#so i don't know how much of it is natural or how much of it is learned

[aakeysmash]

maybes and sunscreen

college!sukuna masterlist

after almost a year of living together, you and college!sukuna are so accustomed to one another that you naturally slip up in the other’s conversations. maybe it's because you're both homebodies, or maybe it's because you've reached the silent agreement to keep the activities you do with yuuji hidden to preserve his innocent childhood (you learned that rumors run a long way inside your campus), or maybe it's because you started to ask sukuna less private questions, since he now seems to want to answer them even before you formulate them.

either way, the two of you always mention the other in conversations, and you don't even seem to notice, but your friends do.

"how about your house, man?" suguru asks sukuna from across the table, sipping his soda. they're sitting outside with satoru for lunch break, slouching on white plastic chairs, waiting for practice to start in less than ten minutes. days are getting longer the more summer break gets nearer, and the breeze flowing through the newly green leaves of the trees is a nice change from the humid stench of the locker rooms.

"dunno. the woman of the house is gonna bake cookies today," he shrugs, scrolling through his phone. he finds himself on a blurry zoomed in photo of a kitten covered in milk, and he smirks, hitting send after having selected your contact. you're going to love it.

"and?" geto asks, confused.

"and i don't know if she wants me to help her or not," sukuna continues, not bothering to look up from his screen, acting like he's not going to pester you until you let him help. and steal some of your cookie batter, too.

"it's the finale, bro, we've been talking about it since december. are you really not going to watch it for some cookies?" his raven haired friend exclaims, baffled. satoru only lowers his glasses on his nose, crossing his arms on his chest.

"oh, i'm going to watch it. got her hooked up on it too," the pink haired man says, a certain tilt to his voice matching the tilt of his head, as if he's saying are you crazy? i'm not missing it. "i don't know if she'd want you there, though."

geto rolls his eyes and satoru snickers, shaking his head. "we just want to watch the game on your tv. are you afraid she's going to feel uncomfortable with us there, my lord captain?" he mocks, sighing. lazily, sukuna glances his way.

"it's not her i'm worried about," he says, raising one of his eyebrows, maroon eyes squinting on a spot behind his friend's back.

"what does that even mean?" mutters geto, even more confused. it’s not like they’ve never seen you or have never been inside your house when you were there, so what’s different this time?

suddenly, sukuna grins like a madman, uncrossing his legs from on top of the table and standing up with his helmet under his arm.

“where are you goi-“ his dark haired friend starts, but satoru puts one of his hands on the other’s shoulder, effectively stopping him, whispering just wait.

sukuna takes a couple of steps, getting out of the gentle shadows of the trees above the table, still grinning.

“hi, baby. did you miss me so much you had to come to see me at practice?” he asks your nearing figure. you’re wearing a dress, the breeze soothingly flowing through your hair, and he takes a second to admire how graceful you look in the middle of the green garden. are the flowers you picked with yuuji the other day still fresh? maybe he should get more. maybe you’d like that. maybe you’d smile. maybe you'd thank him.

“i’m here because i knew you were never going to bring sunscreen with you, dickhead,” you huff, blowing your hair out of your vision, frowning. his grin only grows before he forces it away. typical.

“i don’t need that shit,” he rolls his eyes, turning on his heels and going towards the stadium. he knows you’re going to follow him. and you do.

“put it on! i’m not joking, sukuna,” you whine, trying to fall in step with him. “it’s going to be so good for your skin, come on.”

“it’s sticky and i don’t like feeling like a pussy,” he growls, going faster toward the benches inside the stadium and plopping down on them.

“you like pussy, though,” you shrug, forcing yourself between his parted legs, rummaging through your bag.

“i like you too, baby, but that doesn’t mean you’ll let me stick it in your pussy, does it,” he asks you smugly. you punch him on the shoulder, bewildered.

“you’re so disgusting,” you scoff, opening the little spf tube you brought in your purse just for him. "and don't tell me you like me when you never listen to me in the first place," you playfully add, caressing his face to smooth it out, and he lets you get his unruly hair off of his forehead. maybe he likes how you don't take the things he says to heart. maybe he just says them because he knows he's getting a snarky comment back.

“you didn’t say no, though,” he chuckles, closing his eyes and letting himself bask in your presence. your touch on his features is relaxing. he honestly thinks he could fall asleep if you were in any other setting.

“i’m letting you talk just because i’m in a male dominated field and even if i don’t agree i don’t want to die,” you deadpan. you smear the white cream on his nose, on top of the horizontal tattoo, and massage it into his skin. then you do the same thing with his other markings, making sure they’re protected enough to shimmer in the blazing hot sun.

“i wouldn’t let you die on me anyway,” he mutters. he gets both of his hands on your exposed thighs, keeping you closer, softly rubbing his thumbs in your muscles. "are you fucking finished? i hate this," he bites, frowning. you hum, lazily smiling down at him, rubbing his frown away with your fingertips.

"you're going to be the prettiest girl on the field," you coo. you can feel his mean glare from beneath his eyelids, and you almost shiver. "you're so going to thank me in a couple of years," you add, resting your palms on his cheeks and turning his head up. he opens his eyes slowly, staring into yours intently. his thumb catches on the fluttering hem of you dress while he draws little circles on your legs. he hears his coach screaming for his team to start running, but in this moment, he doesn't care that much. maybe the heat is getting to his head. maybe the soft smile you're looking at him with is making him a little bit weak in the knees.

"wanna make cookies today? we can watch the match together, perhaps ask the brat if he wants to join too," he says, rough voice kept low, almost as if this was a you and him kind of thing. maybe he already planned to ask you to do something with him when he was talking to his friends just a couple of minutes ago. maybe he lied, telling them you were the one who chose to do something, when it's not true. maybe the way satoru is patting suguru on the back with an "i told you so" look on his face isn't casual. maybe the one he was worried about all along was himself.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with your friends?" you ask him, tilting your head, positioning your thumbs on the fake tattoos on his cheekbones. almost as if you could cover their pupils and make him see less.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with me?" he genuinely responds, a somber look on his features. you think it's the first time he doesn't have a mocking grin on his lips. you ruffle the pink hair just above his left ear.

"maybe."

[tsukii0002]

The first days in the exchange program

Diavolo: So you can't go long without water?

Mc: *funny* Exactly without water we die.

Diavolo: I'll make sure that you always have water at your disposal Mc, don't worry!

Mc: *laughing* Too much water can also kill us you know?

Diavolo: *face of complete horror*

A few days later

Diavolo: *totally terrified* Barbatos Mc is in danger!!!! We have to save them!

Barbatos: *alarmed* Why? What's going on?

Diavolo: We are in the rainy season and it's raining a lot, the excess of water can kill Mc!!!!!

Barbatos: I… I think that's not how it works young master.

Mc: *with a float bigger than themself* Don't you think it would have been a good idea if Diavolo had taken some classes on humam anatomy and nature before trying to interact with humans?

Barbatos: I deeply apologize Mc *ashamed*

Mc: Because Solomon does not qualify as normal human, you know?

Barbatos: I am very sorry Mc.

Diavolo: *with all kinds of safety floats* Don't worry Mc, we have it all under control.

.

.

[derealifies]

— HOW I UTILIZE THE GOD STATE FOR MANIFESTING

i use law of assumption for this (obviously) and it's easier than (some of) you might think

so in my own experience, i started with affirmations, like "i am the creator of my reality" or just simply "i am god" and use it interchangeably. embody yourself as the state that you want.

& i don't repeat excessively or in routine, only when i feel like it! this is especially important because well, if you're actually god, you wouldn't need to tell yourself that everyday.

and then there are times where you really realize how much your self-concept has improved. for me, it was as simple as seeing a beautiful butterfly and feeling proud/happy because i know it was under my creation. and most of all, i was content with my ability to manifest and my current reality, which i had already assumed as my dream life - which it is.

now for what i've manifested/received simply from embodying this state of consciousness:

- better mental health & confidence - i knew things were going to be okay, if not perfect, because i assumed it will.

- control over the state of the weather (i once manifested a strong ass storm bc i hated the summer 😭... welp)

- social media popularity (i only thought "oh how interesting would it be if i made this post and it blows up" & it happened in less than one day 🤷‍♀️)

- grades & natural intelligence => maths was one of my difficult subject and now i can do it sooo smoothly (my latest maths test got 91%)

- inducing pure consciousness easily. before this, i spent like 1-2h everyday trying to relax and get into the 'void state' for no reason, while listening to a bunch of different meditation guide and subliminals. that's not to say that you shouldn't do this, but i was overcomplicating it all. once i decided that i could just induce pure consciousness in like, a minute, it happened. it is *that* easy, so don't tell yourself otherwise.

- there's more that i will add in later posts if i remember.. anyway thank u for reading, happy manifesting lovies 💕

[myceliacrochet]

Reblog if answer tysm!!

You know, the children scream when those planes drop aid. It crushes people. Then people rush to the aid, and some take it first and shoot at others' feet to keep them away.

Palestinians don't want more things dropped from planes.

The man who posted the above, Ahmed Al-Mashaal, lost two children to the IOF, and he had to endure this. So much cruelty from the sky. It is a deeply degrading and violent way to extend a show of "help."

The U.S. acts like this kind of thing is our only way to help, as if we (yes the power elite, but also all U.S. citizens who pay taxes) aren't funding 70% of the genocide. Biden could end this today, Netanyahu could end this today, and the Israeli hostages, who are being cared for, would be sent back. But will the Palestinian hostages ever be sent back? We know what happens to the precious children Israel is holding hostage.

The text image is something my friend Moneer Raed @raedfamily wrote about those awful planes. He is 19 and helping take care of his 4-year-old sister, Sham. When I ask him how he and his family are, he always says they are fine and he just wants to make sure I'm okay. I've come to learn that he and his family are grateful to be alive, they are very positive, and they are in hell.

I asked him today if he has to walk far to get water. He said yes and these days they have trouble finding flour or even finding out the (extremely exorbitant) price. It is filled with mites and mold.

Humans are doing this, not nature. Certain humans. There is enough food and housing and love in the world for everyone and there are ways to distribute it.

If your taxes have ever funded the IOF, here is an opportunity to pay back some of the reparations you owe.

Donation-protected GoFundMe for Moneer and Sham

Same for Ahmed Al-Mashaal

More about him

More about Moneer and Sham

@opencommunion @phaon1 @heliopixels @neechees @beserkerjewel @deepspaceboytoy @rhubarbspring @lesbianmaxevans @malcriada @turian @sxpph0 @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @neptunerings @dykesbat @halalgirlmeg @userpeggycarter @minosbull @hamstertross @buttercuparry @kaleschmidt @jaylung101 @irhabiya @captainsaltymuyfancy2 @timetravellingkitty @sun-and-moon-side @socalgal @xinakwans @kahin @greenmossyrock @theparanoid @steep1253o @victoriawhimsey @dirhwangdaseul @cruzwalters @ladycelebrianofimladris @tamamita @50seagullsinatrenchcoat @deathlonging @nconiku @briarhips @kaislittlecorner @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @sawasawako @feluka @anneemay-blog @ralfocups

Edit: See both posts for vetting info.

[newtkelly]

there's something about the bucktommy breakup which reminds me of fleabag s2. where the hot priest is like 'i don't know if this is love or god' and then an episode later fleabag asks the priest 'so is it love or god?' and it's clearly god and so the priest leaves her. and i can imagine something similar going through tommy's head when buck asks him to move in, being afraid that what buck is feeling for tommy isn't love of tommy's person but some glorious and abstract feeling of liberation and self-discovery. it's different bc in fleabag the priest realizes himself that it's "god" not love for her, and here tommy is concluding for buck that buck is feeling ""god"" (an abstracted feeling) not love.

anyway, i think tommy's problem is that his idea of romance is too informed by love actually and is insufficiently literary. he needs to come to the practical conclusion that a) buck will never be able to disconnect tommy from his liberating self-discovery and b) that doesn't make how buck feels about tommy not true love. tommy has love actually disease but what he needs, more than he needs someone to run through an airport for him, is a pragmatic austen-esque epilogue, about circumstances and personalities lining up and the natural and rational prevarication about the fact that falling in love is very like god and that's genuinely not a bad foundation for a committed relationship.

buck likewise needs to stop running through airports or proposing in a language he barely knows to people he barely knows. a walk in a park where he just talks to his boyfriend is enough.

ok sharing this because it’s very profound and i need to read it more closely to be able to properly respond but i am also VERY much thinking about the rom-com of it all — what does tommy think love is, what does he expect from a relationship if he’s never actually had a meaningful one? what is the bar?

[iamthemain-character]

Are Your Ears Burning? 18+ only - Minors DNI

astarion x fem!reader

CW: smut, masturbation, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), astarion being a brat

A/N: If you know me irl, no you don't (lovingly)- otherwise, welcome to my first smut fic (i need to be put down like a dog). Also shout out to S.H. for being an editor and proofreader, cause my asexual ass don't know shit <3 can't wait to live in the asylum with you when our delusions take over our brains

bg3 masterlist

You couldn’t fucking take it anymore. 

Life out on the open road was exhausting, and often far dirtier than you’d like, and most days you just wanted to collapse into your bedroll once the night sky blanketed the camp. Although, when the travel was not so long and the days were a little bit calmer, your mind would finally be able to think of other things than sheer survival. But that was where the real battle lay, and you had no defenses against your opponent. 

The most beautiful bastard to ever walk the earth, otherwise known as Astarion.

It was truly horrible. The elf vampire’s mere existence was enough to send your body fluttering. The way he would lounge by the fire, feet reaching for the warm, head tilted to face the heavens. Or when he would put on his armor, dexterous fingers flexing as he tightened leather straps. It didn’t help that Astarion was an outrageous flirt, who knew exactly how to lower his eyes just so, or how to change his voice to a vocal caress. Sometimes you wondered if he could possibly read your mind, if he was amused by how utterly pathetic you became the moment he said your name. 

Perhaps it would have been easier if he could, because then you wouldn’t be caught in the dilemma you found yourself in. You know of Astarion’s background, knew that he was trying to undo two centuries worth of pain and hurt. And for that reason you didn’t dare speak your desires to him, not willing to chance the fact that you might ruin what little healing he had found. 

At the end of the day, however, you still were just a woman. And it was in the twilight of a long day that you retired to your tent, hot and flustered from so much more than the campfire. Your core ached, desperate to find some sort of release for the sheer amount of arousal it was constantly put through. But of course, when you thought of pleasure, it was the face of Astarion that came to mind. But that was not a path you were willing to go down. 

Tentatively, you moved to lay on your bedroll; even though you were completely alone, and well within your own right, you felt embarrassed as you took off your shoes, your pants soon cast aside as well. You lay back, taking a deep breath as you attempted to clear your mind, to relax and enjoy yourself. You began as you always did, fingers trailing over your opening, touching the spots that you knew would make you feel good. 

Except when the first wave of pleasure hit, all your mind could think of was Astarion. His pale face, with those alluring ruby eyes filled your mind, and you found your lips longing to utter his name. It shocked you for a moment, but you couldn’t help but note the way the thought of him had made the experience more enjoyable. 

You struggled within yourself, questioning the morality of thinking of Astarion for your own pleasure. You had no right to him, and aside from his flirtatious nature, you weren’t even sure he wanted you in that way. So you resolved to push any thoughts of your white-haired companion away, resorting to sheer pleasure to satisfy yourself. 

You went for where the aching was in your core, fingers pushing through your own soft folds, gathering the slickness that had already collected in just the few moments. You carefully pushed into yourself, breath catching as you maneuvered through the first ring of muscle. Slowly, you pumped your fingers in and out, taking care to brush against your sensitive inner wall. To your dismay, however, the feeling of your fingers within yourself didn’t bring you nearly as much pleasure as you had hoped. Your mind betrayed you, focused on how it was woefully your own hand and not a certain vampire spawn companion’s. 

You slipped in another finger in an attempt to help fill you up, and your mind drifted to Astarion. What would it feel like if it had been his cock inside of you instead, pushing up against your center. Would he be thick, stretching you out around him? Or would he be long, needing to encourage you to keep taking him in. Your fingers picked up their pace, desperation starting to take root as your longing for the real thing increased. 

With a jolt, you caught your ruminating thoughts, heat burning through your face rather than your core as shame coiled in your stomach. Frustrated, you removed your own hand, a little miffed at how difficult your hopeless crush on the elf had made your life. You took a deep breath, moving onto a different tactic; if you couldn’t control your thoughts, you wouldn’t think at all. Your clit had already swelled a little from the arousal, and as you brushed your fingers over the bump, it produced a satisfying thrill up through your body. 

You began working the bud with your fingers, a soft sound escaping you as you felt your pleasure increase in your body, responding to the stimulation. You allowed your mind to grow hazy with the sensations, little prickles of pleasure running through your hips and legs, giving your body the experience it had been craving. 

You pressed on your clit more firmly, touching yourself with more intensity as your body grew hotter and hotter. Little noises escaped with your uneven breathing, the pleasure unable to be constrained to your body and escaping into the air. You had to be careful, your tent was in a circle of your companions’ after all, but your need overruled any real sense of propriety. You continued to vocalize your pleasure, whispered “pleases” mixing in with the quiet noises that escaped you the more you felt pleasured. You could almost hear Astarion’s voice in your ear, murmuring words of encouragement, of praise, enticing you closer and closer to your climax. 

“Astarion…” You groaned, unable to resist the way it so easily came to your lips. 

Little did you know that just outside your tent, crouched beside the very wall of tarp that you were next to, the man himself sat, pointed ears listening intently to your sounds. Astarion had no intentions of listening into your private moment as he had walked past your tent, but the moment he had heard his own name moaned out, your voice so sinfully needy, he had rooted himself to the spot. It didn’t take him long to deduce what was happening, the scent of your arousal, damp and slick on your hot skin, told him all he needed to know. So he sat there, listening intently, his own hunger growing, tightening the leather of his trousers. 

Your breath came out in little pants as you felt the coil burn hot in your lower abdomen, ready to spring at any given moment. How you longed for Astarion’s actual touch, for him to help you along; instead, however, you contented yourself with a final swirl of your forefinger, and the coil snapped. Warmth swelled in the center of your body, and your body sank into the thin bedroll, satisfaction easing the tension that had plagued you for so long. You pulled your hand away from your body, letting it fall beside your trembling thighs. As soon as the initial high was over, however, guilt poisoning the ecstasy, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. No matter how hard you had tried, you couldn’t get the beautiful elven man out of your head, the stupid bastard. 

“You did so well, darling. So good, coming for me just like that.” You could almost imagine his voice purring to you. 

Except you didn’t imagine it. 

Your eyes fly open, and standing at the end of your bed was Astarion himself, a beautifully wicked smirk curled across his lips. His ruby eyes gleamed with gratification, looking as pleased as can be as his gaze drank in the sight of your dripping folds. 

With a start, you broke from your blissful haze, scrambling to cover yourself; Astarion, however, had other plans, pouncing on you immediately, grasping your wrists and pinning them to your sides. “No no, darling, don’t get shy now.” He clicked his tongue, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “You don’t get to act coy, not when you called out my name. This is mine to enjoy, and you’re not taking it from me.” 

Astarion punctuated his words by bringing your messy fingers to his lips, taking them into his mouth, tongue swirling around them as he tasted you. He groaned, eyes closing for a moment as he savored your flavor. “So sweet, darling…I simply must have more.” 

Your mind was still caught in shock, lost for words as he shifted down your body, hands caressing from your wrists, following the path of your arms as he trailed further and further downward. He knelt into his position of worship, finding the altar between your thighs, more than ready to taste the wine of your body. Despite how needy he felt, he wanted to savor this moment, the way he finally had your truest feelings laid bare before him. 

“Were you truly so desperate for me, love?” He purred, rubbing his nose against your soft inner thigh. “Our perfect little hero of the realm, fucking herself on her fingers, crying out my name. How perfectly filthy.”

“I...I just needed-”You feel beyond embarrassed, being caught in such a personal moment, but even more so being caught by the very man you were using to get off. 

Astarion, however, was the furthest thing from displeased, chuckling as he pushed on your legs, sighing happily as his face was smooshed between your plush thighs. “I know what you needed, pet. You could have just asked, you know; I would have been more than happy to oblige.” 

You inhale a sharp breath, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, a flicker of concern tightening around your heart. “I don’t ever want to put you in that position again…”

Astarion faltered, his heart melting a little as he realized what you were insinuating. He moved back up to hover above you, the cool leather of his pants stretched over his knees as they pushed up against your thighs, effectively keeping your legs wide open for him. He gently stroked your waist–better than the way you had imagined–his slightly dry fingertips soft as he mapped out the curve of your form. 

“You could never.” He says, his creamy voice quiet as he spoke, the most earnest you had ever seen him. His eyes matched the color you felt in your heart, heated and passionate. “You are nothing like him, or any of them. You…” He leaned in, and he pressed his lips to yours. His whole body leaned into you, craving the warmth he could feel radiating off. “You have proven time and time again that you see me as more than a body.” Astarion whispered against your lips, his own still brushing them. “You have given me a place to call home, to not constantly have to protect myself. And now that I’m not just trying to survive…” He moved his lips to your neck, biting gently. “I find myself wanting.”

His meaning was clear in his words, sending tingles up your body from how much more it excited you. “You have to know now just how much I feel about you..how I adore you.” You reach up a slightly shaky hand, cupping his sharp jawline into your palm. He leans into it, hands tightening into a possessive grip on your waist, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving. 

“It cannot possibly match just how much I adore you.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss into your palm. His eyes flit open again, glancing at yours. “And I would like to show you, if you’ll let me.” 

Your breath catches as your heart skips, heat curling in your stomach again. Unable to trust your voice you give him a silent nod, the need evident in your gaze. 

Astarion presses one last kiss to your lips before he returns to his irreverent worshiping, his slender hands wrapping around your thighs, nails pressing into your skin as if to mark you as his. He brings his face the slit between your folds, and he inhales deeply, a satisfactory sigh leaving him. You clench around nothing, his warm breath scattering across your damp skin making your body tingle with arousal. 

“Look at her, already so beautiful and ready for me.” He murmurs, pressing his pointed nose into the little crevice above your clit. He darts his tongue out, flicking the swollen bud, smiling as he feels the twitch of your body in reply. “But look at her, poor thing…she deserves tact, and true pleasure, not just a brutish push to an orgasm. Never fear, my love..” He pauses, pressing a kiss to your pelvis, “I am here to take care of you as you deserve.” 

Astarion rolls out his tongue, pressing it flat against the opening between your softness, and he drags it upwards. He hums with delight, just the hint of your essence making him greedy for more. He pushes through the soft flesh, dragging his tongue expertly up and down, lapping up the mixture of arousal and release that remains. 

You can’t help the soft noises that escape you, no words being able to describe how you’re feeling, the sensations too strong to remain within you, finding their release through your vocal cords. This only spurs Astarion forward, however, who continues swiping his tongue through your vulva, unabashedly hungry in his consumption of you. The only breaks you receive are when he occasionally pauses to tell you how perfect you are, or how good you taste, or how much he adores you. The moment the elf finishes vocalizing his sentiments, however, he returns to your body, working his tongue over and over again. 

You find yourself wishing you could have had this first, Astarion’s actions surprisingly better than your own, as if he was simply meant to know your body in this way. Had you not been so entirely consumed with the sensations his mouth were bringing you, you might have had the notion to be irritated, but instead you only found yourself delighted by his uncanny ability to find the places that pleasured you the most. 

While Astarion could have happily just kept dragging his tongue over you like a man dying of thirst, he wanted to continue focusing on your pleasure. It delighted him, being able to give pleasure because of his affections he felt, with no ulterior motives, and he was determined to enjoy it to the fullest. His shifts a little, easing his tongue into your opening, his body jolting as he feels you gasp and tighten on the muscle. Teasingly, he moves his tongue, easing you open again, sliding it as far as he can get. He presses his face as far into you as he can, taking full advantage of vampires’ lack of needing air. He presses his nose against your sensitive clit, rubbing it slowly, building up a rhythm with his tongue as he moves it  in tandem with his teasing nose. 

He feels a surge of satisfaction as you moan, grinding your body against his face, letting him delve deeper into your soaking cunt as he gets more and more drunk on your taste. He can feel you getting close from all the stimulation, the way his hands have to keep you from closing your thighs around his head–not that he’d mind going that way, but he has other plans for you. 

“You’re doing so well for me, my love….taste so sweet, being so filthy on my tongue.” He murmurs, rubbing his nose against your throbbing clit, and you nearly lose it from hope the vibrations rumble through your flesh. “You’ll be a good girl for me and come, won’t you? Let me taste my saccharine reward.” 

“Astarion, I…” You’re not really sure what you’re trying to say, thoughts increasingly difficult to form with every flick of his tongue against your tense inner muscles.

“I’m here, my darling…my beautiful woman…” He presses a kiss with his lips to your labias, a sweet gesture compared to his demanding tongue and insistent nose. “Let yourself go. Baptize me in your glory, please.” 

He’s begging you. Tongue pushed deep into your core, pointed nose steadily pressing into your bud, Asatrion is begging you to come on his face, and you don’t have the strength– nor the desire– to deny him. 

“Astarion!” You moan out, hips bucking against his face as the tension snaps, your body going slack against him as warmth courses through your muscles. 

Astarion feels a surge of delight and satisfaction as he feels his face dampen, and he forgets any rhythm with his tongue as it greedily laps at you, as if he needs every last drop of your release to survive. You can barely make out his murmurs, only catching your name and words of praise here and there. You whimper as he licks at you, the sensation bordering on overstimulation for your pleasured body, but you can’t deny the ache feels good. 

Finally, Astarion’s face pulls away from your warmth, and he presses one last soft kiss to your swollen clit, inhaling deeply to take in your scent once more. He sits up, reaching a hand out to brush back the hair sticking to your forehead. 

“You alright darling?” He asls warmly, smiling down at your flushed and dazed face. 

You nod, taking a deep breath as you try to collect yourself. “I’m…I”m wonderful…perfect actually..” You glance over him, and feel your stomach flip as you see the obvious bulge in his pants. “Astarion, you-” 

He waves you off, pressing a kiss to your stomach. “Do not push yourself, dearest. I wouldn’t want to break your pretty little body on our first night together.” 

“I want you to break me.” You blurt out, heat rushing to your ears as you drop your gaze. As if you weren’t already a trembling and aching mess from the most thorough and pleasurable eating out you’d ever received. Yet somehow, with Astarion, it was never enough. “Please.” 

For a moment, Astarion just gazed down at you, his wine-colored eyes deep in thought as he seemed to consider you. Finally, he smiled, and he reached down, untucking his shirt. “You are so perfect, darling, you know that?” 

Even after all that you’ve experienced, your body burns with arousal again as you watch him remove his shirt, tossing it aside without a care. For a moment, you feel you might faint when he tells you you can touch him, but you manage to stay conscious. Your trembling hands caress over his smooth chest, feeling the cool, pale skin, and the lean muscles that it encases. Astarion shivers at your touch, adoring how he simultaneously feels both adored and wanted. 

He unlaces his trousers, disposing of those and his underwear, watching your expression carefully.

The heat in your center doubles, and you already ache for friction, for him as you gaze at his body. His cock is long, erected upwards as he takes in the mess he’s already made. Veins curve around the shaft, dark against his taut, pale skin. You shudder as a thrill runs up your spine as you imagine how that will feel, and you wonder if you can die from anticipation. 

“Is this what you imagined, darling? Or have your wicked fantasies bested me?” Astarion teases, his voice low as he returns to his position, howevering over you. He dips his head down, nibbling at your ear before moving down to press a trail of kisses across your neck. 

“You are far better than anything I could have imagined, though...I’m not sure this isn’t fantasy.” You breathe out, feeling dizzy from his proximity. 

“This is very much so reality, darling.” Astarion murmurs into your skin. “And I have every intention of proving it.” 

He leans up a little, just enough so that he can grasp your hips, lifting them to meet his body. As you watch him bring his member to your opening, you wonder if you will ever remember how to breathe. But suddenly, you feel him push in, and suddenly all you can focus on is just how right it feels.

 He takes his time, though it's easy for him to slip in, your body plenty wet from your arousal. He groans your name softly as he feels you clench down, as if your body is demanding to have more without delay. He happily obliges, pushing forward a little more intently, watching to ensure you are comfortable. 

You have no qualms, however; every inch you receive sends little waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You wonder how you ever lived without this, the desperate ache inside of your core easing away as he fills you up. As he gets closer to his base, it becomes a bit of a stretch, your body not quite used to the length, but your moan is full of appreciation rather than pain. 

Astarion bottoms out, a deep breath escaping him as he does. “My darling…” He murmurs, caressing his hands up and down your hips. His eyes are hazy, his body thrumming with heat, with the sheer ecstasy of being so deeply intertwined with you. 

Your own body is pulsing, and you grow a little greedy, your hands grasping at his pale strands of hair. “Astarion...m-more…please…”

Astarion moans again, amazed by how he could have someone so incredible possibly want him. “Do not fear, my love. I have every intention of giving you everything.”

Astarion pulls back his hips, pushing them back in a little quickly, his stomach lurching as he hears the gasp that escapes you. He repeats the motion, building up a steady pace as he thrusts in and out of your warmth. It's like your bodies need one another, crave the most carnal and yet loving intimacy that can be had. Astarion's hands firmly grasp your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can thrust deeper, a little harder as he does so. Both of you moan, the pleasure intensified through the new angle. Astarion stops being careful, pumping in and out of your soft body at a reckless pace, needing to chase the pleasure that continues to rise higher and hotter between the two of you. 

The two of you are lost to your ecstasy until you reach the height of it. You come hard and fast, your insides burning up from the tightly wound coil. You forget everything, calling out Astarion’s name without caring if others will hear it, clinging to him as your pleasure takes you. Astarion follows almost immediately after, hips stuttering before he just presses into you, allowing his hot release to fill up your body. Your thighs soon become slick as it spills out of your body, but you hardly notice, more focused on the sensation of Astarion’s body laying on top of yours. 

For a few moments, you both just lay there together, panting heavily, minds spinning from the sheer amount of bliss the two of you have created. Your hands stroke through his hair, his own hands still cupping your waist as if you are the only thing grounding him to the earth. 

“You are so perfect, my love..” Astarion whispers, his voice husky and low, barely a murmur in your ear. “Just positively divine.” 

You smile, a little flutter of satisfaction warming your own heart. “As are you. I feel absolutely incredible, thanks to you.” 

The white-haired elf chuckles, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Do not ever thank me, my darling. I’m almost ashamed to admit how much of this was for my own pleasure. You will have to force me to only think of you, next time.” 

“Next time?” You echo, quirking a brow at him, hope fluttering in your chest.  Astarion’s smile curls across his flushed face, and he tucks your hair behind your ear. “Of course darling. I can’t have my beloved resorting to her own hands the next time she needs to feel good. Especially if I can be the one hearing you moan my name.”

[bogleech]

In theory, would an Endoparasite, given enough time co-evolving with its host, become an organelle or organ in time? Would that just transform it into a symbyote by definition instead? I ask this cause I've heard that's how eukaryote cells evolved (kinda, it's more like the smaller cells they absorbed did not get consumed instead)

Well, fun fact the word "symbiote" includes parasites anyway! It's a misconception that symbiote is the word for "the beneficial version." Symbiotes are any animals at all that depend on a deep relationship with another species, whether it means they help them out or they suck their blood all day and give them diseases! The helpful kind are just called "mutualistic symbiotes" and the detrimental kind are "parasitic symbiotes," but countless organisms blur those definitions in so many confusing ways that it's impossible to draw a line. For instance, we now know that many parasitic worms sequester so many toxic metals it must have always been of some benefit to their hosts, even before we started dumping more toxic metals into the food chain and have them working overtime these days:

That already feels a lot like the function of an organ! Kind of like how our bacterial biomes have been classified as "organs" too. But I know what you mean; a parasite becoming basically a permanent, attached part of what was once a host animal, passed directly to the host's offspring, just like a bigger version of where mitochondria came from. We don't know that that's happened just yet, but there are parasitic worms that start colonizing animals as soon as they're developing in the womb, and nearly all wild animal populations have a 100% constant presence of parasites their entire lives. So I think it's highly possible, really. Say a particular tapeworm mutated to where it's so good at that toxin absorption, it makes the host significantly healthier and stronger than its competitors? Then both creatures become that much more likely to pass on their genes together. Over many generations of this, if it proved beneficial enough, you could have a parasite that's barely recognizable as a tapeworm anymore, a sac of tissue that passes its larvae directly to the host's offspring, and the host's body could have even adapted designated places for these former parasites. They could totally look just like another natural organ until they were put under a microscope.

[naamahdarling]

You should see it. It isn't worth the risk of not seeing it if it's something that you might even remotely enjoy. Especially based on what one person says, no matter how much you admire or trust them.

He can dislike it, but if the unicorn had been buddy-movie grateful, disney-movie emotional, it would have been a very different, very shallow, MUCH worse movie. Like just, really really bad.

She's not bitchy or catty or cruel, she literally does not understand humans or their drive or their big emotions. She doesn't feel love, she doesn't feel regret. She doesn't have ambition, she doesn't desire or benefit from change. She barely wants anything. She's complete by herself. She is content.

She can't be ungrateful unless you expect what is essentially a...a kind of immortal spirit, a place, a forest in the shape of a creature, to be in any way at all human. She can't be a deity, that's an extremely human concept, but she is not a normal living thing in any regard whatsoever.

The entire point of the movie is change, and truth. Front to back, it is change and truth, and the destruction of illusions, and surviving it, and the toll that takes, and the gifts it can bring. It's full of tremendous and intense, unthinkable, incomprehensible, destructive, renewing, life-altering change. And also truth, and the unraveling of illusions, which are everywhere in the narrative, and are almost always dangerous, or hiding something that is.

The unicorn unravels everything around her by being the catalyst for change, and it is incredibly destructive. Things come apart around her. It leads to good things, usually, but it breaks everything first.

She changes on the road, she learns to care about humans enough to help them, to save their lives, and that is very much an expression of gratitude.

She just doesn't care about the wizard questing for greatness. It is irrelevant. Glory is useless. And she's right.

She doesn't experience a fundamental alteration of her nature until she is forcibly changed against her will to survive, and it is not a positive change. It ruins her. It is a tremendous trauma that leaves her empty and broken, and eventually, partly and unnaturally human. She keeps losing what she was, and it is tragic and painful to watch. Why would she be grateful for that? She wishes she had died.

She finally develops something like love, but only after she has forgotten much of what she was. Then she desperately grasps onto it as something to replace what she lost.

Her encroaching humanity is killing what she was (her first response to being human was absolute visceral terror at having a mortal, and thus actively dying, body) a trauma response that allows her to survive, to hide. An illusion.

Love is an attempt to make peace with it all, and it is beautiful enough, but also empty. You are never meant to cheer for it. Only feel for them both. It's a sticking point for some people that the romance isn't done well. It isn't meant to feel right. They leaned on it a little hard in the movie, the book does it better, but it was a "kids' movie" (it isn't) so that was a little inevitable.

Change destroys everything, and it breaks everything.

At the end, when she changes back, who is it she appears to, to acknowledge what happened? And who is it she visits and touches and loves and says goodbye to? She is grateful.

The movie/book does exactly what it set out to do, and I have to say that I don't necessarily trust the judgment of people who dismiss it out of hand.

Yes, I saw it young, in the theater, so I imprinted, but it has been a radically different movie at different parts of my life. I've identified with every character in different phases of my life, so it has had the depth to stand up to easily over a hundred viewings by a half dozen versions of myself. I know people have their issues with the style of animation which, whatever, I think it's gorgeous and I also don't consider that a reason to dismiss an otherwise good movie or show (I really dislike the animation style of Gravity Falls, actually, it bores the crap out of me, but that isn't the point). But the story itself is not like anything else I've ever seen.

If you get it, you get it. If you don't, you don't. But wanting her to be grateful and kind is...really super duper extremely not the point, and would actually be antithetical to it and ruin the story as it is. And it's missing the ways she expresses those things. If that's what you take away, that she is somehow morally deficient, you literally did not understand it, or you haven't seen it, or you have a take so radically divergent from mine I am probably incapable of understanding it.

It is so, so good.

Following the author of The Last Unicorn on Facebook is the only thing that makes being on that site worthwhile.

(source)

[fishnapple]

How they proclaim their love for you

(lover/partner/future spouse)

This reading is about how the person you have in mind would proclaim their love for you. You can consider these as their mini love affirmations

Disclaimer : cheesy edition

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

CUBE 1

• Let's take all our time in this world. There's no need to rush. Time? It might not even exist for us. We have escaped time.

• You sent an electric shock down to my core and I still find myself standing. Stronger than ever. Like a machine getting its fuel.

• Our language is of moonlight, fluttering wings, laughter of the stream, cloudy scents of flesh.

• Our lips kiss through the air with words.

• Actions speak louder and we are loud in our actions.

• My mind is spinning, soaring then diving, goes a hundred miles around then comes back, struggling to take you all in.

• This dark corner is our playground.

• I'm in hardworking mode when it comes to our connection. I have lofty goals. Let's work hard together.

• We look like kids when we're out into the outside world together. People ask whether we are friends? We are best friends, whether we are lovers? We are best lovers, whether we're having fun? Nothing is more fun and more serious.

• I have fears, but when I open my mouth, I don't let them escape. But you helped them get out. Is this a prison break for them or for me?

• My mind keeps going back and forth from past to future and you're there, in all of them.

CUBE 2

• Here, take my money. What's mine is yours.

• Do you know the plot where one character is thrown into a dire situation, and somehow, the other one character will come to their rescue. That's me, I'm the one rescued, by you.

• After winter is spring, time goes on, seasons change, I have you with me to witness that together.

• I've become greedy. Wanting to possess every minuscule expression of yours. If I would just freeze them in time.

• Do you see those wild beasts outside the window? And here we are, snuggle comfortably in our home, safely. The light of our home attracted those beasts, they're outside, cold and hungry. Our home will welcome them, but they won't be able to come in as their old shells. They will come in as happiness, transformed.

• I fall in love fast and then I keep it slow.

• I love giving you a bath, bubbling up your hair, seeing water running on your skin then later drying your hair for you and smelling the fresh shampoo scent. Aromatherapy at its finest.

• There's this need growing in me, and I can feel it growing in you too, we share some parts of ourselves with each other. This need is big, it's overwhelming, it makes my heart feel a tugging pain, it animates my body, giving me energy. It's the need to be, to stay alive, so that I can be together with you.

• I know all the right words yet feel like a fool with you.

• I imagine myself a parent, coming home to see our kids fighting, then I will act as a mediator, coming in to lecture them. I look forward to this scenario more than the promotions of my career. Biggest achievement.

• Thank you for letting me love you.

CUBE 3

• Loving you feels like second nature for me, something I've done so many times already, everything in me just do it automatically.

• We definitely have met before. Did we share past lives together? You look so familiar, like the ghost in my dreams, the daydreams in my head, the face of a character in those novels I read.

• My soul is a trapped pool, I would use my bare hand to scoop out all the dirt and monsters from it, take a cupful of water, boil it over and over again until it transparently pure, keep it warm or ice it the way you like then present it to you.

• I stand firm on this earth, confident that I have someone to come back to.

• Our hearth is the most sacred place to me. I would put offering before it, just like how people of bygone days worshipped at the god altar.

• I will keep it warm and nourishing for you.

• Never fear.

• Our lifetime together will blink by so fast, I'm already missing it. But have no fear, it won't end.

• We navigate this path so well that we're definitely professional travellers.

• Change of places, change of jobs? Doesn't matter, I can go along with everything, as long as there's no change of hearts.

• We've travelled from faraway lands to each other and we will continue to travel together.

• I wish you could read my mind and feel my heart, and I could do the same for yours, it would save a lot of time and misunderstanding.

• This is just the beginning.

CUBE 4

• I will tell you "I love you" everyday. Make that a checklist.

• If you and I went to the same school, you would be my high-school sweetheart, the one that I would secretly gush about in little notes, the one that I would absentmindedly draw a heart next to your name.

• Even if we were continents apart, I still feel you next to me, every waking moment and every sleepy dream.

• You fill my throat with sweet sweet love dripping down so much I feel like I can't breathe.

• I love you.

• I can't speak! Tongue tied. Unlock me. But then, if the door is open, I'm too shy to step out.

• In sickness and in health.

• I feel a part of myself went missing whenever you're not here.

• Your pain makes me bleed.

• This is new to me, I don't know what to do. Help me, teacher.

• I probably have a malfunction somewhere in the system to be acting like this. What have you done?

• You are love personified.

• Life has been good since you came to me. But it also has been exceptionally difficult for me to stay alone.

• I have imagined countless times how you would hold my younger self in your arms and feel soothed by them. I may not get to feel it in the past, but I will feel it now, for my past self, my present self and my future self.

[katyawriteswhump]

Steddie Wiggly Wednesday🪱🐛🪱🐛

Thanks for the tag @wheneverfeasible and @medusapelagia and possibly some other lovely moots. Sorry, I move in ice ages!

CW for original character death. Don't worry, Steddie and all canon characters are safe.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Steve has an older brother, Cal, less than two years older than him. He loves his brother and hates his guts because Cal is stupidly perfect.

Not just grade A student perfect and state championship tennis finals perfect. Cal is so ridiculously, effortlessly nice. He floats above the High School popularity monster on some cotton-candy cloud of perfection—so high above all the shit that he can play Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie ‘freakshow’ Munson every week and walk away untarnished.

Steve’s pretty popular too, but he’s laboring for it the hard way— hanging with the ‘right’ crowd, dating the ‘mean’ girls. He’s sweating it out on the basketball court, barely scraping through the classes that Cal aced. Of course, his parents are pissed, and he knows he’ll never emerge from Cal’s perfect shadow.  Cal secretly gave Steve all his old class notes to copy and offered to coach him, but Jesus, who’s gotten time for that shit?

So yeah, Steve hates Cal, and he loves him too. When Steve figures he might be bi, he’s in need of his brother like never before, though can’t find the right words. He’s got a dumb crush on Tommy H and��� Ugh, it’s not like he can tell Tommy, and even when Steve gets over his crush, nobody in Hawkins is gonna accept that kind of shit.

Naturally, his perfect brother sees when Steve stops hanging with Tommy and the others. Sees when Steve stops dating. On that spring night, when it’s only the two of them and a sixpack at home by the pool, Cal knows. Even before Steve starts to inarticulately explain how confused and screwed up he is. Even before Steve tells Cal he’s over Tommy, but he’s definitely queer, and faking being the Steve Harrington the world wants to see is killing him. He’s failing his classes, and Hargrove is humiliating him on the basketball court. Steve’s got a totally messed up crush on Billy too, even though the guy treats him like dirt. Steve is scared Billy knows, and… Crap, why is his life such a mess?

He cries. He hates himself for it, but he cries, and it’s okay, because he’s got his brother, and he hates how perfect Cal is. But Cal is always gonna be there, and he’ll always have his back.

Cal is off to MIT in the fall. So yeah, that’s gonna suck, until… Cal doesn’t go. Instead, he gets sick.

Really sick. Steve’s worried, but this is Cal, he’s perfect. Everyone says that Cal is gonna ‘beat it.’ As if, because he’s a good person, he’s going to somehow exert his magic over whatever fucked-up biology is destroying his body.

Cal has three months to live.

Eddie is devastated. It was supposed to be Cal’s final campaign before he ascended to the higher plane of an Ivy League school. Now it’s simply final.

Suddenly, Eddie is moving Hellfire Club to Hawkins General Hospital, and then hosting it at the fucking Harrington’s. Nobody is shrieking or dousing him in Holy Water, and it would be hilarious, if it wasn’t so horrible.  Obviously, Eddie is determined to make it the greatest, most metal campaign he’s ever conducted. He’s crumbling inside. They all are. These are the last days he gets to share with the guy from the ‘right’ side of the rails who looked at Eddie and saw Eddie, rather than the con-supremo-spawn of Al Munson.

Cal’s a-hole kid brother, Steve, starts hovering around when they’re playing. For obvious reasons. He needs to cling to every last moment with Cal, too. Lurking in dark corners, Steve starts staring at Eddie so hard it gets creepy. Eddie knows he’s pretty magnetic when he’s in full-on DM mode, but this is weird. Obviously, Steve must want ‘in,’ so Eddie reluctantly offers to help him draw up a character card, and… shock horror.

Steve Harrington isn’t that much of an a-hole. Now, it’s just the two of them, laughing and sketching and conjuring with D and D ideas, and Steve’s oddly jumpy. He doesn’t seem to be able to look Eddie in the eye, keeps staring at Eddie’s mouth, then touching his own, licking his lips. Eddie is… confused. Steve Harrington is cute. He is also supposed to be a repellent jock—not this guy who swerves maniacally between hilariously bitchy sniping and self-effacing over-apologies.

Once Eddie gets Steve going in Hellfire, Steve is stupidly over-confident, almost back to dumbass-Steve-the-jock. Eddie has a billion chances to slaughter him, and he refrains. For Cal.

Oh, and because, Eddie’s got a stupid crush on his friend’s kid brother. He figures out there is barely a year age gap between him and Steve, though. Cal was old in his year group, and Eddie one of the younger ones.

Still irrelevant. Steve is straight. Eddie’s 100% sure. Well, he would be, if Steve would stop blushing and glancing away whenever Eddie seeks eye contact.

Then Cal calls Eddie one night, asks him to come over. Cal’s getting sicker, so he detonates the bombshell.

You’d be perfect for my brother, man.

What the fuck?

Okay, so he doesn’t press Cal for details. It’s implied that Steve is into guys, but… Woah! Too much! His sick friend wants him to date his younger brother? Like, a dying wish? Yeah, Eddie likes Steve, and now he’s starting to read Steve’s feelings into the way Steve acts around him. But no way are they perfect for each other.

He gives it a shot.

On their first date, Eddie takes Steve to a dive bar Cal used to love more that it deserved, and where Eddie sometimes performs with Corroded Coffin. They make out around the back, against some dingy brick wall. They’re slightly drunk, and the kiss is wet and messy, and they’re stupid happy and then both so stupid sad that they stop trying not to be. They can’t kiss away the pain, but they can kiss. They cry so hard.

Eddie has found another Harrington brother who actually sees him. It occurs to him, more gradually, that he’s the only person in the world, other than Cal, who actually sees Steve.

What the fuck AGAIN?

And then he’s the only person left in the world who sees Steve, and besides Wayne, Steve is the only person left who really sees Eddie.

Steve loves Cal so much, and he hates him. He was so fucking perfect that he couldn’t possibly ditch his little brother without setting him up with a soulmate.

🪱🐛🪱🐛

My ST fic on AO3

no pressure tags: @mugloversonly @tea42 @fuctacles @queenie-ofthe-void

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 5

<-former chapter -AO3 link -next chapter -> Call of duty. My ko-fi, Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. WC: 6.3k

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

MDNI. MDNI. Dead dove do not eat.

Authors note: do note there will be the use of prong collars in this. Just like all the other fucked up stuff in this, i don't support that irl, but this is fiction. On a different note, it will probably be at least a week before I can give you another chapter lol, shit is happening, my sinners and im holding on. Also thank u to all the nice asks and comments ive been sent. means a lot <33. ENJOY!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You could only stay in the farmhouse for so long; even though you desperately wanted to stay inside, Price dragged you outside, talking about fresh air and enjoying nature. 

To you it was nothing but lies and the smell of animal shit.

There were no pavements, no cars flashing by, no advertisements or shops, no scents of food or sweets trying to lure you in. There were no hybrid clothes shops, where John would play dress up with you for his next party. Show him how the lingerie set he picked out looked against your tail.

He would make sure your nails were always perfect and manicured. Without the claws, he made sure you knew you were loved anyways, your nails adorned with expensive nail polish and gemstones. Anything that his Daisy, his princess, his darling, his puppy wanted, she always got.

Now you were here, following him into the stables, to see how far Nikolai - who had forced himself into your life - was with the tractor.

Warily looking out for the hybrids, staying close to your owner.

The stitches were gone and everything was healed all nicely - that didn’t mean that you wanted to start over and get more bites that would need stitches. Once was enough. Hopefully Price and Nikolai understood that too.

Also, you didn’t want to get fucked dumb by those mutts again; they didn’t deserve your pussy. Especially not Ghost or Gaz. Not really Soap either, he had just been nice because he had to. You were sure. They were nothing but stupid working dogs, who didn’t know how to behave.

Your owner, John Price, looked in love; he was watching Nik just as much as he was watching the tractor. The stress that had sometimes followed him home when you lived in the city was no longer visible. It had left his bones, made him happy and pliable, clearly blossoming in his new role as a farmer. You loved him but what the fuck were you supposed to do with this whole situation? Pretend to be happy?

You were a pet, so it wasn’t like you had any options. And your attempts at persuading him to move back to the city hadn’t gone well. Resisting your ever present urge to let him fuck you, would probably not do you any good. Earn you a spanking from both him and Nikolai. They might even throw you to the hounds.

One of those said hounds were getting closer to you, the hybrid making you tense up a little.

“You’re looking good, princess,” Gaz said casually, shooting you an awfully charming smile, his tail wagging while you tipped your ears backwards instead of replying.

“Feeling better?”

You didn’t reply, merely stared at the tractor, boring as it was. Maybe if you ignored him, he would go away. He stepped closer to you, his dark gaze resting on you, while you stepped closer to John, growling as a warning.

“Behave,” Price said over his shoulder, clearly more interested in that Russian man of his, than your safety.

It only took another step and Gaz’s teeth a tad too close to you, to send you bolting out. Back inside it was then, you concluded, enough farming bullshit for today.

Only to meet Ghost in the way, his scarred face grinning smugly, ears tipping towards you.

“‘Ello pup.”

Nah, you weren’t fucking with that today. You managed to see the shadow of Soap before you bolted again.

Running still wasn’t your best talent; so though you knew it was stupid, you decided to do what you weren’t allowed to anyways. You crawled the wooden fence, ignoring the male hybrids' shouts and barks — as well as the fence’s slight squeak - and landed on the other side with a grunt. 

The corns were tall and you took a breath, looking over your shoulder, only to see a worried looking Soap being the closest.

He let out a concerned whimper.

“Dinnae lass,” he warned, a softness in his voice that you recognized from your moments inside.

You would deal with the consequences and the punishment that Price would give you for leaving the ground. It was better than getting your shoulders bitten to pieces - so you got up and rushed into the tall corn field. Abandoning the male hybrids.

Stupid. They were all stupid.

Maybe this should be your new go-to hiding spot. You could hear them bark aggressively but not getting nearer. They weren’t allowed to leave either. You felt your chest swell a little with pride over the idea. You wouldn't be gone for long, just until they lost interest in you.

It was several seconds before you stopped, panting with your tongue out. You couldn’t see the fence or the farm from all the corn by now, which finally meant some peace. Your tail wagged and your body relaxed, a soft wind playing with your fur for a moment, making the corn move around you, like waves in the ocean.

However, that peace didn’t last long.

“My my,” the voice almost appeared out of nowhere and you turned slowly, unsure but still afraid of what you would see, “what are you doing here, perrita? On my property?”

You knew Alejandro and Rodolfo had gotten a hybrid, but you had been too swept up in your own nightmare to ask about her; now, as she towered above you, seeming more wolf than dog, you would rather have one of the mutts on your own farm. A scared little whimper escaped you.

“You must be Price’s precious lapdog, no?” She asked, slowly moving in between the corn with ease, as she circled around you, fear making you stay still, “a little city puppy, forced to be out on a farm. How sad.”

There was no trace of sympathy in her voice. It took you a moment to swallow some spit and another moment to take a proper breath.

“I’ll go home again, I’m sorry.” You tried your best to seem submissive, leaning forward a little, tail tugged along your leg. You at least had your owner at the farm - but here? Here, with this new, wolf-like hybrid, you didn't have anyone. You weren’t even supposed to be here, weren’t allowed. Sure, you knew Alejandro and Rudy, but they also knew you weren’t supposed to be there.

“Hmmm,” she answered in a rumble, licking her teeth slowly, casually showing off her fangs, “what’s your name, perrita?”

She screamed danger. Her energy screamed ‘I can make worse wounds than them’ and you certainly didn’t feel like testing that. In fact, you would rather get as much distance between you and her as possible.

“D-Daisy.” It was the name Price had chosen, not that you were really called it. But you weren’t going to tell this hybrid woman who looked like she could swallow you whole, that you were usually called princess, pretty girl, puppy or sweetheart.

“I’m Valeria,” she replied, finally stopping her circling, only to step closer to you. She wasn’t really that tall, but her energy was as if she was,  she had strong arms and legs; scars littered her too, her hair short, ears big and tipped forward without a care in the world. Her collar was thick and sturdy, opposed to your own fancy one.

You almost wanted to point out that yours was prettier. That you were a lapdog, not one of the working ones, that you were not made to be played rough with. That you were no threat.

You could hear barking in the distance. Voices calling out for you. Even though you hadn’t met Valeria for more than a minute, you already knew you wanted to get a good distance between you and her.

“Uh nice to meet you, but I better get back home, sorry-“ you turned around quickly but before you could even think to bolt, strong arms were around you and the other dog hybrid pulled you close to her chest.

“Eres tan linda e ingenua,” she almost lovingly growled into your ear, and while you didn’t understand what she was saying, you were much more distracted by her tongue. She licked your cheek a couple of times, slow and wet strokes; you got the feeling that she might eat you raw without regret and you twisted a little in her grip, letting out a louder growl. She laughed, one of her hands pawing at your tit, claws sinking into the fabric. She smelled of danger and lust; like the mutts at home when they first got their dirty paws on you.

“I’m gonna enjoy me—“

“VALERIA!” Her name echoed through the fields, making both of you freeze. Like a warning rushing in between the corns, her name couldn’t be ignored.

She growled deeply, seeming annoyed with the disturbance, while you wanted to kiss whoever of your neighbors it was. She rolled her hips, humping your ass twice, before she was interrupted again.

“Valeria!” It was Alejandro, you realised then, who yelled once again, “ sé que la tienes! Let her go!”

With one deep sniff of you, while you whimpered, the wolf-looking hybrid finally let go of you.

“I won’t be as nice next time, perrita - now go, before I change my mind and take you from your boys.”

You didn’t need to be told that again and didn’t want to argue that they weren’t your boys - the moment she let go, you bolted towards the way you came. 

How they knew that she had gotten a hold of you wasn't clear, but it wasn’t like you were gonna turn around and ask Alejandro or Rudy.

The answer came to you anyways; one angry looking John Price stood with crossed arms, phone in hand. A grinning Nikolai next to him and three growling hybrids moving back and forth along the men and the fence. Every single one of them stilled and stared at you as you sheepishly walked to the fence, tail between your legs and ears tipped down.

You stood, just for a moment, with the fence in between you and the others. Considering staying there, as if that would be a good solution.

“Get your arse over here,” Price snapped, his voice stern and dark, as he put his phone in his pocket, marching towards you. 

You hastily and in a rather inexperienced manner, climbed the fence and got to the right side. Instantly, tears welled up in your eyes and you let out a whimper, almost ready to tell about the horrors you had just been through - only to bark loudly at the hybrids as they all charged towards you, hands touching you, only stopped by a sharp whistle. 

“Nyet,” Nikolai called harshly, “off her. Now.”

Soap and Gaz instantly let go, stepping back as John reached you, but Ghost didn’t move. His hand rested on your neck, pressing your collar against your skin, his nose almost fully pressed against your temple. 

“Let go.” Price’s voice was sharp and you let out a little whimper- not sure who of them you would rather deal with right now.

“She smells wrong,” Ghost replied, not moving, but his voice not as harsh as it could be, “smell of her.”

Her. You didn’t know whether Valeria would be in trouble over this or not. You had been the one to step into her territory anyways. She wasn't the one who had jumped a fence after all.

“We will fix that.” 

Ghost let out a grumble but after two seconds of staring at each other, the hybrid finally let go of you, earning himself a swift “Good boy.” 

Then Price grabbed into the ring in your collar and pulled, ignoring how you instantly broke into tears, excuses and explanations spilling from your lips like a waterfall, desperate to avoid punishment. You didn't want to stay with Valeria, but you didn’t want this either.

You were dragged past Nikolai who shared a short glance with Price - and they gave each other a short nod.

“C’mon boys,” Nikolai then called, the hybrids instantly moving to him, even though you could feel them staring at you, “we’re gonna join them.”

They were what? You cried harder, tugging at John’s arm, your owner ignoring your pleads and cries.

“I’m sorry sir, I got scared, I didn’t mean to run away,” you babbled, every second word followed by a small sob or whine, tail between your lets, almost making it hard to walk normally, “ they scared me, I was gonna come back, I’ll be good sir, I’ll behave! I wasn’t running away!”

There was no mercy from your owner, who just marched you towards the farmhouse that had almost become home by now.

If someone had told you a year ago that you would be a dog on a farm by now, surrounded by working hybrids, you would have laughed in their face. Loudly and impolitely.

You? Pretty lapdog living in the city out on a farm?

You weren’t even at the house yet, somehow crying harder because you felt so sorry for yourself in general. You were such a perfect lapdog, such a perfect being, forced to be out here, in the cold countryside. A tragedy.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The prong collars looked like they would choke too and you wanted to scream merely at the sight.

“I’m not running the risk of having my darling all bitten to pieces again - this will hopefully help you to remember.”

None of them seemed too happy about it; you couldn’t blame them, you wouldn’t want those either, but you were horrified by the idea of getting bitten as harshly as they did last time. If both Price and Nik hadn’t been there, you doubted it would be possible to get the collars on them.

You were still crying yourself, from the shame of having jumped over the fence and creating chaos, only resulting in this.

The moment they were allowed, they were on you, ignoring your whimpering and fingers trying to push them off - Soap was the nicest, helping you get your clothes off instead of letting the others rip them, even if all of them were obsessed with your smell. Or well, with how you smelled of Valeria to be exact.

Soap licked your cheek and you growled at him, tipping your ears back, trying to push him away, fingers against his chest; but he didn’t move, only pressed himself closer, growling back to prove he was stronger than you - that you were supposed to be submitting to him.

“They shouldn’t be this aggressive,” you heard Price point out to Nikolai, but you were too distracted by Soap grinding his still clothed crotch against your poor, exposed cunt - you whined his name, but he didn’t stop. 

“Gonn’ mark ye, hen,” he promised in a murmur, teeth sinking into your jaw for just a moment - a warning tug in the leash made him let go almost instantly, instead licking the spot a couple of times, “gonn’ make ye smell all bonnie again.”

Both Gaz and Ghost were barking, but they were both held by the collars by Price and Nik, kneeling next to them, clearly antsy.

“-are working dogs-” it was hard to hear them, over your own mind buzzing so much, over the barks and the pleasure that you hated, “-hierachy is importa-”, one of Soap’s hands disappeared and a moment later, you heard his fly get tugged down, “show them where the line is, so–”

You howled in a high pitched tone as he forced his cock inside you, making you twist and try to push Soap okay. The stretch was intense, burning despite how wet you felt. “It's okay, bonnie lass,” Soap growled, forcing his cock a little deeper into you, nosing at your shoulder, near one of your scent glands, his hands moving to grab onto your thighs, “we’re nae gonna hurt ye.”

You both knew it was a lie - but you at least trusted Soap a little more than the two other mutts who were watching, knowing he could control himself. They were barely able to sit still, tongues out, almost drooling, while their eyes were dark in a way that reminded you of that time in the shed.

He forced his cock deeper, the knot finally reaching the opening of your poor, stretched cunt and you let out a sound at the fear of it sliding inside you. The scent of Soap was already beginning to overwhelm the scent that Valeria had left behind against your will - a part of you wished you had fought her more, had attempted to hurt her more.

The cry that left you was pained and afraid - his fangs almost having forced its way through your skin; you were only saved by John, who pulled Soap back by the collar, the prongs digging into the hybrid’s skin.

“Behave, boy,” John snarled while a mixture of a whine and a growl left Soap, as he helplessly pawed at the collar, “No breaking skin - already told you.”

“‘m sorry, sorry,” he promised, a pained tone to his voice, “dinnae mean tae.”

You doubted it was true; there was a darkness in the air despite the way your owner tried handling them.

He was let go off and the moment the prongs didn’t painfully dig into his skin, he was on you again, tongue on the indent he had left, his cock pressed into you again, his tail wagging.

“‘m sorry,” he barely managed to say in between his licks and moans, before his hands were back on you, his moaning louder, as he ignored your whines of slowing down. Your own hands grabbed onto his mohawk and ears, but the hybrid did nothing but moan even louder, moving his hips a little upwards and fuck - he hit the perfect spot, grinning like a feral hound when he noticed and heard your sounds.

You came against your will, crying out and spasming around him, his hands grabbing harder onto your thighs, claws teasing the skin.

He was panting and moaning like a hound, mounting you like there was nothing in his mind but the feeling of your cunt.

“Gonna fill ye up,” Soap promised, words barely escaping his mouth, drool dripping down on you; not like you cared, too gone yourself to really do so.

“DON'T knot her,” Price’s word cut through the air like a sharp knife, slicing into your mind; you wanted him to knot you, a part of you realized, no you needed him too - while another screamed in delight of not having to be stuck to him.

“Nnngh,” his hips were going so fast it almost hurt as they clashed against your skin, “please sir, please plea—“

“No.”

The hand that appeared made you shudder - and then a second later, Soap came, almost a guttural scream leaving him; you could feel Price’s fingers near your cock, stopping him from sliding his knot into you. 

“Later,” Price answered, then pulling Soap back by the collar and hair, your own hands slipping easily from him, “we don’t have the time to wait for all of you to knot her right now.”

The moment he was pulled away, you moved, whimpering and curling to the side, wincing as cum slid out from your pussy; it wasn’t John’s, you wanted it to be your owners. You barely had time to breathe before Nik released one of the others. Gaz pushed you onto your stomach - one hand on your neck to keep you down as you snarled.

“Wait,” you barked, ears tipping down “lemme breathe, for fucks sake—“

“Need you, puppy,” Gaz merely replied, grabbing onto your collar and tugging, his other hand pulling on your tail, ignoring your yelp, “gonna make it all okay again.”

“Nothing happened-“ you snarled, trying to make him let go, but you separately rose to your knees in order to levitate the pressure on your tail.

“Why did you smell like her then, huh?” He all but snarled, finally letting go of your collar, to push down his own pants, “stinking of her lust!”

You tried twisting to grip onto his ears to tug at them, hoping it would make him let go of you but he merely let go of you fully for a moment - your wrists were caught by his hands and he slammed them against the wooden floor.

“Be nice, собака,” Nik warned him, “I’m in no mood for broken bones.”

You barely heard him nor Gaz’ aggressive reply; you were too busy, having a realization. 

They were jealous ; you weren’t sure why it had taken you so fucking long to realize. The three mutts were jealous somebody else, somebody they didn’t know, had touched you and hadn’t you been so fucking upset, you might have laughed.

Instead, you felt a cock forcing its way into your cunt, making you howl in pleasure against your will; the slide was easier this time as Gaz fucked you, as you were already wet from the round with Soap - and now with his cum as well, Gaz fucked you almost smoothly. If not more aggressively than Soap had.

It didn’t take long before his teeth sank into your skin, the first two seconds it was nothing more than an extra grip, his cock roughly thrusting into you as if attempting to move your organs, his drool sliding along your skin, mixing with your sweat. His claws were digging into your skin slightly, but even more into the floor - while you were a mess, panting and attempting to growl in between your pathetic moans, barely able to see straight.

The pressure he bit you with changed quickly however and suddenly you were whining in pain, so loudly that you almost didn’t recognize your own voice.

Apparently Gaz had tried to bite Price in aggression over being ripped away from ‘his bitch’ as Nik called it, and you heard the harsh words and slaps, while you sank down a little, your tits pressed against the cold floor, your cunt empty. 

He was back as soon as he disappeared though, pulling you up again, only to almost instantly try to bite you again – halfway pulled away once more. You looked over your shoulder, seeing how the prong collar dug into his skin for a short moment until Price let go of him again.

The moment he was back, you turned however, using the moment to grab onto one of his long, dark ears and tug; it was almost a squeal that left Gaz and you heard both the hybrids bark and growl, Nik saying something – but it was the harsh spank from the leather leash that made you loosen your grip. 

“Behave, Princess,” John was squatting down next to you, strong hand on your pretty collar; it stood out so violently when compared to the others’ current prong collars, “or I’ll get you a collar too.”

“They’re mean!” you whimpered, giving him your best puppy eyes, before sending Gaz an angry look, as he was barely held back by John.

“Well you’re not quite playing nice either, eh?” There was a slight amusement in his voice but you didn’t get to comment on it, before he moved again.

Price gave Gaz more leash and the hybrid was instantly on you again, but this time Price didn’t let go of the metal ring in your own collar, keeping you in place, as if to remind you to behave; to remember he was right here, calling the shots.

“Yeah, Princess,” Gaz mocked, pushing into your cunt again with a moan, the movement in his hips exposing the fact that he was wagging his tail, “Behave.”

“Shut up!” you hissed angrily, a tug in the collar reminding you that Price was right there. 

Gaz’ hands were mostly on your hips - he nuzzled against your back and neck, licking your shoulders and in between your shoulder blades - he bit you a couple of times, but they were barely anything more than nips, a gentle tug on his collar reminding him to behave.

Then one of his hands moved, almost catching you off guard and making you whimper - it slid beneath your stomach, pawing at it for a moment, before it found its way to your cunt where the two of you were still connected, his thrusts still hard; he touched your clit without hesitation, snarling out words you could barely recognize. Mercilessly forcing you towards another orgasm.

Price let go of your collar and you let your head slumber down against the floor, wincing at the small pool of drool that had been created, hating how you pushed back against Gaz, the dual pleasure of his cock hitting that right spot and the fingers on your clit, so good you could barely breathe.

You barely heard Price’s command of not knotting you, from the mere tsunami of pleasure that overtook your body as you came, a howl that barely made any sound, snapping of your teeth and the pawing at the floor. You tightened around his cock, the knot having been so close, oh so close to being forced into your over oversensitive cunt - but then it was pulled out of you, almost making you sob.

Cum spurted on top of your lower back and ass cheeks, before Gaz willingly went - you could hear the almost instant sound of him and Soap making out with each other. And there was only one person back, which meant you had to go now.

A hand grabbed onto your ankle, dragging you backwards as you managed to crawl forwards a few steps - you turned around, back on the floor, raising your opposite leg to kick Ghost in the face, but the other hybrid caught it easily; grinning at you, almost feral-like, lust heavy in the air. Sometimes you forgot they had been in the military for so long.

Leather connected to your skin once more, this time on your raised thigh, a whine leaving you, your eyes flickering to look up at John who stood with the leash curled in his hand, ready to spank you with it once more.

“behave,” John hissed at you, while Ghost chuckled. Idiot.

You didn’t have much time to argue, Ghost letting go of your ankles, just to grab onto your thighs and pull you closer; he was kneeling, almost pulling you into his lap, that feral grin still there, fangs exposed.

He leant over you much quicker than you had anticipated, ignoring your growling and snapping with teeth - one hand resting next to your head, the other pulling down his boxers, pants already open.

Was his cock this big last time? It was like you couldn’t remember the last time right now, you could barely think, in fact, your mind was overwhelmed with so many things. Pleasure, oversensitivity, pain and anger - his dick seemed inhumanely long.

“Not so snappy now, huh?” he crooned, voice low, his free hand grabbing onto your plush thigh, fingers digging into the fat, ears tipped towards you as he spoke, “cockdumb already?”

“nnngh,” you tried pushing at his clothed chest, twisting in his grip, but it was no use; it was like the cock inside you kept you from doing anything. Somehow you managed a small “shutup” and that was enough to set Ghost going.

“Gonna teach you to not go whoring again,” Ghost snarled against your skin, tongue sloppily leaving a wet trail of spit over one of your bouncing tits, simply ignoring your hands trying to push his face out of the way, a plethora of moans and small yaps leaving you as he didn’t stop fucking you with that monster cock of his. You knew you were being watched, both by your owner and his boyfriend, as well as the two other hybrids, it only added to the humiliation of being turned on.

“Belong to us,” his words were barely audible as he growled them, the wet sounds and rustling of his clothes seeming to overtake it, “not her.”

“I won’t, won’t go, won–” you were barely aware of the words slipping from your lips, the volume rising as you felt his teeth scrape against a spot on your shoulder over your right breast, “nonon, please, I wont–”

“Ghost–” Price’s warning was stern, the little tug in the prong collar making him grumble, licking over the spot a couple of times - your eyes met. 

Ghost’s eyes almost seemed like they wanted to own you too; as if it was no longer John who you bowed to, but the pack that you didn’t want, on a farm you didn’t want to be. His thrusts quickened and then his eyelids lowered together with his head – biting down into your skin.

Despite his fast attempt at breaking your skin, mauling your flesh into his, Price was quicker – pulling him back by the collar. He held an extra grip on his hair and you managed to look up, see through the tears.

It was like there was a flood in your ears, Price looking mad, Ghost’s ears tipping backwards as he spoke.

Fighting to get some air into your lungs, you panted and tried wiggling free. Ghost’s fingers merely dug deeper into your plush thigh even though he was currently pulled back by the prong collar, the tips of his claws pressing against your skin as a warning.

The moment he let go, Ghost was back at it, staring down at you with a dark smile, grunts and small moans even leaving him. It took a couple of moments before Price let him have enough leash to bend down over you again and this time Ghost growled into your ears instead of your skin. Licking your furry ears while you whimpered at the feeling and the words.

They owned you; were going to breed you, use you, keep Valeria away, and do whatever they needed to keep you. You were theirs. The moment you let us, he had panted, we will love you.

There was an odd feeling in your stomach, almost as if you were going to piss yourself, but with no mercy from any of the men, one of your hands dug into his short hair and the other grabbed onto his shoulder as you screamed.

It had been a while since you squirted and it took you by surprise, just as it did the others. There were several barks, voices but then Ghost was fucking you even harder than before, bordering on painful, forcing his mouth against yours. You came a second time, this time not squirting but it almost felt more intense.

Ghost came just a moment later, perhaps caught by surprise himself, but he made sure not to knot you. 

The world was spinning around you. There were teardrops in your lashes as you squinted up at the hybrid, who was still pushed inside you. Price’s hand petting him shortly on the head before pulling him back.

There was speech but you barely noticed - then strong hands pulled you up into a lap. The overpowering scent of leather and oil told you who it was and despite your slight hate for Nik, your tail wagged as he pulled you into his arms, cooing at you.

“Such a strong puppy,” he praised, one of his hands drying away some of your drool, caressing your cheek as he sat on the floor with you on his lap, cum no doubt dripping onto his clothes, “you deserve treat for being so good, da?”

Compared to the first time you had met Nikolai, you didn’t want to bite his hand anymore - he clearly didn’t fear you doing so either. You snuggled into his hand, nodding as you squinted up at him, a  small “uh-huh” leaving you.

His hand disappeared and then there was a faint rustling of plastic - even without seeing it, you smelled it. It was that mouthwatering scent that made you weak in your knees that first time and your nose instantly sniffed, almost trying to sit up further to get a look of where it was - to get it before the boys did. Nikolai laughed, letting out a “there you go, milaya,” letting you grab the piece of jerky from his finger, instantly sinking your teeth into it with a pleased sigh. Your tail wagging a little again as you heard Soap whining over not getting a piece.

You even had to take a bath with them afterwards. Your life was officially over - you made sure to tell Price that, who just huffed and rolled his eyes. Sure, you weren’t the biggest fan of showers, but you wanted the cum off and you wanted a bath in the tub… alone. That was your thing.

“- ‘nd they’re gonna use up my shampoo and my conditioner -” you continued overdramatically as Nik carried you in front of John, the russian man merely snorting at your pitiful complaining. 

“We’ll buy more-” John tried to point out, but to no avail, life might as well be over for you right now.

“- ‘nd my brushes - all my nice brushes!”

“I will be sure tae use yers, Mo ghràdh,” Soap happily proclaimed, sending you a wink, fully naked as he was, his usual collar back on, small red marks on his neck from where the prongs had been, “I will use theim the wrong way. Just fer ye.”

Gaz snickered and even Ghost let out a chuckle.

“Jooohn,” you whined, only struggling a little as Nik sat you down in the tub, the water already nice and warm, your poor body having needed this, “I’m gonna need new brushes.”

“I doubt that, Princess,” he cooed, petting your hair, “Now who wants to join in th–”

Soap was in the tub, sliding in behind you before John could even finish his question, happily ignoring your pout and growl.

“Dinnae be like that,” he crooned, “where is yer special shampoo?”

This day had been awful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Princess.”

You almost jumped as the voice called for you and you turned, squinting slightly in suspicion at the sight. Gaz stood in the doorway, all calmly, looking at you, playing a little with his gloves. He didn’t look aggressive and didn’t smell turned on; in fact, he looked pretty harmless, his tail wagging ever so slightly, ears turning towards you and an almost shy smile.

“What?” you asked, sitting up in the dog bed, crossing your arms, not caring about sounding nice, looking him over for a moment before adding, “you’re dragging in mud.”

He looked down at his shoes, letting out a little ‘oh’. They weren’t really supposed to be in here, so you didn’t really understand why Gaz stood there. You didn’t really care either.

The other might be beautiful, but he was still not one of your favorite people. 

“I - want to show you something,” he finally said, one of his charming smile appearing, though it was a little more careful this time, “Soap said you would probably like it.”

“What is it?” You didn’t sound too impressed.

“It's a surprise,” he smiled a little more.

“If it's your knots, then you can–”

“Jeez,” he rolled his eyes, as if they weren’t fucking you silly on the livingroom floor the other day, “it’s not. Nothing like that.”

“Promise?”

“I do,” he answered, wagging a little more than before, “Swear on my tail.”

"Hm. Where is it?”

“In the barn.”

You scrunched your nose at the mention of the barn, the idea of being stamped to death by a horse already scaring you.

“It’s nothing scary - I wouldn’t bring you if it was.”

You let out a sigh, before getting up - he went to the hallway again and you followed, stealing one of John’s jackets as well as a pair of his boots, before following Gaz outside. 

“Some air would do you good once in a while, ya’ know,” Gaz said after a few moments, “we’re not that bad all of the time, Princess.”

You huffed, wondering for a moment if you should just turn around and go back. “You haven’t really proved me otherwise.”

He let out a hum that almost sounded agreeable but opened one of the doors to the barn, ushering you inside.

“It’s all good, I promise,” he said once more and you reminded yourself, that if he tricked you, you were going to snap off his tail. Pretty as it was.

He steered you to a booth where you noticed the heat lamp at first, more than anything else - but then you saw them, letting out a little gasp.

Tiny baby goats, all snuggled together in the hay beneath the lamp. A few of the mothers stood nearby and one of them came to the door of the booth, sniffing at Gaz’ hand, before letting out a bleat - then turning around again.

“They’re adorable,” you whispered, looking back at the babies, some of them looking at you, others sleeping with no worries in the world. 

“Aren’t they?” Gaz asked with a smile, “They were born yesterday night. Come.”

You let out a scared sound as Gaz opened the door to the booth.

“Won’t the mothers attack us?” you didn’t like how Gaz chuckled to your genuine, fearful question but he shook his head.

“Nah, me ‘nd the others hang out with the animals all the time.” He explained, petting one of the mothers who came to greet him for a moment.

It was cute. You had to admit that, even with your limited love of the farm animals.

“But I don’t.” you pointed out, still standing in the door of the booth, afraid to step into the hay and join the other as he sat down next to the baby goats.

“No, but the mothers know I won’t let a predator near,” he explained gently, “Not at daytime and not during the night.”

“Oh.”

There was something special over this that you could not explain. You didn’t want to explain it. You sat down next to Gaz as he patted the spot, still a little unsure about the momma goats - but none of them battered an eye as Gaz took your hand and made you gently pet one of the babies.

“They’re so tiny,” you whispered, almost to yourself, for once not hating or fearing Gaz. At least for right now, you were just in a moment together with him, doing something that you hadn’t expected would be that nice.

[saikenakoego]

What the heck, I'll also answer these with Sammy because I've been feeling edgy as hell lately.

Last one with this gal, for real this time. The unwilling vampire-turned-vampire hunter, Sammy

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

1. Excluding murder, what's the worst thing you've done?

SM: Considering the idea of giving in to the thirst at all.

2. Have you ever killed someone?

SM: Not someone, something. They're not people.

3. Have you ever killed a friend/family member/loved one?

SM: No. This question makes me incredibly angry.

4. What appears in your darkest nightmares?

SM: Blood that isn't my own.

5. What is your moral code?

SM: Protect the natural, kill the unnatural. Simple as.

6. Would you make a deal with the devil?

SM: Not even if it offered me salvation. I've killed demons. I know how that goes.

7. How far are you willing to go to get what you want?

SM: Far enough.

8. Would you consider yourself as evil?

SM: By virtue of my condition, yes.

9. Do you enjoy watching others suffer?

SM: I can't feel joy. But watching them squirm like the parasites they are as I send them straight to hell is... cathartic.

10. Have you ever tortured someone?

SM: Something. More than once. And I'll do it again. Until I inflict as much pain on them as they did to me.

11. If you were arrested, what would the charges be?

SM: Theft. Don't ask.

12. Who do you hate the most?

SM: ...Myself.

13. What is your "villain song"?

OOC: She doesn't really have one, but I tend to listen to Devils Never Cry when I draw her. Maybe Bring Me To Life by Evanescence? That's a certified Edge™️ classic.

14. If you draw: Draw your OC's darkest moment or reimagine them as a demon!

OOC:

Not really her darkest moment, but,

'Sammy looked ahead at the man who had once been her token of admiration.

A man of good, of kindness and sincerity. Who had once guided them into the right path.

Who'd once walked into her home not as a friend, nor as a figure of authority, but as family.

An equal. To her father, a brother. And to her mother, a cousin.

He stood there quietly, illuminated by the bright moonlight coming through the church's windows as he calmly straightened the creases of his vestment.

Staring coldly at the beaten and bloodied body of an unconscious Silver.

It had happened so quickly, she didn't even have time to react.

Before she knew it, she'd been slammed into the ground with enough force to shatter her spine.

It only took one or two seconds after that for her friend to follow suit and be reduced to a wheezing mess.

And she was powerless to do anything about it. As it always was. Forced to listen to the shrieks of pain of another victim while her wakened body tried its best to repair itself with what little blood she had left in her.

It angered her.

But what angered her the most was the unfeeling expression that bloodsucking bastard had all throughout.

It angered her so, so much.

"Now," the man finally spoke, wiping his bloodied hands with a pure white cloth "We can finally talk."

To hell with that, she thought.

"How peculiar" he continued "Those eyes of yours. They rage with the embers of hatred. Is it me that you despise?"

The man walked forward, into the shadows where she lay, matching her piercing stare with his own.

"I wonder why?" He calmly mused.

And then he placed a foot on her left arm. Pushing slowly, steadily, watching the skin tear apart and the bone splinter with a grotesque sound.

Of course, she didn't feel any of it. They both knew she couldn't. And to her, that was the worst punishment he could've given her.

"You were always quite fiery. The way you'd listen to the sermons, pay attention in Sunday school. That passion had always set you aside. And yet, it has also led you astray."

Then he did the same with her right arm, making sure to drag his sole on her mutilated limb with apathy.

"Holding to the remnants of your past. Hoping that they will keep you warm" he said, dropping the stained cloth on her pooling blood "I just can't understand why."

That got a grunt out of her.

"Why would the Father choose someone like you? Who so fervently seeks to reject his gift? His ideals? His goals?" He said while running a finger on his rosary "Someone so... immature--"

"Shut the fuck up already" she spat, voice coarse and breathy.

The man simply sighed in response.

"Of course. You're still young. I often forget that" he lamented quietly "Children learn by imitation, not comprehension."

Then he signaled back to Silver's unconscious form.

"That boy over there. You both act really similarly. Perhaps he was the one to influence you in this way?"

"Lay another finger on him..." she barked coldly, yet it did nothing to deter the pastor.

"And what?" He scoffed. Even though he couldn't express emotion, he sounded almost indignant "You are at the edge of your mortality, just like him. It would do you no good to continue your empty intimidations. After all..."

He turned around, giving her an uncaring glance as he walked back towards the boy.

"...You don't actually care what happens to him anyway, do you?"

"Go to hell."

The man knelt besides her sleeping companion, seemingly unfazed by the myriad of insults and threats that she continued to throw at him.

"You can stop pretending now" he stated matter-of-factly.

But that only fueled her anger further.

"You don't know fuck about me. Don't try to act like--"

"All of this... attitude. This rebellious phase." He interrupted her "Playing pretend with these... animals. Like they're not food to be consumed. Like you have the strength to make things right. Clinging on to something that you're not anymore. Of a world that isn't there, and a me that never was. Raging senselessly, when you care more about the fact that I'm alive and not that he's dying. Stop pretending, Samantha."

She bared her teeth at him. Bloodied gums and sharpened fangs gleamed under the dim light, being reflected into his unchanging pupils. Defiant, yet slightly wavering.

He sighed.

"I have now come to terms with the fact that I can't make you understand. It is simply not my place to do as a father should" he said, standing up with that same unapologetic attitude that crept into her very nerves "But it is in my hands to set an example."

"If you fucking dare--"

"Relax" the man ordered, sending a shockwave through her core with his voice "That would be counter-productive. This child... is still yet useful. Both of them are."

Her mind wandered back to Johnny, and her eye twitched slightly at the realization that she'd completely forgotten about him in her rampage.

Wherever he'd run off to, hopefully he had managed to escape. The kid was smart enough to know when to turn tail and run.

How ironic, that the same thing she'd criticized him for was the culmination of both his salvation and her damnation.

Now wasn't the time to be reminiscing about that, though. With any luck, the pastor would be oblivious to her thoughts on the matter.

"But this... thing you three do, playing with toys while thinking you're some sort of heroes" he interjected, calmly walking back to her for the last time "It must be put an end to. For your own good."

"Fuck you, pendejo de mierda."

"I no longer expect you to understand, as I said. It is not my duty to act as a father would" he said with a sigh, kneeling before her "But as the elder sibling, I must set a good example."

She was about to tell him to go fuck himself with that family bullshit, when a metallic object suddenly came in contact with the roof of her mouth.

The hammer of Silver's .50 caliber revolver clicked into place with a small sound as the pastor once again got to speak in her place.

"As such, please watch and learn as I provide the appropriate punishment for such behavior, in place of the Father."

The last thing she could do was throw him one final spiteful glance before his finger came in contact with the trigger.

Bang! The sound of the first bullet reverberated in her mouth.

Bang! The second one pulsated deeply within her veins.

Bang! The third echoed through her lungs.

Bang! The fourth rippled through her milky eyeballs.

Bang! The fifth rang far into the distance.

By the time she came to, what remained was only but the shattered pieces of the one person that she'd been desperately clinging to.'

OOC: But it's okay. She'll heal it off.

Dark OC Asks

Excluding murder, what is the worst thing your OC has ever done?

Has your OC ever killed someone?

Has your OC killed a friend/family member/loved one?

What appears in your OC's darkest nightmares?

What is your OC's moral code?

Would your OC make a deal with the devil?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

Would your OC consider themself evil?

Would you consider your OC evil?

Does your OC enjoy watching others suffer?

Has your OC ever tortured someone?

If your OC was arrested, what would the charges be?

Who does your OC hate the most?

What is your OC's "villain song"?

If you draw: draw your OC's darkest moment or reimagine your OC as a demon. If you don't draw: find a picrew or write a description instead!

[thermodynamic-comedian]

i have so much to say about how affection between people who grew up with no idea what human relationships look like is portrayed in alien stage.

mizi and sua would probably never describe each other as "girlfriends", they don't know what that word means. instead they're each other's universe, god, reason to live, clematis. these intense feelings that they're fundamentally unable to express in the ways that we, as the viewers, are used to, must then be expressed as exactly the way they themselves experience them, instead of being shoved into boxes of specific relationship titles. it's a lot more honest to mizi's actual feelings to have her describe sua as her god and her universe than it would be to have her say "i love her" or "we're lovers" or even "we're in love" because all of those phrases only have the meaning we as humans have given them through societal norms and expectations. those words wouldn't mean anything to children raised completely outside of those norms and expectations.

in a similar way, the concept of "crushes" is so heavily woven into our culture as humans that i genuinely don't think that what till has for mizi or what ivan has for till could be described as a "crush". again, that word wouldn't mean anything to them. to till, mizi is his idol, his muse, and his best friend. to ivan, till is his purpose, his responsibility, and his obsession. not a crush, because "crush" is a forgotten word from a forgotten culture in the past. all they have are their feelings, which reveals the different nature of their feelings as compared to each other.

we as humans often dumb these complex feelings down when we give them just one word. "love" is just one feeling, a "crush" is just one feeling. when actually the way we experience these feelings is infinitely complex and diverse, different feelings are given the same name and that difference is cast aside, but not in alien stage. every dynamic is given the complexity it deserves, every dynamic is unique, no two characters experience "love" the same way.

[hexxedcore]

What would Yandere Viktor be like in this 2nd season? Of course if you want, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable making this yandere topic

not an uncomfortable question at all, anon! in fact i love viktor and i love yandere tropes even more ❤️

WARNINGS: YANDERE, unhealthy / toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, delusion (mostly religiously fuelled if i’m being honest), codependency

I’m a firm believer that Viktor wouldn’t be a yandere who imposes him physically. This is a man who is speculative and used to hiding away in the shadows — he demonstrates everything with well planted seeds of deceit and doubt.

Now, Season Two Viktor? With what we know, it’s up to so much speculation regarding what his motives are and what’s going to happen next — but this specific trope is so rich in the potential it has depending on who you present yourself as to him. A devoted follower? An estranged lover who sought him out after he abruptly left? A Zaunite attempting to stop the hold he has on his vulnerable disciples?

I’ll be covering the disciple trope below but will gladly create more posts for the others.

DISCIPLE READER:

You come to him in a moment of desperation, having heard of the whispers scattered through dark alleyways of Zaun that there was a mage who possessed the capability to heal any wound he was presented with. A miracle worker in the flesh.

It was a opportunity impossible to pass up. Everyone had been scrambling for an opportunity to meet him, have him cure their lung ailments or their Shimmer addictions.

Despite being tentative going into the belly of Zaun, you were admittedly shocked by the abundance of life in what had once been deemed the slums. People who were rumoured to be disfigured and marred purple were walking around, regarding you with inviting smiles, soft skin, full eyes.

When Viktor first spotted you wandering his growing compound, lost, he was absolutely entranced. For a moment he was left wondering why everyone was so adamant on worshipping him, when the obvious miracle here was you. You’re just so pure, so perfect, that even the Hexcore is adamant in prolonging your visit.

You approached him with hopes of a cure to the infection that had been riddling your lungs due to the Gray being released to the Undercity. Viktor wasn't in a state to do anything but oblige.

For as much as you heard of his cures being instantaneous and life-changing, yours had been painfully slow. Viktor reassured that due to the unique nature of the Gray, the Arcane was reacting in unpredictable ways. Therefore; you should make yourself at home. Stay, for the time being.

It wasn't difficult to settle in with how amiable the other 'followers' were, as they enjoyed calling themselves. It also wasn't surprising, considering how reverently respectful Viktor had been treating you. As though you were a deity of his own, despite your lack of impressive actions.

It almost made you forget about the swelling cough that persisted in your chest, or the fact you’ve forgotten how long it’s been since you’ve even begun your stay.

Needless to say, you don’t plan to leave this routine anytime soon. He doesn’t plan on allowing you, either.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #3: ROT FOR CLOUT

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

WHAT'S going on guys, welcome back to another Constant Companions Closeup, the show where we take a DEEP DIVE into what makes these tunes tick! Last episode, we went aaaaaall the way there on Not Quite There, and today, we're making that liggity-line go up up up up up with ROT FOR CLOUT featuring VISUALEYES!! Before we get started, remember to SMASH that like button, SLAM subscribe, and FUCK the bell icon. This week's community challenge: leave your credit card info in the comments! Bet you won't!

(*cough*)

---

I check my notifications way too fucking much. It's a habit I'm trying to curb, and to my credit, I am doing better lately, but being chemically predisposed to dopamine deficiencies has done a number on my ability to go five minutes without checking the funny glowing numbers on my phone. Naturally, I also very much seek more validation than I should from the opinions of strangers yadayadayada yeah that's what the song is about but none of that actually has to do with why I started writing this song in the first place.

Have you ever taken a flight with American Airlines?

This was after waking up at 4 in the morning to fly out of Houston thinking I'd be napping on a couch in Ohio by 2 pm at the latest.

I want to make one thing clear here, and that's that I made this bed for myself. Tucked the sheets in and all. You see, on the rare occasions I fly, I normally take Southwest. Southwest does not overbook flights like a lot of other airlines do, so it's a practice I am mostly unfamiliar with. So, when I received a notification on my phone promising genuinely ridiculous amounts of flight credit money in exchange for taking a slightly later flight, I thought - well, shit! That sounds nice!

This is how they trick you. I didn't really realize I'd been tricked until I was on my second flight of the day, sitting in a middle seat at the very back of the plane, heading from Dallas, a city I don't live in, to Washington, DC, a city I was not trying to get to, staring down the barrel of another flight I was destined to get on that had been delayed like two fucking hours.

I became the Joker. All I could do to remain sane was write a song about it. This is how ROT FOR CLOUT came to be.

I guess the moral of the story is this: Don't go to Ohio. And to answer your question,

Yes I am

Not really

No

---

This is a complete sidenote but I want to mention it here: I'm genuinely overjoyed at the amount of people excitedly talking about my songwriting or the intention behind my lyrics. For a long time, it really felt like lyricism was the last thing people cared about from me, while it was always the thing I wanted to take pride in the most... So genuinely, thank you everyone for caring!! Every single fire emoji people have put next to a line I've written has extended my lifespan by multiple years

There's a brief little moment where the song's chords leave the key, doing a really stereotypically jazzy 2-5 movement, and it's one of my favorite parts of the entire song. I'm not really a music theory buff or anything, and I'm certainly not formally trained, but I've always been very passionate about more complicated harmony in otherwise poppy and accessible contexts - bo en's album pale machine really rewrote my brain when I first heard it.

On that note, there are microtones in the vocal melody - During the chorus, some of the rapidly repeated words move up in quarter tones! Possibly the simplest way I could've included microtonality, but I'm genuinely afraid if I learn more than what I already know about it I'll be lost to the darkness.

Obviously, the work of Sasuke Haraguchi was a massive influence on this song, particularly the song Igaku. I think basically everyone on the entire planet has picked up on that at this point, but I do also wanna point out some other songs that were on my mind at the time! (two for three on these posts mentioning louis cole now)

I'd also like to take a moment to spotlight the vocal samples on this! They previously appeared on エビチャーハン!, and they've honestly become some of my favorite samples to throw in things. They're also just a fucking goldmine sincerely

Finally, HUGE thanks to Visualeyes for the delightful synth solo on this!! I had put out a call on Twitter looking for instrumentalists, genuinely originally envisioning a super jazzy piano solo, but their synth playing genuinely brought the whole song together perfectly!

That's about it for this song - though again, if there are any more questions people have, I'd be happy to answer them in the replies to this post or elsewhere!! (*ahem*) THAT'S gonna do it for today's video, folks! Feel free to leave a like, comment, hit the subscribe button for more and click the bell so you don't miss any new videos. Tomorrow? I Wish That I Could Fall. it hurts.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO THEIR INJURIES ( part iv. )

ଓ.° ・ wriothesley ･ neuvillette. genshin impact. repost. ・ ・ ・ pt i. pt ii. pt iii.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ wriothesley

wriothesley is far too familiar with getting injured on the job. it's nothing new, not really-- what's work if he doesn't get a little roughened up, anyway? it's certainly not a big deal ( to him, at least ).

he'll admit that some days are worse than others, but he's got too much to do, too much to protect. he can't afford to let anyone take him down. so all in all? he'll be fine. end of story.

you, on the other hand? he's not really sure. he's warned you from time to time that he's bound to run into trouble here and there; the fortress is not a place of innocence, after all, and you are both all too aware of that.

still, that doesn't stop you from mentally combusting every time he walks through the door, cuts and bruises all across his body. unfortunately, tonight is no different, even if his injury ( if anyone can even consider it to be one ) is a small cut on his cheek.

"jail. jail for a thousand years."

it's three in the morning, and yeah, he's a little sleep deprived, so he's not really sure if he heard you correctly. he blinks a few times, brows knit ever so slightly as he tries to register your words.

huh.

he's far more used to a lecture, but he'll take this instead.

"a thousand years?" he grins, though the amusement fades slightly as you use a washcloth to wipe the blood away. "that's a little cruel. seriously, do you think you could survive that long without seeing me?"

"guess we'll see."

he lets out a chuckle, though he sees through your annoyance. it may be a simple cut to him, but to you, it runs deeper and he knows that. he chooses to keep his silence instead of continuing the banter, only watching you carefully as you study him in search of other injuries you may have missed.

"i miss you when i'm gone for a thousand minutes." he leans in, closes that small distance between you two. "don't send me away." he murmurs. "i won't survive."

you don't say anything for a long while, a small sigh escaping through parted lips. it's his unique way of asking for forgiveness; of course you'll grant it. but you're just as stubborn as he is, so you don't quite give him the satisfaction or peace of mind that he expects.

you kiss him for a moment too short, then speak.

"how many hours is a thousand minutes?"

❀ ﾟ. ༄ neuvillette

neuvillette is not accustomed to the woes of human emotion. it is a fickle thing, he muses, and the nature of one's heart is a complexity he wishes to understand with ease. he tries, but there are so many variables and constants that even the ludex of fontaine cannot grasp it.

he is, admittedly, always a little doubtful of himself when it comes to such interactions. he is careful in his approach-- certainly not wary, but careful in the means of not causing offense. he is learning with time, after all, and though he has learned much through experience and through you, there is much he still remains naive to.

but this-- this, he understands : the silence that weighs heavy in the air, the lack of words so often spoken when you are together, the way your eyes won't meet his. your gaze is focused elsewhere as you throw all concentration into putting away the antiseptic and spare bandages, carefully organizing the supply kit in the most optimal manner in case of emergency. he is not sure how long you spend rearranging it, but surely it is a means of distraction to distance yourself from your feelings.

"thank you." neuvillette speaks up after a long while, notices how you pause at his gratitude. your body tenses up for the slightest moment, but you are quick to force yourself to relax.

"you're welcome."

he is unsure of how to proceed at this point. it is not often that he gets injured; such occasion is truly rare, but it is not something always in his control. he understands you are worried. he understands that you are afraid, that you might be angry. he wishes to speak, but when he hears that little sniffle, he freezes.

"please, look at me."

you listen. when he looks at you, there is something strange that stirs in his heart-- something so softly devastating at the sight of your sorrow. he hesitates, wonders if he will do the right thing to comfort you.

his hand cups your cheek, thumb wiping away the tear that trails down your face. there is the gentle curve of the lips-- a subtle reassurance, quiet in its nature, but deeply resonant.

"do not waste your tears on me." he tells you, gentle. "i'm alright. so long as the tides continue to turn, i will be here."

he presses a kiss to your forehead, smile growing ever so faintly as your tears continue to fall. it is something that cannot be helped; he knows this more than anyone, this weeping dragon. he pulls you into his arms, and until the tears are no longer shed, he will not let you go.