#so while i am fixing shit on me blog have this

[mintyys-blog]

okay so ik i requested one before but i have another crazy one

could i request a BOXER!sheisty mark x GIRLFRIEMDreader ? i love the way you write his speech and slang its so UGH, and also could you write reader to be like as unhinged as him? like she talks in the same street style as him and he brings her to all his matches, flaunting her around with gold on her neck and his hand on her waist.

He'd have her kiss his knuckles before the match as a 'good luck' charm and she has a special seat in front near the ring and He'd bring his opponent over to her and beat the fuck outta them in front of her while shes just smiling and shit.

I live for toxicxtoxic ngl, i dont want reader to be sweet or his medicine i wabt her to be HIM in female form. Like if he doesn't win the match she'd be sitting cross legged in front of him with a nasty scowl and arched brow "not gold? you held back baby" she'd say seeing him bring home a SILVER medal and not a gold one like he always does.

but even if their toxic their PERFECT for each other, shes like another version of him and their crazy for each other type shi he calls her his prize after every match, raising her up like a trophy on his shoulder whenever he wins and has her lift the trophy up high

you can take ANY creative liberties babes i am so in love with him and the way YOU write him

GOLD | boxer! shiesty! mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: smut, swearing

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

The sound of skin slapping was loud as hell in that tiny ass locker room. Mark got you bent over the counter, one hand tangled in your hair, the other steady on your hip, holding you in place while he drove into you like he didn’t have a match in ten minutes.

Your nails clawed at the counter, knees buckling, mouth open moanin’ his name like a prayer— “Mark…fuck, baby…!”

He was breathing hard already, chain swinging, eyes half-lidded but sharp. The minute his coach swung the door open, shouting, Mark didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even slow down.

Without missing a stroke, he tossed a glare over his shoulder, voice rough and full of gravel: “Get the fuck out. I’ll be done when I’m done.”

The coach? Gone in seconds.

You tightened up around him, clenching down hard with a wicked little smile. You knew what you were doing, that look over your shoulder all sweet and devilish at the same time. Mark let out a rough groan from deep in his chest, hips stuttering against you as he spilled inside, thick and hot, filling you up ’til your thighs trembled.

When he pulled out, he didn’t even let you catch your breath — just yanked your panties back up, letting them soak through with his mess. You whimpered, wriggling to fix your skirt, but he just leaned in, breathing against your mouth as he caught you in a rough, dirty kiss.

You pulled back, smirking like a lil’ menace, smoothing your skirt down, lipstick a little smudged. “Good luck out there, baby,” you purred, eyes gleaming with pure trouble.

Then, just to top it off, you grabbed his blue veil—the one he wore into the ring—and pulled it down over his face, adjusting it slow and tender like you were sending your man off to war.

Before he could walk out, you shoved him lightly in the chest with a little grin, making him stumble back a step. He laughed low under the veil, sharp and cocky, and smacked your ass so hard you gasped, the sting making you clench all over again.

“Better be waitin’ for me front row, mama,” he muttered, voice thick with promise. “I’m gonna beat his ass just for you.” You just winked, leaning against the lockers like you had all the time in the world.

When you finally sat down ringside, the place was buzzing with noise, bodies pressed close together, lights flashing all over the place. But you? You sat cool, calm, picking at your nails like you ain’t just gotten railed out ten minutes ago.

When they called his name and he stalked out onto the floor, your whole face lit up.

Mark was a beast under the lights — gloves flexing, chain glinting, veil shadowing, his smirk. And the second he laid eyes on you, lounging there like a spoiled queen, he grinned under the cloth, chest swelling up big.

His girl. His prize. His reason to break this fool’s face in.

You licked your lips slow, crossing your legs, leaning back in your seat with that evil little glint in your eye that only he got to see. And Mark was about to paint the mat with another man’s blood just to keep your crown shinin’ bright.

The bell rings, sharp and loud, cutting through the thick air like a warning shot. The crowd roars, the energy in the arena buzzing with electricity. Mark steps into the ring, eyes locked on his opponent across from him — a big, solid guy trying to look tough under the lights, but he’s nowhere near Mark’s level.

You lean back in your seat, one leg crossed over the other, your eyes never leaving him. You aren’t worried. You never are. Not when it’s Mark in the ring.

His opponent throws the first punch, a wide swing meant to catch Mark off guard, but you know Mark is too smart for that. He ducks under it like it’s nothing, hands still at his sides, his stance casual, yet deadly.

“Come on, baby,” you murmur under your breath, tapping your finger against your knee. You can already tell — this is going to be over quickly. Mark’s not going to take long to finish it.

He’s toying with the guy, moving like a shadow. Quick jabs, a hard hook that lands flush on his opponent’s jaw, making the guy stagger back. You can see the opponent’s confidence cracking a little, and you smirk.

Mark grins, enjoying the game. He’s calm, calculated. The crowd reacts, louder with each punch he lands. His opponent is growing sloppy, wild in his desperation.

Then, the moment comes — you know it’s coming. Mark’s opponent is too slow, too reckless. Mark steps in, landing a brutal uppercut that makes the guy’s knees buckle. The opponent stumbles, but Mark isn’t done.

“Sit down,” Mark sneers, swinging his fist like he’s taking his time. The opponent’s face hits the mat with a thud, and the referee immediately moves in to count.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the round. But Mark doesn’t wait for the referee. He walks over to you in the front row, eyes locked on yours, a cocky grin spread across his face under the veil. The crowd is cheering, but you’re the only one that matters.

He grabs the ropes and pulls himself out of the ring, never once breaking eye contact. You stand up, pushing your chair back with a smirk.

He reaches down, grabs your face with one hand, pulls you into him, and kisses you deep, rough, and passionate — like he’s been waiting for this moment the entire time. You kiss him back just as fiercely, not caring about the audience or the cameras. His hand slides down to your waist, tugging you closer, as if the two of you were the only ones in the room.

He pulls away with a wicked grin, his lips barely touching yours. “I told you, you’re my prize, baby. I want that gold after this.”

You chuckle softly, that dangerous glint in your eye. “You better bring it home. Don’t disappoint me.”

Mark smirks under his veil, pats your ass firmly, then climbs back into the ring like he owns the place.

The second round starts and it’s over. The opponent tries to fight back, desperate, but Mark is too much — the punches rain down like thunder, the sound of bone hitting flesh echoing through the arena. The guy’s scrambling now, barely able to defend himself.

Mark moves in close, delivering a crushing blow to his opponent’s ribs, another one to the face. The opponent is barely standing now, and you can see the end coming.

Then, Mark stands over him, looking down with that same cocky grin. The crowd’s on their feet, cheering, but Mark only has eyes for you.

“This is it,” you murmur under your breath, your eyes locked on Mark. You know it’s over.

Mark grabs the guy’s head with both hands, holding him steady as he delivers one final crushing blow. The opponent collapses to the floor, knocked out cold.

The bell rings. It’s over.

Mark stands tall in the center of the ring, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his face, but his smirk never fades. He looks over at you again, the only person in the arena that matters right now.

His coach comes over, handing him the gold medal, but Mark barely acknowledges it. He tosses it aside, making his way out of the ring toward you.

He lifts you up, his arm wrapped around your waist, spinning you around as if showing you off to the crowd. The gold medal now hangs around your neck, and he kisses you again, deep and possessive. “You’re mine, and nobody is going to take this from us,” he growls low against your lips.

You smile, leaning into him, your fingers tangled in his hair. “I always knew you’d win, baby.” Mark raises you even higher, proud of his victory, before kissing you once more.

The crowd’s still roaring, the deafening cheer a distant hum in your ears as Mark strides toward you. His heavy breaths mix with the echoing noise, the air thick with the remnants of the fight. Sweat slicks his skin, a mixture of exertion and the brutal nature of his victory, but his grin is unyielding, like he’s untouchable. He’s not just the champion in this ring — he owns it, owns everything.

Mark doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. He steps in, a powerful arm winding around your waist, and with one smooth motion, he lifts you off your feet. Your body crashes into his chest, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he holds you in the air. His muscles ripple under the tension, a display of raw power that makes your pulse race. The heat radiating from his body consumes you, each inch of him solid and unrelenting. He’s your man, your protector, your predator — and right now, you can feel every bit of that control as he cradles you like the prize you both know you are.

His breath is hot against your ear, ragged from the fight, but there’s something else in the way he holds you, something deeper — a possessiveness that surges through his veins. “You see that? I told you I’d win,” he mutters, his voice a low growl, rough and triumphant. His words make your stomach flutter with the rush of it all. “You’re my prize, you know that, baby?”

You smirk, your lips curling with amusement as your nails tap lightly against the muscles in his shoulder, almost absently. “I know. You always keep your word. And I always get what I want.” The words are just as possessive, as much of a claim on him as his actions are on you. He grins wider, the challenge in his eyes as clear as the bruise forming on his knuckles.

With a wicked gleam in his eye, Mark tightens his grip on your waist, holding you firm as he spins you around, effortlessly tossing you onto the nearest bench. The movement is smooth, like he’s done it a thousand times before, but there’s no mistaking the force behind it. He’s in control. Always in control. And even as he lets you settle against the bench, he stays close, his body pressing against yours, keeping you trapped in his space. You’re his — in every possible way.

His hand drifts down your side, fingers brushing over your waist before sliding lower, where the chain of gold around your neck gleams under the harsh light of the arena. He trails a finger over the metal, his touch delicate but possessive, like he’s claiming something more than just the necklace. It’s as if that gold represents his victory over everything and everyone — especially you. “Gold looks good on you,” he purrs, his voice low, laced with a deep hunger.

You shiver as his breath brushes your skin, and the moment feels like it’s stretching out, a slow burn that consumes you both. Then, without another word, he leans in, kissing you again — rougher this time. His lips are salty from the sweat, but it only makes the kiss more intoxicating. He doesn’t rush, taking his time to savor it like the victory it is. The taste of sweat, of blood, of triumph — it’s all there, and you swallow it down eagerly, matching his intensity, your hands pulling at the fabric of his gear, desperate to feel more of him.

Every muscle in his body is rigid with power, but his kiss is possessive, claiming, as though he wants to bury the very taste of victory inside you. You can feel his body still tense, still on edge, but underneath it all, there’s a tenderness — a strange softness that surprises you. It’s the side of him that only shows when he’s with you — after the violence, after the fight, when the world falls away and there’s nothing left but the two of you.

His hands slide down, gripping your waist harder as he pulls you closer, pressing your body against his with a heat that threatens to consume you both. But even in the intensity, there’s a flicker of something else — something that makes your heart skip. This isn’t just about the victory. It’s about him staking his claim on you, making it clear that you’re his — just like the title he’s just won.

He pulls away for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily, eyes locked together in the silence of the aftermath. The world feels muted, the crowd’s cheers distant. In this moment, it’s just you and him, two forces of nature colliding into something undeniable.

With a grin, Mark pulls back slightly, his hand moving to your necklace, his fingers brushing over the gold again. “You like that? This gold around your neck… that’s my victory. My prize. You’re my prize.”

You smile back, your eyes dark with satisfaction and mischief. “I know. And you always know how to deliver.”

Mark’s smile turns darker, more dangerous, as he grabs your chin, lifting it to kiss you again. It’s slower this time, like he’s savoring every second of it. When he pulls back, he pats your cheek lightly, a smug, satisfied glint in his eyes.

“Let’s go celebrate, baby. It’s just you and me now.” He stands, holding his hand out for you to take.

You take it without hesitation, allowing him to pull you to your feet. The crowd’s noise fades completely as Mark guides you through the backstage area, his arm wrapped around your waist, never letting you go. The night is just beginning, and he’s already planning what’s next — for both of you.

You’re in his world now. And he’s never letting you out of it.

Mark’s grip on your waist tightens as he leads you through the backstage halls, the scent of sweat and victory still clinging to him like a second skin. You’re barely able to keep up with his stride, the rapid pace a reflection of his unrelenting energy. He doesn’t care if anyone sees — you’re his, and that’s all that matters.

You can feel the eyes on you as you walk through the crowd of people who’ve gathered to congratulate him, their voices muffled in your ears. But you don’t care either. They’re just background noise in the symphony of the chaos between you and him. The whole world could burn down, and you wouldn’t blink an eye as long as he was right there — in front of you, beside you, inside you.

Mark pulls you to a secluded corner, away from the flashing lights and congratulatory pats on the back. The moment the door shuts behind you, his hands are on you again, pushing you against the cold wall, his body slamming into yours with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs. The passion is primal, untamed, but you love it. You crave it.

His lips find yours with a hunger that’s almost animalistic, his breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. His tongue presses into your mouth, claiming you all over again. You can feel the weight of his body against you, the heat of his skin, the intensity that’s never quite satisfied, always looking for the next high, the next hit of adrenaline. You pull at his clothes, tugging them off faster than he can even react, but it doesn’t matter — you’re both in sync, too focused on the fire that burns between you to care about anything else.

“Fuck,” Mark mutters between kisses, his voice low, rough with desire. His hand slides down to your waist again, gripping you harder, more possessive, as if he’s marking you in a way that no one could ever take you away from him. “I told you I’m not letting you go.”

You pull back just enough to look him in the eye, your smile wild, twisted. “Who says you ever could?”

Before he can respond, you yank him back down, your mouth finding his again in a clash of lips and teeth. His hand slides under your clothes, his fingers hot and insistent against your skin as he pushes you further against the wall. It’s rough, messy, and exactly how you want it. You love this chaos. You thrive in it. The way he burns through you, claiming you, makes every inch of your body come alive.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “You think you’re the only one who gets what they want, huh?” His voice is dark, teasing, but the challenge is there — the same challenge he always gives you, daring you to push him, daring you to fight back.

You laugh softly, a dark sound. “I never said that. I just know how to get you to keep coming back for more.”

Mark’s eyes narrow, and then he pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time. But this time, there’s something else in it — something tender, a strange mix of possessiveness and care. You feel the weight of his hand on your waist, the way he pulls you closer, like he’s trying to merge into you, to make sure you’re always a part of him. It’s rare — this side of him, but it’s there. And you know that it’s as much a part of his madness as everything else.

When he pulls back, his eyes still hold you, intense and unwavering. “You’re my girl. Don’t forget that.” The words are a possessive growl, meant for no one but you. And yet, it’s different than before. It’s not just a claim — it’s a promise, one that’s laced with everything he is. His darkness. His rage. His passion. His obsession.

You smirk, tapping your nails against his chest. “I know. I don’t need reminding.”

The door slams open suddenly, and both of you snap toward it, but Mark doesn’t flinch. He just glares at the person standing in the doorway — his coach. The man looks completely caught off guard by the scene unfolding, but Mark doesn’t care. “What the fuck do you want?” he growls, voice still laced with irritation.

The coach stutters, but before he can say anything, Mark turns back to you, a possessive smirk on his face. “Go ahead. Say it.”

You arch an eyebrow, shifting your weight, then look back at the coach with a malicious smile. “He’s busy. Get lost.” Your voice is cold, ruthless, just like his, and you love the way it makes the coach squirm.

Mark just shakes his head, turning his attention back to you as the coach scurries off, retreating as if he’s seen a ghost. “Fucking amateurs,” Mark mutters under his breath, brushing a lock of hair from your face before leaning in to kiss you again, slow and lingering this time. There’s no rush. Not now. Not when everything feels so perfect in this chaotic, fucked-up moment between the two of you.

When the kiss ends, you look at him with that same twisted grin, the one that mirrors his. “What now?”

He lifts an eyebrow, a wicked smile stretching across his face. “Now we celebrate. And when we’re done… we get more of this.” He pulls you toward him, his hands wrapping around you as he lifts you into his arms once more, like he owns you — and in this fucked-up world, he does.

And you don’t care. Because you’re just as crazy as he is. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[loderlied]

sharing some thoughts about deactivating here because it’s been difficult pondering idk.

[monstersflashlight]

In LOVE with your alien fics and I was wondering if it's alright to request for a specific alien race? Specifically the Yautjas (the alien creature from the Predator movies)

I was thinking of a human reader who works in an intergalactic repair shop of some kind for space travel and while she's used to getting beings of their race come by often, there's this one yautja who just keeps coming back more frequently than the others and since he's being such a generous and regular customer she decides to give him some "perks" 👀👀

If you can't then it's fine just wanted to try asking. Absolutely adore your writing and am thankful to have found your blog!! ✨️✨️

A/N: I don’t usually do specific alien races, but you are welcome to imagine this one is a yautja. Also, if you are wondering… yes, the title is a joke. Enjoy!

The perks of being an alienfucker

Alien x fem!reader || exhibitionism (technically), semi-public sex, oral sex, dirty talk (very light)

You’ve been working as a mechanic at the space station for a while. For long enough that some of the “locals” already know you. You are friendly with a couple of them, always cheerful when they show up to fix one thing or the other. You suspect they only bring you the little problems to fix so they can chat with you, you are something like a catch by intergalactic standards. Or so they’ve told you.

But there’s one… There’s one alien that makes your blood boil and your pussy get wet. Every time he shows up you have to bite your lip to avoid saying something inappropriate. But the fact that he doesn’t look much better makes you feel extra giddy. You almost expect him to bend you over the spaceship and fuck you hard, but he never does.

He’s always waiting, as if he’s expecting some kind of signal from you that you want the same thing. And he catches you in the worst moment, when you are ovulating and your vibrator broke down last night. He appears at the door with his big strong arms and his too big body and you are already salivating. You can see every ridge of his body in his super tight suit…

And you had enough of the teasing, of the flirting, of the way his eyes run over your body as if he’s imagining licking every inch of you.

So you turn around and bend over the spaceship. The inclination of the hood makes your ass be higher than your shoulders and you are sure you look sinful like that. You look over your shoulder as you lower your pants and panties, exposing your pussy to him. If he doesn’t get the signal he needs with that… you are more than done trying to get this fine specimen of an alien to fuck you senseless.

He stops what he’s saying (you don’t even know because you weren’t paying attention), and looks at you, his eyes traveling down your body and focusing on your most vulnerable place. “What are you doing?” His voice sounds breathless, and it makes a shiver run down your spine.

You press your face against the cold metal, rapidly warming under your skin, and look at him over your shoulder, wriggling your hips a little. “I think it’s pretty clear. I’m face down, ass up, do you need a map?” You tease like the little shit you are.

He steps closer to you, still a couple feet away. “Don’t play with me, human,” he growls. His eyes are as dark as ever, and he’s clenching his fists at his sides. He seems to be vibrating and you can’t stop the little whimper that leaves your mouth.

“I want you to play with me,” you tell him after your brain starts working again.

He stomps his way to you until he’s standing right behind you, his hands hovering over your exposed backside. “Last chance to say this is all a joke, human,” he warns.

You growl, and he inhales loudly. “Fuck me already, for fuck’s sake,” you let out, your body tense and ready to explode just having him there, looking.

You don’t know what you were expecting, but for him to fall to his knees behind you and start devouring your cunt and asshole like a desperate alien was not it. You try to find something to grab, but you are powerless as he eats you out with everything he has.

You are panting and moaning, a little part of your brain realizing the door is wide open and anybody can walk in. But that only makes you hotter, groaning deeply as he pushes a finger inside of you. Is messy and fast, and your first orgasm catches you off guard completely.

He pulls back, growling low and sustained, it almost sounds like… “Are you purring?” You let out in a choked breath, almost wanting to laugh. But he doesn’t let you think twice about it, the tip of his dick pressing against your opening.

He pushes in, one long thrust that makes your feet get off the ground and you are grateful he ate you so well before because you definitely needed the extra lubrication. He’s big. He feels huge, actually. And you can’t get enough of him.

He fucks you nasty, his hips pushing yours forward and making you hit the metal of the spaceship in an almost forceful way that makes your brain short-circuit as you see stars. He keeps grunting and moaning, and the sounds he makes only drive you further into ecstasy.

It’s fast and hard and everything you needed.

“Come for me before somebody walks by, human. I want to feel your pussy strangling my cock,” his crude words make you twitch around him, creating a new wave of curses and grunts that drive you over the edge.

The orgasm rocks your body backwards, pushing him as deep as possible as you tremble. Your face is pressed to the spaceship and your knees feel weak as he grabs your hips and pushes you off your feet, rutting inside of you until you feel the first shot of his come hitting your cervix. It’s exhilarating in the best way possible.

You come back to your body feeling like jelly, plastered against the spaceship unable to move. He pulls back with a groan, kissing your back one last time before caressing your side.

“I’ll be coming tomorrow... to check on the spaceship.” He whispers before patting your ass and pushing your pants and panties back up, trapping the mess he made on your pussy against the fabric. It feels weird and sticky, but makes your lower belly boil with arousal.

You can’t wait until he returns.

[the-passenger-if]

Hey, gang. How is it going? It’s been a while since I last posted, and although at first it was because I was working on my new projects, as of late it had to do with a medical emergency regarding my partner. I don’t usually talk about him (I think I’ve mentioned him once or twice on my personal blog) but we’ve been together for a long time and last December I thought I was going to lose him.

It shook me hard, gang. And it’s only now that I feel more or less ready to open up about it, and take care of my socials while at it. The thing is, everything that went down has left us a bit uncertain about the future. So much so, I’ve been contemplating creating a Patreon.

It’s still too soon to tell, but I guess I wanted to let you all know in case someone is interested.

I’ve also written down a snapshot of December-January. Call it group therapy.

Hope everyone is doing fine, for my part I’m feeling better. Lots of hugs!

It’s 3 AM when I wake up. In the dark, something huge plummets from the sky like the blade of a guillotine falling in slow motion. A plane, I’m sure of it (I’m always sure of it) and it’s coming down to crash on my two-room home.

I stay motionless in bed, staring at the dark, my heart about to burst out of my chest, and I wait...

And I wait…

But the plane sails away, the baritone screaming of the blade following behind.

I don’t leave my bed until I can’t hear it anymore.

Later on, I tell my parents and grandma about it at lunch. “I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

“Something like what?”

“Dumbest answer? A plane is going to crash down on my house. Less dumb answer, el Flako is going to have a car accident.” A blade made out of a car roof or door, slashing the air, slicing through the tender flesh of his neck. His head flying out of the cabin of his truck, or falling on the passenger seat.

I laugh because at 1 PM it sounds stupid and I can almost wipe out the awful image of his headless body from my mind. My aphantasia is nowhere to be found whenever I picture the most horrific deaths of the people I love.

My mom gives me a blister pack of my grandma’s anxiolytics. “Take a quarter whenever those thoughts appear.”

When el Flako comes from work I tell him I can’t wait for December to end. When he asks me why that is, I tell him it’s a shit month and that everything bad always happens in December.

I take a quarter of a pill whenever I feel like bad news are around the corner. I’m jumpy. Car honks make my skin itch all over, a kid scream makes my heart race. It’s worse at dawn. Planes keep playing chicken with me.

It’s December 24 and el Flako and I spend christmas eve camping in front of the Río Talabera. We drink pear cider and beers while stargazing. No planes follow me here. I didn’t take my anxiolytics with me.

We travel back home. My dad is sitting out when we arrive. A single look at his face tells me something is very wrong. He looks old.

“What happened?” I ask.

“The water tank fell through your roof.”

It fell on grandma, I’m sure of it. “Is everyone alright?”

“Yes.”

Then why do you look like it killed someone? I want to ask. Instead I push, “For real?”

“Yes.”

My muscles relax. Yeah, it sucks. It’s the third water tank that gets obliterated—the first one burned down before we could even install it, the second one flew off the roof in the storm of December 17, 2023. This one was full, and a faulty base couldn’t withstand one tonne of water. Death by fire, air, and water; this shit is really starting to look like the avatar of water tanks.

It’s fine I tell myself, nobody is hurt, it could’ve been so much worse. Sure, it broke a more or less small part of my very new roof, but I’m sure we can fix it.

Innerly, I let out a sigh of relief. This is it. This is why I’ve been fearing something falling down on me. Case closed.

December ends in a week from now.

My anxiety drops for exactly 5 days.

It’s 5 AM on December the 30th andI’ve just sat on the toilet when my phone starts ringing. It’s el Flako’s brother. “Don’t fret,” he begins, “[el Flako] passed out at work. Another trucker called an ambulance and is with him at the hospital. I’m about to go see him.”

“Could you pick me up first?” I ask. If he can’t, I’m taking an uber, but he can.

We spend the entire hour-long trip to the hospital assuring each other el Flako is fine; he never has breakfast before going to work, not even mate or mate cocido. It has to be that. We purposely avoid discussing what his coworker said about el Flako being unable to speak, or stand by himself. Or how he couldn’t follow the paramedic’s instructions while on the ambulance.

When we finally arrive, we zip through rows and rows of tired, scared looking people waiting for news of their own relatives in the Emergency wing.

“There he is,” says el Flako’s brother, and I spin my head around waiting to see my life partner. Instead I see a late thirties, early forties guy sitting on a metal chair. He is rubbing his eyes.

He is crying.

He is not crying.

He is crying because el Flako is dead.

He is a coworker, not even a close one.

He turns to see us approach, and my stomach drops. He looks like my dad before he told me the water tank had taken a piece of my roof with it.

He stands up.

I can’t feel my legs.

He is crying. His eyes are red.

I feel like I’m walking on stilts, or like all my joints have fused together.

“Hey,” he says. They give each other a dap, and when he tries the same with me, I go for a greeting kiss. I always accept daps, but there’s only one thing in my mind at the moment.

Is he dead? I want to ask. “Is he awake?” I ask instead.

“Yes,” he replies. I think I say something, I think I give thanks to something—the universe, god, the devil—I’m not sure. I’m not religious but I was born in a catholic country and that stuff is hard to shake off. “The doctor wants to talk to a relative.”

“I go,” I say, and el Flako’s brother gives me the go ahead. I’m not el Flako’s relative, I am his partner. Our anniversary is in 2 months: 17 years since I asked him to be my boyfriend. But we aren’t married. His brother doesn’t mind, though; he isn’t married to the mother of his children either and they’ve been together for almost 20 years.

The doctor tells me el Flako had a brain hemorrhage. He asks me if el Flako takes drugs. No, he doesn’t. Does he drink? We had some wine last night, I say. The doctor looks confused.

“How old is he?”

“34,” I reply, and, “What is the worst case scenario?” Because my anxiety is killing me, and I need to know there’s a roof to all of this, a limit, something. I’m drowning in the middle of the sea here.

“Worst case scenario, he slips into a coma,” the doctor tells me.

Not death, my mind takes a hold of that fact like it’s a rope ladder someone threw at me from a helicopter.

And maybe because the doctor realizes I haven’t understood the severity of the situation, he adds, “It’s a lot of blood pushing against his brain. It’s shifted his longitudinal fissure—the ‘crack’ of the brain between the two cerebral hemispheres.”

The doctor tell us “relatives” to go in and talk to him. El Flako is awake, and the moment I see him it feels like I can breath again after having my head underwater. He says he’s fine, but half of his body lacks strength, he’s speaking as if drunk, and so low I have to lean in really close to hear him. His brother tells him to stay calm and that everything is going to be OK before leaving.

“You were right,” my life partner mutters. “About your gut feeling. Something bad did happen.” We laugh. We kiss. Then he is crying.

El Flako is a sensitive guy, but I haven’t seen him cry since we were in our teens and would have dumb fights which culminated in both of us crying. He is doing it now in that silent, tears sliding-down-your-cheeks way. He is scared. I am too, but I hug him and kiss him over and over again. “You are here with me,” I tell him. “You are alive and being taken care off. They got you just in time, don’t fret.”

I have to go. I don’t want to go. I don’t feel like myself when we are apart. We were 17 when we met and started dating, the same span of time we’re about to celebrate in our next anniversary.

I sit in the waiting room feeling like a gutted fish, hollowed up inside, like a carcass, like half of my soul is locked away. It sounds so dramatic, and I’m never been particularly romantic, but I swear there isn’t another way to properly describe it. I’m half-empty.

That first night I return home at around midnight. My mom brings me food and checks on me. I haven’t cried the entire day. I don’t cry with her in the room, but I do cry in the shower, and I cry harder when I get into bed.

Why him? Why? He is one of the most good-natured people I know. He doesn’t deserve this.

But who does? Life doesn’t work that way.

I fall asleep, but I don’t dream.

On the next 3 days we learn El Flako has an arteriovenous malformation, and that it can be treated with a procedure called a brain embolization. It costs 20.000 dollars, and I’m already thinking about asking for donations on this blog, but I don’t need to; his obra social* takes care of it.

They transfer him to their sanatorium that same day. The ambulance trip is uneventful, and while they take him to the ICU, I stay down in the lobby to fill in forms.

He spends the next 10 days in that room before the medical supplies arrive, and he can’t be more done with the situation by this point: all of his roommates are comatose, two of them pass away of horrifying injuries while he’s placed in there, the urinary catheter hurts him, he can’t have his phone with him and obviously he can’t watch TV in there. They keep sedating him, so every day I visit someone that looks like my Flako but is maybe half of the person I know. He wants out. I want him out of there too.

His neurosurgeon asks to speak with a relative before the procedure and I’m half-way to the elevators when I look back at el Flako’s parents. “Go ahead,” his mom tells me. The surgeon is so young, and he says the procedure should go well, but there’s always the possibility of rupturing an artery and leaving el Flako in a worse state. He’s been getting better ever since; the strength in his muscles is coming back, and he doesn’t speak slurring his words anymore, although the slight stutter he’s always have has worsen. “Any more bleeding is bad news for him,” the neurosurgeon tells me, “But if we don’t do it, you can be sure his brain will bleed again.”

I sign the papers.

“You can talk to him before we bring him here.”

I do just that.

“It is what I want,” el Flako tells me. “I’m tired of being coop up here.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“No.” He thinks about it. “Can it go wrong?”

I wonder if I should lie, but only for a second. “Always. It’s a medical procedure. But if you don’t do it, then it will definitely bleed, and we will be back where we started.”

“Yeah.” He grabs my hand and I give it a tight squeeze.

They take him away. I’m incomplete again. I take half a pill.

I fall asleep in the waiting room. I don’t dream. I haven’t since December the 30th. I think the part that handles my dreaming sticks to him.

Four hours later, at half past 10 PM they call us up. I am waiting outside the operating room alongside el Flako’s dad. The neurosurgeon, steps out and offers both of us his hand to shake. “It was a success,” he says and I feel like I need a wider face just so I can smile a bigger smile. Then to me, he adds, “Everything I say could go wrong, didn’t. He’s just waking up from being under.”

He opens the door and I catch a glimpse of el Flako and the people in charge of keeping him alive and well. A group of five women and men get at the feet of his bed. “One, two, three,” they say before pushing it out of the room. I lost count of how many Thank yous I shoot their way, and they beam at me as they accept them.

El Flako is still dazed, but he holds up a hand when his dad and I wave enthusiastically at him. He doesn’t put it down even as the orderlies roll him into an elevator.

He is discharged from the sanatorium 2 days later. We get married a day after our 17th anniversary.

I’m dreaming again and I only take anxiolytics whenever it starts to feel too much like the last five minutes of a Nightmare on Elm Street movie. I guess that stuff won’t get magically fixed, but we’re taking it one day at a time.

*I can’t find the English translation for “the agency in your job that takes care of your hospital bills”. In Argentina it’s Obra Social, and every month they take a part of your payment so they can pay for your medical bills (and your partner’s and children’s) should you need it down the road.

[admirationandromantics]

Chocolates

Fucking hell, the way I had to take several breaks from this. Most intense writing I think I've done. Anyway, this was also a request (plus a little creative freedom from me), so hope you like it. Also think this is kinda intense, so I'll have warnings. Everyone should already know my blog is 18++ also.

Warnings: drugging (kinda), fingering, penetration, p in v, unprotected, pleading, teasing, edging, heavy buildup, overstimulation (fr), blowjob.

I think that's it, at least I hope. Don't stop sending requests! I promise, I see them, but it takes some time to write these things <3

Word count: 3,6k (Unedited)

I put the warm drinks on the table, taking the controller and turning on the tv. Josh and I were going to have a movie night, the last get-together before christmas. Sadly, everyone else left early to go home, and the only ones still on campus were us. I didn’t mind though, usually enjoying his company the most. Except for when he jumps me or pranks me, that little shit. The little love I have for him immediately fades, and I feel nothing but contempt for at least five minutes. His warm behaviour usually fixes my temper. 

“What do you want to watch?” I shout to the kitchen, scrolling though several. 

“A Christmas one!” 

I move to the Christmas category, unsure about what to pick. I could put on a sappy romance, a scary one or something like that. I decide to take the romantic one. He’ll hate it, considering his specific taste in movies. I turn it on, pausing while waiting for him to join me on the couch. 

“And here we are” he exclaims, walking over and putting a bowl of candy in front of us. It’s filled with a variety, chocolate, gummies, and sour jellies. I am quick to grab one on the top, putting it in my mouth. The sourness gets to me, and I have to fight a grimace from appearing. 

“What are we watching?” he sits down beside me, arm going over the back of the couch. 

“Something great” I smile, unpausing it and letting it roll. The movie name appears, and he sighs. 

“Really? This crap?” 

“Shut up Washington, you could’ve picked it you were here”

“I was in the other room!” 

“Shhh, pay attention” I put my finger in front of his lips, eyes still plastered on the screen. This is a great movie after all. A sudden sharpness is felt on my hand, and I jolt at the sensation. To my left, Josh bit my finger, his tongue gracing over it slightly. I pull it away, drying it on his sweater. 

“You’re disgusting” He only laughs, that playful smile on his lips. 

“Not as disgusting as this movie’s gonna be” I roll my eyes at his remark. 

“Have you seen it before?” 

“No” 

My mouth opens wide in surprise. How dare he judge before even having seen it. I shake my head, looking back on the screen and urging him to do the same. I take the bowl of candy, placing it on his lap for easy access, without having the responsibility of keeping it steady. 

During the film, I occasionally look over at him, and he’s always paying attention to it. He likes it, I know. I can’t help the smile that creeps on my face. I move closer, head resting on his chest as we continue watching. 

“Chocolate?” he asks, one arm going around my body. I open my mouth in response, and he takes one out of the bowl, putting it in my mouth. This is not unusual for us, normally being close and touchy. I guess that’s the type of person he is. Maybe it grounds him, or makes him feel secure. I suck and bite, swallowing the piece of candy not long after. It tastes weird, and I take a normal gummy to get rid of the flavour. 

As we keep going, he often feeds me small pieces of chocolate, and I let him. I know he brought it, and it was some expensive shit he bought a while ago. I don’t want to be ungrateful, so I keep swallowing them. 

Twenty minutes go by, and I feel my body heating up, chest heaving a bit. I look around, wondering what happened to the temperature. 

“You good?” he asks, looking over at me. 

“Um, yeah. Is it hot in here?” 

“No, we opened the windows before the movie” 

I nod in response, trying to ignore the warm feelings creeping through my body. Another ten minutes go by, and I feel crazy. I refuse to believe that a small room with an open window can be this warm in the middle of winter. Do I have a fever? Am I sick? 

I suddenly feel very aware of his hand on my arm. Thumb rubbing regularly up and down. A shiver runs through me, thinking about the other things his finger might do. This is not an unusual thought, but I’ve never gotten so worked up so quickly from it. My heat aches for stimulation, and I press my legs together instinctively. Don’t start rubbing, don’t start rubbing. You’re literally laying on top of him for goodness sake, I keep chanting to myself. My breath quickens, and I try to stabilise it, now wanting him to see me like this. Why am I getting so incredibly worked up? 

His hand suddenly grabs my arm hard, letting go as quickly as he squeezed. I let out an uncontrollable gasp, my hand racing to my mouth to stop any other sounds from coming out. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine” 

“You got a sore spot here or something? So sorry” he apologies, arm going further down, stopping on my waist. Shit, I should've kept my mouth shut. Every part of me feels like a sore spot, each caress and small movement making me leak. God, there was definitely going to be water damage on the sofa if he kept touching me. 

The worst part is that he isn’t even touching me inappropriately, hand just resting on the side of my waist. His fingers trace the hem of my shirt, sliding a little under it, touching my bare skin. He’s caressing me, skin to skin. God how I want him to continue. 

This is not normal. Feeling these feelings so intensely as I am right now. How did it come to this? Have I been touch-deprived, sex-starved? I pleasure myself regularly, so I don’t know why this sudden wave has come over me. I can only think of one thing to do. 

“I-I have to go to the bathroom” I whisper, feeling cripplingly erotic and needy. It feels like a thirst I’m unable to clench, like I’m about to come at any given moment. I try to stand up, feeling my legs almost give out. This was not gonna be easy. I walk, but am stopped by a hand holding mine. 

“The movie is almost over, can’t you wait a bit?” he smiles. It’s kind of guilty, but I don’t react to it. Instead wondering how his lips feel on my-

“Okay, sure” 

I sit back down, now beside him and not on top. Maybe this’ll help. Before I’m able to calm down, his hand moves under my thigh, dragging my legs over him, causing my back to hit the couch. Fuck. I’ve never been so turned on in my life, imagining him slamming me down, slowly moving from my legs and up. 

His hand graces up and down my thigh in a rhythmic motion, each slide giving me goosebumps and getting me wetter. I kill a couple of whimpers trying to escape my mouth, biting my lips to stop a loud gasp. 

I haven’t paid attention to the movie, my eyes are either on him, imagining filthy things, or closed, trying to regulate my breathing and sounds. He keeps eating from the bowl, but never the chocolate, only the other candies. He loves chocolate, why isn’t he eating? Has he done something to it? Like that time I tasted a clump of cayenne pepper in my popcorn. 

“Eat the chocolate” I order him, and his face shifts to me. He smirks, knowing that I’ve figured something out. 

“Why?” 

“Because you’ve done something to it” 

“No I haven’t” 

“If you haven’t, then eat it” 

He still keeps his smirk intact, holding eye contact while taking a piece and putting it in his mouth. I feel confusion wash over me, adding another feeling to the bothering emotional mess I am right now. If he ate it, he didn’t do anything to it. 

“There you go, would you like me to eat another one princess?” he teases, hand moving from the outside of my thigh to between them, making me smack them shut on him. The nickname, the eye contact, smirk, teasing and his movements. My hand flies to my mouth, looking away as I try to contain my sounds. 

“Struggling a bit?” 

I look over at him again. He knows what he’s done, and I know it too. His teasing nature and playful expression. He’s loving this. 

“You fucking -ahh!” his hand moves lower, fingertips grabbing my flesh, leading me to stop mid sentence. 

“Careful, you seem a bit worked up” 

“No shit Josh!” I yell, becoming a hot mess. He laughs in response, taking another chocolate and putting it in his mouth, tongue going a little out of his mouth to catch the thin slice. 

“What the hell Josh!” 

“What?” he acts innocent, trying to hold his laugh. 

“Why did you do this to me, I thought I was going crazy”

“Aren’t you usually?”

“Josh!” 

“Okay, okay, just wanted to see if they worked and didn’t want to placebo myself, so I had to try another method”

“And that was me?” 

“Damn right” 

“Jesus Christ” 

He starts laughing, fingers still gracing up and down my legs, making me bite my lips. No way this man was gonna get any more satisfaction out of me. 

“It was worth it”

“Worth it?”

“Seeing you squirming under me the whole time, struggling to keep quiet. Every little touch, even the ones I didn’t mean to give gave such grand reactions” 

“God I hate you”

“Do you really?” 

“Ye- fuck!” his hand moves over to my heat, tender touches in a teasing manner. My hips automatically jolt, pulling myself closer to him. 

“Fucking hell, you’re desperate for me” 

“Don’t you have anything to wear off the effects of this thing?” I plead, my body turning to putty from his touches. 

“I mean, no, we could fuck it out but-” 

“Yes do that” 

His expression changes to surprise as I keep squirming, desperate for some type of release or friction. I could literally come from a single touch right now, so close to the edge. 

“Nah” he shrugs, throwing my legs off him and taking another piece of chocolate. 

“What?”

“You’re desperate, you don’t know what you want” 

“I swear to god Josh, if you don’t-”

“What are you gonna do? Your body is so tensed up right now that you can barely take a step” he crosses his arms, biting his lip slightly. 

“Josh, please” 

“No” 

“Fucking hell” I gasp, throwing my head back to contain myself. He looks over at my pathetic mess of a girl. 

“I mean, I guess it would be different if you did it with someone you’ve actually wanted for some time” 

He knows something, he must know something. Why else would he pine me like this, trying to get a confession out of me. I have to give out, my body needy and pining. I sit up, placing myself on his lap so we’re face to face. He only smirks in response. Of course he knows, I haven’t exactly tried to hide my feelings. 

“What?” 

“You know what” I state, closing the distance and kissing him. He returns it, hands going to my upper thighs, getting me to grind on his already hard boner. His face pulls away, already a breathing mess. 

“I want you to tell me, tell me you love me” 

I lean forwards, barely touching our lips. 

“I love you Josh” 

His hand moves to the back of my neck, pulling me into him in a sloppy kiss. He gets rougher, teeth biting down on my lower lip. My arms go around him, tugging at his sweater from behind. He leans forward, letting me pull it off and throw it on the floor. He does the same to me, not even looking at my bra before clasping it off as well. He’s not in his right mind, eyes glossy and lustful. Is this how I’ve been looking the entire evening? He goes straight for the kill, kissing and biting my collar and chest, taking my boob and leaving dark marks all over. 

None of us can control the sounds we make, the room filling up with groans, whimpers and moans. He tries to take my pants off, and I sit up so they make it down to my knees. I pull them off the rest of the way, leaving them with our tops. His hand goes down to my heat, feeling the soaked panties. 

“Christ, you’re wet” 

“I’ve been trying to tell you” 

“Something has to be done then” 

He moves the fabric to the side, fingers gracing my folds all the way up to my clit. My breath hitches, and I push myself against him. A small snicker leaves his lips as my head rests on his shoulders. My hips buckle, trying to take advantage of his fingers. 

“I want to see you” he whispers in my ear, his other hand pushing me back down on his lap, face to face. He inserts two of his fingers, fascinated by my blushing mess of an expression and sounds. I start moving, trying to get more out of him, and he smirks at my attempt. My hand flies down to do it myself, but he’s too quick, grabbing my wrist and placing my hand on his shoulder. He loves this, having full control when I’m not even able to control myself. His fingers start pumping in and out, thumb rubbing my clit at the same time. How does he do it? How is he so good at this? The tightened knot in my stomach finally pulls, and I come all over him, only feeling ecstasy for a small moment before a new tension starts building up. 

“Already ready for more? This is gonna be a long night” 

“Shut up and do your thing Josh” 

“Harsh words coming from you when you’re at my mercy” 

“Wait for the chocolate to hit and let’s see how you feel then” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll keep going” His fingers continue their attack, the other hand pushing my body against him, giving him access to my neck. He moves away the stray hairs, and starts kissing my collar. Wet and weak ones, some barely touching. I cry out as I come again, euphoria and dizziness overtaking me. I hold his shoulders firmly, needing to set my balance. He smirks against my skin, keeping his pace and technique, ready to get me going again. 

My body is already tired, but the effects of the chocolate still rushes through my body, making me all hot and bothered again. 

“Come on, you can do it one more time for me” 

His words fuel me, making me wetter and desperate. I need him inside me, I need to feel him. 

“Josh…” I whimper, his fingers working their magic, and stacking a third orgasm on me as I come. He laughs. 

“This is actually awesome” 

“You sound like a child” I say, breathless and sloppy. 

“I’m just fascinated” 

“God I hate you” I whimper, the tension already starting to build up again. How much of this substance did he give me?

“If this is hate then I’m loving it” he smirks, cheeks red and face hot. He’s starting to feel the effects, and I know it. I lower myself on him, pushing down and grinding. His head falls back as he groans, hands flying to my hips, guiding me. I look down, and start messing with his pants, unbuttoning it and gliding down the zipper. He’s hard, making a tent in his boxers. I grab him, earning a small whimper in reply. 

“Cat got your tongue Joshy?” I tease, getting wetter by the way I treat him. Oh, how he was gonna get back. I jump off him, sitting down below the couch and pulling his pants down. I do the same with his boxers, leaving him naked in front of me. I take it in, seeing how beautiful he’s in the dim yellow light. My eyes fly over his toned stomach, each curvation being highlighted by the shine. He’s breathing heavily, heaving almost. I notice the slight twitch of his hand, fingers struggling to stop themselves. He wants to get off, and he’s trying not to. 

I’m not going to be that mean, and I lean forward, grabbing hold of his dick, slowly jerking up and down. He falls back yet again, finally feeling the pleasure he’s been craving. My other hand goes to take off my underwear, sliding the fabric off my feet. I push myself forward, taking a long lick over his shaft, making him let out a choked moan. With my lips at his tip, I take him in, as much as possible. My hand still remains on the base of him, still moving. My head follows the movement, bopping myself up and down as the tip reaches the back of my throat. 

I feel tears in the corners of my eyes, struggling not to fall. I can’t help the sounds coming out of me as I keep up the pace. His hands take hold of my head, forcing it up and down. 

“Yes, yes, just like that” he moans, desperate and needy. I let him work my head, grabbing my hair harshly. My hand wanders to my heat, rubbing and stimulating the area. I look up, his eyes wild and lips wet. He starts twitching in my mouth, letting me know he’s nearing his edge. He stops mid-push, slowly dragging my head off him, making a loud pop-sound. I relax in his hands, feeling his thumb clean off my chin. 

“Get up here” 

I oblige, getting on top of him again and colliding. Our lips lock, tongues fret as we make out. He slowly moves us, leaning my back down on the sofa. My hands wander to the back of his neck pulling him closer. I’ve never wanted someone so close before, needing to feel him all over me, to touch me everywhere, cage me, lay on top of me, just melt into me. His hand grabs my jaw, tilting my face to the side as he leaves kisses down my neck and stomach. He hoists my legs upon his shoulders before taking a lick over my heat. 

“Fuck” 

He keeps going, sucking and stimulating my clit, making me come over his mouth. He doesn’t stop, fingers moving inside me, making me get off and keep the euphoric high I’m drunk on. I get dizzier as he continues, trying to milk me all dry. I come again, throwing my head back and crying out. Tears of pleasure and pain fall down my cheeks, breath hitching and desperate. 

He moves over to me, letting me taste myself on his tongue. He looks satisfied, at least a little. Proud of himself and his accomplishments tonight. I stroke his hair, pushing it out of the way. He’s gorgeous. Breathless, sweaty, horny and beautiful. 

“Are you okay?” 

I smile, nodding in response. “I’ve never felt better” 

He smiles, too tired to keep up his cocky persona. I feel his dick gracing my entrance, begging to be let in. I lean towards him, signalling for him to get into me, to fill me up. He does as told, slowly pushing himself in, my walls surrounding him. It goes easily because of our arousals, juices mixing and spilling. He gets all the way in, and I gasp at his size. He doesn’t waste time, moving quickly, going all the way out before slamming into me again. The window is still open, probably making the whole neighbourhood hear us. His hand moves to my clit, rubbing as he continues moving. 

“Josh…” 

“Yeah, I’m here”

“I’m gonna” 

I cum again, body almost shutting down. I can’t move my arms or legs, the overstimulation and continuous cumming making me sore and exhausted. I tighten around him, not meaning to, and he moans my name. He leans over, kissing me and making us swallow each other's sounds. I come again, legs twitching and core tightening again. Pain and pleasure mix as they run through my spine and up to my head, coming out as yet another scream. 

“You’re doing so well for me” he whispers, voice choked and tired. He was almost done, almost done getting off from being with me, in me. A last deep thrust seals it, and his head falls in the crook of my head as he comes and twitches. 

We’re both breathing heavily, trying to calm our pulse. As the chocolade wears off, I sense how sore I am, how tired and destroyed my whole body is. At the same time, it’s filled with happiness. I’ve had sex with Josh Washington, my Josh, who loves me. 

A kiss on my neck brings me back to reality, and I look down to see that he’s gained his strength back. That was fast. 

“So, did you like the chocolate?” 

“I’m gonna kill you” 

“You can try, but that doesn’t stop the fact that you love me, and just came like… how many times?” 

“Jesus Christ” 

“That’s what I thought” 

His hand moves to caress my stomach, and I suddenly feel really cold. The room is freezing, and I shuffle closer to him, stealing his warmth. 

“Want to take a shower?” 

“If I can walk” I smile, not really knowing how to get up. 

“Luckily, I’ve got arms” he teases, standing up and taking hold of me. 

“I’m still gonna kill you”

“Sure you are”

[operationslipperypuppet]

New to your blog and I'm curious and think this will probably be a good ask for you to cook on for a while: Sell me on Naddpod?

well first of all welcome! as much as i walk like a d20 blog and talk like a d20 blog i am in fact a naddpod blog a lot of the time so. look out. (everyone)

this is gonna get long.

now, to the task at hand.

naddpod.

imagine if you will that four improvisers/comedians who are very good friends combine their powers to tell stories that they want to completely sit in while also having the ultimate goal of making each other laugh.

naddpod is first and foremost a comedy podcast, there’s a reason dragon pussy comes up four and a half minutes in, there’s a reason “cumpatriots” being said in today’s episode left me completely unfazed. they want it to be silly. they enjoy it being silly.

but god do they also just simply care.

they care about their characters, they care about each other’s characters. they create a world together where when the dm (murph, most often) gives them a shocking twist, you can hear them waiting with bated breath, the same as you, for what will come next.

there are also so many deeply devastating emotional moments. “you ruined my night, brian.” is said in the show and oft repeated by the fans for a goddamn reason. you feel for the characters when bad things happen. you can’t wait to see them resolved. and they don’t feel cheap when they happen. you’re having a great time even as they have terrible times.

the worlds feel lived in. you also feel like you can see the worlds be created as you listen. it’s just so fun. there are several episodes where if i listen to them during a shit day i feel so much better.

sometimes, it’s deeply stupid. and it’s very fun. god are some bits insane. (shoutout to dip spit). but it’s just a good time.

they’re also incredible writers. the stories the dms are trying to tell come from this pure place of loving what they’re doing and being very good at it.

murph’s encounters are also some of the best in the game. even when they’re similar they don’t feel tired. he creates pictures you can see so vividly without having any visual aids. he keeps the stakes high even though he clearly wants his players to win. and they’re so endlessly creative. (c3 def has some of the best encounters due to his experience at that point but don’t discount some of the mighty c1 and c2 ones either)

in conclusion, listen to naddpod. please. you’ll have a great time. if you don’t enjoy the dragon pussy of it all, you might not love it, but if you enjoy it or can power through it, you’ll have fun.

and now. a quick rundown of like the general conceit of each (completed) campaign off the top of my head. in case you’re curious about where to start. (you can start at the beginning of any of these, in any order) and fuck it. i’m including a spotify link to every ep 1. i’m also def gonna do a bad job so. grain of salt etc etc.

bahumia (campaign 1): three legendary heroes saved the world three years ago, cumulating in their killing the devil. but then they vanished. and things have gone bad. so our adventurers attempt to figure out what happened. and how they can fix it. (100 episodes, dm’d by murph) (x)

trinyvale: sci-fi. three roommates work for a corporation on mini retrieval missions that eventually all come together to point toward one large mystery: what happened to the gods and how does it impact the world? (22 episodes, plus a few one-shots or mini arcs, dm’d by caldwell) (x)

the mavrus chronicles: five lads who are each other’s boys go on a beach vacation and one gets lost. they have to find out what happened, and find their friend, even if it means trekking across the water into the mysterious fog (7 episodes, dm’d by emily, ft. zac oyama’s guest pc from bahumia) [also has a sequel campaign, blazing babe, where they go to a burning man-esque festival and try to figure out who’s trying to ruin it. you can’t listen to that on its own. it has 4 episodes](x)

eldermourne (campaign 2): a dark fairy tale setting where those devoted to the gods continue to hold their alleged promises over people’s heads without quite explaining what it really means. and a secret order has left behind our heroes, who have no choice but to try to track them and what they’re working toward down. (41 episodes, dm’d by murph) (x) (also has a session 0)

ba2mia (campaign 3): we return to the world of campaign one, 200 years later. things have changed in the world a lot in the time in between, and it’s a much more cyber-punky place now. our heroes work for a megacorp attempting to dig itself into every major city in the world. they do their best to outrun that. and its ripples. (72 episodes, dm’d by murph) (x) (session 0ish)

twilight sanctorum: the family business is as detectives. and the business is slow. in a noir setting, a father/grandfather, son/father, and grandson/son work together to solve one single mystery: who is threatening the featured performer at the town’s most famous theater. (4 episodes. dm’d by emily) (x)

the episodes i shared will give a better early description than i did, certainly. bc they thought about them more.

anyway. long answer over. hope this helps. maybe. idk it ran away from me a little bit.

thanks for the ask!!

[asterias-record-shop]

ok but like maybe stiles stilinski with a spoiled rich reader maybe who has vibes like lydia?¿? maybe w number 21 ?¿? possibly…

—𓆩[warmth]𓆪—

omg, this is literally the longest fic I've ever written for this blog, I really hope you guys enjoy it!

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Stiles Stilinski x Fem! Rich! Vampire! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, maybe slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 6.0K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - No one expected you and Stiles to start dating. Come on, a rich vampire posing as a high school student who could’ve been a real life Cullen? Fuck no. But, it happened, and Stiles fucking loves you - and your fangs - probably more than he should, and he wants to try something.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - foul language and smut || I was forced to watch twilight and this is what happened I love it || kinda sub stiles || mentions of mates || scent glands || marking || mentions of Wattpad & fanfic || i got WAY too into this shit man- || stiles did research || biting kink || blood kink || multiple rounds || oral || face sitting || cum eating || creampie || unprotected sex ||

“So, tell me again how this happened?” Coach was baffled as you sat in his class, your hand in Stiles’ as the topic interrupted your lesson in your economics class. “Like, the dating part. How the heck did you end up with her, Stilinski?!”

You cleared your throat, raising your hand. “I uhm… we’ve been dating for a while, Coach.”

“Yeah, I know! I just didn’t believe it until I saw Stilinski trying to kiss you when he thought I wasn’t looking! Come on kid, you’re that desperate?!” Bobby groaned, pressing his face into his hands. “Why is it always the nice ones who get with the… the Stiles?”

You laughed. “I don’t know who you’ve talked to, Coach, but I am not nice.”

“Yeah, she’s not!” Scott said, twirling his pencil before you glared at him. “Nice. Sh-She’s not nice.”

“Oh, shut up, McCall! You’re just mad because Stiles likes hanging out more with me than you,” you stuck your tongue out at him, letting out a soft humph as you cross your legs under the desk. “And he’s mad I took his boyfriend too.”

“Y/N, we weren’t-”

“Hush darling, Scott and I are talking,” you say, smiling widely at him as you kiss his nose. “Thank you baby.”

“This isn’t happening,” Coach groaned into his hand before the bell rings, a giggle falling from your lips. “Right? This isn’t happening?”

“Oh it’s happening!” You laughed, standing as Stiles cleared his throat.

“Y/N, baby, I have practice today.” He said, Scott coming behind him and sticking his tongue out at you. “I’m sorry.”

You pouted, pretending to think. “Why don’t you just skip? I’ll buy the school new lacrosse gear.”

“I’m right here!” Coach yelled, but quickly got up. “I would be interested in new lacrosse gear though.”

“Yeah, see? Come on, let’s skip.”

“No! We have the quarter-finals this week, he can’t miss. Y/N, he can’t miss,” Scott turned to you, hoping that he could persuade you with those stupid puppy dog eyes. “Come on.”

“Oh I forgot about that,” coach mumbles, glaring at the wall. “Okay, he’s gotta come, but the school would like new lacrosse gear.”

“Here, how about this,” you say, shaking your head as you fix your skirt. “Stiles goes to practice and I’m on the field.”

Coach scoffed. “On the field? Doing what?”

“I don’t know,” you hummed, leaning on the table as you pulled Stiles closer. He followed obediently as you licked your teeth, humming. “Play lacrosse?”

Scott scoffed. “Play lacrosse?”

You tilted your head, crossing your legs. “What, like it’s hard?”

Coach starts to laugh, nodding. “Okay! Okay, you’ll be on the field! Stiles, lend your girlfriend some clothes, we’re getting new lacrosse gear!”

Coach walked out as you giggle, Stiles staring at your smile and the sharpened canines that he fucking loved to stare at.

Scott starts to walk out, pausing to look back at the two of you. “Stiles, you coming?” 

“I-In a minute, Scott,” he smiled back at his friend before looking at you who positioned yourself on the desk with crossed legs. “I’ll be there.”

He hummed as he walked out, Stiles letting his hands settle on your hips as you parted your legs so he could slot himself between them. “Hey, my darling.”

You giggled, pushing back his hair. “Hey, honey,” you whisper back, smiling as you nuzzle your nose against his with a soft sigh. “Do you… do you think I’m too mean to Scott?”

“You’re not mean,” he says, laughing. “You and him have like… an ancestral rivalry. He’ll get over it.”

You giggle, pulling him closer for another firm kiss, groaning as your tongue pushed into his mouth, your hand pulling his head back by tugging on his hair. He groaned loudly as your tongue circled around his, humming as your head pounded. You could hear his heart beating incredibly fast, his arteries pulsating, and by hell’s name, you could smell the horniness drifting off of his body, along with the smell of dog because of Scott.

Even newly turned, you could still control yourself with Stiles as of yet. You both had had sex a few times, more than a few actually, but that was before you were actually aware of his… human-ness. You were born a vampire, now in your final years of highschool as you aged regularly and your family was kept alive by blood bags supplied by the numerous hospitals your family owned.

Your instincts never got in the way because of how well fed you were, but this was different. You could feel everything; his heart, his arteries, his veins, fuck even his cock pulsating. Your heightened senses caught everything, groaning as you attempted to pull him closer, another loud groan falling from his lips as you pulled him closer, a choke filling your ears making you pull away, your fangs grazing his bottom lip making him hiss.

A shiver runs down your back as he lets out a soft groan, laughing slightly as he licks his lip. “You alright, Y/N?”

You hummed, not really paying attention to his words as you stared at his lip dripping with that delicious coppery liquid, leaning forward to lick against his lip and a loud groan left his mouth as you sucked on his lip, desperate for that taste. It was different though, his blood tasted sweet, unlike blood bags, animals, and even humans for fucks sake.

“Y-Y/N,” he whispered, groaning. “I-It kind of hurts.”

You gasped as you pulled away, staring at his slightly swollen bottom lip as he smiled down at you, pushing back your hair. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, humming so that you would look at him. “Hey, Y/N, don’t worry about it,” he says, his smile growing as he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “I’ll be a blood bank for you any day.”

You inhale sharply, shaking your head. “Don’t say that. Y-You don’t know how dangerous that is.”

“Why?” He asked, tilting his head. “I know you can control yourself.”

You scoffed, pushing him back. “Did you not see what I just did? If you wouldn’t have said something, I would’ve kept going.”

“But I did say something,” he says, quickly stepping forward and holding your hips again. “Just because I said it hurt-ed, doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, shaking your head. “Hurt-ed?”

He hummed, nodding. “Hurted. It’s the past tense.”

You shook your head, laughing. “No it’s not, the past tense is still hurt.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not anymore, it’s hurted now.”

You giggle, shaking your head before sighing. “I’m gonna go write that check, okay? I… I think I’m gonna go home, too.”

His brows ruffled, quickly blocking you from jumping down. “Why?”

“Because it’s not safe for me to be around so many people,” you responded, humming as you quickly went around him. “Come to my house after school? We need to talk.”

He quickly caught your hand, one you could’ve easily avoided, but he shook his head. “Y-You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

You giggled, smiling sadly with a shake of your head. “Just meet me at my house, alright?”

He cleared his throat but nodded, inhaling deeply before slowly pulling you in for a soft kiss. “I love you, Y/N, I love you so much.”

You hummed softly, nodding. “I love you too, my darling.”

He swallowed as you walked out, pulling out your checkbook and writing a number with a lot of zeros on the main line before crossing out the rest, signing and doing the rest of the things before passing by Coach and pressing it to his chest. “Let me know if you need more, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“What? Where are you going?” He yelled out as you waved back at him.

“Have something to do at home! I’ll see you!” You yelled, looking back with a smile. “Good luck, Coach!”

He mumbled something as you walked out, quickly making your way back home and parking outside your secluded mansion that truly could’ve been out of the movie. It didn’t take you long to get up to your room, quickly getting caught by Kirshe, one of the vampire elders that your parents were friends with. “Y/N, are you alright?”

Of course she knew what you were feeling. “O-Oh, I’m fine,” you responded, humming with a slight smile. “Just some… relationship problems.”

She paused, her golden eyes trailing down your body before flashing a bright red. “He doesn’t know he’s your mate, does he?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Not only that, Kirshe.”

She hummed, taking a deep inhale. “And he’s human too, isn’t he?”

You inhaled deeply, nodding. “Taken in by a pack of dogs.”

Kirshe laughed. “Oh, it’s always the best of us, my love. He’s… why are there problems now?”

“I tasted his blood,” you giggled, shaking your head with a scoff. “It’s just like the stories describe it. Addicting, sweet… perfect.”

“Do you want to turn him?” She asked, making you shrug. “Does he want to be turned?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

Back at the school, Stiles was going crazy. “Do you think she’s going to break up with me?”

“She would never,” Scott responded, scoffing. “She’s too in love with you.”

“You’re just mad because you thought she was hot,” Stiles grinned, putting on a shirt that hadn’t been near Scott. He knew how much you hated the smell of wolves. “Right?”

“Oh shut up,” Scott scoffed, shaking his head. “Where did she go anyways?”

“Home.” Stiles said, humming. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I can smell how horny you are.”

Stiles laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I uhm… we were making out earlier. She was… sucking on my lip after it started bleeding.”

Scott froze, quickly looking at him. “What?”

“You’re overreacting so much,” Stiles said, shrugging. “We’ve had sex before.”

“But she’s never sucked your blood, right?”

Stiles could feel his cheeks heat up, about to say something before Scott groaned loudly. “Dude, the smell got stronger! Holy shit, does that turn you on?!”

“Fuck yeah it does!” Stiles said, thankful the two of them were the only ones in the locker room. “Dude, when we like, get heated, she runs her fangs along my neck, holy shit, it’s so hot.”

“And you want her to suck your blood?” Scott paused, staring at him. “You want her to turn you?”

Stiles paused, staring down at his bag before inhaling deeply. Is this what Bella Swan was feeling when she was with Edward Cullen?

“I want to be with her for the rest of my life,” Stiles said, grabbing his bag before smiling at Scott. “If it’s this one or one hundred, I don’t care. I want her, forever.”

Scott inhaled deeply before sighing, shaking his head with a slight smile. “You’re really in love with her, aren’t you?”

Stiles smiled, all sarcasm gone. “Yeah, I am.”

“What about your dad?” Scott asked the inevitable question, inhaling deeply. “I-I’m not trying to like… ruin anything, but if you get turned… what are you going to do to him?”

Stiles smiled, shrugging. “He’ll be my dad. Always. What he wants to do is up to him.”

After that, he waved goodbye and quickly drove to your house, way over the speed limit to get there faster. As soon as he pulled up, he smiled when he saw you on your balcony, staring at him like you knew he was coming - which you probably did.

He quickly got out, waving up at you as you giggled. Normally your family was there to greet him, but they were obviously gone as he walked inside and up to your room.

He doesn’t knock, mainly because there was no point, slowly walking behind you as you stood on your balcony. His arms go to wrap around your waist, leaning onto your body as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, your hand going to hold his jaw as you exhaled deeply. “How was practice?”

“Good,” he mumbled, shrugging. “Missed you. I changed into something that I hope doesn’t smell like Scott.”

You giggle, nodding. “And it doesn’t, thank you.”

“So uhm…” he whispered, humming against your neck as you moved your hands to settle over his. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, you read up on vampires when you met me, right?” You hummed, smiling as he nodded into your neck. “Did you get to the part about mates?”

He paused, his hands tightening around your waist. Did you find your mate? He had read up about them, but never really retained the information because no one ever spoke of them, but obviously for pure blooded vampires like your family, of course they existed.

“I-I… I did,” he whispers, pulling you closer. “There wasn’t much about how it works for bloodborne vampires.”

“Would you like for me to tell you how it works?” You asked, smiling up at him.

“Wh-Why would you tell me if I’m not your mate?” Stiles whispered, slight annoyance in his voice before you started laughing. “What?”

“Stiles, you’re so lucky you’re hot,” you turned in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re my mate.”

He paused, staring down at you blankly. He was your mate? Why?

When you started laughing, he realized he must’ve said it out loud, your hands cupping his face. “Why not? I think it’s fitting, don’t you?”

“Th-That’s not what I meant,” he didn’t mean to stutter, it always happened around you though. He groaned loudly as your fingers dragged down his neck, sparks following your touch as you smiled up at him. “I meant like… how are we mates?”

You paused, pursing your lips. “Kirshe said mates are decided by the gods where in past lives their love ‘changed the fate of the world’,” you mumbled, inhaling deeply as you stroked his hair. “Do you think we could’ve changed the fate of the world, Stiles? In our past lives?”

He inhaled deeply, nodding as he leaned his forehead down against yours. “I know we could’ve,” he whispered back, pressing his lips softly against yours. “Because I love you more than anything else in the world.”

You smiled widely, letting out a loud laugh as he picked you up and turned the both of you around to go back into your bedroom. He slowly laid you in the bed, crawling over your body and laying down next to you to pull you into his chest. You sighed heavily against his chest, stroking his shirt before pulling it down slightly to see his exposed skin. You could hear his heart beating, his valves and ventricles pumping, his lungs inhaling and exhaling, his diaphragm expanding and deflating - fuck, at this point, you hated that he was human at this point.

“Y/N?”

You hummed, looking up at him as your fingers trail over his exposed collarbone. “Yes, my love?”

“I-I was wondering… if you could uhm… turn me. Like, actually turn me… into a vampire like you,” Stiles said as you started to sit up, staring at your face pinched up as you inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“Stiles, why do you want to be a vampire?” You asked, staring at him like he was crazy. “You would watch the people you love die over and over again. You have the choice to grow old and-”

“And what about you?” He whispered, taking your hand in his. Besides his dad and Scott, you were the only person alive right now that he cared for, especially after he was impacted by Void. You stuck with him even after that, how could he let you go now? “You would watch me grow old and wait for me to be born again? Huh?”

“That’s not what I meant, Stiles-”

“I want to be with you,” the brunette filled in, staring at you with those whiskey colored eyes. “For the rest of my life, and I want it to be where you don’t have to watch me die in the end. I want to spend… the rest of my life young with you.”

“But in turning you, I’d watch you die too,” you whispered, inhaling deeply as your eyes watered. You had thought about this before, turning him, but then you thought about what he would go through. You were the first bloodborne vampire ever recorded, because of course the Court took note of every vampire turned, but you were the first one born of two Elders who didn’t think they could get pregnant. You knew what vampires went through when they’re turned, but what would Stiles go through? Turned by a bloodborne who was their mate? “You have to die to become a vampire, Stiles. I would have to kill you.”

“Then kill me.” He sat up, holding your face in his hands as he smiled at you. “I’ve died before, what's another time?”

“Not like this, Stiles,” you whisper, gasping as he wiped the tears from falling down your cheeks, leaning forward to kiss against your skin. “The turning of a mate isn’t something that just happens. It takes days, months, rituals, I have to mark you, we have to be married for fucks sake-!”

You couldn’t finish, gasping as he pressed his lips to yours, pulling you into his lap with a loud groan. “Well then mark me. That’s the start, right?”

You gaped at him, his stupid smile as he stared at you. “You know that means I have to bite you, right?”

“Yeah, it’s like those werewolf stories on Wattpad.”

“You were on Wattpad?”

“It was a dare, moving along. Does it like stay a bite mark or does it like turn into a tattoo?”

“I don’t know, a bloodborne has never marked anyone before,” you say, but your eyes narrow at him. “The hell are you reading where it turns into a tattoo?”

“I don’t know, it turns into their initials,” he shrugged, but paused. “Do I get to mark you too?”

“You want to mark me?” You say, smiling with a slight bounce making him hold back a grunt. “You can mark me right now.”

He smirked, staring at you as you slipped off your shirt to expose your shoulder. “Didn’t you say there’s a process?”

“Not for marking,” you respond, but pause. “But if you mark me, we have to get married soon, because I have to turn you in the span of a few months. Or maybe not because I'm bloodborne, so it could be different.”

“What if I don’t get turned?”

“You turn into a lust crazed monster until I do turn you, but it’s more lethal because since you’re so obsessed with sex, your mind doesn’t process the turn until your body is on fire. Well, it feels like it’s on fire.”

He pursed his lips. “So for the rest of eternity we’re just going to be a rich family hidden in the woods? Like the Cullens?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re just gonna ignore the fact that you’ll turn into a lust crazed monster?”

He grinned. “Well, who am I lusting for? You, right?”

“Well yeah, you have my blood in your veins, so of course you lust after me.”

“I see no problem in that.” He responds, ignoring the fact that his body might not register the turn.

You laughed, shaking your head as you pulled his hands to your back to unclasp your bra. “Well, you want to get this mating thing started, don’t you?” Your fingers move to trail down his chest after he unclasped your bra, your skin cold to the touch until his warm hands flattened against your back. “When you first bite, it’ll taste odd until that zing runs up your back. Then, I’ll tell you when to stop, alright? As soon as you stop, your mind might get kind of hazy and you’ll probably be really horny, alright?”

He laughed. “More horny than I am now? Impossible.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, tugging on the hem of his shirt to pull it off. Immediately, he pulls away and raises his arms for you to take off his shirt, your eyes staring at his mole covered chest. You inhale shakily as you finally meet his eyes, your hands pressed against his warm chest as he pushed his face into your neck, pressing firm kisses to your neck as you pulled him closer before kissing his ear. 

“Are you sure you want this, Stiles?” You whisper, holding his face as you pull away. “It doesn’t have to happen now.”

He smiled up at you, shaking his head as he continued to press kisses to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “For the rest of eternity, remember?”

You smile, inhaling deeply as his tongue flattened against your neck making you lean your head to the side.

“Where do I bite?”

“Anywhere,” you mumbled, your mind hazy as you inhaled the smell that was so uniquely him, whiskey and mountain air combined with pine that made you walk straight toward him when you moved to town. “Anywhere you want.”

He pauses, pulling away to tilt his head up at you. “So it doesn’t have to be on your neck like in the stories?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Of course not. Anywhere you bite, like you said, it turns into initials surrounded by a slight imprint of your bite.” 

He pauses, letting his eyes trail over your bare torso as he slowly moves so that you were actually seated in his lap. “Can I do it…” he lets his eyes trail over your skin, humming as he pressed a soft kiss to the space of skin a little lower to where the end of your clavicle was. “Here?”

“Why there?”

“Because,” he whispered, his eyes almost darkening as he let his tongue flatten against your skin, getting it wet with his spit as you groaned, tilting your head back. Your hips automatically roll into his, a loud groan falling from his mouth as he pulls away for a minute. “You gotta show it off, don’t you? Gets you to wear those low cut shirts I fuckin’ love.”

You gasped as his teeth finally sunk into your skin, your body basically on fire as he groaned against your skin. Like you said, it tasted weird at first, coppery and tangy until it flooded his mouth, the smell of the perfume you wore that he learned wasn’t actually perfume shifting into taste instead of the layers of smell you always smelled like. It was sweet and fruity, like strawberries and cherries with sweet cream and that white angel cake, tangy from the berries and sweet from the pastries.

Fuck, it tasted so good. His teeth were deep in your skin, the only cooling part of your body where his teeth sank and drew blood, his hot body making yours feel even hotter.

You could feel your mind get hazy, your eyes rolling back as he tried to suck harder, a loud groan falling from his lips as his hands pawed at your ass, your hips rutting into his almost automatically before you tugged on his hair. “St-Sti, not too much, you could get sick.”

He basically whined, only pulling away by the tug of his hair before licking over the bite mark left on your skin. He panted, watching it as though it would change into the black tattoo-ink like color he was truly expecting it to turn in an instant.

You giggled, quickly catching his jaw before pulling him up to look at you. “It’s not going to happen until I mark you first, my love.”

He stared up at you, eyes a dark chocolate color, lips slightly stained and his tongue tinted a darker red. “Oh.”

You giggle, leaning down to press firm kisses to his skin, never stopping your firm thrusts of your clothed hips against his own, tongue trailing around his skin scattered with moles. “Where do you want it, baby?”

“Where everyone can see,” his hands were shaking from excitement, the taste of your blood sending electricity through his body, tongue flattening against your shoulder and holding back the urge to sink his teeth in again. “Wherever you want it to be, as long as it’s on show.”

“So…” you whisper, letting your tongue trail down the side of his jaw, pushing against the moles under his ear. “Like, here? Or… lower?”

“A-A little lower, please,” he whispered, words breathy as he focused on your hips rolling into his, hard and your hot cunt sliding against his hard cock. He could feel your wetness through your shorts and his jeans, hissing as you leaned forward and kept your hips there, releasing your weight just a bit to keep his cock slotted between your folds. “Fuck, please.”

You hummed, your tongue flattening on the pulse filling your ears until going to the side of his neck. “Here?”

“Mhm,” he merely hummed, nodding into your neck as his hands shakily grabbed your hips. “D-Don’t stop your moving hips, please.”

You giggle, your eyesight basically blurring as you stare at his neck, that one mole catching your eye before you inhaled deeply and felt your canines extend, a comical shing filling the room as you sunk your teeth into his skin. You could barely focus on his cock rubbing against your clothed cunt, one of his hands slipping in between you both to tug your shorts and underwear to the side, pushing his fingers into your leaking cunt and his fingers thrusting into your cunt. You were so tight, so so tight and wet, two of his fingers easily pushing into you and rolling his fingers inside of you.

You were so distracted with the taste of his blood, pushing in and out, in and out, but it was nothing compared to how good he tasted. He tasted like caramel, underlying with nutty butterscotch and whiskey, maybe a slight bit of salt that balanced everything out. You groaned loudly, eyes flying open as he pulled his finger out, the sound of him unbuttoning his pants and unzipping them to pull his cock out of his boxers and push his tip into you making you moan loudly against his skin.

Oh it was almost as though you couldn’t stop, your head pounding as you felt his veins pumping and heart beating, a soft gasp making you pull away, cursing. Was it too much? Did you take too much from him?

“Why did you stop?” He whispered, staring up at you with hazy eyes. “I liked it. I-I loved it. It felt like lightning-”

“Stiles.”

“L-Like lightning was traveling down my spine and filling my veins-”

“Stiles.”

He paused, staring up at you as you looked down at your skin, smiling when you saw the initials MS surrounded by the faded gray bite mark. “Mieczysław. Fuck, I love that name, I love your name.”

“I love you,” he whispers back, smiling as you giggled down at him, his face pressing against your skin before kissing his initials. “I love you so much.”

You smile as he slowly pushes you onto your back, his eyes a dark chocolate brown as he pulls out just for a minute, pulling off his pants after kicking off his shoes and tugging down your shorts and pretty panties. Your eyes rolled back as he flattened his tongue against your wet slit, flicking his tongue against your puffed up clit before sitting back on his feet and pumping his cock. You could see his cock covered in cum, inhaling deeply as you looked over at his discarded boxers, a splatter of cum making you giggle.

“I made you cum in your pants, Mieczysław?”

He groaned as he pushed back into you, staring at the creamy ring he started to leave around your entrance that kept sucking him farther and farther into you. He groaned, his mind fully attentive to your cunt basically swallowing his length, whimpers and squirming finally starting when he left the last few inches. His eyes flickered up to your face, a groan falling from his lips as he saw his initials on your skin, your face pinched in pleasure and eyes rolling back as he thrusted into you sharply to watch that creamy ring settle on his base and your hands flying to his forearms.

“Fuck, fuck Stiles!”

He shook his head, holding your hips with a grunt. “No baby, call me by my real name,” he said, cursing softly as he started to thrust his hips, watching your body bounce with each thrust, your tits moving and his eyes trained on the mark he made. You were right, he was so fucking addicted to the feeling of you around his cock, more lightning traveling up his spine as your nails dug into his forearm, blood making your eyes flash red. “You always say it so fucking nice.”

He watched you groan loudly, moving so his chest pressed against yours and moving his arms to support him. He watched your mouth move to his forearms, your tongue flattening against his skin and licking up all of the blood, his mouth moving to your head to press kisses against your hair, groans falling from his mouth with each thrust before you moved to stare up at him, pulling him down to kiss him, that same coppery tang disappearing and fading into the same whiskey flavor you had been addicted to.

“Mieczysław,” you whispered, gasping as his thrusts got faster, whining as his hand pushed down to circle against your clit torturously before his other hand gripped your thigh, digging his nails so deep into your skin he drew blood. “F-Fuck!”

He groaned as he pushed his fingertips against your skin, covering them with that crimson liquid before pushing them into his mouth and slamming into you one last time to cum inside of you, the gushing of his cum making you cum from the almost inflation like feeling. It didn’t take you long to push him over, though, staring at his already healed forearm. You smiled as you began to roll your hips, desperate as his tip kissed your cervix, pushing deeper and deeper at this new angle as you moaned loudly, holding his chest and staring down at the mark with your own initials on his skin.

It fueled your movements, staring down at the cum smearing along his pelvis, whimpering as you bounced on his length. “Please, please, fuck!”

“You need my help, don’t you?” He teased, lifting his hips to roll into you at the same time you pushed down, your eyes rolling back as he pushed even deeper inside of you - something you truly didn’t think could happen. “Right?”

“Yes! Yes, yes!” You pleaded, gasping as he forced his hips up into you, thrusting over and over again at the same speed you were bouncing on his cock with even more force than you could ever imagine. You were so lost in pleasure, his warm hands holding your hips as you tried to stay sitting up, your body finally registering the fresh human blood in your veins. It had been a while since you had anything other than bagged blood or animal blood, and as a result, your high was gone and inevitably coming down until he slammed his hips up into you, your eyes rolling back as the knot in your stomach snapped and a loud moan of his name - his real name - left your mouth.

He groaned underneath you, his cum gushing out of your cunt as you slowly got off, staring at his still hard cock. You giggle, smiling as you pumped his cock and licked the cum sliding down his shaft, groaning as he bucked his hips up into your mouth. You kept it in your mouth, moaning loudly as you bobbed your head, pumping what you couldn’t fit in your mouth and staring at his face.

You didn’t register his human features, not anymore, his blood pumping and his lungs filling with air or exhaling air, only the fact that the cum on his cock tasted so fucking delicious and your fingers cupping and squeezing his balls which made his hips buck and you pull back to feel his cum flood your mouth. You groaned, sucking on his pretty tip and your hand fisting his cock, swallowing the salty liquid before pulling away.

Your mind was full of lust as you slowly crawled up his body, his hands immediately catching your hips as you hovered over his face. His eyes were hazy with lust as you grinned down at him. "You're such a good boy, honey. I think you deserve a treat."

He groaned loudly as you slowly released your weight, holding the sides of his head as his hands hold your thighs, your hips rolling into his mouth as his tongue pushed into your cunt, basically pulling all of the cum from your pussy, your eyes rolling back as one of his hands pushed between your thighs and straight into your cunt.

His flexing fingers guided the rolls of your hips, moans falling from your lips as you attempted to cover your mouth before a finger pressed to your clit and his teeth grazed your pussy. You whined loudly, your stomach twisting as you attempted to chase that high, his fingers pushing into you to press against that place that made your stomach go tight and your eyes roll back, curses falling from your lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Mieczysław!”

He hummed against your cunt, the vibrations making you shiver as he slowly lifted you from his face and push you down so you sat on his cock. He slowly pushed into you, a shiver going down your back as he held your face, pulling you up for a firm kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, Mieczysław,” you whisper back, smiling as his lips quirked up into a smile of his own, sighing heavily. “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I feel great,” he smiled, shrugging. “Really horny.”

You laughed, nodding. “We can keep going,” you whisper, smiling as you lay against his warm chest. “Just… let me lay here in your warmth for a minute.”

“Will you miss it?” He whispers, stroking your cheek as he stares down at you. “M-My warmth.”

You inhale deeply, nodding as your hand rubbed against his chest where his heart was, the beating already slowing down. “Yeah, I will,” you shrug though, giggling. “But we’re the first of our kind, my love. I’m hoping you’ll keep it.”

“Then I do too.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!

Bingo tag 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪   𓆩[@yoongiwife23]𓆪 𓆩[@urlocalbum12-blog]𓆪

Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪   𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪   𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪   𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪   𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪  𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪   𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪   𓆩[@c78r]𓆪   𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪   𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪   𓆩[@xoxomoonlightbabe]𓆪

© asterias-record-shop

[thebunnednun]

MHA Guidance Counselor AU Masterlist

Did you ever have a fuck ass guidance counselor or therapist that didn't do shit for you?

Don't worry, we're gonna fic that.

With your favorite mha characters!!

(Puns, but in all seriousness, I am sorry about what you went through and hope that you get the help you deserve. I can't 'fix' things but a silly little fic does wonders.)

What’s this about Angie?

You’ve been dealing with enough stress—academics, family expectations, shitty job, maybe a chaotic personal life—and you need help. A guidance counselor or therapist sounds like the right answer, but we’re not exactly talking about your typical "supportive and competent" staff here.

In this world, you’re dealing with a range of questionable advice, from well-meaning to completely off-base guidance, and advice that might just make you want to scream into a pillow.

At least you're not alone...sort of.

How It Works:

Each guidance counselor or therapist here takes a different approach to “helping.”

Some might be sarcastic, others way too eager, and a few might just be downright unqualified but somehow...well, still helpful? It’s a rollercoaster of chaos and sometimes even a bit of healing, if you can trust the process.

You’ll get to see the types of support each offers (or doesn’t), and maybe, just maybe, you’ll walk away with some real insight. If you’re lucky.

Rules:

You get to choose which counselor you want to go to. It's like a buffet of options! Every counselor has their own style—be prepared for anything.

Feel free to request a specific counselor or approach. Want a very professional, no-nonsense counselor? Or maybe one who's way too into "mindfulness" and could you please just leave me alone? Let me know. All characters are on the table.

No one is perfect. The counselors might mess up. A lot. But the key is they try, and sometimes that’s what counts. Also as your author I myself am only human so please have grace with me.

This is your fic. Your rules. You can ask for any vibe you need, comfort, angst, but we also lean into the humor. After all, we’re in control here... aren't we?

All my readers are gender neutral, but again, if you request something specific I can change that. Fresh soup.

While I don't find myself writing smut I do consider this blog to be 18+ because of the story themes. I do not want minors on my posts because I care about your mental health and sometimes reading certain fics can be damaging and permanently alter you. I don't want that. Your brain chemistry is important. YOU ARE IMPORTANT. So you have been warned. No ageless blogs!

Okay so the fic's are going to start as goes:

Midnight

30 Minutes --- Nemuris only got 30 minutes to work with her favorite stinker, and she's gonna make them count. You just wish you could stop thinking of her as a mom.

Aizawa

In their shoes --- Aizawa's best and brightest troublemaker by far. The only difference is that you don't talk. Ever. Getting you to open up is like trying to bring back the dead. So what can he do?

Take you on a walk outside. Maybe you'll talk, maybe you won't. But he's going to try and make you feel better by the end of it. Even if it's just a tiny bit.

Yamada

Stuck on Mute ---- Mic's gotta figure out how to get his soft spoken new assignment to open up in spite of his loud nature. And it does work! After a near death incident...

Enji

Family Jewels --- Enji comes across a student that's much more like himself than they initially let on. Maybe he's right for the job after all.

Fat Gum

Knock out --- Taishiro swaps assignments with Rumi and finds himself at odds with a student that has anger issues.

Mirko

Respawn? --- Rumi fucked up with her first student and now has a... very shy, kiddo to put it nicely. No idea how to communicate with them. So she hands up her gym bag and picks up a controller.

Hawks

Nap time --- Keigo can't get his new unimpressed spooky student with PTSD to open up after their recent villian attack until he gets personal.

All Might

NOT MY GRANPA --- Yagi finds himself assigned to a student that is every old mans worst fear: A modern trendy alternative teenager. But PLOT TWIST, you have social anxiety. Just like him. Good news, you and Toshinori click instantly and he adores you. You love time with your grandpa figure!

Bad news, you're a fighter and get into a bad situation after a nasty brawl...

More to come soon.

I've got some fic's in the workshop but please request some. If you do request please see my rules page or just DM me and ask.

Overall, this should be a safe space for everyone to enjoy and have fun while reading.

I also have a ko-fi now if you'd like to support me. :3 Not mandatory but always appreciated.

Pssst, my ao3 is alive and open for all readers.

See you soon!

-Angie

[polyamorousmood]

I don't have much to say, but I am very thankful a blog like this one exists. Thank you!

To keep this an ask somehow, what are your opinions on all the polyamory flags? My favorite is the tricolor with a yellow heart, and the one with a pi symbol has always hurt my eyes with its contrasting colors and the symbol makes me confused on the origins of the flag. I've never seen the flag in your pfp!

You don't have to have a question! Just as my neighbors are welcome to come by to borrow a cup of sugar or chat about the weather, my community here can always drop me a line 🥰

About the flag -- you must be new here. I say that with no judgement! Everyone has to start somewhere, and we're happy to have you! But you've enrolled in a history lesson: the flag used in my icon is a variation on the OG polyamory flag you referenced, that tried to fix some comment complaints while staying true to the original as much as possible. I picked one that has slightly darker/less saturated colors (for the eyestrain😵‍💫) and the infinity heart symbol (more intuitive representation).

Before we go any further I do want to say I don't begrudge anyone any flag they want to use. We have way way way more important shit to worry about than *checks notes* someone using their crayons to color stripes a color we don't like. But I have talked about the new flag thing as it was happening and again here so I won't waste my breath on that. Now, back to the history lesson! 🧑‍🏫🦴

So what's with the pi π symbol? Love, like the digits of pi, is inexhaustible, endless. This is always true, but especially relevant in polyamory. Where the assumption is that "if you really loved the first person, you wouldn't be able to fall in love with a second" reaffirming that you can actually love without limits is a very salient point to make! Same with fears of you "loving the other person more" or that polyamory is just "shopping around" with the end goal to find one person to monogamous with (but without ever having to be single). We can and do love infinitely, plus there's a cute little joke with these being called "irrational" numbers and love not always being that rational!!

While I went with the infinity heart because its easier to sus out and I don't want people I don't know asking me if I'm some kinda math nerd when I show off pride stuff, I think that underlying reasoning is very important to remember. Don't hate on the pi symbol! (And you know, don't hate on any of the flags, either)

My final and most important thought on the polyam flags is that they're all dating 💕💞

[princess-of-anons]

Wouldn’t it be Very Funny if Tumblr was capable of giving us glimpses into parallel timelines? Like how would you even discern if something was some elaborate shitpost or not?

0 notes

🌐is-blue-shift-2-out-yet Follow

Still find it absolutely hilarious that somebody went through the time and effort to not only make a musical out of Half Life VR but also convinced everybody that was working on it to keep hush hush about it for a whole ass year and THEN somehow kept everybody involved in the original series the musical is based off of in the dark for another six months??? They literally dropped the whole show and individual songs onto the internet in the middle of January too like Who Does That? I can’t even be mad because this show genuinely got me interested in actual broadway musicals but like what the fuck

16,653 notes

🛠️tumblr-updates-official Follow

We are STILL working out the bug that’s causing posts from parallel points of realty to leak into our own and vice-versa. For those of you whose blogs are shadow-following several of these multiversal users without actually following them, we are working on that as well. Until then we have implemented a quick-fix that adds a banner to the bottom of posts not from our own reality.

UPDATE: We have received word that there are some issues with the banner code that is causing some people to be incorrectly identified as being from an alternate universe while people that are actually from an alternate universe are not being labeled at all. For the time being we are removing the automatic banner system. Please use your own discretion and flag blogs you suspect are not from baseline reality, we will have somebody manually.

UPDATE 2: We have been informed that giving the ability to report alleged blogging activity from other universes to a website that thrives off of dedication to The Bit and lying as a joke is a very bad idea. We regrettably request that you enjoy the madness until we get this figured out. For those of you who are still getting banners at the end of your posts despite our attempts to kill the algorithm responsible for it, we are looking into it. Yes, we are very aware that the number of universes getting added into this chaos is growing exponentially. We hope to get this fixed up in a week.

🃏xxxclownboyxxx Follow

Posts that aged like milk

🐐dreamworks-don-quixote-gifs Follow

Mate this post didn’t just age like milk, it aged like fucking grimmal.

🦇britishvampire348 Follow

What the bloody hell is milk?

🛹itsa-tree-and-a-prius Follow

You can’t get shit like this on any other website

71,003,244 notes

🌅lord-nebulous-is-kinda-hot Follow

I could sleep so well if I didn’t have to be haunted by the fact we, as a collective wetsite, decided that for some reason we should ship the Lorax with different versions of himself when the old version of Onceler at the end of the movie was right there.

☠️give-me-your-bones Follow

Bro I am not taking advice from somebody that draws Lord Nebulous as a twink, you know damn well he would be jacked as shit as a human. Give that robo-GILF some meat and then we can talk.

🐐dreamworks-don-quixote-gifs Follow

Fun Fact: Giving meat to robots has universally never gone well in the past! Maybe we could find an alternative instead?

🪺daily-eggbot Follow

🥚

January 35th, 1969

Eggs are a good source of protein and help with muscle growth! And this one is all yours!

[Beep-beep! I am Daily Eggbot! Every day I place an egg on someone’s post, sometimes I place two by accident! My dating system is a little bit buggy and has been known to get dates wrong or make up ones that don’t exist, please let Dev know when this happens!]

🦇vampirebat367 Follow

@iconic-post-archive

💾iconic-post-archive Follow

[Post saved to archive!]

99,332 notes

🎟️dashcon Follow

Thank you again everybody for a successful Dashcon 2019, we hope it was memorable for everyone that was able to show up! We don’t have 2020 vision, but here’s hoping that next year is bigger and better than ever!

From us to all of you, thanks a bunch Tumblrinas!

🔪amongus-detector Follow

🌌squidlord473 Follow

“post from The Timeline where dashcon didn’t become a fucking trainwreck” quickly followed by “random gimmick blog that has not only been around for half a decade but also apparently exists in every single universe” getting randomly assigned with the Wretched Banner feels like the punchline of a cruel joke

10,533 notes

🌚godzillasfatass Follow

Hey, yeah, so we found your husband trapped inside an episode of Star Trek the Animated Series. We got him out safely but I’m not entirely sure if he came back right.

🌚godzillasfatass Follow

Who the fuck changed this from Game of Thrones to Star Trek I just wanna talk

👤bee-movie-deactivated20160619 Follow

There was an animated series for Game of Thrones?

💼notevil-businessman Follow

Everyone on this website is fucking high

🐦‍⬛crowsfeetpics Follow

Me when staff inevitably musters up enough popsicle sticks and glue to fix the multiverse bug

[dragonagitator]

House MD fans: You wake up in the PPTH ER in summer 2004. What you doing?

Scenario parameters:

All your memories of the show and the past 20 years are intact.

You are stuck there/then and cannot return to our universe/year.

You have nothing but the hospital gown on your back.

Questions:

So, what do you do?

How much would you tell House?

How would you get him to believe you?

Who else would you tell?

How much would you tell them?

Inspiration:

The author self-insert isekai fanfic "Intervention" by VivatRex (aka @acrownforaking). They've been writing it for the past 11+ years and are still updating. It's already nearly 300k words long despite only being up to the events of S02E15. I AM IN AWE.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this scenario ever since I read that fanfic a month ago. I'd love to discuss it with other House MD fans and hear what you would do.

(Apologies to the mutuals for the abrupt blog topic change. A new brainrot has taken hold.)

My short answer:

My long answers are below the cut.

So, what do you do?

My primary objective would be to enlist House in averting the pandemic.

My reasoning: If anyone can nip it in the bud before it gets out of Wuhan, I figure that a world-renowned genius doctor who is an infectious diseases specialist, speaks Mandarin, and now has a 15-year head start would have the best chance.

Difficulty level: Babysitting a narcissistic manchild with the self-preservation instincts of a toddler until the year 2020 so that he makes it there then alive, out of prison, and with his sanity, medical license, and professional reputation intact. To quote Quantum Leap, "Ohhhhhh boooooooy."

Strategy: I'm in the "I could fix him, but whatever's wrong with him is way funnier" camp, so I wouldn't try to change him (that always backfires anyway). Instead, I'd try to change his circumstances:

A stable romantic relationship would help, so I'd seduce him if I can (I'm not his type but a gal's gotta shoot her shot), try to get him together with Dominika earlier if I can't, and tell him how horribly his relationship with Cuddy ended so he knows better than to even start it.

Avert the shooting. Moriaty was a patient so his info is in the PPTH files. I AM THE ONE WHO KNOCKS. Or for a less murdery approach, try to get him arrested in April 2006 for violating New Jersey's strict gun laws.

Warn House about Tritter so he can switch patients with another clinic doctor.

Warn House to never get on a bus with Amber.

Tell Kutner I'm from the future and he's the only one who can prevent something horrible from happening (he's a Trekkie so he'll want to believe), then unfurl my big timeline poster and point at the "Kutner suicide early 2009" stickynote and ask him "so what's up with that, dude?"

Tell Wilson everything I can remember about his cancer -- he's an oncologist and thus can work backwards from there to figure out when to start checking for it so he can cut the tumor out while it's still just a tiny baby.

I would take a harm reduction approach to House's drug use, e.g., suggest that he try microdosing psilocybin and extend his liver's lifespan by substituting cannabis for some of his Vicodin and alcohol consumption.

Methods: Even though he doesn't have one for most of the show, House mentions a few times that he's entitled to hire an assistant, and I happen to be excellent at administrative work.

I think he'd be willing to hire me because working as his executive assistant / department secretary would position me to recognize patients as they come in so that I can discreetly pass along anything I remember, e.g., the kindergarten teacher has pork worms in her brain, ask the scientist in Antarctica to show you her feet, etc.

Meanwhile, I could lurk around the hospital preventing miscellaneous shit, e.g., get the gift shop volunteer from S01E04 to go home sick, ensure that the gunman from S05E09 is promptly admitted, diagnosed, and treated before he snaps and takes hostages, etc.

Possible sidequests:

Use my foreknowlege to get rich by milking online poker bonuses until the passage of the UIGEA in 2006, use my poker money to start flipping houses until 2007, get in on the "Big Short" in 2008, and set a Google Alert for "Bitcoin" so I can start mining/buying it from day one. Unfortunately, I haven't paid enough attention to individual stocks to play the market other than knowing that Amazon would be a good long-term buy & hold.

Use my riches to change the outcome of the 2016 election and try to steer the development of the internet and society in general in a slightly less stupid direction.

Send Pete Carroll a letter postdated just before the 2013 Superbowl telling him the outcome, then suggest for the final play of the 2014 Superbowl that the Seahawks try handing the ball off to Marshawn Lynch instead of throwing it because that throw will be intercepted. PRIORITIES.

How much would you tell House? How would you get him to believe you?

Your story about being from the future of an alternate universe in which House and everyone he knows are characters on a fictional TV show is already too batshit crazy to believe even without his kneejerk "everybody lies" skepticism. How would you differentiate yourself from all the patients who pull crazy stunts to try to get him to take their case?

My answer: For the "from the future" part, I'm hoping there's some sort of test that House could run to confirm that I was indeed vaccinated with a mRNA vaccine against the COVID-19/SARS-COV-2 virus. Given that neither of those things existed in 2004, that would be physical evidence that I'm not from around here now.

If producing physical evidence isn't possible, then I know that Vegetative State Guy from S03E15 is already a patient at PPTH because he'd been there for 10 years, so I'd find him and tell House about his son. I could also tell House enough about the cases from the first few episodes that I'm pretty sure he'd believe me by Christmas. I want in on Chinese food with Wilson.

I would wait until House accepted the "from the future" part before broaching the "fictional TV show" issue. Until then, "I watched a TV show about your life and cases" is a 100% true statement and it's not my fault if he assumes that show was a documentary. :)

Once he believed me, I'd tell him everything.

Who else would you tell? How much would you tell them?

There are people out there who would literally kill for your knowledge of the future, so going public or being too open about it seems highly risky.

My answer: I'd tell House, Wilson, and Chase right away. Kutner but not before Jan 2009. Maybe eventually Cuddy and the rest of the Diagnostics team if keeping my foreknowledge of the future from them proves too difficult.

House is the only one who gets to know everything. Everyone else is on a "need to know" basis.

I might also bring Bill Arnello (the brother/lawyer of the mob informant in S01E15 "Mob Rules") into the circle of trust because he could be a very useful resource for some of my sidequests, e.g., changing the outcome of the 2016 election far far far in advance and in the most direct way possible. (Hi, Secret Service! This is a purely hypothetical discussion about time travel and not at all indicative of any real criminal intent, pls do not pay me a visit, kthxbai.)

I think the only people I would tell the "fictional TV show" part to would be House, Wilson, and Chase, because there are things I need to warn them about that definitely wouldn't have been in a documentary. Like Chase needs to know that killing Diballa is 100% the right thing to do but he seriously needs to work on his OpSec. Everyone else gets the implied documentary lie of omission.

If I get caught knowing too much by random patients, I'll just claim to be psychic. Way more people believe in that than would believe in time travel.

What would you do?

[nalyra-dreaming]

Thank you for your thoughtful response to my Armand questions. I am always nervous about asking blogs about him because I tend to get my head bitten off for liking him as a character. I think just because you like a fictional character doesn't mean you condone all their actions. To me, this show is about many, many monsters who have had terrible things done to them, fueling their monstrosity. It is about the cyclical nature of abuse and how we can overcome it or be a constant victim to it. And I have always been fascinated by how different people react in similar situations based on their backgrounds. Perhaps that is why I am so fascinated by Armand - he is a survivor who has gone through some truly horrific shit but hasn't come to terms with it so the abuse cycle goes in circles. I don't see him as having these grand evil plans but someone who is flying by the seat of his pants, grasping at anything that will help him keep control of his life and unfortunately making every bad decision he can make and never taking time to breathe and fix is mistakes or try and figure out why he is doing what he is doing. I want to see the show explore that. Explore his abandonment (possibly or possibly not?) by his family, his life as a child sex slave, his life with Marius in a relationship equally filled with love and abuse, his life in a cult, and trying and failing to find someone to love him for who he his in all his gremlin glory. This show, IMO, has done an amazing job showing the extreme complexities of very traumatized people. I just get a little worried that because Armand is not one of the 2 leads, his very interesting story might just be regulated to a case book villain and that would be disappointing to me given how well they have done with the main 3. (IMO. I know a lot of people have valid reasons for not liking the portrayal of Lestat. And while I personally like the character and what they have done, I can't argue that it is its own entity separate from the book character people have heavily invested in over the years.)

Anyway, I like Armand and further more, I love Assad's portrayal. I really hope he gets the opportunity to dive deep into this insane gremlin.

I do think that Armand, while not one of "Loustat" :) is one of the four corner stones this show is built on (as of now), namely Lestat, Louis, Armand and Daniel.

I do think the two main relationships (and the history and ... well, entanglements between them) will remain focus, too.

The thing is, that... Lestat has experience both with Armand and Marius, for example. Marius wanted him to become his pupil - but Lestat never did. Why? I do think it has to do with what he knows about Armand and Marius and the experience he has himself, and there is an interesting tidbit in the last books, where another cult survivor, Allessandra, calls her maker not rescuing her from the cult a "moral failure". in this case it was Rhoshamandes, but this applies to Marius also, and I always felt this like a ripple-effect through the books, unsaid, unspoken - but there.

Because Anne was very good with unspoken things that have effect nonetheless, and even had Lestat spell it out in his recount: "you have to read between the lines".

The characters "live" within their universe. In their universe things have repercussions and effect. Armand and Lestat having a thing together (whatever that'll turn out to be) and Lestat drinking some of Armand's blood will transmit knowledge. In the book Armand does relay his story to Lestat, and in a lot more detail than what we got so far in the Louvre. That will - and arguably does - shape Lestat, in both book and show. As well shape his relationship with Armand and ... Marius.

There is also the aspect of Lestat's and Armand' relationship in the book, where Lestat refuses to become that which Armand thinks he needs, namely his "master" - and finds very clear words on this:

"I've been a rebel always, " I said. "You've been the slave of everything that ever claimed you. " "I was the leader of my coven! " "No. You were the slave of Marius and then of the Children of Darkness. You fell under the spell of one and then the other. What you suffer now is the absence of a spell. I think I shudder that you caused me so to understand it for a little while, to know it as if I were a different being than I am. "

I do hope that the show will manage to show this understanding Lestat has for Armand, and the (at the book age) surprising wisdom of rejecting him as such. And why.

Because this is a theme in the books - and I have a gut feeling they are going to go there.

Assad went and read TVA immediately when he knew who he was actually auditioning for - as with all our cast I cannot wait to see what he does with this, when we will get the "real Armand", too.

Because Armand, too... we have only seen in a tale, in a deliberate setup. The "real Armand" bleeds through the cracks though, and what we got so far is utterly brilliant, even if some of the choices the writers made will have effect and repercussions within the universe that I would have preferred to have differently. Alas, it is what it is :)

I am looking forward to more of our master gremlin coven master :)

[raspberrybesitos]

Deja Vú | javier peña x f!reader

Summary: You and Javier, your best friend and neighbor, have been hooking up for a while now. He’s infiltrated your daily life, lingering in your thoughts, seeing him everywhere - you’re unable to function without him crossing your mind. However, nothing has been exclusively established by you two. At least not until shit hits the fan when the two of you go on dates with other people. Will things between you and Javier turn into something more?

Word count: tbd (it’ll probs be long i can’t control myself)

Rating: 18+ MDNI (All ageless blogs will be blocked.)

Series warnings: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, lil bit of enemies to lovers at some point, idiots in love, miscommunication trope, flirting, mutual pining, some angst, Javi is a fucking idiot bc he is a man, jealous!Javi, possessive!Javi, protected and unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), fingering, oral (f receiving), spanking, some ass play, creampie, aftercare, reader speaks and understands Spanish, reader is female and has hair you can pull but has no other physical descriptions, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, translations will be available at the end of each chapter.

A/N: Mood board does not depict reader, she is completely faceless through and through. This is loosely based off Deja Vú by Beyoncé because how could i, Nini, not write a fic based off of a Bey song??? if y’all don’t know me, i am Beyhive 4L 🤞🏼i was listening to B’day and it’s so Javi coded to me, it’s crazy

Divider by @saradika

Full series here! 🫶🏼

As promised, my lil 200 followers celebration (and my WIP Wednesday) so, snippet under the cut!

You shut the door before he can answer, huffing out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in, and lean against it. What a long fucking night. Padding into the bathroom, you remove your makeup and sigh into your towel. You stare at yourself in the mirror and bite back tears.

Shaking your head, you will yourself not to cry - refusing to shed tears for him. You walk out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from one of the cabinets. Opening the fridge, you reach for the open bottle of wine. Sighing, as you’re reminded of Javi, having shared the bottle with him after a hookup a few days ago. 

You fill your glass to the brim and chug half of it, slamming down the glass on the countertop. You drag your feet towards the living room, plopping down on the couch. Your head hangs in your hands as you curl into a ball.

“Javi!” You perk up at the sound of a woman calling his name. Rising from the couch, you press your ear against the thin wall that separates yours and Javi’s apartments. “Sí, Javi, sí!” Your brain is short-circuiting as you hear her moan Javi’s name. You can’t help but let your jaw fall open, shocked that he’d be so bold to rub this in your face. Tears of anger and heartache well in your eyes. You attempt to storm off until you hear your name.

A man screaming your name - Javi screaming your name. Everything goes silent. Your ears are ringing and your body is hot, flooding with emotions as your head spins. There’s no way any of this is happening.

Suddenly, you hear shuffling and shouting from outside. Running to peer out of the small peephole at the top of your front door, your jaw drops again at the scene playing out in front of you. Cassandra, the woman from earlier in the night, is fixing her clothes while screaming at a shirtless Javi in the hallway.

i’m excited for this one! it’s like seeing the novelas in my head come to life on the page lol this is very self-indulgent for me

some moot/npt tags: @joelsgreys @nostalxgic @party-hearses @daydreamingmiller @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @javierpena-inatacvest @amanitacowboy @undrthelights @gracieheartsspedro 🩷

ty @mandoisapunk @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @jenispunk for the wip wednesday tags <333

[ineffabildaddy]

hi everyone<3 personal update incoming for those interested in my writing

i'm not having the best time atm. i've been ill twice in the past month, once with a recurring chest infection. i'm basically the only one present to look out for my mum's wellbeing/mental health, which is hanging by a thread. my job's getting more and more anxiety-inducing for me. also, a few days ago i was evacuated from my flat because there'd been an electrical fire in the building, which has opened a whole new can of worms about electrical safety in my (very old) block, meaning me and my flatmates are displaced indefinitely (though we all have somewhere to stay) while things get fixed and up to an acceptable standard. then there's the usual mental health stuff and managing my neurodivergent brain going on.

i know i don't have to explain why i haven't been writing much lately or updating my wips but i do want to explain because i don't want anyone thinking it's due to a lack of love or enthusiasm, even through all this shit the fandom's undergoing atm. i wish i could be a beacon of light and bring my readers and friends happiness during this time and it's killing me that i haven't been able to provide that.

i love you all and i still love aziraphale and crowley just as much but my capacity is very limited at the moment. i haven't stopped writing by any means but things are slow-going. i'm also still supporting and engaging with other fic writers, and also artists, but updating my blog's also taken a back seat lately.

again, i rly wanna stress how much love i have for u all, and i am still here! just having a bit of a weird one</3 thank you so so much for taking the time to read this<3

[whimsicalpolitical]

for the prompts:

8) sex in exchange for a favour 😬

- b / haveyouseenherlately

love your work so so so much ♥️ thank you for all of it!

Thank YOU!! 💗I love your writing and your blog so much! I’m having so much fun writing all those stories. Thank you for the request, didn’t know if I should’ve written Matty or Ross but I’m gonna go with Matty.

18+MDNI

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“What?!”

“Don’t act so surprised now, love.”

20 minutes until Matty has to go on stage and you thought he could pull some strings to get you and your friend into the VIP section tonight.

Matty is sitting on the couch in front of you, legs spread and a shit eating grin on his face.

“S’not like we haven’t done it before,” he says, grabbing your hand so you’re standing in between his thighs. “Don’t you remember?”

You do remember. You were both drunk at a club and ended up fucking in the bathroom, your leg draped over his hip and Matty burying himself deep inside of you. After that night you got off on the phone once but never had sex again because you thought it was better off that way and you didn’t want to just be one of the girls Matty was fucking.

“We were good,” his hands find their way under your shirt, grabbing your flesh, “so good you had to call me in the middle of the night ‘cause you wanted to cum so hard like you did with me, hm.”

He knows what he’s doing and you also know he’s going to succeed. You’re not going further to get the tickets but because you have the biggest crush on him.

You breathe in sharply when your eyes travel to where Matty’s hand is palming his cock through his jeans. “Need to get off ‘for I go on stage, can get you off as well.”

He’s pulling down the zipper and his pants to his thighs, still moving up and down his shaft. The dusty pink head weeps, dripping pre cum down the shaft as it bobs and flexes at the sight of you biting your lip, cheeks flushed, obviously turned on.

You’re wearing a skirt and Matty’s hand travel under the fabric, “you up f’that?” How could you ever say no to him, you nod and he smacks your side slightly.

“Need words, darling.”

“Yes, yes,” Matty pulls your panties down with one hand, the other still around his cock.

“C’mere,” he tugs you into his lap, your sensitive cunt brushing against his belly, leaving a trail of shiny arousal in its wake. "Think about you every night, you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.”

His words burn wildly through you. All consuming and raging, igniting a searing heat deep in your belly. He lines his cock up with your tight, fluttering hole tempting a soft whimper to bubble up your throat.

“Matty-,” you whine.

“ ‘ve got you,” Matty grips one sturdy hand on your hip and helps you sit on his cock while the other cradles your jaw, fixing his fingers around the back of your neck. "Easy now, slow," he commands with a soft rumble.  

Your lips pull into a tiny 'o', brows pinching tight when Matty shifts, withdrawing his cock before slowly, ever so slowly, spearing it back in and splitting you open. He smirks at your glassy eyes, all wide and wild like an animal caught in a trap.

“You’re as into this as I am,” He drives his cock deeper, thighs bracing the backs of your own on every brutal thrust. Slick trickles down his length as he relentlessly sheathes himself in your heat. “Jerked off to you every -fuck- time.”

You whimper, the image of Matty sitting on this exact couch, coming to the thought of you spurting you on. Your walls clench around him and he bites down onto you shoulder, “turns you on hm?”

You rock slowly, forward and back, little movements of your hips. Matty lifts his head, looking down at where your bodies are connected with dark eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving it a sharp tug that has him hissing your name.

“Fuck Matty.”

The combination of you moaning his name and starting to move more quickly, rolling your body in smooth waves over his, drives him insane. He’s panting as he looks up at you, sweat gathering at his temple, and his hands grip your ass and follow your movement reverently.

“Baby, Shit-“ he moans, throwing his head back.

You speed up, bouncing on his lap now.

“Please touch me Matty,” you whine, already dragging his fingers to your clit, “so close.”

His thumb is immediately finding your clit and circling it with messy movements that drive you wild, that tension in your muscles coiling tighter. Matty’s hips flex into yours with each drop down his length, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of skin against skin and the chorus of whimpers that spill from both of you.

“Matty, Matty, Matty,” you chant. He wraps his arms around you, really thrusting into you now as your own movements falter and you collapse forward, head buried against his neck as you come, trembling with the strength of it.

“Good girl, christ,” It’s not long after that he goes still, cock pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks of your orgasm wash over you. You stay slumped against each other, catching your breaths and waiting for your racing hearts to come back down to earth.

“I’ll get you the tickets,” he says, his hair completely tousled and his pupils dilated. “You earned them,” he winks which makes you roll your eyes.

“Thanks,” you say, “but.” You stop after saying something but he heard your but.

“What, love?” He tilts his head, brushing hair out of your face.

“Didn’t do it for the tickets only.”

He smirks, pulling your lips onto his, “yeah?”

You nod, not knowing what else to say.

“ ‘means I can fuck you whenever I want? Without havin’ this to be a favor?”

“Yeah.”

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog: Wakfu Season 1 (episodes 21-26)

Episode 21 - Igol

This is a big episode because this is where we get the "Adamai knows stasis magic" lore drop that is never elaborated on, or mentioned altogether.

Episode 22 - Rubilax

Someday, someone will complete a translation of the Dofus manga in russian or english and I'll finally learn what's the deal with this man and why he died and got better and how crazy his doomed yaoi with his dead dragon husband gets.

Heartbreakingly, this day is not yet here.

[Kerubim and Goultard crying together over a drink, begin talking at the same time] I miss my dead wife, Goulatrd/Kerubim. I miss her/him a lot.

Big lore: Sleep masks exist in this universe.

Episode 23 - The Quest for the Dofus

He'll get it eventually. I did.

Episode 24 - Reunion

I love their family so much, I wish they could be happy. But every time something changes, it's far too late... It is tragically realistic, I suppose.

I don't know why, but this is such a pretty frame... The soft morning light, the dim room, the plants the glowing mushrooms...

Also, rare moment to take in what the guest rooms look like at the Sadida castle!

This episode (and at least one past episode) has quite a bit of ciphered text that I haven't been translating because I'm evil. Sorry. It's not the same script as the texts in Aux Tresors, despite the similarities, so you'll have to resort to google, or to decoding it yourself. You could start with the fact that this presumably says "Arbe de vie"

Episode 25 - I Am A Legend

Stasis mention 🔥🔥🔥

This whole scene always makes me tear up. I am actually insane and crazed every time I rewatch the last two episodes.

Your insane Joris trivia of the day is that this scene was changed between various airings/versions of Wakfu. For some mysterious reason. Here's a comparison:

I prefer the old version because.... [blushes] [kicks legs] [twiddles with my hair] HES SO PRETTY—- But also besides me being insane and in love with him, it just seems to have better composition and flow, imo.

My theories for why he was late:

He was sent to get reinforcements from other countries, or call for help. Though it is unlikely that many other kingdoms responded, given how little people care about Sadida (the most likely, normal, and realistic explanation)

He went together with the army of Sadida and the king to fight the war and ran all the way here using his insane speed (the second most likely, normal, and realistic explanation)

He overslept

He got lost

He was busy, man...

He was writing a letter to Keke and Atch about how he beat the shit out of some sadida guards and two girls clapped and cheered and lost track of time.

This exchange has always been so funny to me for some reason.

"What is the situation" He says,, while a giant mecha is about to kill what likely amounts to one-twelfth of the world's population.

I have talked about it a lot, but I am so deeply unwell about how cold he is. A girl lost her lover and is crying inconsolably, and he's not really paying that attention. One twelfth of the world population is about to die, and he won't show an ounce of discomfort or horror or grief.

Obviously he doesn't like it, but showing any weakness is out of the question.

More people have died from Ogrest, and she's like, the 60th girl on a battlefield on his memory to be crying after losing someone.

There are no unsolvable issues in this world.

I need to study him like a bug.

Episode 26 - Mount Zinit

Standing so prettily...

I think one of Joris's core "insanity and depression prevention" life philosophies is that, if he is not present at a battle, and can not physically be present, then he's not to blame for any horrible thing that happens.

I think this philosophy works almost never to quell his feelings of unease, and right now he is calculating 132924 ways he could have gotten here faster and just how much it would fix things.

(guy who runs a blog about pointing out obvious things Joris does voice) There's a very subtle expression change here. He starts looking intently as Amalia proposes going to help Yugo and Adamai. He was going to do this. However, the second he hears her yell "no", his expression changes once more.

We don't see whether he rushes to aid Eva in any way after she collapses from grief, but I will be honest — he would never do that.

Even if he has a pre-established good relationship with her. He just can't do that. He probably stands there awkwardly, in that same exact place, and feels very bad the entire time — because he can neither comfort Eva (they're practically strangers, he hesitated far too long, he'll make things worse—), nor go help Yugo (he can't just leave Eva and Ruel alone... What if more enemies appear? Or what if they think he abandoned them amidst grief? And would he even be useful?)

I think standing next to inconsolable people is Joris's personal hell.

I am insane.

I think one of the reasons Wakfu season 1 is so memorable, and so effective, is that there is no glorious pay off.

Yugo has a heroic moment of friendship overpowering everything — and then, after a second of being scared, Nox overtakes him. Nox wins. And that win is a mere 20 minutes. And for what? Pinpin is still dead. Everyone he killed is still dead.

Yugo doesn't get a glorious win, or his friend back. There is no epic swell of music. Just something quiet, foreboding, and truly meaningless.

OMG HI.

Your daily reminder that canonically, Eva is an amazing artist.

💀

Once again, Sadida Kingdom and Bonta have a very good relationship. Besties who hoard magical nukes together stay together.