#so i don't think that was his first time using them

[pseudonaivete]

I hate how kindness, unlike in books or films, do not yield anything when it comes to men.

My friend’s brother is the typical loner-gamer, and he seemed rather depressed to me, and I thought it must be not easy for him—he never had a girlfriend, spends most of his time alone, and the only socialization activity he has is video games.

So, I figured we could be nice to him. On his birthday, we got him a Lego set, which he seemed to like. We would often visit him with his favorite snacks, ask how he was doing, and overall make him feel cared for.

We did that for nearly a year, and that man not only has been ungrateful (at first we thought he just needs time to show emotions), he laughed how annoying we are with his game friends and mocked we keep bothering him with our “nonsense”. He also gifted us nothing back on our birthdays, and we tried to be understanding that perhaps he is shy.

Looking back, it’s sad how naive we were—he didn't need love or attention to be uplifted and encouraged, he was “lonely” because he was an asshole.

Why did we think his heart would soften, his negative thoughts would leave him, and he would begin to trust people more once we showed him continuous love and care? That's a grown-ass man, 30 years of age—his life, as miserable as it seems, is HIS active choice.

Don't believe in male loneliness epidemic propaganda. These men probably have people who care about them deeply—mothers, sisters, whoever—it’s them who do not give a single fuck about them.

[aislinregin]

I don't like getting political anymore. I have too much to protect, too much that leaves me and people I love profoundly vulnerable in the current climate. But I feel like I have to say this, so I'm going to do something that makes me sick to my stomach: I'm going to censor myself.

I have always told myself, my partners, my friends, my children that when you're getting the measure of someone, you should definitely trust your gut. Or your pet, whichever gets there first. Animals have a keen sense for danger, and your gut is just the part of you that doesn't realize you're supposed to be a civilized human. But also, possibly even more importantly, people always tell you who they are eventually. It might take a while, they might put on a good show for years. But sooner or later, people always tell you who they are and what they want to do. That can look different in different people. Let me give you an example.

When I was seventeen I started dating a guy I worked with. He was 19, so only a little older, but where I lived he was a legal adult so there was definitely a power dynamic at play that I was not equipped to navigate safely. This guy said all the right things, made all the right moves, for months. And the whole time my gut was whispering "this isn't right, something is wrong." But I could prove it, not even to myself, so I told myself I was imagining it. I was not imagining it. One day I was riding in the backseat of a car with this guy and he wanted to go to a friend's party. But it had been a long day for me and I was tired and I knew his friends were the type who would want to drink a lot of beer and act foolish and I was just not in the mood. So I said that was fine but he could go by himself because I wanted to go home and read a book. He said "no, we're going to the party." And I said "No, you can go if you want but I'm going home."

And then he slapped me across the face.

He did it once. I think it surprised him how little I reacted (it wasn't the first time I'd been slapped, it wasn't even the hundredth). I looked him in the eye and I remember very clearly that my gut was suddenly louder than a bullhorn: "YOU KNEW THIS WAS WRONG, AND NOW HE'S SHOWN YOU HOW."

So I smiled, all coy and sweet, and unbuckled my seatbelt to scoot over like I was going to cuddle up to him and "apologize." Then I unbuckled his seatbelt, reached across him, opened the door of the car, and shoved him out of the car. It was moving, slowly through a neighborhood, and the driver was so shocked he slammed on the brakes while I closed the door and locked it. The now ex boyfriend was screaming like he'd been shot (he was fine, was barely bruised). I told the driver that if he didn't drive me home right then I was calling the cops.

All that to say that people will always tell you who they are and what they want eventually. If they're being honest, what they say won't change much over time, just as they grow and evolve. You can track those changes, be part of them. But if they're lying or putting on a mask, sooner or later they'll slip up and then you'll know. What you do next will tell them a lot: it will tell them if you're going to let them be who they really are, if they can continue to use and abuse you. Trump has never been anything but brutally honest about who he is. He has been telling us from the start who he is and what he wants. And the whole damn country or even world has been scrambling to assure us that it's fine, he can't do those things, we have all these things that protect us (Congress, police, the military, the Constitution). But I have been listening to Trump and his people. I've heard everything they've said. They've told us who they are. And when people tell you who they are, the trick is to take them at their word. Believe them. So you know what? I believe him. But I can't shove him out of a moving car. I can get out of the car though. It's happened before. It's happened before here. We have a secret history no one wants to talk about, one with mass graves under residential schools less than two hours from where I sit right now, chemically castrated queers, non consensual lobotomies on autistics and other neurodivergents, internment camps and forced migrations and outright fucking massacres. What Trump and his puppeteers want is not out of line with this country's soul. This is not new. This is what this country has always been. It's time to believe it. It's time to get out of the fucking car.

Let's connect some dots here

The Trump administration kidnaps and sends hundreds of people to a prison camp in El Salvador with no due process (meaning they never have to prove these people committed whatever offence the Admin claims)

The Administration sets the precedent that anyone, up to green card holder and naturalized citizens, will be subject to this for practicing free speech in a way the Administration doesn't like

The Administration puts out two Executive Orders, one which says they believe trans people and parents of trans children are all sexual offenders and another that anyone who criticizes Israel is a terrorist

The President puts out a statement, in public, saying he wants to find ways to send US citizens to those foreign prison camps

The Administration directly defies 2 different SCOTUS decisions that say anyone who is deported must get due process and (this one a unanimous decision) they must return a wrongfully deported man

The US President now tells the President of El Salvador, again in public, that they will need to expand their facilities because he wants to start sending "homegrown criminals" to El Salvador very soon

We aren't even in boiling the frog territory any more, we're in a flash frier.

Like I hate sounding like a fucking tinfoil hat nutjob, but it's clear as day, right? He's saying exactly what he wants to do. And no one is doing anything about it. They're just saying "hey that's illegal!" and then letting it happen anyway.

[kxsagi]

got this idea cuz I was comparing sae and Rin to my friends who don't watch bllk loll

reader who's around the itoshi brothers a lot and accidentally mixes up their names at times and sometimes when she isn't looking at them or she's talking to them from another room she'll even mix up their voices 😭

lowk my dad does this w me and my siblings LMFAO

“𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢?”

a/n: i want to make out with sae

(art credits go to Jhong_Dai on X)

it’s not even your fault. really. they’re both monotone. they both sigh like the world annoys them. they both say your name like you just crashed their car. and sometimes, just sometimes, you’re not looking and they sound exactly the same. 

“rin, pass me the charger?” 

“i’m sae.” 

“… okay, but are you gonna pass it or not?” 

you don’t even flinch anymore. you just accept the wrong name like it’s your god-given right to be mildly incorrect 60% of the time. and it pisses off a particular itoshi. 

rin scowls. “do you not hear the difference?” 

“well yeah, i do now. you sound more like you're ready to fight someone, and sae sounds like he just woke up from a nap he didn't want to take.” 

“that’s literally just being awake.” 

but when you're not in the same room, that’s when things get dicey. 

once, you told sae from the kitchen, “rin, can you check the oven?” 

and sae, older brother sae, peeked inside and said, “yeah, it’s done.” 

and you thanked him like that was normal. it wasn’t until rin came home later that night and asked what you baked that it hit you. you stared at him. “wait… that wasn’t you earlier?” 

rin blinked. “i haven’t been home all day.” 

“… oh.” 

“… did you confuse us again.” 

“… maybe.” 

“… again?” 

you don’t even try to defend yourself anymore. “look, you guys have the same DNA or whatever, maybe my brain just can’t distinguish premium itoshi stock.” 

rin looks like he’s about to walk into traffic. sae, from the couch, just smirks without looking up from his phone. 

“it’s okay,” he says, “you’re not the first one to be confused. rin used to think he was me, too.” 

“i didn’t.” 

“you wore my uniform with my name tag for a week in middle school.” 

“it was black. they’re all black.” 

“you thought you were me.” 

sometimes you think you’re just being dramatic. but then they both walk into the room in black shirts, with the same resting judgmental face, the same little flick of hair falling across their forehead, and you have to mentally roll the dice. 

“sae?” 

“wrong.” 

“rin?” 

“still wrong.” 

“what? ... okay, but one of you has to answer.” 

"you could just turn around and look." 

“no. this is a test now.” 

the worst is when they use it against you. like today. one of them called from the hallway: “hey, can you come here for a sec?” 

you shout back, “who’s ‘you’?” 

“me.” 

“who’s me?!” 

“your favorite itoshi.” 

you freeze. because honestly? that doesn’t help at all. they both say that with the same exact sarcasm. 

rin walks in first, holding a water bottle. “did you come when i called or when sae called?” 

“wait, so you called me?” 

sae trails in a second later. “i didn’t say anything.” 

“then why did i hear–” 

they both smirk. they planned this. they planned this to gaslight you and it worked. 

“i hate you both,” you mumble. 

rin tosses you the bottle. “love you too.” 

sae ruffles your hair as he walks by. “learn our voices before you embarrass yourself in public.” 

you grumble something under your breath, and rin hears it. 

“what was that?” 

“… nothing, sae.” 

rin stares at you. “i will throw this bottle.” 

you grin. “do it, sae.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[softsunnyy]

🚨willmack (threesome), mentions of them cumming inside you, masturbation, oral sex, both at the same time, betting, being fucked stupid by your boys, who have a lot of energy, and i think that's all 🚨

poorly written

“if we both score at least one goal each today… you’ll let us use you,” Will proposed. You nearly choked on your coffee, feeling your cheeks flush. You looked at Macklin for help, but he just stared at you, attentive to your answer. You knew then that only you were surprised by the proposal, so you looked back at Will.

“sorry, what?” you said, setting your coffee aside, resting your arms on the counter, leaning in to look at him more closely. Mack’s eyes dropped to your tits, peeking out from under your shirt, as if you wanted him to see them.

“i have a feeling we’ll both score goals today, so what better way to celebrate?” he said, smiling, and you looked at him, amused, surprised, but also interested.

there had always been flirtations between the three of you; you and Macklin had even kissed, but it had never gone that far, and the intrigue was beginning to reach you. You wonder if they're capable of keeping their word.

“okay, if you can do it, i'll be free use for you,” you say, closing the deal. Your response brought a huge smile to their faces, motivating them.

that same night, you stared at the scoreboard with your mouth open, unable to believe your eyes.

not only did they both score. Macklin had pulled a fucking hat trick. As if it hadn't cost them anything. As if they truly yearned for it so much they'd do anything to have you.

you start to feel hot, knowing what's coming. Your mind floods with ideas, with scenarios. You start to feel desperate when you see the game isn't over yet, and you resist the urge to whimper when the camera focuses on them. And they´re laughing and talking on the bench. It's like they know you're watching, impressed, and that boosts their egos.

you see Macklin smile, then spit on the ice. Will's eyes follow every move, then repeat the action.

the commentators praise your guys, and it only makes you feel more needy. They keep talking about stats, how good they are, and the great future they have ahead of them if they keep playing this way. And you're so proud of them that you'd let them do whatever they wanted to you, you don't even care. Your pelvis jerks unconsciously, making you rub against the couch, the heat becoming more unbearable, your face burning. It's like everyone is turning against you, mocking the fate that awaits you.

you see Will take a hand out of his glove, fixing his hair. His veins are prominent, his hair messy. You see him laughing with his teammates, with a different glow, eager to end the game and receive what he's earned.

Macklin looks so big, you see him sip from the water bottle, and your eyes travel to his throat, paying attention to the movement, seeing his white skin, yearning to leave a trail of bites, of marks.

you can't help it; you wanna reward them, you want them to receive the best attention for being so good. You'd do anything for them, because they earned it, because they put that much effort for you, to be able to touch you, to be able to make progress with you.

it doesn't take long for you to start undressing, your mind clouded with ideas, thoughts of them, until you're naked on your couch, your legs spread, exposing your pussy. You're grateful they're focused on them all the time, because their faces on the screen make everything easier. Your fingers are quick, sliding between your folds, rubbing your clit, overstimulating yourself.

your hand moves faster and faster, applying the pressure you know you like, while your other hand plays with your tits. You know how it is. It's not the first time you've touched yourself while watching one of their games, thinking about them, imagining a thousand scenarios after the flirting, the glances.

and yet, you need them. You need them there with you

you slide two fingers into your pussy, stretching your walls, preparing you for them, putting your fingers deep inside you. You're rough, fast, moving them with precision, whimpering their names.

you imagine they're Mack's big fingers, and that Will is the one touching your tits. You wanna feel them, you wanna know what it feels like to have both of their cocks inside of you, taking over your body, doing all the things they've promised you, all the things they've bragged about.

you want them to touch you, you know they'll be gentle, because they're always like that with you, but you want their cocks to use you.

you want them, making comments, like the ones that make you nervous in public.

the game ends when you start to feel the tingling, the familiar knot. You start sliding your fingers faster. You torture yourself, and when you cum, it's loud, your fluids wetting your inner thighs.

you leave small slaps on your pussy, causing your fluids to squirt everywhere as you start rubbing your clit, overstimulating yourself, making you arch your back and your pelvis try to move away.

you don't even know how much time has passed, but you hear them open the door with the key you gave them earlier that morning.

the two of them stand there for a moment, frozen, watching the scene before them. The smell of your arousal fills the room, and they can hear the wet sound of your pussy, along with your desperate whimpers.

they wonder how many times you've cum, but that's forgotten when you look at them, your eyes glassy, your mouth open.

Will is the first to approach, standing in front of you, making you look up at him, feeling small. His gaze is intimidating, making your breath catch. You stop touching your pussy to give him your full attention, and he can see how your body continues to move unconsciously, searching for the lost contact.

he takes your chin, leaning down, joining his mouth with yours, kissing you, devouring your mouth. Macklin reacts, and begins to unbutton his pants as he approaches, then removes his shirt, revealing his big, tempting body. He comes up behind the couch, placing his hands on your shoulders, pretending to move down to your tits.

on the tv, he can see that you were watching them, and a feeling of pride forms in his chest. You'd started touching yourself while watching them.

god, he wants to forget the delicacy just thinking about that.

Will pulls away from you, resisting the urge to kiss you again. With his hands, he helps you stand, your legs trembling, still spasming, almost numb. You watch them look at each other, then he turn you around. Will had you rest your knees on the couch, leaning forward on the backrest, your head level with Mack's dick, while Will positioned himself behind you.

Macklin caresses one of your cheeks and lets you help him pull down his pants and then his underwear, freeing his cock under your hungry gaze. Will quickly removed his clothes, but didn't immediately approach your pussy, not as you expected, at least.

it was when you licked Mack's cock from base to tip that you felt Will's tongue in your pussy, tasting your juices, wandering between your folds. The addictive taste, he couldn't help it; he started devouring you, sucking, licking. Overstimulating your poor clit, making you moan against Macklin's cock, who whimpered, sensitive from how hard his cock was.

Will lingered, listening to your pleas, your whimpers, feeling the ache from how hard his dick is.

it's an interesting scene, with him kneeling behind you, his hands roaming over your body, leaving red marks from how hard his fingers grip your skin, while you try to swallow Mack's cock, trying to be good for him, and trying to resist, knowing that you´re gagging.

Macklin whimpers, his hands shaking a little, but one of them tangles in your hair, pulling you closer, forgetting the size of his cock for a moment, making you choke, your nose brushing against his pelvis as he moves, sliding, exploring your mouth, your heat, and feeling your drool reach his base, staining your chin and causing drops to roll down his tense thighs after the game.

Will moves his tongue expertly, swallowing your juices, seeing your red pussy, your swollen clit. He feels your legs tremble, and his cock aches, wanting your pussy, feel your warmth, feel your walls tighten around him.

they didn't expect the action to start so soon. God, they didn't even know it would actually happen, even though deep down they wanted it so bad. So walking in, seeing you ready for them, so eager and proud of the performance they'd shown... was one of the best surprises. They can't let you down now.

and you try, you try to resist, even though your throat hurts, you're gagging, and you know your voice will be funny later. You can feel the weight of Mack's cock on your tongue, and it's so heavy, hot, and big. Your jaw starts to go numb from the effort, and you start moving on automatic. You want to swallow his cum, feel it slide down your throat, like it's the cure, your reward for a job well done, while you feel another knot begin to form in your lower abdomen, the product of Will, who eats you like you're his last meal.

your legs tremble, they spasm violently, and Will can see your hole throbbing just before you cum, filling his mouth, sending drops running down his chin, making a path down his neck. And he keeps going, not caring how sensitive you are and how you try to pull away. His hands keep you still while he cleans you, swallowing every drop until there's nothing left. And then he stands up, watching you eat his friend, so hungry.

god, he wants to live that experience too.

and Macklin barely resists; he doesn't even know how he does it. Maybe it's how much he wants to stay inside you, but he keeps moving, keeps thrusting, filling you, making your moans die against his skin, sending vibrations through his cock that only make his life more complicated.

Will positions himself behind you, aligning the tip of his cock against your hole, your eyes become glassy again as you feel him begin to slide inside your walls, stretching you. And he's bigger than you thought; you feel like he's splitting you, like he's not going to fit, and you didn't expect that. You pull Mack's cock out of your mouth and moan, trying to grip his thighs, digging your nails in. And he sees a string of drool still connecting his tip to your mouth, making him have to stifle a moan.

your walls squeeze him, welcoming him like a new home, and he has to be patient, giving you a moment to recover while he tries not to come right there, feeling on the edge just from the way you´re so tight, so hot, and how good you feel, like you were made for him.

when your body unconsciously moves back, he knows he can start moving, so he does, first sliding slowly in and out, while you slowly resume your actions with Mack, returning your attention to his cock.

the pace slowly begins to increase, and the position makes you feel Will everywhere. He moves fast, hard, and you try to muffle your moans by using Mack, but it's getting harder. And Mack, oh, my sweet boy, feels like he's going to cry. Every time he's been on the verge of cumming, you take his dick out of your mouth to moan, as if you didn't want to give him the pleasure, as if you enjoyed making him suffer like this, while Will takes care of destroying you.

the sound is obscene, your pussy filled by a cock, his body slamming into yours, making your ass turn red. And your fluids make a mess, staining your body, leaving trails of drool and dried arousal on your skin, as well as on your boys' skin.

your mind is foggy, you feel dizzy, a little lightheaded, your eyes want to close on their own, and loud moans come from your mouth, frustrating Mack.

Will notices the situation and knows what he must do.

“baby, you're not helping Mack. Come on, look how ready he is for you, or you don´t want him?” his words make your eyes widen, and you try to return to your task, but it's so difficult that you whimper, frustrated, aroused, with fat, hot tears falling down your cheeks because you wanna be good for him.

“you’re leaving us no choice,” Will says, looking at his friend, communicating with him silently, knowing they’re both thinking the same thing. As always.

you feel him slide out of you, making you feel so empty, and you whimper, begging, pleading for forgiveness, trying to keep the fun going, until his hands take you and move you to his liking. He lies down on the couch and has you sit on his lap, facing him, resting your hands on his chest as you feel his hot cock pressed against your wet pussy. That's enough to distract you, not noticing Mack walk over to stand behind you, waiting.

soon you're back on Will's cock, and this time you feel him even deeper, making a small bulge form in your belly. You try to move, to ride him, but big hands push you forward, pressing your tits against Will's chest and making it impossible for you to move much.

"ready, babe?," you heard Macklin say, but you're too fucked up, not fully understanding what he's talking about. You're quieter, more lost. You had cum a couple of times before they arrived, leaving you fucked stupid.

it's then that you feel pressure on your pussy, in the same hole Will is using, and your eyes fill with tears, your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You feel his cock slide in, and it's big, even more, and it stretches your walls too far. And you suffocate them, both of them. Their cocks together inside you, not moving yet, but making you feel shattered, broken, completely lost now.

Will tries to kiss you to distract you, but he can feel your tears until you try to move on your own. Macklin takes this as a good sign and begins to slide in, very slowly, carefully at first. His hands caress your back, feeling how it's still quite difficult to move inside you.

they're patient, letting you get used to it, letting your pussy open wider for them, to welcome them home. The sensation is better than they expected. It's addictive. And oh, they don't think they'll ever forget it now. You're gonna have to get used to it.

your pussy is gonna have to get used to it.

because they don't need to make bets anymore. They both know they'll keep coming back to you, asking for more, wanting to bury themselves in your pussy, in your walls, whether together or separately.

they're gonna mark you, they're gonna take over your body, and you won't be able to forget that pair, no matter what.

they're just getting started now, the night is long, but you already feel broken by the way they move inside you, and they don't care. They're young, they have energy, stamina. They're gonna use your body until you can't take it anymore, and they'll cum inside your walls until there's no more room, until both of their loads join together and create white rings at their bases.

they're gonna cum inside you again and again, because that's part of the deal... right?

oh, how did you go from flirting to this? none of you three know, but are you going to complain? of course not.

you just hope that tomorrow you can get out of bed.

[lgvalenzuela]

Now that this is making the rounds again I'm gonna spill something on the Veilguard companions because it's the only game in the series where I've been here since the begining and I've played this game so much I might as well be an expert

-Davrin is incredibly smart, he might say he wasn't a smart kid. But writing a book on your expertise because you have beef with a dead author? Straight up nerd behaviour, I haven't seen someone so mad about books since Dorian threw my library books out the balcony

I love his narrative, I love that he didn't become a Warden because he had to but because he wanted to (which like...I'm pretty sure is a first as far as Warden companions?) He wanted a propuse. But becoming a Warden was so ingrained in his brain when you meet him that he's so convinced he's gonna die young he's preparing for his death actively, he's preparing Assan to be able to take care of himself (also if anyone thinks his whole narrative is about Assan I'm gonna start throwing hands)

His narrative can be taken multiple places due to player choice. But personally I'm really into this self sacrificing hero that just... Finds a reason to live.

-Harding's narrative is literally about toxic positivity, Lucanis literally spells it out on the scene where they have coffee together. She's refusing herself very righteus feelings of anger for what's been done to her people, and to her specifically. She's grieving through the whole game and for multiple reasons and she's on the verge of breaking down the whole time. Both her endings need her to accept this part of herself, the part that's mourning and the part that's angry.

Also the dressing down she gives Solas at the end? Mwa! Poetry. Queen shit.

-I don't know how to explain Bellara without going into personal life? But like a grieving neurodivergent asexual woman, kinda feels like they were just writing me at some points.

Her narrative with Cyrian was the first (and not last) time I cried. I love how her and Davrin represent the past and the future of their people. How you sometimes have to look into the past to see a clearer future, how the sins of the past don't define you but it DOES feel too easy to just say: Oh but it wasn't me, and this is not Who my people are now.

Also in general I love their dynamic, I love when I can actually see relationships grow and chance in game. And I can see Davrin and Bellara forming a strong bond and Davrin being that anchor that Bellara needs. Not like Cyrian! But he cares for her! And she needs someone to care for her, to remind her that its okay, and that not everything is her fault.

-Neve is not an ice queen, she just uses ice magic. But take her with you anywhere and she's full of jokes. Damn she even approves of most of Rook's purple dialogues. She loves It when you're a silly goose.

Her entire character revolves around caring. She's there because she cares, because nobody seemed to care so she had to step up, she's willing to sacrifice so much just because she knows people need her. She's righfuly mad if Minrathous is ravaged by the dragon but it's...honestly not that hard to get on her good side again? She seems a little more mad than Lucanis, Lucanis seems more sad. But she honestly doesn't seem to personally blame Rook. None of them do. Because they're smart enough to know it was an imposible choice from the start. And she can see Rook put in the work (well I mean if you as the player care enough)

-Taash is not fucking immature or stupid. Taash has trouble communicating, I think we would all benefict from knowing the difference oh my God. Did we not learn this lesson with Sera? (Stupid question I know)

Honestly it's a thing I've always loved about this franchise and these characters. They all communicate differently, they do depending on their upbringing and just...some people have trouble communicating! It's fine! Just give them a second! Maybe let them write some things down!

-Emmrich🧡 (that's all, send post. I'm gonna have something else to say when I've already post this I can see it)

-My biggest surprise is Lucanis for sure. Fun fact? Wasn't on my radar when the first or second trailer or whatever else material dropped. But my Rook was born as a joke, he wasn't suppoused to even be Rook on the first place, he was meant as a secondary character and shipping him with Lucanis was also a joke.

I love him dude. I have such a thing for characters that have a kind heart, the more surprising that they have it the more I love it. I'm so glad he wasn't a Zevran type (and I LOVE Zevran, but for that we already have him!) He was just a weird little ace that had no fucking idea what was happening most of the time.

This is only when It comes to romantic love because he's really observant. He so quickly realizes what's wrong with every companion, he only really has THAT type of relationship with Davrin because he's matching his energy and honestly I think both of them think it's kind of funny at some point. He's good with people but in such a weird way where he doesnt know he is? He's just... Happy. I think he's truly happy for the first time because he has people that can rely on him and he can fully take care of. And in turn you can show him that he's worth those things too.

Things I never would have guessed from fandom osmosis before actually playing the Dragon Age games:

-Alistair is actually pretty smart, and has a lot of knoweledge to share about the topics he's interested about.

He's also not that shy, and flirts with a warden pretty smoothly, if a bit innocently for his lack of experience and general humorous persona.

And his primary motivator is revenge which is an interesting way to take a character like him.

-Zevran is the only character who actively searches for consent even in simple flirting like calling someone beautiful. If you tell him to stop he never makes a mention again.

He's also one of the most loyal and sentimental companions you can have. He cares a lot, want to admit it or not.

-Merrill is one of the most educated and smart characters on the series, she takes calculated risks based on her own studies and research, and the only reasons she fails is because nobody trusts her and refuses to treat her like an adult.

Part of it is also the game refusing to frame her as anything but a naive child when she's anything but.

-Isabela has the most emotional intelligence out of all the characters in DA2, she knows exactly what they're feeling and what they need to hear at all times. It's clear that she's wise and worldly, and just needs time to build confidence between her and the others because she's been hurt a lot and her respect is gained.

-Fenris has an amazing sense of humor and you can find him consistently laughing at both Hawke's and companions he likes silly jokes. He's just really deadpan when delivering his own jokes.

He's also considerably patient and doesn't lose his temper unless confronted with people who have actively abused him.

-Anders spent SEVEN YEARS protesting peacfully, and it took the risk of genocide on his people to reach the desperation of act 3.

-Dorian is incredibly reserved. He tries to avoid talking about his life with a veil of humor and sarcasm, but he's specially guarded around his sexuality and love life. He only comes out to the Inquisitor in a moment of fury to piss of his father and he may have not done so if not pressed.

If in a romance with Bull the only reason the others find out is because Bull exposes it in front of everyone (I wish they would have find out a better way to let the player find out than Bull ignoring Dorian's wishes of privacy)

If romanced by the Inquisitor he's in his first real relationship and it shows, he's lost most of the time but tries to hide it by acting cocky. It's really funny.

He's also a huge nerd, I wasn't expecting that but I was pleasantly surprised.

-The Iron Bull it's not just smart, he's so caring, he shows you around so you can meet the people, the ones nobody cares about, he introduces you to them.

-Sera also goes to the pile of characters who are really smart and nobody gives them credit for it. She says it herself, she's just really bad with words, but as long as you try to understand her she makes a lot of sense.

The game just gives you no other option than to treat her horribly, which I sense a pattern of framing the neurodivergent coded characters in a certain light with Merrill and Anders.

-Vivienne is the only one (with Dorian) that asks the Inquisitor if they're okay after Haven, and gives beautiful words of afirmation.

She's really affable if you bother to befriend her.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ruggie Bucchi - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

I made sure to tell a buncha people it's gonna be my birthday... Pheeew, tomorrow can't come fast enough!

Summon: You better have somethin' to show when comin' to wish me a happy birthday. Don't worry, I already got a paper bag prepped to carry all my presents!

Groovification: I'm gonna get some gifts, and eat some good food... This year's birthday's gonna be a blast!

Home: Sure worked up a sweat today～

Swap Looks: Gotta get ready.

Home Transition 1: How do I set my hair? I just use a bit of hair oil and comb through it with my fingers, is all. I ain't got money to buy stuff like wax!

Home Transition 2: Riddle made for me a chronological table of magical history. ...Eh, it'd be a waste to just toss it, so I guess I'll use it.

Home Transition 3: I gotta chow down on the party food like there's no tomorrow. Can't let any of the other guys in the dorm devour everythin'.

Home Transition - Login: Feasts, parties, and presents, oh my...! I got waaay more excited about celebrating birthdays after coming to this school!

Home Transition - Groovy: Floyd-kun said he usually just buys stuff whenever the mood strikes 'im. Guess he doesn't know impulse shoppin's the worst possible thing for your savin's.

Home Tap 1: I get along pretty good with my roommates. Like they say, "one hand washes the other," so... Sheeheehee

Home Tap 2: What should I ask Kalim-kun for, hm... This is a primo chance, so I wanna take full advantage!!

Home Tap 3: The oil from the Wildebeest brand's a product that's been sellin' good for a long time. From babies to seniors, this product's great to use on all parts of your body～

Home Tap 4: I tried to get Vil-san to give me some of his clothes he didn't need anymore, and he just said to, "become someone who'd look good wearing them, first." 'S not like I was gonna wear them...

Home Tap 5: Back when I first found these clothes, they were all baggy and fallin' off my shoulders... But I think I'm fillin' 'em out pretty nicely now.

Home Tap - Groovy: C'mon, here's your chance to butter up one of your upperclassmen!

Duo: [RUGGIE]: Floyd-kun, buy me some donuts! [FLOYD]: Buy it yourself, Sharksucker-chan

Birthday Login Message: Thanks for the birthday gift! Let's see what's inside... Oh, a T-shirt. I like practical things. Thanks. None of the guys on the Spelldrive team'll cough up a present without me naggin' them, y'know～ I'm not even gonna start with Leona-san... Eh, I did end up gettin' stuff, so I guess it's fine. On that point, though, you and Epel-kun got me somethin' without me even askin', so you both went up in my book. Sheeheehee! What, that gives you mixed feelings? Oh, come on～ It's fiiiiiine! Just think of it as us being buds foreeeeever!

Requested by Anonymous.

[evenyvn]

All You ; part 03

Idol!San x SingleMom!Reader

Summary : Little Hana noticed the spark between the two adults, tries to play cupid in her own childish ways, but her efforts often end in frustrated pouts. Despite their mutual denial, both adults are clearly drawn to each other-leaving Hana to wonder just how long it'll take them to realize they're in love.

Cw : she/her reader, sfw, fluff, third person POV, a little smau at the end, downbad san, reader has a daughter, stranger to lovers, un-established relationship, marriage mentioned, san is girl dad coded, basically a 10 year old being a matchmaker for two oblivious adults that are totally in love.

originally, this series would only have 3 parts, and this would be the last, but like—i got hit by a sudden wave of ideas, and decided to make it more than 3 parts, and the crowds... is cheering! (lmao me too, i love writing this series).

prev — masterlist — next

Hana was a clever girl—but still very much a child. Sharp-eyed, full of giggles, and not one to whisper when she could shout. And lately, she had made a very big decision: She was going to get her eomma and Uncle San to fall in love.

Because duh. (Hana’s words not me) 

San came to the restaurant a lot now. He laughed with eomma. He helped Hana with her coloring books. He brought tasty snacks everytime he came over. He even let her put stickers on his face one time and didn't complain—not even once. That made him officially the best.

And most importantly? Eomma looked happier now. She smiled more, even when she was tired. Hana thought maybe San had magic or something. Probably.

But they were both so slow. Even for a 10 year old little Hana begins to feel frustrated. 

She might be 10 but she knows from the other moms that frequently visit the restaurant—that if San and her eomma fall in love with each other, they will get married, and if they get married that means San is going to be eomma's husband, eomma's husband means Hana's appa! she giggles delightfully when she realizes that she will finally get a dad she never had. 

And thus begins her (not so) subtle playing cupid for the adults. 

One day, after school, Hana ran into the restaurant with her backpack bouncing and hair a mess. "UNCLE SAAAAN!"

San turned from his table, arms already open. Hana launched herself into them with full force, laughing as he caught her easily.

"I missed you! Did you miss me?!"

"Of course I did," San grinned, twirling her a little before settling her down. "You were gone for sooo long." he said with a playful pout.

"It was only one school day!" she giggled, puffing her cheeks. Then, eyes glinting, she leaned in close and whispered loudly, "Wanna hear a secret?"

San raised an eyebrow playfully, eyes glinting with adornment at the little girl's childish display "Always."

San bent over to her height as she cupped her small hands around his ear. "I don't have an appa, will you be my appa?"

San nearly choked on air. "W-what?!"

Hana nodded very seriously. "I want you to be my appa! because you make my eomma smile. A lot. I think you should live with us and you can eat my eomma’s soup every day. You like soup, right?"

"I mean... yes, but—"

"Good! Think about it!" she said, skipping off to color, leaving the man sitting there blinking like he’d just been hit by a very tiny freight train.

The next few days were full of chaos.

Hana, armed with all the subtlety of a marching band, began her matchmaking campaign in full. She tried everything—from drawing family portraits that included San, to pushing her mom into the seat next to him during meals. Once, she even shoved a napkin at San with the words 'KISS EOMMA??' scribbled in childish handwritting and rainbow crayons.

San coughed for a full minute making Y/N scrambled to get him a glass of water, the male could die of embarrassment right there—he thinks with his fully red cheeks. 

Y/N didn’t catch on at first. She was busy running the restaurant, balancing life, and pretending that her heart didn’t flutter every time San laughed.

She scolded Hana gently one day, after finding her rummaging through her makeup. “What are you doing with my lipstick, baby?”

“I’m making you pretty so Uncle San falls in love faster!” She said as she fiddled with a tube of lipstick, a determined look on her face. 

Y/N almost dropped the makeup pouch she was holding. Face full of embarrassment not expecting her daughter to play cupid between her and the idol. 

“But it’s okay, eomma! You’re already pretty without it! Uncle San is just really slow!” the woman almost giggle at the little comment of San but clears her throat as she gently scolds her, but of course that's not stopping Hana's master plan on getting a new dad. 

Later, while wiping tables with Y/N after closing, the memory still echoed in San’s head. He had NOT stopped thinking about it, he feels delighted of course but also nervous. 

How come a woman like Y/N didn't have someone sweeping off her feet already? She's kind, smart, and of course a beauty that could rival even a goddess. (his words, not mine). 

San sighed as he finally built a nerve to ask the woman with clammy hands, "So.. Hana said... you're not married," he said quietly. before widening his eyes in realization “W-wait I'm sorry— this might be a sensitive topic! I shouldn't have asked…” the man stuttered over his words, cold sweat rolled down his temple. 

Y/N glanced over before chuckling softly, San tried to ignore the little flutter on his heart at the sound of her laughter. "Oh. No, I'm not. Not for a while now." “And it's okay San, I've come to terms with it since years ago. I'm not ashamed you know—raising Hana all by myself for 10 years become my own accomplishment, she's everything that i could've ask for”

He nodded his heart flutter gently at the woman's adoring words, unsure what to say next. "I thought maybe... you were. That I shouldn’t... get close." He said nervously rubbing his neck. 

Y/N raised an eyebrow, before widening her eyes, realizing what the man could’ve meant, “San.. are you perhaps.. took an interest in me?” Her forwardness made the man even more flustered, almost spilling his coffee. 

“I-i… you don't mind if I do right?” 

Y/N smiled faintly, but there was something soft in her voice. "And here I thought someone like you wouldn’t think twice about someone like me."

"Why wouldn’t I?" he said with a curiosity laced on his voice. 

Y/N smiled, a tad bit unsure "You’re an idol. Young, shining, talented. I’m a mom with grocery lists and nap schedules." She chuckled lightly to lighten the sudden tense atmosphere but that didn't erase the slight frown on San's handsome face. 

"And the warmest smile I’ve ever seen," San said, almost without thinking.

She blinked.

Before anything else could be said, Hana peeked from the booth, hugging her dragon plush toy. "Did you ask her yet? Are you gonna be our prince???"

Y/N let out a startled laugh. San turned red to his ears. "Hana!" Y/N scolded gently. "You can't just say that, what if you make San uncomfortable?"

"Nooo, I’m just right!" Hana said proudly with the same determined look on her face, then yawned. "Can we all have pancakes tomorrow? Together? Like a family?"

Y/N and San shared a look.

They didn’t say yes. But they didn’t say no either.

The next day, the restaurant was busy. A couple of nosy regulars had started whispering about the idol's frequent visits. One even nudged Y/N with a wink. “You and the idol, huh?” Y/N waved it off with a polite smile, but her cheeks burned.

Later, in the back kitchen, Y/N sighed as she leaned against the counter.

“He’s too young,” she murmured to herself with a sigh “Too good. And I’ve got baggage. Not to mention it could ruin his whole reputation in a second”

But when she heard San’s laughter from the dining area—loud, bright, and genuine— the way he treated Hana so gently like a father could make something in her chest tightened. Not with fear.

With hope.

Maybe Hana was right.

Maybe San wasn’t here out of obligation.

Maybe... he really liked them.

And maybe, just maybe, she liked him too.

That night, as they cleaned up together again, San turned to face her.

"Noona. Can I ask you something weird?" He said with a playful smile although his heartbeat said otherwise. She looked at him with a teasing smile. "Only if you can handle a weird answer."

He chuckled nervously. "If I weren’t... who I am. Would you think about me differently? Like, if I were just a guy who helped your daughter carry groceries?"

She paused. Then smiled, more gently this time. "San, you are that guy. And maybe that’s the part of you I’m starting to like the most."

San didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t. Something about those words—so simple—yet it wrapped around his ribs and squeezed gently—an ache that wasn’t painful, just overwhelming not in a bad way.

He glanced at her eyes that stare at him with so much kindness and genuinity . They both stare at each other as the realization hits. Hana’s snores from the corner were the only sound for a moment.

Then San smiled—slow and wide.

"Okay then," he said softly. "That’s a start."

And Y/N nodded.

Yes. Yes, it was.

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divider by @.adornedwithlight | likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[muletia]

✧˖° 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

mer!optimus x human reader

summary: optimus waited for his mate for a very long time. but just when he was starting to lose hope, you decide to save him from loneliness. after so many years you finally heard his song. his mate. you.

word count: 5200

optimus is barely in this chapter btw. but don't worry, he will get more desperate later ^^

oh, and I couldn't resist throwing two polish easter eggs somewhere in the middle hehe

The first thing you hear upon waking is the rhythmic murmur of waves gently striking the shore. The soft sound soothes the initial flickers of disorientation, cooing deceitfully so your body doesn’t sound the alarm just yet. Unfortunately, you fall right into the trap.

Your eyelids seem to weigh several tons as you try to lift them, alarmed by the cocktail of not knowing where you are, why you’re here, and how you got here. With great effort and after several attempts, you finally manage to do it, but the blinding white light sabotages your success, forcing you to shut them again.

Each blink seems to shake off a few more kilograms from your eyelids, and eventually you manage to regain some control. Just enough to squint them into a narrow slit, a poor defense against the light, but enough not to go blind within seconds.

The view before you says little. Grains of sand, losing detail with every further centimeter, form a bleached-yellow stripe that stretches all the way to the horizon, the only part of the landscape you recognize. Just above the sand, a luscious blue sky announces fair weather, interrupted only on one side by faint streaks of green. Palm leaves, you conclude, as your brain sluggishly processes the gathered information.

Did we already land on the beach? you wonder, because you really do feel like you're on vacation. The pleasantly warm sand heats your torso, while the ocean mercifully cools your legs up to the knees, whispering with the sound of the waves that you don’t have to do anything anymore. No worries about corporate work. No stress about endless traffic jams right when you’re rushing to the office, or hot water getting turned off on a chilly day, or another cockroach infestation in your kitchen.

Hmm. This is nice. Wrapped in comfort, you close your eyes again, wanting to enjoy your vacation for as long as you can. You wonder why you chose to lie flat on the sand instead of using a beach chair, but you blame it on being tired. You didn’t really miss the chair all that much. The sand was nice, warm. And so clean, almost impossibly so. You wouldn’t mind lying here for your entire vacation. All five days of it.

Probably couldn’t be bothered, you think. It was a long trip, and you don’t have many days to rest. You have to make the most of every second of doing nothing before you’re dragged back into the chaos, chronic stress, and confined spaces. It’s nice here. Wonderful. You just hope someone wakes you in time for the return flight. You wouldn’t want to waste your already-paid tickets, and the plane definitely won’t wait for latecomers.

The plane.

You furrow your brow, not understanding why the mere memory of a flying machine caused a sharp jolt of pain in your head. Perfect. Just what you needed on vacation, a completely unnecessary pounding in your skull, disrupting your lazy lounging on tropical beaches and sipping coconut drinks surrounded by handsome men and beautiful women practically begging for a quick, steamy vacation fling.

But wait… if you were lying on the beach at your resort, why weren’t you hearing the usual mix of foreign languages and broken English? Why aren’t you hearing anything at all besides the waves and your own racing heartbeat?

Something’s not right. Something is ver much not fucking right. You would never venture alone onto an unmarked beach because why would you? Why take the risk and ruin your vacation?

Where are the people? Where’s the laughter of children and the occasional drone of small plane engines?

Where… are you?

With a speed worthy of light, you lift your head, and then your torso, supporting your weight with your arms. Only now do you realize something is pressing into your neck. You’re choking, some unknown object is tightening around your chest more and more with every second, like a constrictor snake robbing you of precious oxygen.

You have to get rid of it. You have to claw it off, throw it away. With clumsy, chaotic movements, your hands fumble around your neck, fighting the strangler, digging in your nails just to make it let go. Just so you can breathe again.

The enemy relents after a few desperate attempts, when you finally decide to pull it over your head, a task far from easy, considering how tightly it clings to your body. You throw the snake with all your might, and it lands in the sand several meters in front of you. At least now you can breathe again, celebrating the return of this rather useful skill with several deep breaths.

But the sense of freedom and relief doesn’t last long. It abandons you once more when you finally dare to look at what was robbing you of air.

And your entire world stops. Your heart ceases to beat, your lungs freeze mid-motion. Every microscopic process down to the atomic level defies the passage of time.

What you threw off was a life jacket.

And suddenly, everything comes back to you, like a high-speed train, knocking all the air out of your lungs.

Looking out the window and seeing the plane’s engine on fire.

Screaming, chaos.

��We ask that you remain calm and put on your life jackets.”

Getting slammed into the hard walls and something sharp grazing the front of your shin.

And then being swallowed by the ocean. How easily you disappeared into its depths, fighting helplessly against gallons and gallons of water until the jacket pulled you up to the surface, where the situation was just as tragic. The burning plane slowly sinking into the sea, bags floating around you.

And bodies. So many bodies.

You tried to swim to one of the floating bags when a stronger wave dragged you underwater again.

The memories come alive all at once. They catch up to you, enveloping you in a storm of sensations. Falling from the plane, crashing into the cold, churning ocean.

Swallowing water. You must have involuntarily gulped down quite a bit. Eventually, even your lungs remember the uninvited guest, now coughing up traces of nonexistent water in a rattling wheeze, still recalling the vile, wrong feeling of salty water washing through the inside of the organ.

Trying to piece the story together, you come to the conclusion that you lost consciousness just below the surface, already preparing to extinguish your lungs that burned from lack of air.

And then you woke up here. The life jacket was kind enough not to let you drown, and the ocean merciful enough to spit you out onto some island, though you don’t feel particularly grateful, not when your odds of survival still hover dangerously close to zero.

You feel like you're about to explode.

“Oh no, no, no. Please,” you sob. “I want to go home.”

You consider curling into a ball and crying the stress away right here, but when a particularly strong wave soaks your already-wet shorts, bringing a new wave of discomfort, you find the last bits of strength in you to crawl further inland, tail tucked between your legs.

Your thoroughly soaked sneakers, one with its shoelace untied, leave marks on the wet sand before sinking into the dry stretch, where you decide to stay for your meltdown. You drop onto your butt, pulling your knees close to your chest, and break into sobs, finally letting go of all the nightmares haunting you.

You have no idea how long it takes for you to pull yourself together. How much time you needed to cry before your mind began analyzing the situation? Half an hour? Five hours? Ah, if only your watch had stayed loyal instead of falling to the bottom of the ocean. And you can forget about your phone, once glued to your pocket.It divorced you the moment the fight for survival began on that plane. That’s exactly how your luck plays out.

“Well, I just had to fucking go on vacation.”

You say aloud, though the only recipient is the endless horizon of the now-calm ocean. You envy its peace, its ability to tame rage. If only it had used that power during your flight, maybe you wouldn’t feel the urge now to charge the largest organism on Earth with your bare fists. Maybe you wouldn’t be throwing handfuls of the cleanest sand you’ve ever seen just a few feet in front of you, your bare feet digging into it, skin still wrinkled like a raisin. Your sneakers and socks are drying nearby, but you bitterly suspect they won’t be fully dry by the time you need to wear them again.

Even the wind dares not show its face, as if sensing your grief, your fury, your despair, and all the other emotions that should never have appear during vacation. The sun doesn’t scorch; it hides shyly behind a few thin clouds, looking for an excuse not to show up today.

Perfect weather. Too perfect not to mock you.

Hey, see how beautiful your vacation could have been? Too bad, you get to rot on a deserted island instead.

You’re barely holding yourself back from screaming, crying, curling up into a ball, and kicking sand with your feet. All at once.

Just the thought of moving makes you want to cry. Actually, any thought does. You tried to get a grip and focus on what matters most, survival, but it’s still too soon to muster any resolve. Or maybe you’re just too weak? Too used to comfort, to the ease of city life, you’re not ready to let it go.

The truth is, you’re scared. No, you’re terrified. Fleeting sparks of reason urge you to release your primal instinct, to return to the wild animal within, struggling to survive in untouched nature.

But you don’t want that. You don’t want to be an animal, not yet, clinging desperately to the remnants of your old life, warding off thoughts like fire against wolves snarling for food, drinkable water, shelter, warmth. Things so trivial and easy to come by before, you never even imagined you’d need to fight for them, with your steady job and uncomfortable apartment, but at least four safe walls.

You lower your head onto your knees and pull them closer. You want to remain modern, not primal, so you chase the wolves away again. This time they retreat into the dark as you close your eyes for a moment, but you know they’ll return. And soon.

Despite your still-swollen eyes and nose clogged from crying, another sob shakes your chest, drawing out a deep, ancient human stress, long forgotten by many.

More precious minutes burn away doing nothing, but even in your hazy state, you notice the shift of the palm shadows on the beach. Your quiet alarm bell. You need to move, you tell yourself. Now.

Just get up. That’s all. That will be your first success.

Desperation flickers to life again as you consciously swallow, your saliva sluggishly dragging down your throat that now feels like sandpaper. Suddenly you realize how badly you need water. When was the last time you had anything in your mouth that wasn’t saltwater?

It’s not enough to make you embrace your current predicament, but it is enough to get your pampered city ass off the ground. Which your long-unused legs do not appreciate. Forced into bending, then suddenly straightened, they refuse to cooperate, stiff and tingling from inactivity. Thankfully, after a few wobbly steps, you regain control of your body, grab your sneakers and socks, and begin walking along the shore, where the waves gently devour the sand, tracing a path and border for your feet to follow.

You’re a long way from being a survival expert, but you try to follow logic. Or at least what’s left of it.

First, you check for injuries. Something you really should’ve done immediately, but upon waking up... well, you were a little preoccupied. You extend your arms, turning them slowly, bracing for the worst, broken or dislocated bones, but feel relief seeing only a few bruises on your forearms and a dull ache in your shoulder, likely from the chaos on the plane. Nothing alarming, nothing to worry about yet.

Your legs seem to be fine, too. Also peppered with bruises of all sizes, but your joints haven’t been swallowed by swelling. The only new feature is a long but shallow wound down your shin, already sealed with a black scab.

Great, you think. You can now focus mainly on finding  water.

You briefly lift your gaze from the shoreline littered with shells and tiny scuttling crabs fleeing from the two-legged intruder, and peer into the island’s thick jungle.

You know you’ll have to go in there eventually. Face nature head-on. Face the wild. You’ve been putting it off for too long. Curling into yourself was just an excuse, a way to nurture the hope that this is all just a cliché nightmare you’ll wake up from any minute now. But deep down, you know it’s not a nightmare, not a dream. It’s something far worse because it’s real.

The wolf of thirst bites at your throat again. You push it away one last time, continuing your slow walk along the shore.

Soon, you tell yourself. Soon you’ll head in there, find water, find something to eat. You start laying out a plan, praying it’ll be as simple in practice as it seems in your mind. Surely, there must be some exotic fruit here, right? The island looked far too big not to grow anything edible.

Ugh. You just want to go home already.

You turn your head toward your new nemesis — the ocean — scanning the waves for familiar shapes of suitcases, bags, or backpacks, proof of civilization, but the ocean senses your hatred and hides its treasures from you. You see nothing. The water has swallowed your hopes.

Your expression drops, sours. You promise yourself that you’ll never set foot on a beach again. Yeah, next vacation, you’re going to the mountains. So many choices. The Alps, maybe the Tatras? You’ve heard the Bieszczady Mountains are beautiful this time of year. Just you, trails stretching for miles, a cozy cabin in the middle of nowhere, and zero sand.

But first, you have to get off this island. If I even make it off, you think bitterly.

You will, you convince yourself. You definitely will.

Someone will start looking for you eventually, someone will notice that an entire plane disappeared in the middle of the ocean. Mhm, just a few days of survival. Once you’ve figured out a source of drinkable water, found some food and a safe place to shelter, you’ll draw huge SOS signs across every beach. Yes, you’ll get out. It won’t be easy, but you will.

Your auto-pep talk fills you with new determination. It’s just a few days. You’ll manage, definitely. By the end of the week, you’ll be asleep in your comfy bed again, you think with enthusiasm. With that boost, you keep walking another dozen meters along the shoreline, scanning for any loot among the waves but quickly give up, as the rhythmic crashing of water only sharpens your thirst.

Drinking water. Now.

You glance toward the green mass of vegetation swallowing most of the island. It makes it hard to gauge the island’s shape or size, but you can tell it’s not small. The beach stretches endlessly like a runway, paralleled by a line of coconut palms heavy with their armored fruit. You make a mental note to return to them later with an exceptionally sharp rock.

You slide on your still-damp socks and sneakers, wincing at the unpleasant wetness enveloping your feet, then take a cautious, tentative step into the wild, into the unknown and the primal, and the green of exotic flora swallows you whole.

At first, navigating the sparse greenery is easy. You just have to occasionally push a leaf aside or duck under a branch. The problems start later, as the vegetation thickens and spiderwebs begin appearing everywhere, always with eight-legged residents at their centers, along with a variety of beetles and ants. The last two don’t make you want to catapult out of your own skin in fear, at least.

Finding your bearings doesn’t come naturally. Large and small leaves blur into one endless shade of green, but now and then you manage to spot a landmark to guide you back. An odd-shaped tree, a big rock. To be extra sure you won’t get lost in this breathing green labyrinth, you find a dry stick and start scratching an X into every third tree, marking the path in both directions.

You’re just about to give up hope of finding anything useful when suddenly the thicket begins to thin, tempting you with open space and pumping new energy into your legs, urging you to speed up. The dryness in your throat is unbearable now. You’ve soothed it a few times by forcing yourself to lick drops of water off leaves, but honestly, you’d rather never do that again.

You know survival on a deserted island means doing weird things. But still, you feel… humiliated, french kissing leaves for a single droplet of water. This is not how you imagined your exclusive vacation.

“It’s no longer vacation, you idiot.” you hiss.

You part a leaf blocking your view and can’t help the smile forming on your face.

“Or maybe... it kind of still is?”

A large lagoon greets you with open arms, framed by a beach of pristinely clean sand. The pool in the middle glistens with dark, but clear water, surprisingly deep for a lagoon.

You let out a quiet, appreciative whistle.

“Wow. It’s beautiful” you say aloud, only to purse your lips into a thin line.

Really? You’re already talking to yourself? Bit early to be going mad.

You scan the length of the lagoon with your eyes, wishing you could be here under completely different circumstances, when your gaze locks onto something... familiar. You squint, slowly moving toward one corner, where sand fades into solid ground, and with each step it becomes clearer. The mass of green you took for ivy and bushes is actually shaped like something man-made.

That “something” turns out to be the crumbling remnants of a stone house. Cracked and neglected, finally caught by the passage of time, merciless even to the strongest of materials.

The house has no roof and is missing one wall, but the remaining three offer tempting shelter from wind and potential rain, should you plan to (which you definitely don’t) stay here more than three days.

The problem is, if you want to get off this island, you’ll need a clear view of the ocean, something the narrow lagoon outlet doesn’t provide. But surely there’s no harm in spending one night here, right? You can already picture a fire in the center of the ruins, the warmth, grilled fish over the flames...

And you’re not sure if you’re successfully gaslighting yourself or if some ancient force is now in charge, but suddenly the cracked walls, floor overgrown with moss and weeds, and a massive branch sneaking in through what might have once been a window seem... cozy.

Honestly, your apartment back in the city wasn’t much better.

That thought convinces you to settle here for at least one night. And when you look toward the corner where a tree has also sought refuge, you spot several large papayas growing near its trunk, and you know: this is your camp. Your lips curl into a smile as you realize the fruits are ripe and hanging low enough to grab. Just a little jump and you are now clutching two plump fruits to your chest. You even kiss one in joy, unable to believe how fucking lucky you are.

You won't die of hunger! And you'll quench your thirst a little while you're at it. Really, it couldn't be better.

But, alas, you’ve just never had good timing.

The sound of water breaking pulls you out of your bliss. Before you even have time to process what’s happening, you press yourself tightly against the cracked wall, right beside a rectangular cutout that probably once served as a door, and you cover your mouth with your hand, forced to hold the large fruits with just one arm, which, practically speaking, is no easy task.

You hear dripping water and loud splashing sounds, the kind you associate with a large body leaving the water, but it’s the volume of those sounds that worries you the most. You have no doubt that whatever just crawled out of the water is big. Huge, even.

A whale? An orca? You try to guess, unconvinced that it's worth risking your life just to satisfy your curiosity. But you instantly disprove every guess with what you already know about those animals.

Still, you want to look. You know it’s stupid and it could end in disaster, but you want to. Just for a moment, for a second. You’ll peek out gently, careful not to make yourself an easy snack or target, and you’ll slip back to your beach silently.

Mhm, you’ll even let that thing have your (when did it start being yours anyway?) little corner, you won’t hold a grudge.

But you have to peek. Just for a second.

Undecided, you gently bite your lip.

You’ll look. But just for a millisecond.

But the very moment you stick out even a millimeter of your head and eye, you know you’re a liar. The millisecond is gone. Then a full second. Then a second more. Then a third. And you can’t move.

He’s beautiful, unearthly. Not belonging to your world, ripped straight from fairytales and legends, teasing your brain just enough that it no longer knows whether what you glimpse from the corner of your eye is even real. Or maybe such a drastic relocation into entirely unfamiliar conditions was enough to start seeing things?

A merman. A real merman.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor, but you shut your mouth just in time before a startled squeak can betray you.

The creature is enormous, roughly the size of an orca, though you know that the tail hidden beneath the lagoon’s surface could easily stretch your estimation by another meter or two. What draws your eye is the exotic palette of colors decorating his smooth skin. Muscular arms sunken into the clean, wheat-colored sand blaze red, though the crimson is interrupted by streaks of grey that trail down his forearms to his neck, where they fan out toward a white underbelly. His head, adorned with a crest rising from the center of his forehead and extending into a long dorsal fin, suddenly bursts into a pastel navy blue that flows down his back to the massive tail — a mishmash of the entire color wheel.

Humanoid. Too humanoid. Toying with your understanding of human beauty’s uniqueness. And yet here it is, just a safe dozen or so meters ahead of you, breathing. If you squinted, he really could pass for a person.

To keep yourself from going insane and to chase off intrusive thoughts, you pinch your forearm. Ouch. You’re real. But that also means he is too, giving you one more reason to go crazy.

Unable to tear your eyes from the siren monster, you decide to examine him more closely. You focus on his face, bizarrely human, yet ancient. Nothing like the stony mugs of instinct-driven animals. You feel like deep thoughts are swirling behind that blue skin, thoughts that also brim in those enormous, azure eyes. The distance between you is small enough that you can even make out the emotions running through him.

He looks sad. Pitiful, even, if you could compare the size and glint in his eyes to a sorrowful puppy, which your brain tries and fails to reconcile with the scarred body, head, and a face bearing the marks of a long life. You know instinctively this creature has years of survival behind him, every second of existence spent fighting for access to basic needs.

Which might also mean he's well-versed in the art of hunting humans, you realize with dread. You can only guess what makes up his diet, but judging by the sharp claws on his long webbed fingers, you suspect he’s not a peaceful herbivore.

Not that you’d risk an interaction with him just to test your theories. No, you'd really like to get back home in one piece.

Great. So now you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. There’s no way you’re getting out of here without catching the siren’s attention. In fact, no matter where you go from here, there's a chance of encountering him again, and you really, really didn’t want to find out if he’s a man-eater.

Or worse — a hungry man-eater.

You glance around, looking for a wide enough gap in the foliage for a silent escape, but you're not even given the chance to take a single step. Your shoes are nailed to the earth by...

Singing.

A siren's song.

Mournful, pleading, and so raw that you hold your breath, afraid of it interrupting his piece.

It reminds you of the whalesong you’ve heard in documentaries, but each chirp, whine, and groan is loaded with sorrow and bitterness, bombarding your heart, even if you don’t understand the lyrics. You don’t need words to grasp the melancholic message, one that cuts through interspecies barriers.

The siren doesn’t stop singing, feeding his hidden audience new verses, each as depressing as the last. Like a newly discovered song, you can’t stop listening. All your senses retreat to make room for sharper hearing. You inhale his song, fill yourself with sad sounds, experiencing his suffering as if it were your own. Even if it’s just a trick to lure a tasty human snack out of hiding.

That slightly tempers your emotional response.

Right. Of course.

Maybe he knows you’re here. Feels you. Smells your tasty human flesh and is trying to coax you into the open like you were some kind of takeout.

You blink a few times, shaking off the last traces of compassion, proud of yourself for seeing through the sad facade of those puppy-blue eyes and the angsty concert. In the blink of an eye, you remember you need to get back to the beach, your only chance of spotting a ship or a plane in the patch of sky not covered by trees, because he already won the fight for the cozy shelter.

You return to searching for an escape route when suddenly, you freeze.

Your entire body blue-screens, and it must have rearranged every organ inside you too, because now you can feel your heartbeat in your ass. Because to your left, right by your head, a giant brown tarantula is slowly crawling along a cracked wall. So close you can see every hair on its abdomen.So close you can hear the soft tippy taps of all eight legs.

Oh, fuck.

“AHHHH!”

Your body reacts faster than common sense can remind you that the real predator, the one that could actually kill you, probably shouldn’t know it has company. You leap right, springing through the remains of a door straight onto the warm sand surrounding the lagoon.

Still clutching two papayas tightly to your chest, you try to stay upright on your wobbling, jelly-like legs, but it’s no use. You drop to your knees, the soft sand cushioning the pain. You know you should be running, right now, immediately. You urge your legs into action, begging silently but desperately for your own body to cooperate, but your rapid, ragged breathing drowns out your pleas.

When you realize that an immediate escape is no longer an option, all you can do is curl into the fetal position, forehead kissing the warm sand.

Hmm. Nice feeling, you think. You wouldn’t mind dying surrounded by the softness of this tropical, clean beach.

You hear nothing but the whistle of air sucked through your lips.

Nothing else.

Nothing...

You freeze.

You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes are now the size of dinner plates.

For a moment, you wonder how the hell you’re still alive. How come you don’t feel claws and teeth ripping through your flesh like a piece of paper? The agonizing pain of muscles tearing and bones shattering while you’re eaten alive, disappearing into the siren’s jaws. Bite by bite, until the last memory of your existence belongs to him.

But nothing like that happens. All your tissues are intact. You are neither bitten, nor scratched, nor swallowed alive.

Why the hell are you still alive?

Out of stupidity or curiosity, though you suspect it's more the former, you decide to make eye contact with the predator.

Slowly, you lift your head, gradually rediscovering his form. Milky white belly, swirls of red and grey skin on his chest, and finally, his head, flanked by small, bristling navy fins.

Still beautiful. Majestic. Enormous.

But as potential prey, can you allow yourself the pleasure of such hidden compliments? You wonder if deer also think like this before being devoured by wolves. Do they finally recognize the predator’s beauty only moments before death?

The humanoid face is turned toward you, expression frozen in comforting, familiar shock. The enormous eyes, adorned with remarkable white pupils, have doubled in size, and his mouth has fallen open, giving you a limited glimpse inside.

Teeth. Sharp teeth, undeniably those of a meat-eater.

For the second time that day, you feel some incomprehensible force rearranging your organs.

A flicker in the blue eye. A twitch in the human-like torso. A subtle lean in your direction pulls your heart from your ass back into place, and with it, apparently, the feeling in your legs, because suddenly, you’re ready to care about your own survival again.

You never believed those myths about time slowing down in the face of mortal danger. You thought that was a tired trope from action movies, overused to the point where you physically rolled your eyes whenever you saw it on screen.

But apparently, it’s very real.

Because there’s no other way to explain how slowly the creature’s expression morphs a few meters in front of you. His brow furrows, jaw opens and closes again and again, chewing, analyzing.

As if wondering what to do with you. If this pitiful, miniature oddity before him was even worth using as a toothpick?

To eat or not to eat? That is the question but you don’t want to know his answer.

Your body gambles on the oldest bet known to humankind.

You go all in on running.

Faster than you've ever moved in your entire life, you bolt toward the green thicket.

You could swear that the pathetic, almost pleading howl behind you and the shifting sound of something slithering across the sand belong to the siren, but you don’t have the courage to turn your head and confirm it.

You disappear behind massive leaves, blindly trying to make your way back to the familiar beach.

And ever after a long while, you can still hear the lamenting wail creeping up behind you.

[northern-pirate]

Hee! This ending really is so good. XD

It's the last part/chapter/epilogue for The Queen of the Damned (which I finished reading this week for the first time, yay <3), and it happens after Lestat impulsively (surprise) has done precisely some of the things that Louis (and Marius) do NOT think he should do. It really is just as good and silly and beautiful as the last part of The Vampire Lestat.

Funny and beautiful and lovely end of the Queen of the Damned book spoilers and future season thoughts ahead~

So, end of The Queen of the Damned: basically everyone is chilling in Armand's villa on The Night Island. New coven gathered. Good vibes. Marius is reading the newspaper, Armand is playing chess, Daniel is listening to music, and Lestat goes into the room after having spent a long time just writing down a majority of the Queen of the Damned story.

Marius and Armand tell him that Louis has gone to New Orleans and that Lestat is free take the plane and go after him, and it's all very sweet. Also, Marius says "do NOT go fucking with the Talamasca, OK? Just don't." Lestat shrugs and says sure, why should I anyway? Gonna go off to see Louis now, bye.

The New Orleans part is beautiful and includes a revisit to their old apartment for some Claudia ghost spotting (guess what, it's not Louis who sees her~). Lestat offers to restore the run-down apartment to its former glory if Louis wishes it. Louis also wants to go see his own grave, so they do. It all really feels like something they could do beautifully in the series.

It includes Lestat saying that Akasha and he were lovers, Louis says he knows, and Lestat kisses him.

Stupidly I stared at him. How perfect he seemed to me as he stood there waiting with such kindness and such patience. And then, like a fool, I came out with it.

'Do you love me now?' I asked.

He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. 'Yes' he said.

*clutches heart* Okay, so if they decide to hold out on us, that would be a brilliant spot in the series to place the "I love you" from Louis that we desperately want and need.

Anyway~

Then Lestat wants to Do Something. Go off on a little adventure. And here comes a scene which is lovely in the book, and if they choose to include this in the series, it will hit differently because of episode 5, season 1.

They fly.

First Lestat lifts Louis, easy peasy because he's super strong now, and then they go off Superman and Lois Lane-style, up up and away, Lestat's arm around Louis' waist and Louis' arms around Lestat's neck.

... THAT is a trust exercise if I ever saw one, post-s1e5-drop. Gods. If they include this in the series, they can expand so much on it psychologically. Louis holding onto Lestat, Lestat holding onto Louis. No dropping. Just holding on, together. What would that moment even MEAN for the both of them in the series version? I think it could be amazing! <3 (I'd love to hear Sam's thoughts on this. How does one arrange interviews with actors anyway? x'D)

And well. The flying goes off to outside London, to the Talamasca motherhouse, because WHEN has Lestat ever listened to anyone - Marius in particular - when they say "don't go to this place and mess shit up now OK"?

So Lestat decides to introduce himself to David Talbot, in his apartment, and David is being quite sane and polite about it. Lestat gives him his phonenumber to call if David wants to become a vampire, or just chat. It's a very funny conversation. Louis fumes in the background and does very much not approve.

It's hilarious, and leads up to the quote from the book above. Which also is an epic fucking way to end a season, and would definitely end with a kiss in the series version. <3

[shrimpswritingblog]

On me hands and knees may I request general romance hcs with Mud x reader? Maybe what he's like when he's whoops in way too deep and realises? Thank you omg

۶ৎ Mud x GN!Reader General Romance HCs

《 A/N: YESS I GOT YOU ANON!! THE CROWD GOES WILD 🗣‼️‼️ I'm IN LOVE with this guy I can't even lie, this prompt is cute asf <33 Ty for requesting! 》

───────────── ۶ৎ ────────────── “Ah, shit."

───────────── ۶ৎ ──────────────

☠︎︎ He realizes he's in love with you when he catches himself stealing trinkets, not for himself, but because he thought 'Y/N might like this.'

☠︎︎ The realization hits him like bullet to the neck!

☠︎︎ He'd try to deny it at first, telling himself that you're just another ‘scheme’ he's working on.

☠︎︎ What scheme you may ask?

☠︎︎ Uh…

☠︎︎ "Just gettin' close to earn their trust... that's all." He lies murmurs to himself under his breath.

☠︎︎ Sure.

☠︎︎ You'd notice him watching you from across the butchershop, quickly averting his eyes whenever you catch him staring.

☠︎︎ Despite his decaying appearance, Mud becomes oddly self-conscious around you when he’s fallen deep!

☠︎︎ He’s adjusting his fedora, straightening his tie and even making sure the melting skin on his face looks ‘presentable’.

☠︎︎ Ken can read his brother like a book, he often catches him staring at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

☠︎︎ "Me? In love?! With Y/N?! HAHAHA! That's rich!” He throws his head back as he cackles fakely. After he’s done ‘laughing’, he’ll probably beat on his chest to clear his throat.

☠︎︎ Ken just rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

☠︎︎ There’s definitely been instances where he asks Ken to cement a person who’s been harassing you around town under the guise of them being an awful person (which they are) similar to how Ken avoided telling Mud why they were trying to hunt Jack.

☠︎︎ When you ask him directly why he's been acting…strange, he'd respond with something like: “Strange? Me? I ain't strange, doll! I'm the most normal rotling in this whole district. It's YOU who's been actin' funny!”

☠︎︎ Watching the light in your eyes sparkle as he hands you a present really warms his heart…wait does he even have one—

☠︎︎ He’ll probably confess with a bouquet of stolen flowers, the ones you once mentioned liking in passing.

☠︎︎ He'd try to impress you with his shooting skills FOR SURE!!

☠︎︎ Despite all these cute gestures, the guy is a BIG flirt and a little shit!

☠︎︎ Since Mud is over 7 feet, the MAN IS TALL and will use it to his advantage!

☠︎︎ And so, he WILL blow smoke in your face lovingly and has the AUDACITY to chuckle to himself as he watches you swat away the fumes from your face

☠︎︎ Plus it doesn’t help that he finds you even more irresistible when you’re mad

☠︎︎ Despite his crass nature, he's surprisingly gentle with you, ONLY in private if course!

☠︎︎ But sometimes he does forget when he’s in front of his (soon to be your) family or flat out doesn’t care, so his sudden tenderness confuses the hell out of the others.

☠︎︎ “GET A ROOM!”

☠︎︎ Speaking of rooms!

☠︎︎ Since the poor fella sleeps on meat hooks in the freezer room, you bought him the mattress he’d been desperately wanting. (The gesture made him fall for you even harder)

☠︎︎ His idea of romance would be teaching you how to shoot/improving your skill if you already know how!

☠︎︎ He starts setting aside some of his stolen goods in a special "Y/N Fund" for your future together.

☠︎︎ He feels so cheesy but he genuinely thinks not being around you is worse than the Inferno itself.

☠︎︎ He’d say cute stuff like that all the time before adding something along the lines of: “Don't you dare tell anyone I said that."

☠︎︎ When you two drift asleep in the same mattress you bought him, he definitely stays awake a little longer to watch you sleep with a content smile on his face before he dozes off.

[evylss]

I heard from a little birdy that you make hsr smut soooo~ ANAXA SMUT PLEASE so basically we have been bothering him all day saying how we want to cum on his dick so as punishment he ties us to the bed and use a vibrator to our pussy, overstimulating us and he is talking dirty like GOOD LAWD.

a/n: OMG FIRST ASK!! 🩵AND HELLO?? ANON I LOOOOVE HOW U THINK I SAT DOWN SO FAST TO WRITE THIS (⁠>⁠0⁠<⁠；⁠) i might get a bit carried away with this..

images and borders from pinterest, credits to the owners (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

cw: nsfw, meannn/sadist anaxa, him thinking he's better than u tbh, brat and brat tamer, fingering, orgasm denial (once), overstimulation, vibrator, it's messyyy, bondage, degradation and praise, clit slapping, lowk manhandling.. lmk if i missed anything!!

Anaxa was a relatively patient man, with you at least. He appreciates silence, and despises being interrupted or disturbed. What he wasn't though, was anybody's slave, and he'll do as he pleased.

So when you've been nagging him all day, whining about how badly you want him, how badly you need to cum on his cock-- he can't help but find himself irritated as you mindlessly beg with no concern for how you're disrupting his focus, just like the dumb thing he knows you are.

"Come on! I'll be quick- just wanna cum- then I'll leave you alone!" You whine up at him from where you're seated on the floor, right between his legs as he sits at his table, resting your cheek on his thigh and giving him the best doll eyes you could. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sliding a hand into your hair, he grips it at the roots. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to be a warning. He lifts your head off his thigh, offering you a questioning look with one slightly raised brow.

Anaxa's eyes narrow at you as his hand tracing from your nape and down your jaw, till he was holding your chin delicately between his fingers.

"How many times have I told you that I'm busy? All this nagging is enough, but also proposing to just take what you need and leave..? All high and mighty, are we?"

And you did.

His voice was low, soft, but incredibly dangerous- laced with a threat. Daring you to challenge him.

That's how you find yourself in your current situation-

Clothes peeled off you expertly as he takes you to the bedroom, panties unknowingly stuffed into his pocket. Rope being tossed into the bed, being pushed down roughly into the mattress, a hand against your lower back, firmly pinning you down.

God, you shouldn't have pushed him this far.

Or maybe that's exactly what you wanted.

You feel him grab your wrist, then your calve, folding your leg up till your ankle meets your wrist. With no hesitation, he ties them together. He watches as you start to squirm in protest, but all you're met with is a sharp "Hold still."- and you don't dare disobey him this time. He ties up the other side, tugging on the ropes as if to test the hold, then letting out a satasfied hum as you hear him start to walk away from you.

Where was he going? Surely he wouldn't just leave you there.. right?

But now you almost wish he did.

A moment passes. Another.

You hear him come back behind you, and he places something down on the bed next to him. Silence.

"A-anax-" And he shuts you up promptly.

"Quiet." He huffs, landing a sharp swat! against your achy clit, making you yelp out and jolt, which only subjected you to a few more of the mean slaps, smearing the wetness of your puffy folds onto his fingers. Your thighs eager to close shut as you struggled against the rope, hoping to escape from the sharp and almost overwhelming pleasure.

'Tch. You're still misbehaving, slut?" He scoffs. Pushing two of his fingers in at once, he relishes in the way you squeal at the sudden stretch. He gives you no time, incessantly hooking his fingers meanly into that familiar spongy spot with frightening precision, uncaring of the way your thighs tremble and press against the ropes. He presses his thumb right into your clit, rubbing tight and harsh little circles around the throbbing nub, finally showing it some attention.

"Please- that's t'much..!" You protest, trying your best to lift your head off the pillow to look back at him, but he isn't even looking at you. His eyes are fixed between your legs, his gaze intense, watching as he slowly rubs up and down your slit, neglecting your clit entirely before coming to circle around your weeping hole, not missing the way your breath hitches and you gasp.

"Too much? You were just begging for more but now it's too much? You don't really want me to stop though do you? I can feel you dripping onto my fingers. Filthy girl." He practically scolds you, pressing his fingers against your fluttering entrance, just enough for you to feel the pressure, but not enough for them to slip in, making you whine and writhe defiantly.

You can feel your orgasm building all too quickly as he expertly works his fingers inside you the way he's come to know, your whines and moans turning into whimpers and intelligible pleas for release.

"Why'd you d-do that?!" You cry out, and if you weren't tied up, he's sure you'd be kicking your feet against the bed like a child having a tantrum- maybe even landing a few hits on him.

"'m so close..!" You warn, but you don't need to. He knows your body well enough, maybe even better than you, and easily identifies the squeezing and clamping of your drooling pussy around his fingers. He doesn't reply to you, giving you the chance to enjoy the feeling before abruptly removing his fingers from your cunt, immediately landing a smack on your pulsing clit for good measure. Making sure you really felt the loss of your climax.

He ignores your whining and you hear him take ahold of something, you're about to look back until you hear an all too familiar buzzing.

"Please make cum..! Been waiting for so long- and I promise I'll be good!" You're spouting out whatever comes to mind, whatever you can say to convince him, and he just huffs out a dry chuckle at you, knowing that promise won't last long at all.

"Do you want to cum? Say please." He demands so meanly and to his pleasure, you don't even have it in you to resist.

"If you say so," and his nudging the jittery head of the vibrator right up against your clit.

The vibrator hums to life the second it meets your clit, and your entire body jolts, arching into the sensation with a gasp. Your wrists strain against the ropes as your thighs try to clamp shut out of instinct, but the way he has you bound denies you any kind of escape. You’re completely exposed, and the worst part is—

You know that’s exactly how he wants you.

"That's it. Cry for me," He murmurs, almost lovingly. Almost. But there’s nothing gentle about the way he rolls the toy in slow, torturous circles, keeping it just off center from where you really need it. You sob into the sheets, rocking your hips the little you’re able with how you're bound, desperate for friction. Desperate for any relief.

"Still think you’re in control?” he scoffs, fingers splaying across the swell of your ass as he watches you shake. “Begging like a little bitch in heat… I should’ve stuffed your mouth before starting—at least then you'd be less of a nuisance."

Your vision blurs with tears, but you can’t even bring yours to care. You’re too lost in the incessant onslaught of pleasure, your clit raw and twitching under the relentless pressure of the vibrator, which he now pins in place with the flat of his palm. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge again, the coil in your belly tightening too fast, too tight.

"I-I can’t—" you choke out, voice wrecked.

"You can, and even if you can't, you will," He hisses, his voice sharp against your ear as he suddenly leans in close. “You're not allowed to cum until I say so. Not a second before. And if you do? I'll make sure your hopes of cumming disappear.”

The warning sends another shiver through your spine, making your cunt clench helplessly around nothing. The vibrator doesn’t stop—not even when your body starts to tremble violently, not even when you scream his name like it’s the only word you know.

He leans back, admiring the slick mess between your thighs, how helpless you look tied up and ruined before he’s even touched you properly.

Your first orgasm rips through you before you even know it’s happening— your body convulsing, toes curling as you sob into the sheets. You’re so pent up, so painfully needy, that the release hits you like a truck.

But Anaxa doesn’t stop.

He presses the toy harder against your clit, dragging it side to side as your thighs shake violently and your back arches off the mattress.

“Already? That fast?” he mocks, voice dripping with cruel delight. “Didn’t even give me time to enjoy it.”

Your voice cracks on a scream as the vibrator keeps working your sensitive bud, no time to come down, no reprieve.

Your second orgasm builds soon after, harsher and sharper than the last, your whole body twitching in protest as your hips twist helplessly against the restraints.

"A-Anaxa please—too much—too much!" you cry, tears hot on your cheeks.

“You said you wanted to cum,” he reminds you, utterly unbothered. “I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

He adjusts the angle, catching your clit just right, and you wail. He grinds it down meanly onto your pulsing little clit- relishing in the way you squeal and cry so loudly. He keeps up the firm rutting of the vibrator until he can see the tell tale signs of you getting close. The way you grow louder, more breathless, the way you go limp as you're right at the edge--

And then you snap. Tensing up completely as you cum.

It hits you like lightning. Your breath stutters, your body locks up, and your vision floods with white. You’re sobbing now, reduced to nothing by the raw sensation, drool smearing the pillow beneath you.

"Messy little thing," Anaxa hums, almost amused. "Look at you—crying from getting exactly what you begged for."

Your cunt clenches uselessly around nothing, dripping and overstimulated, your thighs twitching uncontrollably as he finally eases the vibrator off. You’re trembling, body completely limp, barely holding it together—and that’s when he speaks again, so casually it sends another tremor through you-

"You wanted to cum on my cock, didn't you?" he taunts, dragging the toy down slightly to tease your entrance, already fluttering and soaked. “That’s what all this fuss was about. And yet here you are—haven’t even been fucked, and you’re already this pathetic.”

You sob his name again, nearly delirious, the pressure unbearable now. Your whole body feels like it’s about to snap in half.

"Alright, slut. You’ve earned it." His voice drops, gravelly and dark with promise. "But I really hope you've learnt your lesson."

You hear the rustle of clothing—his belt unfastening, the soft clink of the buckle, fabric shifting as he strips. It’s slow, deliberate, like he wants you to feel every second of anticipation. You can’t see him, but you feel it—the moment his warmth returns behind you, the weight of his body settling between your thighs. One hand grabs your ass, spreading you open for his eyes.

And with that, he finally slides the vibrator away—and thrusts into you in one brutal, fluid motion.

This was going to be a long night.

a/n pt 2: HII SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WROTE HALF OF IT THEN LITERALLY ALMOST DIED BUT I'M OK NOW SO HERE WE GO!! HOPE U LIKE IT 👉👈😊😊 I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING THIS

[thewertsearch]

There are still a few characters I haven't killed yet. I almost forgot about them.

Homestuck's an awfully trigger-happy webcomic, it has to be said. Even the damn frog got whacked.

Most of these characters have the status you'd expect them to have, but there's still plenty of interesting information here - some of it rather unexpected.

First of all, it seems as if the introduction of Dad Crocker qualifies as a 'resurrection' of Dad Egbert. As far as the comic is concerned, these two are, in fact, the same person - and thus, they share a symbol.

Next, Sollux is apparently half-dead.

The last time we saw him, he was overexerting his psionics like crazy to accelerate the trolls' meteor towards the Green Sun. My theory is that he tapped into his Doom Aspect to achieve this feat - and that doing so has permanently reduced his lifespan, as if he made a deal for the Shinigami's Eyes.

Sollux isn't dead, but he's less alive than he used to be.

Clover's far too lucky to die, so I'm pretty confident that a question mark indicates that a character is still alive; they just haven't yet been revealed as such.

Therefore, the same is probably true for Spades Slick.

I don't know how he could have survived the destruction of a universe, but I'm not complaining.

Jane's confirmed dead, but there's a question mark appended to that death - so I think she did die, but it's not going to stick. Her Life powers are about to kick in.

And WV is the same!!

Fuck yeah! Give us our Mayor back, Hussie!

I was planning on totally messing with them in the short window of time they're in the same universe as me!

Right, right - because right now, John and Jade are in the weird, pseudocanonical dimension that Hussie's writing the comic in.

I wonder if that'll have any effect on their reality, or their awareness of the Fourth Wall? Are they currently 'non-canonical' versions of themselves? Since they're outside the comic, has everyone inside the comic forgotten that they exist?

Hopefully it isn't too late.

Let's see. They should be traveling near the speed of light across a distance of one yard, giving them about three nanoseconds before they crash through the other wall.

Wait, they're moving relativistically?

In that case, their trip should only last three nanoseconds from an observer's perspective. From their perspective, the trip's length should be different. Potentially very different, although it's impossible to estimate the degree of time dilation in effect without knowing the exact fraction of c that they're travelling at.

Anyway, Jade's powers now apparently include relativistic acceleration - which stretches time, as well as space. These two Aspects are joined at the hip, and to control one is to control the other.

Maybe I'll just level up these kids before they go, and that's it. They've earned it after all, don't you think?

And with some rare generosity from Hussie, it's time for John and Jade to experience Elder God Tier.

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! episode five : white lies & understanding . . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Dual pov . .

Your face drained of colour, sitting frozen in place as his words repeat in your head like a broken record, "I just don't believe you can act", the words said so casually with a drunken slur, as if he didn't just put down your entire skillset and career all together. Your hands grip the glass tighter, as some form of bitter resentment washes over you—momentarily, but enough to burn—your throat hurts as you let the words of complaint and the slur of insults that you really, really—wanted to hurl die there. 

The discomfort settled into a deafening form of silence among the table—and to think the two of you were getting along moments prior, sharing and recommending drinks . . ‘Way to kill the vibe, Schoenheit.’ 

The two of you didn't speak, seemingly waiting for the other to speak first, weighing down whether talking after that was . . the good idea? . .  There was still some time to cancel the contract right? (There wasn't) . . . the fine wouldn't be that high! (1 million give or take, out of your pocket).

The silence draws on, until Vil takes the hint, letting out a soft—well softer response, "I don't mean to offend you, I'm a little bias that's all", he said, his words no longer having a slight slur to them, the tension must've sobered him up. 

You paused, . . and let out a sigh, then smiled, "You're not good at apologizing, I hope you know that", you pointed out after a while, bringing the glass back to your lips, letting the alcohol burn your throat, melting the anxious bob down back to your stomach, your liver can deal with the problems later. 

Vil blinked, and let out a breath of relief, which he quickly tried covering up with a fake cough, . .  and you're supposedly the bad actor?, "It's not one of my biggest talents", he replied after a while, the words came out slower than expected as he stared down at the table, not quite meeting your eyes, "but I do apologize, it won't happen again." 

"It better not", you said casually, then laughed at his wide-eyed expression, "It's fine, I didn't like you in the camping series either, so I guess we're even?", you say, trying to cheer him up a bit . .  okay maybe you wanted him to feel a little offended as well . . 

“I was a child!”, he retorted back, and you bit back a smile, “Not an excuse Mr. Schoenheit, the ‘great’ actor”, his lips curled upwards just a bit, this time he didn’t really make an attempt to hide it, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you both were a little petty in your own right. 

After a while, the two of you were getting back into the rhythm of conversation, talking about some things here and there, and some casual word of the mouth gossip, because you both have an NDA and that shit isn’t getting out anytime soon . .  All the while consuming a little too much alcohol for a small brunch meeting, and you knew you were going to regret it when you got home. 

“Did you know I’m camera shy?”, you said randomly, and Vil looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, holy shit don’t make eye contact, you focus on the wall behind him, and he doesn’t really notice, “Really?” 

You nod, “Yea, terrible, I used to get nauseous every time I was behind a Camera, even for just photos”, he tilts his head slightly in confusion, because yeah, that doesn’t make sense, an A-list actor, whose income is from acting, being camera shy, “Did you get over it? . . because . . “, he gestures to the air, referring to your career, you chuckle and nod, “mhm.”  

“Yea, someone special to me said to start recording little videos for Magiciam, to get over it, so I did . .  just to step out of my comfortzone.” 

“Did it help?” 

“Not even in the slightest.” 

He blinks, and then the two of you chuckle, a drunken slightly slurred laugh. 

“I personally loved being behind the Camera, I felt . . alive every time”, Vil says in response after a while, “Yeah I can tell” . . . “What is that supposed to mean?” 

You avoid the subject, and he eyes you curiously, almost waiting for an answer. 

The evening sun lighting was hitting you in a little too perfect position, you both were seated by a large window, but it hit you at a perfect angle, it’s like those shitty films about the ex dead wife, and the wife is always depicted in that yellow lighting which made her look ethereal? Like nostalgic . .  That being said, you do look pretty . . ethereal . .  and fuck look away. 

Vil faces the other side, as casually as he could muster. 

Which wasn’t casual at all, because he was too tipsy to play it off cool and collected, “You okay?”, you ask, and he grips his fork . . and yea you guys ordered food sometime ago, “Yep”, he says, with a grin, “totally fine.” 

You nod, then a comfortable silence falls over the two of you . . . and suddenly things felt so peaceful, calming almost. 

And maybe this partnership wouldn’t gut him out and make him go mental in the next few months. 

Maybe. 

Okay so now he’s just doubting his own words.

Making eye contact with a drunk Vil sounds like torture im ngl, his eyes are very hot, violet baddies for the win.

This is actually a soft launch into my new smau (Cater diamond x Reader), the first few pictures hint at it, so check out "For the record" if you like this series <3 , they're interconnected.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or to be namedropped <3)

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♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

Do consider buying my emergency commissions, if you can <3

[jennamoran]

Hi Jenna,

Do you have any specific tips to offer for writers? I feel like I can make the vibe of a scene come through very well, but the idea of what is actually happening suffers as a result.

I guess a more specific question might be 'How do you describe how something feels without the comprehension of the scene suffering, or becoming overly verbose.'

-Thanks, Skane

As the famously concise and universally comprehensible Jenna Moran,

First, I should say that you must write for yourself. Trying to be clear to a set of notional readers will not make your writing clear. It will make your writing convoluted and afraid, and even more people will misunderstand.

This is a problem. Sadly I cannot at this time fix the world.

You can try technical exercises. You can try having as many interesting conversations as you possibly can. You can look for a writing club of some sort.

It helps to be safe. If you cannot be safe, it may help to be angry.

It helps to be valued. If you don't have that, it may help to work with slow dedication and accept things take time.

It helps to have people read bits of your drafts and work and enjoy them. If you cannot have that, let yourself read and enjoy them yourself?

I do not have more direct solutions right now.

**

As to your specific concern:

I will give a bad solution. Then I will talk about it.

You can describe how something feels. Then, describe the scene. One, then the other. Both things are now perfectly clear.

... or as clear as you can make them.

There are two reasons that's usually bad. The first is pacing. The second is language.

Why would you want to describe them at the same time? Why not one, then the other?

Usually, because they are a single event.

We experience "this happens, and I feel this" simultaneously. So separating them when you write misstates the experience(s).

They're not just accidentally simultaneous. They intertwine.

Knowing that, it becomes false to present one, then the other. In a linear present-tense narrative that does a deep dive on both mood and action, we must first present the beginning of the conjoined mood/action experience. Then the next bit. Then the next, and on to the end.

If the reader becomes impatient, they become impatient with the experience. Loosely speaking, the fault may be in your choice of which events to describe, and in how much detail ... or in them.

If the reader cannot parse something, it is your description of that portion of the experience that they cannot parse. Loosely speaking, the fault may be in your wording, or in them.

If we look at what you must present as a stream of experiences, then in at least one sense it becomes simple:

Identify whose experiential stream you want to share. Think through what they experience as a set of sentence-sized pieces. Present them one by one.

Thus for pacing.

**

You may discover at this point that you still are not conveying the scene clearly. That is because what you believe you must convey is not part of the experience. Either change the story you are telling or switch to a narrator with the perspective you want.

You cannot tell this post's story in a way that reveals that I did not eat much breakfast. Not without kind of shoehorning it in. It is not part of this story, even if it possibly should be? My cat came in earlier and drooled on my arm. Shadows only exist in the light. Oatmeal often has gluten. People are good. They should love themselves. I don't even own a shoehorn. I want you to know these things. But telling you right then was a little bit weird.

**

Let's talk about language.

Language is an issue because it likes to do its own thing. You often want the words to echo the experience. You don't want to use the same words over and over again. (At least, not by accident.) You don't want the sentences to sound awkward. You want to pause at natural places but you have to keep your punctuation navigably close to "correct."

It's like, language writhes when you try to nail it down.

It writhes. It screeches and flails. It tears off bits of its skin. It's a problem. That is before we even get to how other people are understanding your words.

If I ever have problems just telling people what happens in order then that is usually why.

I think it can help to read things aloud. Often I replace what I wrote with what I say when I read it. For me, this is only useful poetically. For the technical side---whether I'm communicating too fast or too slow for a reader to follow---it does not help. I have to guess.

I can tell you from experience that you cannot be too obvious. Just being you, when your reader is not you, will add plenty of mystery. Oodles of mystery. You don't need to add any more.

I do not have a great solution for language. I'm sorry.

I don't even know which of my own tricks and habits brought me my audience and which of my tricks and habits drive people away.

If you are riding language and it shies away from the content you have to convey to the reader, probably you have to murder it and find a new, dumber steed. I'm sorry again. The rest of the time, you can maybe just have fun with the ride?

I wonder if it would be better to explicitly state that language is a horse in that metaphor. I probably shouldn't. It goes against my own advice.

So, a scene. Suppose I am eating a banana and I am sad. I expect I would walk to the fruit with a heavy heart. I would peel it. I would look at the inner fruit sadly. I would notice the pale yellow of its color. I would notice the texture. The pores. (Looks up banana images) The long, fuzzy lines. I'd take a bite. I'd eat it. Maybe someone talks in the distance. The banana would be gone. Maybe I'd just stand there a moment. Then I'd pull the trash can out and throw out the peel.

I do not think people will gather around and point at that in shock and call it great writing. I don't even know that it's better than "so, there I was, sadly eating a banana" or "it was the first banana I'd eaten since my grandmother died" or whatever. But I do think that is the correct sequence of experiences.

If I really wanted to talk about grief I'd want to talk about stillness and feelings like rolling clouds and stuff. If I really wanted to talk about eating bananas I'd try to find words for that dull shock of sweetness on the tongue, the way you roll the lump of the bite in your mouth. I can't imagine what would force me to talk about both at once but presumably I'd have to start blending the experiences (this is how you get smoothies).

**

I think I did eat a banana not that long after my grandmother died, for clarity. It was a while ago. I think there were clouds in my chest. Or the sea? I don't know. This constant rolling, shoving motion, soft as water and hard as water both. I don't remember much about the banana, so I can't tell you about peeling it, or about what most of it tasted like. I can't include that honestly because it's not part of the experience, right? And if like the reader doesn't know how bananas work they may be like "wait, aren't bananas in some kind of squishy rubbery casing? And you're just EATING one?" but I can't do anything about that, they just have to suffer in ignorance, they just have to suffer. It's not important to the moment when I ate a banana after my grandmother died that my cat came in years later and drooled on my arm. It's not important that I don't have a shoehorn. It's not important that I'd already eaten enough bananas in my life to know my way around removing the peel. (I'm so cool.) Those things were not part of that moment.

I think my hand was on the counter, which was blue. I think the sky outside the window was grey. I don't think I looked. I just think it was grey. And if you don't know why I had to pull the trash can out, or where the banana was before I got it, or---if anybody did talk in the distance---who might have been talking, or how many bites it took---it's because the only moment there that was actually part of the experience was that first bite, dull and sweet on my tongue.

[bambiihee]

stalker!soobin X stalker!reader pfft, it's such a dark comedy dynamic, like

"are you scared I kidnapped you?"

"jokes on you, I've been awake this entire time and let you, I'm into this shit"

you get me so bad cos i love dark concepts when both characters are equally fucked up and evil. like it’s not fun unless she’s just as fucked up as he is 🙏 ESPECIALLY when it's comedy??? this was just for me specifically

♡ tw. ( 18+ mdni! ) stalker!soobin, stalker!reader, possessive and obsessive behavior, mentions of violence and murder, mentions of blackmail, panty stealing and sniffing, nonconsensual photographs, masturbation (f. and m. rec)

stalker!soobin who’s obsessed with his childhood friend, a family friend's daughter who he's been in love with before he knew what the word even meant. they grew up together, attached at the hip, your fiery personality protecting shy, quiet soobin from bullies even though he's always been over a head taller than you. you protected him, and in turn he protected you-- by scaring away any boy who ever showed any interest in you. a darker side of him you never saw coming out when he told them he'd break their legs if they ever came up to you again... a promise, not a threat. all those years, you thought that you were simply unattractive, something soobin vehemently denied over and over because, at least to him, you were the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. your senior year of high school, when you cried to him that no one in your class invited you to prom, soobin was quick to comfort you and tell you that he'll take you-- and he had to hide his sick, twisted smile in your hair as you danced, because he had blackmailed and broken the fingers of at least ten other boys to get in that spot.

but after you graduated, you had been accepted into your dream school, hundreds of miles away. soobin tried to be happy for you, he really did! but you were leaving him. how was he supposed to protect you if you weren't by his side? what if you went away and met a boy, one who wasn't him, and forgot all about him back at home? he just couldn't accept it.

soobin secretly applying to the same university without your knowledge, and watching you from afar... carefully snapping photos of you from across the dining hall or across the campus yard, talking with your friends, reading your books, bending down to grab something that you had dropped (and giving soobin an eyeful of your panties from underneath your skirt, something for him to blow his load all over later in the night)

he thinks he's doing a good job of hiding, but in actuality you've known he's been following you this entire time, since you first spotted him trying his best to hide in the back of one of your classes (one he hadn't known you were also taking, oops). you go about your days as if you don't feel his eyes and his camera on you at all times, because as sick and twisted as it is, you enjoy it. you enjoy him following you around, doing a terrible acting job of it just being a coincidence that he's taking classes at the same university whenever you inevitably bump into him. You enjoy it when you invite him over to your dorm and your used panties mysteriously go missing in his wake. you enjoy it because it's such a comfort to you to know that he's just as unhealthily obsessed with you as you are with him.

[bluewxrld07]

GUESS (Jack Hughes)

Summary: Jack just can't keep his eyes off of his best friend

jack Hughes x Bisexualfemale!reader

Warning(s): dirty talk, situationship, make-out sesh, oral (f receiving) bathroom sex, groping/touching, Unprotected sex, Hair pulling, choking, swings both ways (our girl is bi-sexual ok)

"Girl if you don't hurry the fuck up, we're going to be stuck waiting in that damn line!" Marley yells out. Y/N rolls her eyes as she sprays the final portion of her setting spray to her face.

"First off, the boys would not ditch us like that. Second of all, you act like I can't get us in the back way." Y/N giggles as she turns off the bathroom light.

Marley turns the music off while they grab their things, the other two WAGs standing by the front door.

"Let's get this shit on the road," Y/N sings aloud dancing over towards the door as the girls cheer in agreement.

"Damn you're looking so good. No wonder Jack is so obsessed with you." Nico's fiancé chuckles, earning an air kiss from Y/N. "He definitely doesn't, but I get what you mean."

Y/N wore a pair of dark-washed baggier low rise jeans, where her panties could be seen partly peeking out, with a corset spaghetti strapped top, a pair of heels adorning her feet.

The girls all turn to look at her as they exit the apartment building. "You are acting so oblivious. Why do you think he stays single?" Marley calls out, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"Because the boy's a whore. Next," she chuckles.

"I'm so telling him you said that!" Maya yells from the front of the group as they got closer to the Uber.

Y/N shrugs. "I'll say to his face. Just wait."

The girls all jam out in the car as the Uber drove, talking about absolute nonsense. It was nights like these that they looked forward to in the offseason. Especially when it was fresh in the offseason, because it was kind of a send-off before they all went out of state for the summer.

Y/N would be joining the boys in Michigan for the summer, doing her work remotely from the lake on a boat. It was her favorite part of the year if she had to admit.

The Uber soon comes to a halt, the sun completely set and the girls see the group of boys standing in front of the entrance conversing.

They all pile out one by one, little cheers and hums as they go to greet their men. Marley helps Y/N out of the car, the girls both already feeling the alcohol buzz from their pregame.

Jack's eyes did a double take when she came out of the car, seeing her hips sway to the beats coming from inside the club as she pushes her accessory sunglasses down the tip of her nose to look at Marley in the eyes with a smile.

Once Y/N's eyes found Jack's he smirks over at her, watching her walk slowly over towards him pointing. "You sir," she starts while grabbing his face lightly in her hand and shaking it side to side lightly. "Are a whore." she chuckles, making him groan and roll his eyes playfully.

She turns around and looks over at Nico's girl. "Told you I would say it to his face!"

"I'm not a whore first off," Jack squeaks out, causing them to look at him. "I just like women is all." he says, earning a few giggles from the group.

Y/N gives him a look through her glasses. "I do too, but seriously cool it." she jokes, fanning him.

Jack takes her waist into his hands, pulling her close to him as he looks down at her. "Yeah yeah we know. You've managed to steal all of the women I was hitting on," he chuckles. "But I still haven't pulled you. Maybe I can make you change your ways."

Y/N just grins at him. "Keep telling yourself that," she says, tapping his cheek a few times. Jack's jaw drops, and she mocks his face. "I need to spice it up every so often, Jacky boy."

He rolls his eyes as they all enter the club, Y/N stopping in her tracks to turn and face him while walking backwards. "It seems like you just wanna know what I've got going on down there."

Jack shrugs and raises a brow as he helps lead her through the crowd with their group. "Is it the pair I got you?"

Y/N pouts playfully and tilts her head. "I don't know what you mean." she teases before turning back around and going to order her drink.

Jack's eyes never left her figure, biting his lip from smirking as she stand on her heeled tip toes to get the bartender's attention. The way her curves accentuated in the outfit she supported, and he especially didn't skim past the small tattoo of a shark on her lower back.

He walked up behind her, hand finding the small of her back. "Put it on my tab," he says as he hands the Bartender his card before Y/N can. Y/N's head whips towards him with a glare.

He scoffs playfully and caresses her lower back. "I always do this, don't be so surprised anymore." he says as he thanks the bartender for their drinks, handing her hers.

Y/N puts her sunglasses into the small purse she brought along, taking a sip of her drink as the pair goes to find their group.

Once they find them secluded in their spot for the evening, Y/N is pulled over by the girls to go out and dance while Jack stands and talks with the boys.

Before she can get far, Jack grabs her arm to turn her around which causes her to frown as she looks at him. He holds a hands out signaling for her to hand him her purse.

She smiles gratefully as she passes it to him before returning to join the girls.

His eyes find her body automatically in the crowd a while later, seeing her sway with girls both in front and behind her as they danced against one another. He felt his breath hitch as he watches her lips connect with Marley's neck playfully.

This was gonna be a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N slams down the glass onto the countertop, swallowing the cherry bomb shot Maya bought for the group, her mind buzzing as the music bumped.

Her body finds its way back out onto the dance floor, taking Maya's hand into her as they danced together.

All of the girls were still on the dance floor, some were now swaying and dancing with their guys while the select few had found some guys to dance with.

Maya and Y/N danced with one another as they both hear GUESS come through the speakers. They both cheered together as they danced along one another while singing the lyrics.

Y/N turns around so her back was grinding against Maya's front, her hands feeling up her body with a smirk as she sang the lyrics.

Little did she know that Jack's eyes couldn't leave her figure, wanting nothing more to be the one behind her instead of Maya. He watches as she sang along to Billie's verse of the song, not missing how she bites her lip playfully.

She must've felt his stare because her eyes instantly find his across the club, immediately making her smirk at his face that was stuck in awe.

Her smile widens as she raises a finger to motion for him to come to her, the boy not wasting a second to set his stuff down at the table and make his way towards her.

Once he's closer to her he stalks up to her slowly like she's prey, her eyes never leaving his. Y/N reaches over to him to pull him closer to her by his jaw, her finger running over his bottom lip that was once being bit by his teeth.

Y/N pulls his face down to hers as she feels both Jack and Maya grind against her, letting Jack's lips brush against hers as she sang the lyrics.

"I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit, pull it to the side and get all up in it. Kiss it, bite it, can I fit it, Maya likes boys but she knows I'd hit it" she sings out, making Jack groan.

Jack was about to give her shit, saying something smart about how much he wants her, but before he can she beats him to it as her eyes lock into his.

"Jacky call me if you're with it," she says, making his eyes widen and her smile devilishly. The beat drops, causing Y/N to lean her head back against Maya's shoulders as they jumped and swayed to the song, Jack feeling his pants tighten as he slowly takes her away from Maya.

Maya smirks at Jack with a knowing look, mouthing a 'wear protection' as she takes the hand of the guy she had been getting close to throughout the night.

Y/N's head lifts up slowly as her eyes open to look at Jack while she ground herself against him.

Jack turns her around to have her back against his front, his hands going into the hem of her jeans to find the hem of her black lace panties.

"I knew it was the pair I bought you," he says into her ear causing her to chuckle and nod. "I always wear the ones you got me when we go out. In hopes you'll finally get your head out of your ass and be the one who takes them off of me."

Jack's hands still and he looks down at her. She peers up to look at him behind her, seeing his eyes darken.

Jack shakes his head and chuckles darkly. "You're trouble. Absolute trouble, honey." he says before taking her throat into his large hand, causing her head to go all the way back so his lips can meet hers.

His other hand starts playing with the hem of her panties, running his fingers along the lace as he get close to her front.

Y/N sighs into the kiss, loving how his tongue felt against hers.

The kissy was messy, tongues and teeth clashing as he gripped her throat in a possessive manner. She had never felt more turned on by Jack than she did in that very moment.

Once they broke it, Jack could feel her panting against his lips.

"I need you," she whimpers. "Now Jack."

He nods as he guides her away from the dance floor and towards the unisex bathrooms down the hall.

Y/N pushes one of the doors open, Jack pushing her inside of it as he turns around to shut and lock it. As soon as the door clicks to signal it's locked, he stalks up to Y/N and doesn't waste any time slamming his lips back onto hers.

He backs her over to the countertop, her hips meeting the cool feeing of the side of the sink as she gasps at the feeling. Jack's hands roamed her body like it was his job, her hands moving to his head to throw his hat off of his head.

He chuckles. "Hey that's my favorite hat," he says between kisses, causing her to smile. "I think you'll like feeling this more." she says as she harshly tugs on his locks. He lets out a groan as she takes the initiative and pushes her tongue into his mouth, her hips meeting his as they let out groans and sighs.

Jack takes her hips and props her onto the counter to stand between her legs, immediately taking the opportunity to grind harshly against her core. "You're insatiable, Y/N." He growls against her lips.

Y/N lets out a mixture of a moan and gasp, letting her head fall back while Jack takes that moment to trail his lips down her jaw to her neck. He bites and licks and kisses wherever he can, groaning at how good she feels against his crotch.

Y/N grinds herself against him, her hands leaving his hair to trail their way down his chest and towards the hem of his shirt. She travels underneath his shirt, her nails scratching against his abdomen, smiling when she feels his goosebumps rise.

Her hands round behind him to grab onto his hips to help him grind more into her, making him growl into her neck.

"Careful pretty. You may be the dominant one with others, but it's me who you're with," he says, pulling back and grabbing her hands. She bites her lips as she looks into his eyes.

"I'd love to make you beg, Hughes," she says, making Jack's eyes roll back for a second.

He looks back down at her and shakes his head. "Maybe one day, pretty." he says, before he manhandles her body to stand, turn around and bend over the countertop.

She finds his eyes in the mirror, seeing him smirk. "But that won't be tonight," is all he says before he disappears behind her, his hands wrapping around to unbutton her jeans and drag them down her legs along with her panties.

Jack can see the slickness running down her legs, causing him to lick his lips. He uses both of his hands to push her thighs open as he kisses both side on the inner parts. "You keep yourself upright, you got that? You so much as move or grind on my face, I'm stopping this whole thing." he says against her legs.

She sighs at the feeling, but then he slaps her pussy which causes her to let out a loud moan. "Answer me, Y/N."

"Fuck, yes Jack!" she growls out with a low groan. He smirks before he places a kiss on her clit.

"Such a good girl, baby. Now let me have my dinner," he says before he dives into the mess between her legs. Her hands immediately go to reach for the edges of the counter to prevent her legs from giving out, a loud moan leaving her lips as she feels his tongue lick between her folds and graze her hole.

"Yes yes yes," she moans out as Jack hums between her thighs while he sucks on her clit harshly.

As Jack laps and sucks at her pussy, she's trying so hard to keep herself upright and from grinding along his face. She couldn't wait for the day she could ride his face, and take the dominance from him that time. She'd show him who exactly is in charge.

But she will let him win. For now.

She felt the knot coiling in her stomach, causing her gasps and moans to become more frequent and rapid. "Jack fuck I'm so close," she whimpers out as she hears him sucking on her. "Make a mess on my face, baby." he says as he hums on her sensitive bud.

She moans out his name as the coil finally bursts, Jack not wasting a second to lap up whatever he could get while making sure he didn't spill a drop of her release.

He kisses her clit one more time before standing up behind her, his eyes finding her own in the mirror. "You got one more in you, pretty?"

She just smirks. "I can go all night, Jacky boy." she says slyly, earning a dark chuckle from the boy as he began to unbutton his pants.

"Good, because we're just getting started." he says before pumping his member a few times. He looks at her once more, seeing her smile back at him as she reached behind herself to grab him and stick his tip through her entrance.

They both let out a sigh at the feeling, Jack's hands going to the low of her back as he watches himself slowly ease into her.

"You feel so good, Jack, fuck."

"Thaaaat's it baby, so good. So tight." he moans out as he pulls out and slams back into her. She screams out his name at the harsh contact, slowly losing her voice as he picks up his pace and rams into her.

Jack slithers his hand up her back and to the back of her neck to grip and lift her up, taking his other hand to slither up her front and grip her breasts in a harsh manner.

He looks at her through the mirror, seeing her eyes close in bliss as she tries to grab at him in anyway she can as he slams in and out of her.

"Open your eyes," he order, watching her slowly open them to look at him through the mirror. His mouth opens in awe as he holds their eye contact. "You feel what you do to me? Every single time I see you, this is all I wanna do." he moans, seeing her eyes gloss over at his words.

"I want you all to myself, Y/N." he groans into her ear. She nods, and he slides his hand from the back of her neck to her front and rubs at her clit. "How about that? You mine, Y/N? You wanna be my good girl?"

She nods. "Yes. Yes Jack." she sighs as she throws her head back and looks at him. He looks down at her with a smirk.

"Oh you have no idea what you just agreed to, sweetheart," he says before pushing her back down onto the counter, ramming hard and showing no mercy.

She screams out countless moans and gasps of his name as she took his pace, Jack's lip between his teeth. He could feel her walls spasming, signaling she was close. It caused him to reach over and grip her hair harshly while getting himself to where she was at.

"You close honey? Gonna spill all over my cock?" he moans, and she moans out a yes.

"Let it go, baby. Make a mess all over this cock." he says, watching as her body stutters and she squirts all over him. Jack pulls out of her, pulling her around and to her knees.

She looks up at him with a tired expression, but nonetheless was excited. He pulls her mouth open and pumps his cum all over her tongue that she happily takes as she looks up at him with wide eyes.

"Swallow like my good girl you are." he orders, watching her immediately listen to him and then opening her mouth to show she obeyed. He takes her chin in between his fingers.

"Better get a power up because we're just getting started tonight baby," he pants and she nods. "Let's get you cleaned up and then we're leaving."

"Yes Jack."