. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

You reach downward briefly. Taking the lace of your panties with a single hand, guiding the garment around the base of your heels. Abandoning them on the dust-soaked floor. Those same heels meet that same grounding.

‘I didn’t take you for a fuckboy, bunny.” You practically spit, taking pride in how his eyes wobble slightly at the force of your filthy, filthy words. A short snap fills the room as you indicate your hand towards the oak tiles. 

‘On the floor.’

Oliver doesn’t say anything less, finding his body sprawled out before you. Essentially submitting himself to you in the process, something that ignites that oh-so-familiar heat in the pit of your belly. You stand over him, relinquishing in how he stares up at you, willing for you to do anything to him.

‘Pants off.’ Your words are snappy and insistent. You almost feel like that spoiled little one you used to be as a child, one who would get anything you would desire. ‘You don’t need them.’

Oliver’s fingers work to untangle his belt, loosening the dark fabric of his pants.  The material rolls down his hips, his hardness is immensely visible through the thinness of his boxers. The bulge accompanying the arousal that burns throughout your entire body, abdomen unfurling with that oh-so-familiar heat. 

You drop down toward him, legs clamped down on either side of Oliver’s thighs. You are squeezing them somewhat. The curve of your palm cups the fabriced nature of his manhood, causing a soft moan to escape him. 

‘[Y/N]...’ The broadness of Oliver’s hands grapple the frame of your hips, the warmth of his fingers curling around you. He virtually buckles up into you, against your bareness. A motion that causes your lips to curl up into a lazy smirk. 

‘Repeat my name, bunny.’ The pad of your fingers tease the rim of his boxers.

Oliver’s breath shudders. ‘I’m begging, [Y/N].’

A gradual, mocking roll of your eyes overtakes you nevertheless as you tug the thick material down. They roll and crinkle along the bottom of Oliver’s thighs, allowing for him to spring out for full reveality. For you and you alone. A low whistle fills the emptiness of the room as you observe his girth. Oliver is virtually trembling under the intensity of your gaze as you curl a fist around the length of his shaft, taking delight in how he buckled into you.

‘Be patient now.’ The words escape you with a scoff as you feign annoyance.

Oliver quietens in your demand. Alas, as you position yourself above him, you can still hear the raspiness of his breaths and the pleasure you take in the stink of desperation high in the air. He buries himself into you with a singular thrust, merely forcing a soft groan at the initial discomfort at he fills you. Stretches you out. Your hips slap against his own as you buckle up and down across his length, Oliver mimicking your movements to a tee.

You arch into him, soft noises of pleasure escaping you as he manages to claw ecstasy from you with every singular thrust. Your inner walls clutched around him, causing Oliver to drop his head back, gasping your name out as if it were a prayer. As if he were on the verge of life and death.

‘[Y/N]?’

‘Yes?’

It’s odd how the two of you presented the conversation as if you weren’t rutting your entire life and soul into him. Onto him. Oliver continues to writhe around some more, arching himself into you, again and again. The whiteness of his cheeks is notably flushed with arousal.

‘I’m about to –’

You slow down your pace until you’re merely mounting him, the lack of movement causing a groan of sexual frustration to claw from Oliver’s throat. The side of your thighs squeezes around his hips for extra exaggeration as you proceed to speak, merely unphased, even as you are reaching your release.

‘Jesus, Ollie, don’t be so fuckin’ greedy.’

You scold through hitched breath and hushed moans. His girth is warm inside you, and something about that is so utterly pleasing.

‘You aren’t to come unless you’ve pleased me enough.’

The demand causes Oliver’s head to loll back with esteemed annoyance, but he doesn’t say anything. It merely prompts the width of his hands to press into your hips, beginning to rock himself into you. It steals a moan out of your lips, but the sight of his desperation is a sight of see indeed. You arch further into him as he ruts against the exact spot that causes you to see stars.

The length of your hand folds around the back of his neck. ‘Right there, bunny, oh, you fuckin’ beast!’

Closer now. Closer now.

‘Say my name, [Y/N].’ Oliver heaves with strained breath, holding back on his orgasm has done numbers on him.

You wack him across the back of the head.

‘That’s my line, dickhead.’

Alas, the words barely escape your lips as the boiling and bubbling dam within you snaps and crashes. You dissolved into nothing but pure pleasure. Nevertheless, whatever you had said, Oliver’s name played on your lips in something that bordered screams. Tremors of ecstasy fill you as Oliver continues to pound into you, guiding you throughout your orgasm in your most vulnerable moment.

Aftershocks spark within you as you go limp, pulling yourself together with heaved breath and glazed eyes.

‘Have I pleased you enough, then?’

Oliver’s voice is hoarse, tearing you out of your orgasm-fuelled trance.

‘It’ll do, bunny.’

But before, Oliver can even consider his release. You rise from your previous position, his girth sliding out of you with ease, glistening with your slick. You tug the fabric of panties around your hips and back in place, glancing in a dust-covered mirror as you adjust your appearance. To make it seem as if you haven’t spent the past half hour having the life sucked out of you.

‘[Y/N] –’

Oliver’s protests rise in the air, falling upon deaf ears as you proceed to exit the room itself. The bottom of your heels thud against the wood-slicked tiles as you reenter the dining room, hope in hand. Your wordless wishes are fulfilled at once at the sight of Farleigh, who is window-watching, wine in hand.

‘Farleigh, thank God, I found you.’

Farleigh turns his head, bringing his glass to his lips.

‘What now?’ He’s waving away your presence entirely, it is clear.

As much as you despise this half of the family, you maintain a clear mind.

‘Oliver was rummaging through your mother’s heirlooms. I suggest you go, now. Heed my warning or not, I don’t care.’

A look of suspicion flashes across Farleigh’s face. His lips part momentarily in question before he thinks otherwise. Smart boy. Setting his wine down and immediately dashing past you. A yell or two sounds out a moment later, and your painted lips quirk upwards in pleasure.

You knew what Oliver was up to. It was clear from the first day you laid eyes upon the household’s guest. But no. It wasn’t up to Oliver to wipe out the Cattons from existence, even though he’d be doing the filthy work for you. It was admirable yes.

But it was your job. A job you strived to complete.

You slip your hand into the slight pocket in the fabric of your dress. Pulling out a small capsule. Your eyes narrow down on the glass of wine, vacant on the table. 

Starting with Farleigh. 

WORD COUNT: 4K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[nightmyst14-blog]

What is your top five disliked Cookie Run characters? NPCs include.

Jeez... I don't have many disliked cookies that I just dislike bc they exist, honestly. For the most part.

HOWEVER.

I do sometimes dislike a character for the role they play in the story. That means they played their role well enough for me to hate. I do like a few villains, but that's for different reasons.

Context matters me to when it comes me liking or disliking a character.

This goes for least to most disliked. I do have a few for Ovenbreak, so let me know if you want me to add them too.

Carrot: Tbh, I cant defend myself with her Like I can do for the others. She's just... boring to me. I LEGIT forgot she's in the game half of the time And when she does show up, she's so..one sided. There's no substance to her. I like Beet over her, and WISH Beet hanged out with someone else than her. Plus she's bossy.

Affogato: As a Dark Cacao kingdom fan, this man gets on my nerves. HE was going to rule a already struggling to survive kingdom, poison their mentally unwell and probably grieving king, get the only person who the king trust banished, and then run away like a coward once his plan had failed. I Like their craftiness and their story was interesting. As a villain I do dislike him, but I can see a slight chance of him getting a redemption arc.

Elder Custard: Its on sight with this man. I will fight him, hands down and anyone adjacent with him. He's just a abusive, greedy man. He doesn't sit right with me. He made Clotted into a puppet for his selfish reasons, kept him away from his poor mother, Light Cream, since he was a child, and the fact even in a matter of MINUTES of seeing Custard the 3rd, he called him a brat and unnoble-like. Plus he talks down to Captain Caviar.

I honestly thought it was him who stole the soul jam during the Odyssey update. If it wasn't Meuille-Feulle (another I hate) as the villian, I 100% believe it wouldve been Elder Custard, trying to gain more power. I was READY to watch them fight tbh. I can tell he will get his way, one way or another. no matter concequences.

Pomegranate: Last two are combined for her. She's a pretty good villain, MORE threatening than even DE. Like she's manipulating people left and right, hurting them to get her way, or in her case, DE"s way. Honestly her power is king frightening. If she's able to make Dark Choco revisit his trauma all the time, make Dark Cacao, an ANCIENT, turn into a new form, and make the Sugar Swan, the embodiment of LIFE ITSELF, evil....I would stay FAR away from her.

Shadow Milk: KEEP THIS MAN AWAY FROM ME. He's like Bill cipher, but WORSE. He's tried to corrupt Pure Vanilla, killed Elder Faerie, and possessed many of the faerie citizens and make them into jesters, all of his amusement. If it wasn't for White Lily sealing him back into the silver tree, he would be the next big villain, along with Mystic Flour and the other Beasts. We've seen two of the beasts powers now, WHAT CAN THE OTHER BEASTS DO???

[froglover7789]

Why don't the prequels work as Vader's backstory? It's literally about how anyone no matter how good or well intentioned has the propensity for evil if they let themselves make bad decisions.

Narratively I think it's beautiful and tragic that way.

i think the prequels r actually about how corruption and manipulation and desperation and fear can ruin a person---not just bad decisions :3c and the prequels r consistent with some of the messaging of the originals in that way but that doesnt necessarily mean they serve as a good backstory

heres a handful of reasons why i dont think anakins back story really works with vader:

the originals imply that anakin and uncle owen are blood brothers or at least grew up together. owen sees anakin in luke and this is something that would only really be possible if owen knew anakin well as a teenager. this is also the reason why owen doesnt tell luke about the jedi; he thinks that luke will, like his father, run off to become some sort of war hero and die in the process bc thats what he thinks happened to anakin (some ppl think that owen suspects anakin became vader but i think this is a stretch). the prequels establish that they dont know eachother and didnt grow up together. owen doesnt know anakin outside of what he mightve seen in war/ republic propaganda and thats not very indicative of character. this also raises questions about why obiwan gave luke to owen/ why they took him in in the first place. it makes more sense for anakin and owen to have been very close bc then obiwan wouldve heard of owen and would genuinely trust him to raise his best friends son and owen wouldve cared enough about luke to raise him as his own

what we're led to believe in the originals is that anakin was a powerful jedi who lost sight of what he was fighting for. we're led to believe that he was torn, that the war corrupted him, that war isnt the answer. this works bc the originals r meant to be symbolic of the vietnam war (where the empire would be america) and so this idea of the consequences of war and the importance of peace is a huge part of the originals message. while this is somewhat supported by the prequels its undermined by the fact that anakins fall is mostly bc of YEARS of grooming starting from when he was a kid. this wasnt a normal, good man who lost sight of what was right and crumpled under the weight of a war. this was a man who was the most special of them all and fell bc he had space hitler literally whispering in his ear since before he knew he was a person. thats not the same thing at all! and that steals the implication that vader could have been any soldier, any general and makes his story all messy

side note- leia has vague memories of her mother which means padme shouldntve died in childbirth and should probably have died/ left the twins when they were at least a year or two old. this would also give more reason as to why the lars have luke call them aunt and uncle rather than mom or dad. i think what probably shouldve happened is that padme got pregnant right before anakin was shipped out at some point so he didnt know he had kids before "dying" and she ended up getting involvef in the rebellion/ fearing for her kids safety and had to get rid of em. literally anything else than what happened in canon lol like wtf is dying of heartbreak get OUT

my final thought i can think of rn is that having hitlers right hand man be a slave is just kinda a strange backstory? like i cant be the only one who doesnt like that. idk. doesnt feel right :/

obv most this stuff is just preference and obv you can argue against most of it. the prequels Do technically work but theyre not great backstory. im also not a fan of how the jedi order and all that mess was established. like you can only be one if youre raised one since diapers but luke literally didnt know what the force was until he was 19 but he ended up being one of the most powerful jedi ever??? yeah. makes perfect sense. :////

i do agree that the prequels r tragic and beautiful in their own right. i think the story they tell is good in some ways and bad in others ans one of the ways they r bad is how they tie in with the originals lol

hope this answers your question :3c or at least helps you see where im coming from :33

[kining-the-evil]

PLEASE WRITE SOME YANDERE POSSESSIVE SAM CARPENTER

Yandere Sam Carpenter Headcanons

An: this gif literally makes my brain empty. On my hands and knees for her

Warnings: yandere!sam carpenter, stalking, manipulation, breaking and entering, stealing, slight perv!Sam, murder, soft!yandere vibes, killer!sam. If any of this will upset you, dont read 🤷🏻

Scream Taglist: none. Let me know if you want added

Sam would do anything for you, she basically worships the ground you walk on

She would probably have a hard time actually approaching you at first, so she gets to know you by stalking

It lets her keep an eye on you without having to risk you turning her down

She learns everything about you she can, knowing all of your likes, dislikes, hobbies, favorite foods, where you like to go, etc.

Sam has your schedule memorized, that way if she has other things to do she can find immediately

Has definitely broken into your house to explore a bit

And steal a pair of your underwear

But could you blame her? It was basically begging her to

After getting away with that she would steal other things, not in a malicious way, but just so she has things to remind her of you

You also look so cute when you wander around, confused on where you could have misplaced something!

Of course, her ‘dad’ is in her ear the whole time, telling her to “take what’s hers.”

It would take her getting really jealous or you getting into trouble for her to finally reveal herself

Once Sam is actually around you, she lays the manipulation on heavy. So heavy that she feels guilty over it, scaring her that its so easy.

But the guilt quickly subsides once you are actually hers

While she’s very jealous and protective, killings wouldn’t happen until after Woodsboro

It puts the thought of someone wanting to hurt you into her head, and she couldn’t live with herself if something happened to you.

She plants seeds of fear into hour head. Sam wants you to be terrified to go anywhere with out her, wants you to believe that danger is behind every corner.

If anyone points out how over protective she is you just laugh it off.

“Sams been through so much, she just wants me to be safe.”

She doesn’t actually remember when the first official murder happened

She remembered going out with you that night, and the asshole who kept checking you out. But the next thing she knew she was kneeling over the guys body and a pool of blood. A sharpened knife in her hand.

Sam knows she should be horrified, but she cant bring herself to. She was protecting you, protecting what is hers.

People start disappearing after that. People who were rude to you or got to close to you were found mutilated.

Which just pushed you further into her arms. All these people you knew, what if you were next?

And while Sam would never hurt you, she encouraged those thoughts. If you didn’t trust anyone but her, you would never leave her

[quitealotofsodapop]

More incorrect quotes from the delightful @justweirddino

Organising these in a set so I respond to all of them, also I have the transcripts in the image descriptions.

Oh gosh so many to react to /pos

Macaque spent a lot of time either on the moon, in the Jade Palace, or in the wilds. He thinks Wukong's sense of enviromental hygiene is appaling for a monkey with his own treasury. Is def the one of the pair who starts organising/tidying up anywhere they go. Pigsy starts yelling like Gordon Ramsey if there's any mess in the kitchen or pantry area - chef habits.

2. Nezha mentions that he's part lotus around Sandy, and the big blue softy cant bring himself to eat lotus roots ever again. Wukong stayed vegan for a long time, but sometimes a monkey needs some protein. Macaque meanwhile has infact eaten other sapient beings, granted if they were already dead.

3. MK whenever they have to go somewhere vaguelly horrifying; "This Is fine." :) Can't wait till this little guy stumbles into Diyu.

4. Nezha holds the family braincell whenever Pigsy isn't available. I love how it's 100% in all their characters; Macaque would be the type to steal a car if it helped with the situation (no matter how petty). Wukong does not fear personal injury. And MK is basically a trash disposal unit when it comes to materials.

5. Wukong is 100% a "if my knee is gonna give me chronic pain, just amputate the leg"-kinda guy. Probably thinks its acceptable to take out your body parts for maintenace. He legit jokes about it during a Jttw chapter where he has to gut himself to show up some taoist priests.

6. Pigsy. Family braincell holder, and very tired of Wukong's nonsense.

7. It took Mei and MK a while to question anything in the TMKATI au. Mei chalked her comparatively dark complexion up to Macaque or Tang, and the scales and fire to whatever Big Bro Nezha was. Kid logic. There was def a period of time where Mei just knew she wa adopted, but the parents hadn't broken the news to her yet. It was an awkward conversation.

8. Erlang is stress incarnate. That third eye gives him images he does not want to see. Just radiates stress like a salt lamp. XD

9. Tbf we are talking about a manipulative murder monkey. MK introduces anyone to Macaque and it's like;

10. I don't know why, but I adore the idea of the Spider Gang post-S3 joining up with Red and the Demon Bull fam. Red probably admires Syntax's programming skills on the Spider-Bots, and offers him a job maintaining the Bull Clones... but DBK and Red are still a bit sore from New Years so they don't 100% trust or respect the spiders just yet. XD

Ty so much for sending these in! These weer really fun to read and to think about.

[ghousttm]

made my old sona into a Milo sona bc i think she'd fit it well

buhhh manipulation, bullying, abusive relationship trigger warning (the average yandere shenanigans yk)

Kit's a sweet person. They were raised surrounded by good people and had grown up to be a good and kind person who knows its really wrong to do anything that hurts others and its really right to appeal to people

(ig- ignore pee milo its an inside joke. 😭)

Kit grew up doted, everything always being done for her by her parents. She grew up sheltered, rarely ever meeting anyone, and when she does.. they've always fortunately been people who are kind.

so she talks sweet, she acts sweet, she is sweet and kind because she was taught to, raised to. And she would've stayed sweet .. if it wasnt for You.

She's grown up rather .. Clueless. Gullible. Naive. Asides that she's also A Pushover. Lonely. People Pleaser. She's never had anything going on for her after all.. she NEEDS people. She NEEDS you

Even as Ryan pulled her hair, threw away her notebooks, punched and kicked her. She thought .. "He's just roughhousing! Playing around- y'know? Hehe.. he's just.. playing around. I cant be such a baby and complain about it.." she believes everyone would only have good intentions, just not the best ways to do those good intentions, so she's patient and kind still .. like she was always taught

what a ray of fucking sunshine

day Kit met You. Who'd teach her that Ryan ISN'T her friend. And teach her how to 'defend herself', or how to 'make friends'

And, almost like it was natural for Kit, he'd get into it reeall easy. You dont even need to convince her 'its okay to do' because for some reason.. as she stood over the bodies of her massacre. as she witnessed the conflict she caused. she didnt feel bad.

she felt.. "wow... that was fun!"

Kit does have one drawback though.. she doesn't actually care about anyone. She never had, and she doesn't even really care about You. No matter how much you've done for her. She's just not a very grateful person once she's got everything she needs to be on her own

At some point in both routes .. Kit will start her own thing

Joining some gang if it were the violence route 'to better protect you' she said, only to never even meet you in person again to fuck around

Straying away from you and your friend group on his own to join another one, even flirting with other people

So, so ungrateful.

But, that's okay. In both scenarios .. they're still very obviously dependent on some group. All you need to do, is take everything away, break his metaphorical legs with a sniper gun, save her and be there for her just before it all falls down or watch her come crawling back pathetically

Make her believe you're the only one she can really trust, she can really depend on out here. Then I promise, the attachment will only come naturally, obsessively

oughgh that boiled egg did NOT taste good i dont think it was still good

[threestripeslider]

I don't know if anybody asked about this but; what does OMO F!Leo feels about big mama? Is she's an enemy, he feels neutral towards her (until she acts up) or does he trust her?

Also Leo's the type who's clever and manipulative sometimes... Does it grow better with OMO f!leo?

your fucking timing of asking me this when im literally planning something for the next OMO chapter - ANYONE ELSE PEEKING AROUND IN MY NOTES?!? SCRUFFING YOU LIKE A KITTEN!! GET OUT OF THERE!!

i cant say much to Big Mama yet bc that is still to be revealed and i want it to be gradual hehe but!! in terms of his mind games skills; Leo‘s proficient at it, but Leonardo can get downright lethal with his skills - he is not above playing dirty. its a direct contrast to Donnie‘s skill in having backups for his backups for his plans, meanwhile Leo has more or less a little network of predictions that he can work with.