#stop rats in drain

[mvffinhamster]

ttrpgs fuck you up

everyone says “try out dnd”, including me but dude believe me, dnd fucks you up, ttrpgs fuck you up

there’s this person in your head and you can only scream about them to the other five idiots with their own little guys in their heads

and sometimes you can’t even scream at them because first you have to reveal the backstory you came up with and you don’t want to do that immediately

ttrpgs fuck you up because they make you daydream about your little guy and what happened with them AND YOU CAN’T STOP THE THOUGHTS

try out dnd (or any other ttrpg), they say… but what they don’t say is that it’s all emotional damage

and the worst part of it is that you enjoy every fucking minute of that emotional damage

ttrpgs fuck you up.

[arolesbianism]

I have officially updated my Wendy skilltree concept 👍

[remholder]

man Ford cars fucking suck ASS

[checkeredflagggs]

Three Hearts Left

Pairing: max verstappen x fem!gamer!reader

summary: fans (and friends) are shocked when they find max is married and to who

a/n: I’m only a casual gamer so take it with a grain of salt

a/n 2: sorry it’s a really late - the weather hates me personally (it is actually September and doesn’t need to be 85* 😡) and it drained my creativity also I got hella sick so 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n 3: I know I use the name Twitter when talking about that site. I’ll stop deadnaming it when musk rat does too

a/n 4: still not feeling 100% but I wanted to get this out for max’s bday!!

catpawsgaming

Welcome to the CatTree with the paw prints 🐾 ! I’m just a cat 🐈 mom Lady™ who loves the gaming but not the camera 📷. I’ve been playing games all my life and have been streaming for 3 years — as a hobby, not a full time job. I love my 2 cats, my handsome man, and you 🫵 all my lovely fans. You most definitely make all this worthwhile so mwah mwah 💋💋 (video)

catpawsgaming

liked by user, user, user, and 6,583,455 others

catpawsgaming: here we go! Baldur’s Gate 3 has been highly highly requested — so I bought it! …yesterday and forgot about it cause curse of capitalism I still have my day job 😭 but away we go!

As always, if you didn’t manage to catch my livestream it’ll be on my page and I’ll be uploading it to my YouTube channel tomorrow! My YouTube will have the 3 usual versions (one unedited with my reactions, one with just the game play, and one with no sound at all but with closed captions)

Next stream date and game tbh announced but will probably be this Sunday with Animal Crossing (fingers crossed 🤞🤞 I finally get a good turnip price 😭😭 Daisy Mae hasn’t been kind to me lately…)

view all comments

user1: guuuurrrrrrrllll it’s about time you got bg3! We been waiting

↳ catpawsgaming: definitely worth the wait though! I had so much fun and it was so hard to stop for the night

↳ user2: for sure it was 🤣 your reactions to shadowheart and astarion were hilarious

↳ catpawsgaming: they clocked my type on point

user3: glad we convinced you to become a bard! You’ll rock it 💙

↳ catpawsgaming: ok but this the closest you will get me to actually performing so enjoy it while it lasts

↳ user3: not gonna sing along?

↳ catpawsgaming: 🤣🤣🤣 🫵 🤡

↳ catpawsgaming: absolutely not.

↳ catpawsgaming: also handsome just bust out laughing at the thought of me singing so…🙄🙄🙄 he’s lucky I love him

↳ handsome: I am very lucky liefje

↳ user3: ahhhh we were so close to her singing but also awwww cause handsome is here!!

handsome: liefje this was amazing

↳ catpawsgaming: thank you 🥰🥰

↳ catpawsgaming: but also you were laughing at me the entire night so…

↳ catpawsgaming: not sure how much I believe you

↳ handsome: well I didn’t say it was good…

↳ catpawsgaming: 🤨😒😔😢

↳ handsome: 🥰🥰🥰

user4: oh to have a man that will spend hours with you doing separate hobbies together…

↳ catpawsgaming: gotta admit it’s the dream

↳ handsome: you’re the dream liefje

↳ user4: ok there handsome, no need to get sappy here on MY comment thread

Private Messages

mv1updates

liked by user, user, user, and 2,833,736 others

mv1updates: Max was streaming today! Just a short one but highly entertaining. Jimmy (or Sassy? I’m honestly baffled and for the life of me can’t tell them apart 😢) caused a small disturbance in the middle of his stream then slept the rest away in Max’s lap 😍

view all comments

user5: that was sooooo adorable!! Love seeing more cat dad Max

↳ user6: same! And don’t feel bad admin - I can’t tell them apart either

user7: to be Jimmy…🥵

↳ user8: right? What I wouldn’t give to be sleeping away in his lap…

↳ user9: blessed be. His damn thighs man 😳

user10: ok but am I the only one that heard a female voice in the background?

↳ user11: I THOUGHT I WAS GOING INSANE?? Like there was definitely someone there

↳ user12: wait when?

↳ user10: when max turned the camera to show jimmy on top

Private Messages

catpawsgaming

liked by user, user, user, and 5,822,944 others

catpawsgaming: and Daisy Mae delivered this week! Sunday I got a price of 90 and today!! Selling price of turnips is 658 this evening!! Woohoo!

I've got my usual set up going to allow visitors to sell and I’ll be playing for about 4 or 5 hours so let’s make some cash today! I just ask you be respectful of my island.

As always, if you didn’t manage to catch my livestream it’ll be on my page and I’ll be uploading it to my YouTube channel tomorrow! My YouTube will have the 3 usual versions (one unedited with my reactions, one with just the game play, and one with no sound at all but with closed captions)

My week is looking pretty busy (a lot of traveling happening) so my next stream will probably be sometime next week and I’ll be playing Horizon: Zero Dawn! Its sequel will be coming out soon and I want to replay the first to refamiliarize myself with the game!

view all comments

user13: yeessssss! I’ve been holding out that someone would have some fantastic selling prices this week! New house upgrade here I come!

↳ user14: oh don’t I know it! It’s been a downward slump all week for me — the high was 105 😭😭

↳ user13: ouch 🤕

user15: did anyone else hear the cat meowing in the background!

↳ user16: yes! Catpaws has got a couple of cats — they’re almost never on stream (they don’t like staying in one place for long) but catpaws got them right before they started streaming!

↳ catpawsgaming: 2 of them! They’re my babies! 🐈🐈

↳ user15: awwwww 😍😍

user17: can I say something? Is this a safe place?

↳ user18: it is not but say it anyway

↳ user17: it totally looks like she’s got a wedding ring on in the beginning of this stream

↳ user18: nurse! She’s out again

↳ user19: no no no let her cook. I totally thought the same. It was literally just a glimpse but I swear that she had a ring on

↳ user17: thank you! I knew I wasn’t crazy

↳ user19: but! That does mean our catpaws is married!!!!!

↳ user17: 😱

↳ user18: 😱

↳ user19: 😱

↳ catpawsgaming: 😉

↳ handsome: 💙

↳ user17: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?

catpawsupdates

liked by user, user, user, and 3,126,918 others

catpawsupdates: we’ve had a couple of requests lately asking about catpawsgaming and her cats! These are the first and last photo we’ve gotten — she’s incredibly secretive about them so we don’t know if this is the same cat in both photos or if she has 2 bengals (peep also handsome in the first photo. Catpaws was laughing when she posted that photo cause she’s usually the passenger princess)

view all comments

user20: I LOVE THEM

↳ user21: same! Insert that meme. “I’ve only had them for a day but if anything happened to them I kill everyone else then myself”

↳ user22: extreme but agreeable.

user23: that’s sassy - I’d bet money on it

↳ user24: sassy? What? Who?

↳ user23: sassy verstappen! F1 world champion max verstappen’s cat

↳ user24: ummm? This is a page for a small time gamer catpawsgaming

↳ user23: listen. Torture couldn’t get me to admit how long I’ve spent staring at pictures and videos of jimmy and sassy. But that is absolutely sassy!

↳ user17: I’m connecting the dots as I type

↳ user18: you’re not connecting shit

↳ user17: CONNECTING THE DOTS AS I TYPE

Private Messages

Twitter

Private Messages

catpawsgaming

liked by user, user, user, and 3,712,222 others

catpawsgaming: tonight’s stream is gonna be a little late — I’m currently being held hostage by the cutest kidnapper ever

view all comments

user24: awwww

user25: your right. You simply can’t move!

↳ catpawsgaming: completely pinned down!

↳ user25: I don’t think anyone is gonna have a problem with your steam being late tonight

↳ user26: I’ve spoken to the council and we don’t! In fact we all vote for a stream of literally just the cat

↳ catpawsgaming:…you know that is an idea

↳ user26: omg. OMG. OH MY GOD!!

user23: THATS JIMMY!! I SWEAR ON MY LIFE

↳ user27: ok grandma. Let’s get you back to bed

handsome: so that’s where the little troublemaker is

↳ user28: omg hi handsome! Where’ve you been?

↳ catpawsgaming: ok I love all my fans but plz stop flirting with my man

↳ user28: can I flirt with you instead?

↳ catpawsgaming: 😳

↳ handsome: no

Private Messages

Twitter

user29: ITS MAX VERSTAPPEN AND CATPAWSGAMING!!!! I TOLD YOU ALL

↳ user30: ok but are we really gonna take a gossip page as the truth?

user31: OH MY GOD THAT CRAZY FAN WAS RIGHT?!?

↳ catpawsgamingfan: I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOOOOUUUUU

view all comments

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 8,345,765 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: liefje I know this is not how we wanted to share our love with the world but a light in the darkness is now I get to talk about how much I love you and how you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. These past 5 years have been a dream come true — and it’s been a dream I never knew I had. Seeing you that first time, you took my breath away. Forget the trophies and the victories, the world championships and titles I’ve won — becoming your husband has topped every single one of them. I can’t imagine my life without you anymore and I wouldn’t ever want to

comments have been restricted on this post

yourusername: oh my handsome man…you are the light of my life, the moon in my night, the stars in the sky, the best husband ever and the most loving cat dad I could have ever wanted to spend my life with. Thank you thank you thank you for picking me and staying with me and fighting for me and with me 💋💋

[toxicanonymity]

rat in a cage.

1.2k, m!ghostface x f!reader | slasher master

A/N: This is NOT the Every Inch ghostface/universe. This is a completely standalone one shot. SUMMARY: Ghostface is pursuing you. When you both get trapped in a lab on campus, you make a temporary truce. WARNINGS: I8+ Dubcon P in V, cockwarming, degradation, choking, creampie, lab rats in the building, huddling for warmth lmaoo, reader can sit on him and be partially lifted.

Before you realized you were both trapped in the building, you got into a scuffle and caused his knife to fall down a drain in the floor. He got on top of you, pinned you with his weight, and choked you, but it wasn't a choke to kill. His gloved hand was applying just enough pressure in just the right places to feel good. That's when it hit you that he didn't want to kill you. He could've snapped you like a twig from that position if he wanted.

You smiled, and he released your throat.

“Mm,” you sighed. “take off your mask if ya wanna kiss me that bad.”

Ghostface tilted his head and looked at you. The voice modulator kicked in. “what makes you think I want that filthy mouth on me?” He grabbed your jaw and squeezed your mouth open. He brought his other gloved hand to your lips and gagged you with two gloved fingers.

"I asked you a question," he prodded.

"I 'unno" you mumbled into his fingers and reached for his crotch, trying to wedge your hand between your torsos. His fingers slid out of your mouth and his hand flew to your wrist to stop you. He pinned your hands above your head, one of his gloves wet with your saliva.

“You don't wanna kill me,” you breathed.

You seemed to have him at a loss for words. He was a different guy without his knife -- still menacing, but not lethal.

“Not tonight." He got up and left you on the ground. He swiftly made for the exit, robe trailing behind him.

But the door was locked. Awkward.

—

Now you've been trapped long enough that he’s run out of clever, taunting things to say, so he just doesn't talk. The main sound is lab rats squeaking and trying to burrow for warmth in their enclosure. It's cold in this building. You don't have sleeves and your legs are bare, too.

Ghostface sits against the wall with his knees up. You're shivering in a corner by yourself, replaying your interactions with Ghostface in your mind. Has he ever really, truly hurt you? He's had chances to kill you. Why didn't he? Your teeth start chattering.

Eventually he sighs and says "Get over here." You look at him, pondering it. He opens his arms and adds, “This offer expires in thirty seconds.”

You scurry over to him, planning to sit between his knees but he straightens his legs out so they're together, and he lifts up his robe for you to get underneath. He's wearing joggers and a matching sweatshirt underneath. You're more scantily clad. "Why don't you just give me the robe," you ask.

"Don't press your luck," he answers.

You duck under his robe and straddle his thighs with your knees on the floor. "You're gonna wanna get closer than that, little rat."

You scoot forward and he lets the robe down on top of you. It's a little heavier and warmer than you imagined. When he's chasing after you, it moves like it weighs nothing.

It's pitch black under his robe. He wraps his arms around you and hugs you into him so your crotch meets his. You gasp when you feel the shape of his warm package against your crotch. "Feel somethin’ ya like?" He asks.

"You're warm," you answer, laying your cheek on his chest with your eyes closed under his robe. "Who are you?"

His laugh is as dark as it is quiet.

You tuck your arms under your chest and he keeps his arms wrapped around you. He smells good. A woodsy, minty scent. He caresses you as he holds you. God, he feels like. . .a man. A real man. His breaths get deeper, his chest rising under you. It happens gradually, but at some point there's no mistaking the bulge you're sitting on is hard, and it's for you. He brings his arms into the robe. His gloved hands pull your skirt up over your ass with a soft grunt not caught by the voice changer. Then he takes his gloves off.

His hands are huge and warm on your bare ass cheeks. He kneads them and his hips lift under you, the swell of his hard cock making you dizzy with need under the pitch black darkness of his robe. You sigh and he wedges a finger under your pointless little thong and snaps it. You reach back to un-wedge it from your ass cheeks and when you pull it out, he slips his finger between your ass and the garment. He slides his finger all the way down, under you, until he reaches your wet little hole. You're beginning to gush.

He sighs, then the voice changer says - "You're making a mess on me, princess."

He lifts you with a grunt, then pulls his joggers down under his cock. He sets you back down, angling you strategically so your front meets his smooth, thick shaft. It's throbbing and burning hot, right between your legs. You sigh. His hands return to your ass and he moves your body, grinding you against his hard cock a few times.

Then, to your horror, you help him take it further. You pull your thong to the side as he lifts you and notches himself at your entrance. You whimper as your cunt swallows his tip, then your body spreads itself apart for him as you sink down his thick shaft. Ghostface shudders and you gasp when your bodies are flush.

“Good,” he whispers in a deep, human voice. Your body accommodates him and you get even wetter. You begin to move, needing to fuck yourself on his cock, but he holds you down and makes you still. “Sit,” he commands at full volume ghostface voice. “Stay.” The hair on your neck stands up.

You sit still on his cock.

“Good,” he says, then adds, "Hmm." He pats your head where it rests on his shoulder.

You sit there in his lap, wrapped around the body of this man, in total darkness under his robe, absolutely full of his cock. You relax enough that you begin to get sleepy. You yawn.

You sit there for what feels like an eternity. You feel stretched out, even after you relax. Your walls occasionally twitch around him, and his cock throbs and moves inside you. You’re cozy under his robe, comfortable in his arms, and throbbing on his cock. The warmth of his robe and the feeling of his arms around you lull you to sleep.

Almost as soon as you drift off, he thrusts his hips up and jolts you awake with the punch of his cock. He braces one hand on the floor and has the other arm around you. He leans back so you're held against his chest and he's fucking up into you. He grunts and sighs and the modulator harshly spits, “yeah, you're a good little bitch.”

He keeps fucking you from the bottom, and you feel a heat bubbling in the pit of your belly as his big cock pistons into you. Then he holds you tight against him and fucks you slower, grinding your pubic bone against his, and it's rubbing your clit and making you spasm. "You like that?" He asks.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes, then his voice is changed again. “Gonna make me cum if you're not careful.”

His words make you clench down as you see stars. You moan into his sweatshirt, and the pleasure pulses from your clit as your whole body jerks and your cunt chokes his cock. You're not finished coming when Ghostface holds you down.

You try to get off him, but he holds you down harder and erupts, filling you with his hot seed. You can't deny how good it feels with him pulsing inside you as your own climax wanes. At least you're alive, you think. At least Plan B exists.

When you begin to get off his cock, he doesn't let you. He keeps you plugged, impaled on him, long enough that you both fall asleep.

----

thank you for reading. my main ghostface series, unrelated to this one shot, is Every Inch.

i have a michael blurb with a kinda similar premise here. idk why i'm into this scenario but i guess i am lol.

[sturnioz]

─── ⵌ some goofy and funny moments between shy!reader and fratboy!chris. authors note. keeping you readers happy <3 you are welcome (also im using her nickname 'bun' in this as its a lil easier for me to explain things but she'll always be shy!reader ok ? ok.)

★ bun once wanted to see chris' cock when soft just cos she was super curious, and chris surprisingly let her (he was faded out of his mind so he didn't give a fuck) but when she murmured how much it looks like some sort of naked mole rat, chris got offended and almost threw her across the room.

☆ chris speaks with expressions most of the time. so there was a moment during a frat party where a student wanted drugs but didn't have the money to buy, so he was drunkenly hyping up chris and slurring his words making a fool out of himself and chris slowly turned his head to bun with the most diabolical look on his face and bun ended up giggling abt it the entire night.

★ bun once got super drunk at a frat party and fake fought chris in his room for whatever fucking reason and chris got annoyed and she cried when he put her in a headlock.

☆ bun sometimes sleep talks and one night, she said that someone was standing in the corner of the room and chris was ready to fight the invisible intruder (he almost shit his pants but he would never admit that out loud)

★ chris once got forced to bake with bun for an event the frat house had to hold (he had to do something he couldn't sit around and do nothing which he hated) and he got so frustrated with bun and her instructions that he accidentally squeezed the icing tube so hard that it exploded all over him.

☆ bun can get a little distracted when she sees something she likes and during an outing with a few other people, she saw a stray cat that she wanted to pet but chris grabbed the back of her shirt and hauled her back to the group before they could leave without her.

★ bun is obsessed with sonny angels and chris stared one down for abt five minutes cos he finds them creepy. (also threatens to throw them out the window if she doesn't stop leaving them around his bedroom).

☆ chris once peed on bun's leg in the shower (on accident, he claims. he was 'trying' to aim for the drain) and he almost had whiplash from how fast bun tried to punch him. like ? it came out of no where ?

© STURNIOZ

[wileys-russo]

frido "stop picking me up when you don't get your way" tall frido supremacy 😌

drowned rat II f.rolfö

you exhaled happily at the way your skin felt like it was near glowing, bathed in the radiantly warm glow of the mallorca sun. you could practically feel every little thought from your head draining like water from a tub the longer you lay there.

a tiny voice in the back of your head told you to flip over, or maybe apply a new layer of sunscreen, but they were drowned out by the much louder more dominant voice reminding you were just so comfortable.

"you will burn if you lay here much longer." you were pulled from your semi drowzy state by a new voice of reason, one which no matter what you simply couldn't ignore as you turned your head to the side and cracked open an eye.

"they call it sun baking, not sun burning." you mumbled with a lazy smile, the blonde laid down beside you chuckling but still her gaze bore into you knowingly.

"can you do my back for me?" you sighed giving in, laughing as within seconds the swede was up and on her feet, rifling through the tote bag you'd brought for the little blue bottle.

"oh please do get comfortable." you teased feeling her sit down on the back of your thighs, words muffled as you rested your chin on your forearms. "fridolina!" you hissed a little louder as her hand smacked then massaged your bikini covered ass.

"what? we don't want this burnt do we älskade?" your girlfriend tutted, though quickly moving her strong hands to massage the sunscreen into your upper back instead as you hummed skeptically.

"you are going to get us kicked off the beach again." you warned with a roll of your eyes, sneakily taking her sunglasses which sat abandoned on her towel next to yours and slipping them on.

"that was one time and it was a harmless accident." the older girl grumbled and you smiled imagining the embarrassed blush which would be coating her cheeks.

"mmm yes it is hilarious when your girlfriend unties your bikini top and exposes your breasts to several small children and you get a letter in the mail from council fining you for public indecency." you grumbled at the memory.

"that better be a cough and not a laugh rolfö!" you warned sharply hearing her snicker, turning your head to glare up at her, eyes shielded by the sunglasses covering your face.

"i said i was very very sorry." the blonde leaned down to tenderly kiss your shoulder blade as you scoffed, her large hands still softly massaging the cream into your sun kissed skin.

"no you did not. you paid the fine, laughed in my face and very proudly told everyone at training the next day!" you reminded hearing her snicker again, a couple of soft taps to the back of your neck indicating she was done.

"well then i am now saying i am very very sorry?" "mhm, sure darling." you hummed, reaching around to pat her side in thanks, knowing all too well she was not in fact sorry and you wouldn't put it past her to do it again.

"come for a swim? the water is gorgeous." you felt her get up off of you, her foot poking your side as you swatted it away with a shake of your head. "not yet, maybe later." you declined, far too happy in the sun, your girlfriend often teasing you were actually solar powered.

"you said that earlier! kom igen, en snabb simtur." she pleaded in swedish, normally something which was sure to break your resolve finding it incredibly attractive but today seemed to be the exception as you wordlessly shook your head and made no move to get up.

"later." you repeated, eyes closing and exhaling happily, assuming she would just take herself to cool off as she had done earlier. "now?" or, no such luck.

"i just said no!" "no, you said later. it is now later."

"why are you being so insistent? we're on holidays baby, just relax." you sighed, eyes closing again as silence fell though you could feel her shadow lingering over you.

"you are blocking my sun rolfö, that is a dangerous game." you warned, but before you could say another word you felt yourself being lifted into the air and scrambled to grab the loose ties of the back of your bikini, very much not eager for a repeat of last time but also quite keen to avoid tan lines where you could.

"fridolina put me down!" you demanded, hoisted up and over her shoulder like a sack of potatos, cheeks flushing red with colour as wary eyes watched you from strangers sat a few feet away on the sand.

"like you said hjärtat we are on holidays! it is so warm, i think you need to cool off." her tone was teasing and your pleas to be put down fell on deaf ears as she strode across the sand toward the ocean.

"okay okay you win! just put me down and let me adjust at my own speed, please?" you pleaded as she arrived at the waters edge, wading in until the water hit her upper thigh and you sighed in relief when she came to a stop.

"oh you want me to put you down?" you heard the grin in her voice even if you were facing the other way. "don't you dare!" your hand smacked against her toned bare back with a loud crack of warning knowing exactly what the taller girl was thinking.

"baby i am just doing what you tell me! so fussy." the blonde tutted in her accented english and you whined and huffed your annoyance with her as she waded in even deeper.

grabbing onto the waistband of her bikini bottoms you yanked them upwards in a final desperate attempt to stop her, however it would seem that worked even more against you as with a yelp of surprise sounding from the blonde your body was plunged into the freezing depths.

your feet pushed up against the sandy bank and you surfaced with a splutter, your hair covering your face as you gasped trying to catch your breath which had been snatched from you with the sudden temperature change, never having been one for the cold unlike your proud scandi girlfriend.

"a wedgie? you give me a wedgie?" the blonde in question laughed, pushing a small wave of water in your direction as half of it filled your mouth and you choked, spitting it out and glaring at her as best you could through the hair which covered your face.

"so immature raring, really." frido sighed sarcastically with a shake of her head as you scoffed, launching yourself at her and dunking her head back under the water managing to catch her off guard.

"immature? i am the immature one?" you grunted, trying to dunk her again but squealing as she stood up to her full height, body wet and slippery as you tried to cling on but she threw you back into the water without any sort of struggle.

"stop picking me up when you don't get your way!" you warned, flicking your head back as your hair finally flew out of your face and you exhaled, body slowly adjusting to the oceans low temperature and admittedly now it was quite pleasant once you had.

"aw but you are so small baby, like a cute little mouse." the blonde swam closer and cooed teasingly, earning herself a glare as her hands found the back of your thighs, settling herself in the water and pulling your legs to wrap around her waist.

"eller en dränkt råtta." the defender grinned, walking out a little deeper still holding onto you as you pushed your hair to the side of your head and narrowed your eyes.

"a drowned rat she says!" you scoffed smacking her shoulder playfully as she let out a loud pelt of laughter, looking at you with a cheeky grin you couldn't help but melt at.

"oh your swedish is getting very good." "we have been together for nearly three years! rövhål."

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Ẁ̴̧̼̟͕̱̜̞͈̩̱̤̺̖̗̌̌̓͒̓͂̇ͅò̸̟̯͂̍̀̈́̂̚ͅǘ̷̢̧͈̦͙̖̼̟̮̯̝͎̒̈́͜ͅļ̴̮̲͈̤̲̣̊̈́̎̃͆̈͆̔͆̑̇̅̋d̷̢̛͈̲̳͕̮̟͍̬͍̪͖̈̄̓̇n̵̳̫̹̥̼̄̊̽͜'̶̢̛̳̘̗͔̯̖̥̝̙̥̲͍̩̝̍̒̎̃̑̅͊̂͊͝t̷̨̧͉̫̠̻͚̣͉͖͐̊̊̀̈́ ̵̦̬̫͐͐͊͑̆̓͆̏̄͆̇́̚͘͠Y̷̨̢̡̱͚̼͚̰̠̱̤̖͍̑͊̉̽́ͅơ̶̡̦̫̬̪̯͎̹̈̍̊̇͛̅̚̚ü̷̜̞͇̳̯̯̺͎̦̠̑͒̍̌̅͛́͌̅̃̽̕͝��͕͕͎ ̶̡̝͙̟͖̠̯̹̤͖̣̎̋̄͐̂̚͠L̸̠̞͕̳͖̥̩͙̬̰͈̱̩̳̍i̸̫͙̍́̏̎̓͊̌͑ͅk̶̩̞͈̖͔̓̏͘ẻ̶͈̱͇̪̺̬̑̈̂̑̾̐͐̿̌͜?̷̧̭̖̺̻͖̣̖̺̻͂͝

Original Post Storm

The water was slow to rise.

That didn't mean that it wasn't a threat, but it was a slow one. The rain was much worse. Burning upon contact with skin, the rain poured down on Gotham, and left Damian and Grayson isolated from the rest of the family. Civilians scattered like rats under the burning rain, hiding under awnings that were already starting to dissolve and in buildings if they were lucky.

Grayson had taken the initiative to steal a few umbrellas that they used to jump from roof overhang to overhang, the flimsy fabric barely protecting them in the moments under open sky.

Damian tried both his coms again, then his phone. Only static remained. "There's still no signal. Richard, we need to hurry back to the Manor; if Father is in danger--"

"We wouldn't be able to make it," Grayson said, eyeing the streets. Lazarus water bubbled from the storm drains, flooding the roads. They hurried on. "Our tires would melt before we could get halfway to Bristole. There's a safehouse nearby where we can regroup--"

"Richard!" It was hard to see through the glowing rain, but just beyond the building they were hiding under was- "There's a break in the rain in Robinson Park." While the flood was lapping at the grass, not a speck of water fell over the park.

Richard frowned. "That's suspicious."

Damian and Richard, speckled with burns, made their way through the eerie silence that had settled over Robinson Park. Not a sound could be heard inside the park, like the world had gone silent. No other people had made it here yet, and there were no animals around, Damian noticed with a pang of guilt.

Then... a laugh.

His hands quickly found the knives tucked away on his body. "Who's there!?" Damian demanded despite Richard's protests that it could be a civilian. It laughed again with that same distorted quality that Danyal's voice gained in the Pit. "Show yourself."

"I must say! I didn't think you'd make it this far." Behind them floated... a woman. A girl, younger than Damian, yet she looked just like the monster pretending to be Danyal. She smirked. "You're very stubborn."

"Who are you?" Why does she look like-

"Just a friend!" She quickly reassured. "You could say I'm... invested in the continued survival of Gotham."

"So, you know what's happening?"

"I know what's happening, why it's happening, and what you can do to stop it." She floated onto her back, the picture of faked relaxation. "Though, at the moment, I'm not particularly inclined to spill. Sorry."

Damian's grip tightened on his knives. "If you know how to stop this, then tell us," he demanded, his voice laced with frustration and urgency.

The girl—this eerie mimic of Danyal—rolled her eyes playfully, kicking her feet as she floated in the air. "Impatient, aren't we? But where’s the fun in just handing over all the answers? You’re on the right track, though. Keep going, and maybe you’ll figure it out."

"Enough games!" Richard snapped, stepping forward, his fists clenched. "This city is drowning—people are going to die! If you can help, then help us!"

The girl’s smile didn’t waver, but something in her eyes hardened. "Oh, I am helping. You just don’t realize it yet." She flipped upright, hovering just above the ground now, her gaze locking onto Damian's. "You see, big brother, this isn’t just about you or me. This is about Danyal—he’s lost, confused. And unless you do something, he’ll destroy everything."

Damian stiffened at the word "brother," his mind racing. "You’re lying. Danyal is—"

"More than the Danyal you knew," she finished for him, her voice softening with something like sympathy. "He’s changed. Did your mummy ever tell you that she put him in the Lazarus Pit your grandfather has?" Damian could feel Richard's questioning gaze. "No, she probably didn't. Not after he never resurfaced."

"Then... that's the real Danyal?" Damian asked quietly.

She shrugged. "As real as he can be. But he's not the one you knew. Older. Younger. The Pit did something to him, something that made him… different. More powerful, more dangerous."

Richard exchanged a wary glance with Damian. "If that’s true, then why are you here? What do you want from us?"

The girl chuckled, floating closer. "I’m here to make sure you survive this. After all, if you die too soon, the story ends, and we can’t have that, can we?" She circled around them, her movements languid, almost lazy. "The city will return to normal once Danyal gets what he wants. And what he wants, dear friend, is you." She reached out to poke his nose, but Damian slapped her hand away.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. "Why are you helping us? What do you gain?"

She paused, considering the question, before shrugging lightly. "Let’s just say I have a vested interest in keeping the balance. I’m not your enemy, Damian. I’m just… an observer. A guide, if you will."

The rain continued to pour just beyond the borders of the park, the glowing drops hissing as they hit the ground. Damian could feel the heat from the Lazarus Waters creeping closer, the edge of the park growing dim and distorted.

"You said you know how to stop this," Damian pressed. "What do we need to do?"

The girl smiled, a wicked gleam in her eye. "First, you’ll need to survive. The Lazarus Waters will burn you alive if you don’t take precautions. Deeper in the park, you’ll find Blood Blossoms. They are an extinct plant that has power over the undead... and will prevent the water from hurting you. Eat them—they’ll protect you from the worst of it."

Richard frowned. "Why should we trust you."

She shrugged again. "Trust me, mistrust me. It's up to you. But the longer you stand here arguing, the closer those waters get, and the sooner you’ll be dead." She pointed toward the heart of the park. "The Blood Blossoms grow there. Hurry, before it’s too late."

Damian hesitated; all of his training screamed at him not to trust her. But she was right. They really didn't have a choice. With a curt nod to Richard, they turned and sprinted deeper into the park, the eerie silence swallowing their footsteps.

As they disappeared into the shadows, the girl—Dani—hovered in place, watching them go. Her playful demeanor faded, replaced by something darker, more serious.

"Danny," she whispered to herself, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I hope you know what you're doing, Damian Al Ghul. I hope you know what you need to do to save him."

With a final glance at the retreating figures, she dissolved into the night, her form flickering out of existence as the rain continued to pour down on the drowning city.

[theostrophywife]

little dove.

pairing: tom riddle x reader.

song inspiration: if u think i'm pretty by artemas.

author's note: can't believe this is my first tom fic, but please know that this man awakens the feral, unhinged side of me. let me slytherin to your chamber of secrets and ride that basilisk tommy 😏

This was a stupid, idiotic, and terrible idea. 

Unfortunately for you, those were the conditions in which Harry and Ron worked best under. In your defense, you tried to talk them out of the prank, but the boys were determined to leave their mark. You suppose you could’ve told Hermione, but you didn’t want to interrupt her date with Draco. When it came to talking sense into their thick skulls, you were completely and utterly alone. 

After much argument, you finally accepted that you weren’t going to get anywhere with Harry and Ron. The only thing you could do was supervise their reckless pursuits and minimize the damage as much as possible. So here you were, sneaking into the dungeons under the cover of darkness. 

“This will be the best seventh year prank yet,” Ron whispered as he trailed close behind. “Fred and George are going to be so jealous.” 

“If we don’t die from the cold first,” Harry quipped sarcastically, slightly shivering underneath the invisibility cloak draped over the three of you. “The Slytherins really take the whole cold-blooded thing quite literally, don’t they?” 

You huffed in response, trying your best to muffle your steps. “Can we please focus on not getting caught? We need to be in and out of the dungeons before the prefects start their patrols.” 

The boys nodded as you inched further into the serpent’s nest. Luckily, the corridor that housed Professor Snape’s office was empty. You held your breath as you began to unravel the wards protecting the entrance. You had to give it to him, Snape was incredibly thorough when it came to his security measures. Good thing you were an expert on unlocking charms. 

With a final flick of your wand, the door gave way and creaked open. Ron and Harry wore matching grins as the three of you spilled into the office. Closing the door behind you, Harry’s green eyes crinkled with mischief. 

“Let’s get started.” 

Surprisingly, Harry and Ron’s half-arsed plan was actually coming together. The three of you worked in silence, the boys handing you paints and supplies at the snap of your fingers. After a few more strokes, you flicked your paintbrush over the wall and cocked your head to examine your work. Nearly every single surface of Professor Snape’s office was covered in your illustrations—technically vandalism according to wizarding law. 

The drawings, imbued with the same magic that powered the moving portraits, depicted caricatures of Professor Snape, all of which scurried like rats along the walls, hurtling globs of paint at one another. The head of Slytherin house was going to have a fit when he saw what you’d done to his office. You almost wished you could be there in the morning to witness the look on Snape’s face when he uncovered your masterpiece.

“Bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he packed up the paints and brushes. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Y/N.” 

Harry chuckled and nudged your shoulder. “See? You do have a taste for trouble, after all.” 

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me clean up so we can go.” 

As you carefully wiped the office of any trace of the three of you, Harry suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. You looked up, ready to scold him for idling, but fell silent when you saw the panicked expression on his face. 

“What is it?” you asked quietly. 

Harry held up his hand and slowly opened the door, peeking out into the darkness. A muffled clicking that sounded an awful lot like footsteps echoed from the corridor. “Do you hear that?” 

Ron cursed lowly. “The prefects must’ve started their rounds early.” 

You peered over Harry’s shoulder and felt the color drain from your face. “It’s not the prefects,” you said, swallowing thickly. “It’s the Head Boy.” 

Both the boys swore under their breaths. You steeled yourself, knowing that panic was not going to get you anywhere. As quietly as possible, you retrieved Harry’s cloak and beckoned the boys underneath it. 

“We’re so fucked,” Ron mumbled. 

“No, we’re not,” you chided sternly. “Get under the cloak and don’t make a sound.” 

Harry scooted in beside you, clutching the invisible fabric over his shoulders. “Do you have a plan?” 

You nodded. “Run like hell and don’t get caught.” 

“That’s a bloody terrible plan!” said Ron. 

With a glare, you tugged the redhead underneath the cloak. “Then please, let us hear your brilliant idea, Ronald.” Ron stayed quiet, his freckled face etched with fear. “That’s what I thought. Now stay close and for Merlin’s sake, try not to stomp around like a damned erumpent.”

Stupid. 

Idiotic. 

Terrible. 

Every ounce of apprehension you felt earlier that night came rushing back as the three of you cowered in the darkness. It was pitch-black in the corridor, but you didn’t dare cast lumos for fear of getting caught. Thankfully, a small light up ahead provided you with a vague sense of direction. You remembered passing the lit emerald sconce on the way down. All you had to do was get back to the entrance without running into the head boy. 

The glimmer of hope became clearer and clearer as you neared the stairs that would lead you out of the dungeons. You were so close. Barely a few metres away from freedom. 

Just as you thought you were safe, Ron knocked into a table, sending one of the snake sculptures guarding the alcove to the common room tumbling. The marble cracked against the concrete, breaking into a million pieces just like your hope of escaping. 

“Run!” you huffed, urging the boys to go on. 

A solid plan if you hadn’t been nearly blind in the dark. You could hear the shuffling of footsteps beside you. Three sets belonging to you, Harry, and Ron, while an unknown fourth inched closer and closer. Whoever it was wasn’t running, but they were definitely in pursuit. 

You stumbled through the dark, nearly tripping over your own feet. From up ahead, you could hear Harry and Ron urging you on. As you broke into a sprint, paints and brushes came spilling out of your satchel. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve abandoned your art supplies, but leaving them behind would fully incriminate the three of you. In the time it took to pick up the damning evidence, you stopped hearing your friend’s voices. 

It would’ve worried you, but in all honesty, you were relieved. If you could no longer hear the boys, then that meant they made it safely out of the serpent’s nest. A feat in itself given their track record. Those two couldn’t be inconspicuous if they tried. Without the need to worry for them, you were confident that you’d be able to slip out undetected. 

In hindsight, you were perhaps a tad bit overconfident. You were great at sneaking around, but apparently not good enough to slip the head boy’s notice. As soon as you started to creep past the dormitories, you ran into a wall that hadn’t been there before. 

Except it wasn’t a wall. 

It was a strong, firm chest. A chest that belonged to none other than Tom Riddle. 

Leave it to your terrible luck to run straight into the arms of the scariest boy in the castle. 

Determined not to cower, you lifted your chin defiantly and faced Tom head on. “Head Boy,” you greeted in acknowledgment. 

Emerald eyes unflinchingly surveyed you, that intense green stare sweeping from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. Beneath the faint glow of the Black Lake pouring in through the stained glass windows, you could’ve easily mistaken Tom Riddle for an angel. He looked like an illustration straight out of the Sistine Chapel. Beautiful, intricate, perfect. 

Yet utterly terrifying. 

Danger prickled at your skin as Tom’s lips curved into a sinister smirk. “My, my, what do we have here? A little dove out of her cage.” 

You bristled as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his voice a seductive caress. It was low, husky, and a little rough around the edges. Just like its speaker. Tom plucked a paintbrush out of your satchel and examined it between his fingers. “I saw what you did to Snape’s office. Quite artistic, aren’t you?” 

A part of you considered denying it, but it would’ve been a futile attempt. There was paint splattered all over your skirt and flecks of it were already drying on your skin. Tom had quite literally caught you red handed. The only thing you could do was to own up to it and face whatever consequences came as a result of your foolish actions. 

“Are you going to turn me in to the headmaster?” 

Tom shook his head, his brown wavy hair falling over one eye. “Not until I catch your two helpers.” 

Panic seized your body. It may be too late for you, but Tom hadn’t seen either Harry or Ron. There was a chance they could come out of this unscathed. 

“I was alone,” you declared with your chin held high. “There was no one else with me.” 

Anger contorted Tom’s handsome features. Those emerald eyes lit up in flames as he backed you into a wall, bracketing each side of your head with his arms as he leaned down. You tried not to cower under the intensity of his stare, but gods was it hard. Tom towered a good foot over you and as if that weren’t intimidating enough, he also blocked every possibility of escape with his body. 

“Don’t lie to me, little dove,” Tom growled, tilting your chin up with one hand. “I heard three sets of footsteps running through the corridor.” 

You swallowed thickly, praying to Merlin to grant you the ability to flawlessly lie your arse off. “I swear, it was just me. No one else. I did it all by myself.” 

Tom hummed as if unconvinced. “Well, you’re certainly on your own now. Your idiotic friends left you down in the dungeons all alone. Don’t you know that dangerous things lurk in the dark around here, Y/N?” 

“Like I said, I was alone.” 

“So it appears,” Tom said, flashing you a smile that told you he was the most dangerous thing lurking in the dungeons. “Poor little dove wandering the serpent’s nest all on her own. Hasn’t anyone told you that us Slytherins have teeth?” 

“Why?” In an idiotic surge of courage, the words slipped out of your mouth before you could pull them back in. “Do you plan on biting me, Tom?” 

Tom grabbed your jaw roughly, making you whimper in surprise. “Insolent girl. You’ll learn your lesson soon enough.” 

Without warning, he grabbed you by the elbow and started dragging you down the corridor. At first, you were certain that Tom was taking you to Dumbledore’s office, but as the minutes ticked by, you realized that you were going in the opposite direction. If anything, he was leading you right into the heart of the dungeons. 

Tom’s grip tightened to the point of pain as he guided you up a set of twin staircases, practically flying up the steps on the right side, which you assumed led to the dormitories. It had a similar layout to the Gryffindor common room, except instead of leading into the towers, the narrow hallway opened into an intricate maze in the lower levels of the castle. 

Nestled into the underbelly of Hogwarts was a large, dark room that was surrounded by more stained glass walls that looked out into the Black Lake. A school of fish swam by as Tom ushered you through the door, which he promptly locked behind him with a series of complicated spells you had no hope of deciphering. 

You were trapped. Alone in a room. With Tom Riddle.

Upon closer inspection, you surmised that this had to be his private suite. It was twice as large as your dorm back in the towers and extremely private. A luxury that only the Head Boy and Head Girl enjoyed. 

“You’ve been very bad, little dove,” Tom reprimanded. "You deserve to be punished, but I’ll tell you what. Give up the names of your accomplices and I might find it in my heart to go easy on you.” 

His drawling voice echoed in the bedroom as he leaned back against his desk, twirling his wand between his fingers. The look he leveled at you is enough to awaken your fear. Plus another emotion that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. 

Merlin, Tom was sizing you up like he was the lion and you were the helpless deer frolicking through the meadow. You steeled yourself and doubled down on your lies. 

“There was no one else, Tom.” 

He smirked as though you’d given him the answer he’d hoped to hear. Tom stopped twirling his wand, tucking it away in his back pocket as he stalked over to you. “Very well, then. I suppose you’ll just have to endure their punishments too.” 

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. It occurred to you that while you had your wand, you were completely and utterly defenseless against Tom. It should’ve scared you shitless, but instead you felt a strange sort of thrill as he came closer. “What…what sort of punishment?” 

A smirk curved at his lips as he fisted your hair between his fingers and tilted your head back to meet his gaze. “I think you know, babydoll.” 

Heat ignited in your veins as your tongue darted out to sweep across your bottom lip. “This is crazy,” you whispered. “Shouldn’t you be telling Dumbledore? Snape? Someone in charge?” 

“I’m the one in charge,” Tom growled as he shoved you against his bookshelf. Your back hit solid wood, disturbing the neatly organized tomes behind you. “You snuck into my dungeons, under my watch, and defaced my home. I will dole out your punishment as I see fit.” 

“And if I refuse?” You asked, hoping that you emulated the bravery that your house was infamous for.

Tom pressed his body against yours, leaving barely a hairsbreadth between you as he flashed you a feral smile. “It’s laughable that you still think you have a choice.” 

“I could scream bloody murder. Wake the entire castle up and alert everyone that you're holding a fellow student against her will."

“You could,” Tom mused as amusement flickered in his eyes. “But we both know you won’t.” 

“What makes you so sure?” 

“You’d never risk such a scandalous act to go on your record. First vandalizing Professor Snape’s office, then sneaking into the Head Boy’s dorm after curfew? You’re on a downward spiral, aren’t you, little dove?” 

“I didn’t sneak into your dorm. You dragged me in here.” 

“Please,” Tom said with a scoff. “Let’s not pretend that you don’t want to be here. I’ve been watching you, you know. The perfect little Gryffindor good girl. You think you have everyone fooled, but not me.” You groaned as he pinned your hips in place, sliding his thigh between your legs. 

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me in class? Bending over in that tiny little skirt of yours hoping I’ll glance your way? Leaving the buttons to your blouse undone so you can give me a view of that lacy red bra? Biting your lip when you’re thinking dirty thoughts about me in class?” 

You flushed at his spot on assessment. Tom might be right on the mark, but you weren’t about to admit that to him. Not when your pride was on the line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Dirty little liar.” Tom whispered against the shell of your ear. “You know, your mental shields are impressive, but it’s like you can’t help yourself when I’m around. You’re practically broadcasting your filthy fantasies every time we’re in the same room.” 

Fuck. 

This was bad. 

This was really fucking bad.

How many times had you sat in class staring at Tom while thinking the filthiest, dirtiest thoughts about him? Tom bending you over a desk. Tom slipping his fingers under your skirt. Tom making you scream with his head between your thighs.

All this time, he had complete access to those dirty daydreams.

“That’s right, doll. You may be a powerful occlumens, but you’re no match for my legilimency.” He chuckled darkly, caressing your jaw. 

A heavy pressure weighed down the constraints of your defenses as Tom poked around in your mind, teasing and taunting as a lover would. The act of him prodding around in your subconscious was oddly sensual, mixing pain and pleasure together as he waited for you to yield. 

There’s no use hiding now, Tom whispered into your subconscious. I’ve already seen inside your mind, doll. And your thoughts are just as fucking filthy as mine. 

Glimpses of your deepest, darkest fantasies flashed through your mind. The images were a never ending rolodex of filth and smut. Tom fucking you like his perfect little slut. Tom panting above you as he spread your legs. Tom working you with his fingers until you were a sobbing, whimpering mess. 

He was right. You were shameless. 

But so was he. A new image of you on your knees while Tom unbuckled his belt, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you stared up expectantly took center stage. Since it was from his point of view, you could only assume that he was showing you one of his fantasies. It was oddly satisfying. Tom was basking in the depravity with you, sharing his equally fucked up thoughts. 

“Tom…” you breathed, leaning into his touch as he continued to pin you against the wooden bookshelf. 

“Not Tom,” he grunted gruffly. “You’ll address me properly from now on, little dove.” 

This was so fucked up and yet so hot at the same time. You were so turned on you could hardly speak. “Yes, sir.” 

“That’s better, doll.” Tom declared with a smirk. “Now that I’ve been inside of your head, I plan on being inside you in every other way as well. Starting with that pretty little mouth of yours. On your knees, little dove.” 

A strange sense of deja vu washed over you as you knelt onto the floor. The concrete nipped at your knees, but you welcomed the pain. It kept you centered as your body buzzed with anticipation. You watched as Tom unbuckled his belt, deft fingers slowly sliding his boxers down as he gripped himself with one hand. 

With a smirk, Tom brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, looking down at you with lust blown eyes. “Open wide, babydoll.” 

Tom pumped himself slowly. The sight of his cock made your mouth water, your head spinning and dizzy with desire as you tried to calculate how you were going to take all of him. The tip of his cock glistened with precum as he rubbed over it. Tom was thick, long, and absolutely delicious. You groaned as he rubbed his head over your lips, the salty taste of his arousal resting on your tongue. 

“I won’t ask again,” Tom warned. “Be a good girl and open your mouth. I’ll make you regret it if you don’t.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before he shoved his way in. Your lips parted for him, opening your mouth wider as you accommodated his size. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

You nodded obediently, eyes filling with tears as you took Tom all the way back. He fisted your hair in one hand and rocked against your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. A garbled sound crawled out of your chest, but it was soon silenced with Tom’s impatient thrusts. 

“Fuck,” Tom cursed. “So wet and warm. Such a perfect little throat. What a pity that I’m about to ruin it.” 

Ruin was an understatement. Tom fucked your throat with precise thrusts, angling deeper and deeper and groaning as you gagged on his cock. He was so deep that you could feel him bruising your tonsils. The more he abused your throat, the wetter your pussy got. You were practically soaked as you moaned on his cock, sucking your cheeks in and bobbing your head up and down to take more of him. 

“Such pretty noises,” Tom said, his fingers curling through your hair to the point of pain. He tugged at your scalp, forcing you to meet his eyes as you sucked him off. “If your mouth feels this good around my cock, then I can’t even imagine what your cunt will feel like.” 

You groaned in pleasure, making Tom’s eye roll back from the vibrations. Controlled, compulsive, and perfectly composed Tom Riddle was fading before you, replaced by a man driven only by his base desires. He was an animal lost to lust and so were you. 

Tom squeezed your throat, groaning when he felt himself moving beneath his grip. “Your throat was made to be fucked, doll. You like that, don’t you? You love it when I’m rough.” 

You struggled to nod in acknowledgement, saliva sloppily collecting in the corner of your mouth as you continued to let him use you for his own pleasure. Tom chuckled at your pathetic attempt to respond. “Don’t bother answering, little dove. You won’t be able to speak when I’m done with you anyways.” 

The filth flowing effortlessly from his mouth made you clench your thighs together. Tom threw his head back, those pretty curls tousled and plastered against his sweat soaked skin. A moan tore through his chest as he got closer and closer, fucking into your mouth with reckless abandon. He chased after his orgasm, shuddering as he spurted hot ribbons down your throat. 

“Fuck. You see what you do to me? Swallow, doll. Every single fucking drop.” 

The fantasies that you’ve been harboring for the past few years finally came to fruition, but none of it came close to reality. Tom was a fucking god. A masterpiece coming undone above you. You’ve never seen such a beautiful sight. All the artwork in the world would’ve paled in comparison to witnessing Tom Riddle at his most vulnerable. 

In awe and wonder, you looked up at him with mascara streaked eyes, tears and saliva staining your face. Tom hauled you to your feet and claimed you with his mouth. The taste of him was still on your lips, but Tom didn’t seem to mind as he parted your lips with his tongue. The kiss was neither sweet nor innocent. It was dark and dangerous and there was an edge of possessiveness in the way he demanded your submission. Almost like he was marking his territory. 

Tongues, teeth, and lips met with a clash as Tom carried you over to his desk. His books and journals clattered to the ground as his teeth grazed the column of your throat. The taste of him was intoxicating and you licked, sucked, and nipped at every inch of skin he allowed access to. You gasped into his mouth as Tom parted your legs, not bothering to warn you as he palmed your soaked panties. 

Your core clenched as he slipped a finger inside of your pussy. A squelching sound filled the room as Tom added another digit, pumping you full and fucking you with his middle and pointer fingers as you begged for more. He knew exactly what he was doing. Tom studied you like one of his books, with meticulous precision and alarming intensity, pouring all of his efforts and attention into making your body sing. 

It wasn’t long before that familiar warmth singed your veins, your moans growing louder and more desperate as you clawed at Tom’s back. You were so, so close. You were practically riding his hand as he brought you closer to the precipice. Just when you were about to come, Tom pulled away and denied you the orgasm. 

“Don’t be mistaken, doll. This is still a punishment.” Tom said as you whined from the loss. He silenced your complaints by bending you over his desk. 

“Tom, please—“ You clawed at the wood as he lined up and filled you with one sharp thrust. “Oh my fucking gods.” 

Tom gripped your hips, the slap of his skin against yours echoing in the room as he fucked you from behind. He was relentless, thrusting in and out and arching your back while he railed the absolute life out of you. It wasn’t long before you were getting close again. The sharp angles of his thrusts had him hitting all the right spots, making your knees weak and your pussy sensitive from the roughness of his actions. Sensing that you were close, he rutted into you, letting that tension uncoil before ripping the orgasm away from you once more. You whined, fresh tears soaking your cheeks as you chased after that high. 

“Like I said, this is still a punishment,” Tom taunted, slowing his thrusts to a snail’s pace. “That’s two orgasms I’ve taken from you, which leaves you with two more. Four for every wall you defaced. It should be twelve, given that you had help, but I’m in a forgiving mood. I think I’ll just spank the other eight out of you instead.” 

With your head bowed, you wiped the tears off of your cheeks and braced yourself. You knew that he was telling the truth. To Tom, this was mercy. You should’ve found it sadistic, but you fucking loved it. Maybe you were a masochist. Whatever the case may be, it seemed like the two of you were a match made in heaven. 

“I’ll be good,” you whispered hoarsely. Your throat was still raw and sore from earlier. “I’ll happily take the punishment. I promise I’ll be good, sir.” 

Tom chuckled darkly, relishing in your submission. His hand came down with a hard smack against your right ass cheek, making you jolt from the contact. Before you could recover, he repeated the action on the left. 

“That’s two,” Tom said proudly. “Can you count out the rest, babydoll?” 

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip every time his large hand came down on your ass. His rings bit into the soft flesh of your skin, but it was a delicious sort of pain. One that you could easily become addicted to. 

Three. Tom tugged at your hair. 

Four. Teeth nipped at your shoulder. 

Five. Fingers curled around your throat. 

Six. Hips slammed against you. 

Seven. Lips trailed down your spine.

Eight. Moans echoed in your ears. 

When Tom slipped his fingers down to your clit, your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw fucking heaven. “It’s not a punishment if you’re enjoying yourself so much, little dove. I can feel you creaming my cock. You look so innocent, but you’re just a filthy fucking slut for me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“So. Fucking. Perfect.” 

Tom emphasized each word with a thrust and worked your clit faster and faster, bringing you to the edge. This time, he didn’t pull back. Tom let the orgasm build until it threatened to wipe you out entirely. White hot heat coursed through your veins as stars exploded behind your eyes. You whimpered through the intensity of the orgasm. After being denied four times, the pleasure ripped through your body so fiercely that you nearly blacked out. 

“Fuck, let me fill you up,” Tom growled. “Take it, doll. I want you dripping with my cum.” 

“Yes, yes, oh gods. Please cum inside of me, sir.” 

Tom released a guttural grunt, gripping your hips in place as he filled you to the brim. Nothing in the world compared to the sensation of Tom filling you with his warm, wet cum. You glanced behind you and found him staring intently as he slipped out of you, stuffing his cum back into your pussy as it dripped down your folds. You bit your lip, utterly aroused by how fucking sexy this man was. 

His gaze met yours, a proud smile curving against his lips as he swept you off your feet and into his arms. “I think I’ll keep you, little dove.” 

[leth-writes]

yandere silco x reader who betrayed him

“Shit, get out!” You screeched, shoving the enforcer forward and away from you as you spotted Sevika’s harsh snarl from across the crowded, dimly lit bar. He booked it, running for the backdoor. You were so fucked. You tried to follow him, but were stopped by Sevika’s strong grasp on your forearm.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She growled, spitting mad, in your face.

“N-nothing! I was just telling him to leave me alone,” you stammered, feeling the blood drain from your face and the adrenaline pour down your spine. It felt like your head was going to explode from the pressure of your thoughts racing, trying to create an excuse. 

“Bullshit,” she huffed, dragging you through the back exit after the enforcer. When the two of you entered the alleyway, the enforcer was nowhere to be seen, not even a hint of him to be found. “Shit,” she cursed, spitting. She whipped you around and slammed you to the brick wall, hand holding you up solely by your throat.

“You better tell the truth, you little rat, Silco isn’t here to save you…” She punched the wall by your head and you startled even further, letting out a little whimper of fear. “Please, please Sevika! I promise, I swear on my soul, I wasn’t doing anything!” You cried, fingers clutching and scrabbling at her thick, coiled forearm.

She huffed once again, face turned to look out the entrance of the alley in contemplation. “Ple-” you began, but her free hand shifted to cover your mouth, hand reaching from your nose down your chin. Fuck, you couldn’t breathe! You didn’t want to die in this dingy little alley, never having escaped your captivity. You scrabbled against the brick walls, fingernails breaking under the force, then scratched at her forearm, leaving long, deep grooves that soon welled up with blood.

You tried to gasp, to get even a breath of air through the tight grip of her fingers, but it was futile. Slowly, ever so slowly, your world began to darken, the ringing in your ears drowning out Sevika’s harsh panting. Then, everything went dark.

It was cold, so cold you couldn’t feel your fingers. That was the first thing you noticed as you bolted awake. You were in the chair in Silco’s back room, strapped down with thick leather ropes and wearing an undershirt and your thin, cloth pants. How did you get here?

“I imagine I’ve been keeping your chain a little too long, little one,��� You jumped at Silco’s voice, head craning to see him without any luck. He was standing behind you. The room was dingy and dark, a complete lack of visibility for your groggy, grimy eyes. You blinked fiercely, trying to clear them.

It was then you noticed the thick leather strap clamping your mouth closed, tongue brushing against the rough, grime-coated material. It was then the memory hit you, as your head throbbed; Sevika had caught you, and she had knocked you out. Fuck, were you going to die in this chair, was he going to inject you with shimmer, contort and change your body beyond your control until you were unrecognizable?

You whimpered once again, arms straining against the thick straps as you tried to break even a single hand free. You failed. “Hush now, there’s no use in struggling. I won’t be making the same mistake again,” Silco said, the soft hint of a threat in his voice. He sauntered closer, hand trailing along your shoulder as he crossed in front of you. Silco leaned in until his lips barely brushed the material of the leather gag. “It’s not your fault, poor thing, I forgot you needed extra… guidance. A stupid little thing, aren’t you, unable to learn not to bite your owner even as he feeds you,” he continued, hand reaching up to grasp at your chin gently.

“Well, no use fretting now, it’s too late. We’ll have to start over, right from the beginning.”

Your muffled pleas went unheeded as Silco reached for the thin metal shock collar on his desk.

[inbarfink]

Any analysis of how Undertale deals with Pacifism and how it tries to guide the Player towards it has to take a deep look at Papyrus. Because Papyrus is the one character in the game who will never kill, the one actual ‘True Pacifist’ in the game’s main cast. 

I mean, the Player can be an even bigger Pacifist. Papyrus does still FIGHT, and the Player can get through an entire run without draining a single sliver of HP. But… they can also be the world’s biggest murderbastard and literally stab reality to death. 

Toriel would very much like to not kill, but she is also fully capable of doing so.

Same with Asgore, but he has a lot more actual blood on his hands. Undyne and Mettaton are both fully 100% willing to kill to accomplish their goals. Sans is non-violent in most runs because he’s too lazy and depressed to do anything, and when he is motivated into actions - it is in the form of a FIGHT to the death. Alphys… the timeline is a bit fuzzy cause both she and Mettaton love lying so much, but it seems like she did sincerely add deadly weapons to Mettaton cause killing humans would make him more 'useful' and then had second thoughts once she developed a parasocial relationship with the Human Child and THEN she and Mettaton started hatching their little play-acting plan. I think??

With Papyrus there is NONE of this ambiguity, we know for sure - no matter what timeline or what may come - The Great Papyrus will always choose MERCY.

And the interesting thing about that is on a Meta-Sense, Papyrus is a very rare example of the game giving MERCY towards the Player. 

Because the game starts out being really obtuse with the Sparing mechanic and how it works. If you want to be a Pacifist in Undertale from the get-go, you’re gonna have to work for it. You're gonna have to figure it out on your own and commit to it and believe that it's possible. It's basically a test of your own belief in non-violence and your moral integrity. Then, the RUINS end with the Toriel boss battle - in a way, that’s probably the hardest Sparing puzzle in the whole game. And it’s very very easy to accidentally kill her. (I’d almost say that’s the intention of the battle, to try to goad the Player into Resetting so they can see how the game remembers across RESETs)

And then we have Papyrus, and it’s not just that his ‘Sparing Puzzle’ is something as simple as outlasting him and letting him run out of dialogue - and it’s not just that he’s the only boss that will just give up and let you continue if you lose to him enough times. it’s also that, just as Papyrus is the only boss incapable of accidentally killing the Player - he’s also the only boss that the player is incapable of accidentally killing.

(Okay, fine, to be pedantic, there’s also Asgore)

I mean, the Player can certainly kill him if they want to - but draining Papyrus’s HP just makes him skip through his battle dialogue right to the end of it. It’s designed in such a way that, no matter what Route you're on and no matter what approach you take with Papyrus - you will always end up on this screen.

Unlike basically any other Monster in this game, including the major boss battle just before him - you can’t kill Papyrus accidently. You can't kill him without also having Sparing him as an option. The game kinda treats killing Papyrus as one of the Worst Things You Can Do because killing Papyrus will always be a deliberate, considered action done to a person who will not kill you and who has stopped wanting to FIGHT and has extended a hand of Mercy. With the game clearly communicating what you need to do to Spare him at that moment.

And that means that - even if you killed before, even if you don’t have the patience of a True Pacifist, even if you spent all this time in the game without even trying to engage with the Sparing mechanic… as long as you don’t want to be a Huge Rat Bastard, the game is basically gifting you with the very very easy option to not be. Being a Pacifist in Undertale is usually a challenge - a puzzle to be solved, a test to pass. But as long as you aren’t intentionally trying to be the Worst Person - the game is basically giving you Papyrus. 

If you accept his Mercy, you are accepting the game’s Mercy. That sort of benefit-of-the-doubt assumption that maybe all of the LOVE you might have accumulated so far was all due to honest mistakes or panic or an attempt in self-defense. That you still deserve this one chance to prove that you are not intentionally, maliciously cruel - or at least not like the Worst Person in the World. Even if you did kill before, you still deserve at least one friend.

And Sparing Papyrus leads you to his wonderful Hangout/Dating Sequence and to his Phone Calls and they all add so much wholesome charm to the Undertale experience and no matter what happens Papyrus will always think the best of the Player and he will always trust them and it also makes Sans also kinda your buddy by default. And more than just adding a little bit of wholesome charm into even the more LOVE-filled Playthroughs, I think this is meant to try and incentivize these players into trying out the Mercy mechanic a bit more.

Whatever it’s, like, for future playthroughs or Resetting the game right there to try a True Pacifist Run right there and then or just trying to be a little kinder for the rest of this current playthrough - especially since there’s an emphasis about the close friendship Papyrus has with the upcoming boss Undyne, and to a lesser extent with his idol and next-next boss battle Mettaton. It’s like “well, if you didn’t figure out how to spare before, this is how you do it? And isn’t it nice to have a friend? Isn’t it nice to not have to kill this lovable skeleton man? You should do this more often wink wink nudge nudge!”

And it’s like… all of Papyrus’ loved ones care about him so much but they also look down on his pacifism. They see his inability to kill and desire to make friends as simple naivete and that’s why all tend to hide the truth from him all the time. About what will happen to the Human he will capture, about what his new Human friend might’ve done, about the fact that they view him as so naïve. 

They admire it on some level, that’s why they want to protect it, but they also see it as a weakness which is why they want to protect it by lying to him all the time. But, you know, Undyne says that if Papyrus goes into battle he’ll be ‘ripped into little smiling shreds’ and that is certainly what happens every time a Player chooses to refuse Papyrus’ Mercy and the game’s Mercy and press that FIGHT button…

But have you thought about all the times that doesn’t happen? All the careless or violent players who were offered that skeletal hand of friendship, accepted it and then carried that offered kindness forward for the rest of the game? All the players motivated to do good for the sake of their buddy Papyrus? All the Murder Routes stopped because the player just didn’t have it in them to kill someone who believes in them so earnestly?

Like, no, it’s not a surefire thing - especially since Papyrus has so much less narrative power than the Actual Unkillable Time God that is the Player. But it happened, and it happened many many times to many players. Papyrus offered Mercy, the game offered Mercy. And much like Frisk’s Pacifism, it comes from a place of seeing the honest goodness in your ‘enemy’ and can inspire them to become a better person - this little sparkle of goodness being passed forwards. 

And I think that’s beautiful, even if it didn’t happen in every timeline. Any potential future where Papyrus’ kindness can have such an effect on the Player and thus the entire trajectory of the Underground validates his kindness and pacifism on some level - even if there are also always the potential worlds that it backfires completely. 

And there’s also one other way in which the Great Papyrus Proves Pacifism Pays. One that is a bit more practical, perhaps. And one that Papyrus himself is not even aware of. 

Papyrus’ boss battle can be a surprisingly challenging one specifically because he is the only one who doesn’t kill the Player.

Like there is a reason why Papyrus will just offer you to skip his Fight after you lose to him three times, because if he didn’t do that - there’s an honest risk that the Player can get stuck in a much stuckier way than anywhere else in the game. 

Because, like, for basically any other character in the game, being killed is the Worst Thing that could ever happen to them. For everyone except the actual Player Character because we are an Actual Unkillable Time God and dying is nothing more than a minor annoyance that sets you back to your last SAVE Point. So, leaving aside Papyrus’ admirably kind intentions - there is not much material difference from the Player’s perspective between getting Captured and getting a more traditional GAME OVER. Except…

Except getting Captured does not undo everything that happened in your inventory during the battle. In every other Undertale battle, if you use all of your items but still lose - the GAME OVER at least means you get your stuff back. But because Papyrus doesn’t kill you, any healing item you’ve used during the battle is still used. I have watched so many Undertale Let’s Players waste all of their valuable items on their first Papyrus battle and then have to face him again without them and thus do even worse in their second go… and then their third go... and thankfully then Papyrus offers them to skip the fight.

And while that technically can be circumvented by just manually closing the game and opening it back again on their pre-battle SAVE Point, a lot of players are gonna reflexively Save over it if they pop over to the Shop or the Snowed Inn before their second attempt at the battle. If Papyrus didn’t offer that chance to skip his battle, it could’ve easily become a softlock situation for a huge chunk of players - because he doesn’t kill the Player.

Most of Undertale deals with the value of non-violence from a standpoint of morality and kindness and personal connections. Since most people do die when they get killed. But when dealing with an Unkillable Time God like the Player, Papyrus proves that not-killing might actually be the most practical solution.

Of course, it doesn’t seem like Papyrus is aware of any of this. From his perspective, he is just offering genuine mercy to a being just as ephemeral as he is. But it accidentally turned into one of the most effective methods of blocking the Player’s way… at least he didn’t offer us an opt out so soon after that. 

And it’s interesting when comparing him to how his brother Sans - one of the few people actually aware of the existence of SAVEs and RESETs - deals with the Player. Because the Sans boss battle at the end of the Murder Route is entirely based on the concept that death is nothing but an annoyance to the Player. Sans is less trying to kill the Player (the way Undyne the Undying did), he is simply trying to annoy the Player into a ragequit. But he is still killing the Player.

Now imagine a Sans battle where he has all of his usual annoying tricks, but also instead of killing you - he captures you just like his brother would’ve in a happier timeline. And while it’s not a fool-proof plan to stop the Player in their tracks - he could very easily stick them in that sort of softlock situation where they have to battle him again and again without any Healing Items. Forcing them to either abandon the game or RESET the whole world back the way it was - just like Sans wants them too. 

But instead, by killing the Player, he is just allowing that perfect second-third-fourth-fifth-sixth-try where they get all of their Stuff back. And he does actually knows that. And why doesn’t he do that? (Speaking here from an in-universe character study perspective. Obviously the Doylist answer is that the game doesn’t want to Softlock you even in the most deliberately-frustrating part of the game).

Maybe, even though he intellectually knows that killing the Player will be of no help - he still does it because he wants to. Because he just wants to get back at the evil murderous monster that took his brother from him and destroyed his entire world even if he knows it’s actually ineffective. And this thirst for bloodshed is, ironically, blinding him from a new exciting way to actually practically stop that murderous bastard who is themself motivated entirely by bloodshed. 

Maybe he just can’t do something like that. Reducing an enemy to exactly one HP and then stopping is not a feat anyone else in the game is capable of pulling off - even the ones who would obviously use such a thing (like Toriel or a Player with a Pacifist intentions). Maybe it’s something that requires a lot of hard practice and discipline and carefulness, that Sans never thought to put in because he didn’t see it as a useful skill the way Papyrus did. 

Maybe that wouldn’t have worked anyways. After all, and that’s something I kinda touched on in a previous Overly Long Rambly Hot Take - Sans’ War of Attrition against the Player is greatly helped by the fact he can’t remember every single previous try and so he can’t get exhausted the way the Player can get. Obviously, without a GAME OVER induced RESET that will not apply. Which is especially notable because… Sans’ laziness is literally what brings him down at the end of that Boss Battle. 

So maybe, while Papyrus, as long as you decline his offer to skip the battle, is capable of offering just the same Battle as before over and over and over again.... It’s possible that Sans just won’t be able to pull off two or three or more battles of the same intensity and difficulty in a row without a RESET to undo his own exhaustion. 

But I think it’s at least worth considering the option, y’know? That after all this time of viewing Papyrus’ kindness as sweet-and-yet-kinda-foolish-naïveté - that exact viewpoint made Sans overlook the perfect solution to dealing with his little Murderous Time God problem. Cause he just never considered that while killing might be fully morally justifiable in this situation and very very satisfying, that does not necessarily mean it is actually the most practical solution. And that maybe, in a weirdly twisted way, Pacifism WAS the answer.  

[novaursa]

The Night They Came

- Summary: The night is dark and full of terrors.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: This short story describes events of B&C, but if assassins succeeded in their mission.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for blood, gore and death)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

Maps are spread across the table, their edges curling slightly under the weight of time and hurried hands. Aemond stands tall, clad in black leather and polished silver armor that glints under the torchlight. His brow is furrowed, one eye sharp and calculating as it scans the map.

Ser Criston Cole leans beside him, pointing at the parchment with a gauntleted hand.

“The Velaryons will not take kindly to the shattering of their blockade. If they move toward the capital, we’ll—”

“Then we’ll burn their ships before they ever touch sail,” Aemond cuts in curtly, his voice low, yet it resonates through the chamber like a blade dragged across stone.

Criston glances at him, faint approval in his eyes. “Swift, but it’ll require Vhagar to—”

The sound splits the air like a knife to the gut—a scream.

Your scream.

It echoes through the stone halls of the Red Keep, piercing and raw, like an animal caught in a trap. Aemond’s head snaps up, his body going rigid. The blood drains from his face. Before he can even move, a second cry follows—one equally chilling, but distinctly Alicent’s.

“The nursery,” Criston breathes.

Aemond is already moving, his long legs carrying him toward the door in a flash of black and silver. Criston is close behind, his sword clinking faintly against his armor as they race through the halls.

The corridors seem impossibly long, the screams echoing in Aemond’s ears like the tolling of a death bell. The flicker of torches blurs as he runs, but your voice—high-pitched and frantic—grows closer.

“No! Please, no!”

Aemond reaches the nursery door and shoves it open with enough force that it slams against the wall.

The sight that meets him stops him cold.

The room is dimly lit by a single, swaying lantern, the shadows distorted and crawling across the walls. The air is heavy—sickly. The scent of blood is faint but unmistakable.

You are on the floor, trembling, your nightgown soaked and streaked with scarlet. One hand is outstretched as though to reach for something—or someone. Your other hand clutches a dagger, its tip still dripping crimson.

The cradle in the center of the room—the one where your and Aemond’s youngest slept—lies overturned, blood soaking the blankets. Your other children huddle in the corner of the room, their small faces streaked with tears. Their frightened cries pierce the silence: a daughter clinging to her younger brother, shielding his face from the scene before them.

Alicent is being held back by two guards near the door. Her face is pale and stricken with terror, her sobs strangled as she calls out names she cannot see.

“Aegor,” she gasps, collapsing against the guards. “Aegor…”

Aemond’s heart stops when his eye falls on the bloodied cradle and the small form that is missing from it.

“Y/N!” Aemond shouts, his voice hoarse.

You whip your head toward him, your tear-streaked face wide-eyed and frantic.

“They were here—they were—” you choke on your words, pointing toward the shadows, where faint footprints of blood trail out of the room.

Aemond drops to your side, gripping your shoulders tightly. “Who, Y/N? Who was here?”

“Two men,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “The rat-catcher and a man with knives—they came.” Your sobs wrack your body, and Aemond feels your trembling beneath his hands. “They—they killed Aegor.” Your voice breaks again. “They took his body, Aemond. They took him!”

The blood in Aemond’s veins runs cold, his mind struggling to process your words.

“And the children?” he asks, though dread already curls like a snake in his gut.

You don’t answer.

From the corner of the room, a tiny voice trembles, “Papa?”

Your daughter’s voice is so small, so full of terror that it shatters what little composure Aemond holds. He turns his head sharply, seeing your other children—your eldest daughter clutching her brother close, their faces pale and wet with tears.

“Father,” your daughter whimpers again, as though the very presence of her father might save her from this nightmare.

Aemond forces himself to speak, though his voice trembles. “It’s all right. I’m here. I’m here.”

“They—they said they’d come back,” the girl whispers faintly, clutching her brother tighter. “They said we would see the same fate.”

A cold chill runs down Aemond’s spine, but he stands, his face a mask of cold fury. Criston, who has just entered behind him, takes in the carnage with a grim expression.

“Aegor,” Aemond murmurs, his son’s name a growl in his throat. He looks to you, still slumped against the floor. “What did they do, Y/N? Tell me!”

“They—” You swallow thickly, unable to look at him. “They made me choose.”

The silence in the nursery is suffocating.

“What?” Criston’s voice cuts in, low and full of disbelief.

Your tear-filled gaze finally meets Aemond’s. “They made me choose which child to spare. I—I couldn’t—” A sob breaks free, your body curling into itself. “I couldn’t choose, Aemond! I tried, I tried to fight them…”

The rage that coils within Aemond’s chest is volcanic. His fists clench so tightly his knuckles whiten, and his jaw works as he grits his teeth.

“They killed him?” Criston says softly, as if testing the very words.

“They killed Aegor,” Alicent wails, collapsing to her knees. “And they took him…”

Aemond’s single violet eye burns, his pupil small with unrestrained fury. He moves toward the overturned cradle, the blood-streaked blankets tangled and empty.

“I’ll have their heads,” he snarls, his voice ice-cold, deadly. “Every man, every servant who aided them, every soul who dared let them into this keep—I will burn them alive.”

Criston steps forward. “Prince Aemond—”

“Find them,” Aemond spits, turning on his heel and glaring at Criston with such ferocity the Lord Commander takes a step back. “Find them before the day’s end, or I will see the entirety of Flea Bottom reduced to ash.”

Your faint whimper draws his attention again. Aemond’s fury softens—only slightly—as he kneels beside you once more. He cups your tear-streaked face in his hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze.

“I swear to you,” he says, voice low and hard, “they will pay for this. These men will beg for death before I am done with them.

From behind him, the soft sobs of your children echo, their cries quiet but haunting.

You clutch his arms, your blood-slicked fingers staining his black sleeves. “They took our son, Aemond…”

Aemond presses his forehead to yours, his eye shut tight as if to block out the world around him.

“Then I will bring him back,” he promises, though he knows the words are hollow.

And as the cries of the Red Keep continue to echo around you, you feel the walls of your world crumble.

[arolesbianism]

It's so fun imagining your ocs as ds mod characters... I want Sier to go to the constant and immediately fall over and die because they can't listen to music

[rallamajoop]

So why are there so many gay vampires?

From the time of Carmilla all the way up to the works of Anne Rice (a universe that seems to get only less subtle as the years go on), gay vampires have been a thing basically as long as anyone was writing about vampires. Lesbian vampires have been a genre all their own for decades. Bram Stoker, author of the most famous vampire novel ever written, was gay himself. So why vampires specifically?

I’ve seen people attempt to answer this one before, and there are all sorts of contributing factors I could point to here, from the genres’ beginnings with Lord Byron (infamous bisexual disaster fuckboy), to modern discourse about why queer folks so often find themselves identifying with the monsters and outcasts of fiction. Few other monsters besides vampires can so easily pass for ‘normal’, or are nearly so well known for their snappy dress sense and ‘unnatural cravings’ for human flesh. And that’s without even getting into all those skeezy outdated stereotypes casting queer people as predators, or the idea that even one ‘gay experience’ could somehow ‘convert’ you into being one yourself.

But to my mind, there’s just one really important thing that makes vampires so gay, and it’s the same thing that makes them sexy in the first place: plausible deniability.

You see, a vampire’s bite is simultaneously a) ridiculously sexual, and b) not even a little bit sexual at all.

You don’t have to look far for vampire canons where there’s nothing sexy about being bitten by a vampire. Bloody, violent, painful, sure ‒or just clinically miserable, human bodies torn open or hung up to drain like a human blood bag. What’s sexy about getting bitten by a mosquito, or a fecking leech? The diet of the actual vampire bat requires it to process so much water that it apparently spends mealtimes busily pissing out the difference, and the anti-coagulants in its saliva leave the wound bleeding messily long after it’s gone. The basic act of feeding is no more inherently sexual for a vampire than it is for a zombie.

Vampires are even a surprisingly acceptable monster to market to children. There’s a vampire muppet, a cartoon about a vampire duck, and a whole series of books about a vampire rabbit. You can put a vampire on the side of a cereal box without undue outrage. Vampires do not have to be R-rated for sex or violence.

So of course vampires will go after victims of the same sex. Do you stop to inquire whether the cow you’re eating was male or female? It’s all just predator and prey!

Until it’s everything but.

Do not let the ‘vampires aren’t supposed to be sexy!’-purists fool you. The tradition of sexy vampires goes all the way back to the oldest folklore, where the first victim of a newly-risen vampire was often their still-living spouse. Vampires were even occasionally known to get women pregnant (a convenient excuse for any widow who might turn up pregnant slightly too many months after their husband's death). The ‘original’ Nosferatu sounds more like an incubus than the naked mole-rat creature they made that movie about. The demon lover aspect of the vampire has been there all along.

And it’s not hard to imagine why. If someone is biting and sucking on your neck, then either they’re a vampire, or they’re well on the way to second base (other folklore has its vampires feed directly from their victim’s heart, which is scarcely less suggestive). The implications of an exchange of bodily fluids were never subtle, even in Stoker’s day (I'm looking at you, Lucy-with-the-three-husbands), and the vampire as a sexual predator was a popular literary device well before Stoker's time. Beautiful vampire women would seduce men to their demise, and the males of the species might visit the bedroom of some innocent maiden time and again. The Victorian obsession with mesmerism, meanwhile, provided the perfect explanation for how victims might be hypnotised into eager compliance, and perhaps not even remember being fed upon at all. Vampires have been the ultimate guilt-free sexual fantasy since way back in the day, compatible with all your awkward Victorian mores! (Not quite ready to admit they're sexual fantasies? No problem: he's just here to, y'know, suck on your neck a bit. No subtext here!)

The whole act of biting is so suggestive that in the early years of vampire cinema, it wasn’t shown at all, not even between opposite-sex participants. The camera of 1922’s Nosferatu maintains a demure distance during the climactic scene where the heroine is finally bitten and slowly drained of blood, and Universal’s Dracula conveniently fades to black or cuts away whenever it’s about to take place. But even if the biting has to take place off screen, who’s to say a vampire isn’t going to pick victims of both sexes?

The stately tradition of the lesbian vampire has cinematic examples going all the way back to 1936, with Universal’s Dracula’s Daughter. Though the titular vampire has a nominal male love interest – a psychologist who naively advises her to confront her temptations without fear – the result of his advice is a famous sequence where she picks up a young woman under the premise of wanting an artist's model, and convinces her to remove her top. No actual biting or nudity is shown (it was only 1936), but her fate is left in little doubt.

By the era of 70’s sexploitation, all such subtlety had been abandoned. If we’re all good with naked boobs, who’s going to be offended by a little biting?

In fact, when it comes to men rather than women, a vampire bite was, for many years, far too sexy to be shown, or even alluded to. Nosferatu clearly feeds on that film’s Jonathan-expy, but our only evidence is the bitemarks on his neck in the morning, and the final sacrifice to defeat the evil monster must naturally be female. Universal’s Dracula had to ignore explicit studio mandate that only the brides should be allowed to feed on their own Jonathan-equivalent, as to even imply that Dracula himself had fed upon a man was obviously far too homoerotic to contemplate (never mind that it’s Dracula who must be established as the threat in this opening sequence, or that it’s Dracula his victim will spend the rest of the film obsessed with).

But in that unspeakable land of male-on-male homoeroticism, you might be surprised how much homo we can squeeze in even without resorting to fangs-in-necks. The Lost Boys is surely one of the most homoerotic vampire films ever made, but there, the one big blood-drinking scene is rendered in a bloody massacre of slasher-movie violence. And though Anne Rice certainly describes the scene where Lestat drains Louis of blood in lurid detail (and even has them spend their first sunrise together sharing a coffin), Louis is already thoroughly seduced before he ever reaches this point.

You see, the lore of the pop-cultural vampire conveniently comes with a second and equally-compelling target for plausible deniability: the act of making a new vampire.

Obviously, to work, this has to be deliberate. A world where anyone bitten by a vampire becomes one hasn’t much to offer us, and the relationship between maker and fledgling can just as easily be framed as parental, as recruitment into a cult, or purely transactional. But whichever way you twist it, the implications of choosing another to share in your own eternal youth and immortality… like, I don’t have to spell this one out for you, do I? Did I mention how that thing where a vampire’s traditional first victim tended to be their own mortal widow goes all the way back?

But if we’re not ready to be completely obvious with our mainstream audience, some alternative explanation can always be provided for cover. Lestat doesn’t really want Louis, he just wants Louis’ money! (He also really wants Louis.) The Lost Boys just want Michael to join their gang! (Their very, very pretty gang, who swan around in mesh shirts, tank tops and assless chaps.)

The two sides of the vampire-deniability coin aren’t mutually exclusive, either. Carmilla drinks her new paramour’s blood, but also gazes into her eyes while promising her you will be mine. Drinking blood is a key part of making a new vampire in so many vampire stories, after all.

Carmilla isn’t even the only gay vampire story of the Victorian era. I recently posted about two other fascinating examples, both featuring male/male pairings: one being pretty much just a gender-flipped version of Carmilla, and the other a tragic love story filled with significant "vampire = gay lover" metaphors (why oh why must the townsfolk keep us apart, when we’ll only ever be happy once we’re united once more?) This stuff goes surprisingly far back.

In fact, you can find queer subtext in vampire fiction that predates even Byron and Polidori. 1819's The Vampyre was the first published vampire story, yes, but the first known work of vampire-fiction in the English language is a poem published by John Stagg in 1810, also called The Vampyre (look, the genre didn’t exist yet, you didn’t have to be creative with your titles).

In brief, Stagg’s poem recounts a conversation between a wife (Gertrude) and her dying husband (Herman), whose dear friend Sigismund, lately deceased and deeply mourned, has returned as a vampire. Night after night, he crawls into Herman’s room to drain his blood. Herman’s fate is already sealed, but unless Gertrude takes action, it will surely be she that Herman will take as his own first victim when he rises from the grave.

There may be nothing intentional about the queer subtext of this tale. A vampire’s victims often include friends he knew in life, as Stagg himself cites in his introduction. But if Herman’s first victim will be his wife, what are we to read about the fact Sigismund’s first victim is Herman? Especially given how long he’s kept secret from poor Gertrude that his dear ‘friend’ has been climbing into his bedroom each night, lying beside him in bed and sucking and draining "the fountain of my heart!" while Herman moans and tosses (in pain, obviously!), always leaving him "exhausted, spent." Ultimately, Gertrude is saved only when both Herman and Sigismund are staked through the heart, and we close on the image of them slumbering together in the tomb.

It is, however you turn it, pretty gay.

I reiterate: this is the very first known work of vampire fiction written in the English language. The second was the one that was kind-of-written-by, kind-of-stolen-from, and unambiguously based on bisexual-disaster-fuckboy Lord Byron. And the two most influential works of vampire fiction of the next hundred years would be Carmilla, the very lesbian vampire story written by a… presumably straight man? And Dracula, the not-completely-convincingly-hetero story written by #1 Walt Whitman fanboy Bram Stoker. Vampires have always been very equal-opportunity kind of monsters.

There are, of course, plenty of influential heterosexual vampire tales to fill out the roster too. Varney the Vampire, a penny dreadful from the 1840s, was so successful it ran for over 200 chapters. The 1960s had their own wildly successful Varney-equivalent in the soap opera Dark Shadows. Love it or hate it, we really can't ignore Twilight either. My own introduction to the genre was Christopher Pike’s The Last Vampire series, which came out alongside the original Vampire Diaries novels. So there's plenty of material around to keep the straights entertained – and honestly, that’s only as it should be, because the very thing that makes vampires so queer-friendly is that the sex of their victims doesn’t matter. And it’s so easy to make vampires sexy (let alone a full vampire-proposal!) that even the Victorians could do it.

Now, if your reaction to all this theorising is to tell me "but the LGBTQ’s shouldn’t have to hide behind plausible deniability!" I can only counter, "well sure, but why should the straights have all the fun?" Because playing with all the ambiguity of "is this monster really just after my blood or is this going somewhere?" can be all sorts of fun, regardless of the genders involved. And as long as they’re up for exchanging bodily fluids with persons-and-or-victims of either gender equally, why not have some fun with it?

So, okay, maybe the real title of this post should have been "why are there so many pansexual vampires?" But the answer doesn’t change. Vampires have been the bisexual disaster fuckmonsters for as long as anyone’s been writing about vampires, and have been a metaphor allowing people publish barely-coded gay attraction since 1872. And much like the queer community, they’ve only become more complex, more sympathetic, and all the more popular as romantic paramours as the years have gone by.

[dissapointu]

heyy!! can you do how arcane characters would react to a reader with bpd? I have it and its really hard to deal with

I personally don't have Bpd so I hope I was able to write for it- lmk if I got it completely wrong.

Jinx

Arguments with Jinx are a whole event. She’s already impulsive and emotional, so when you’re spiraling, it’s like pouring gas on a fire. She’ll yell, throw something (not at you, but still—chaotic), and storm off dramatically. But the second she sees you starting to crumble, her face softens, and she’s all, “Hey, hey, don’t cry, okay? I’m the crazy one, remember?”

She’ll make up for it with grand, ridiculous gestures—like painting a giant heart on the wall with “SORRY” inside it or showing up with an armful of random things she thinks you’ll like (a half-broken music box, a live rat, some Piltie trinket she swiped). Daily life with her is unpredictable. She’ll match your mood swings and throw in some of her own, but she’s always there to hold you through the aftermath, whispering, “It’s us against the world, baby.”

Vi

Vi has this big sister energy, so she tries to stay calm during arguments, but let’s be real—she’s not a saint. If you start pushing buttons, she’ll fire back, arms crossed, scowling like, “Oh, so this is my fault now?” But the second she sees that shift in your expression, that look like you’re about to spiral, she’ll stop mid-sentence and sigh.

“Come here,” she says, pulling you into a hug even if you’re still mad. “I didn’t mean it. You know I’m an idiot sometimes.”

She’s great at grounding you during bad days—holding your hand, distracting you with dumb stories about Powder or her childhood. Daily life with Vi is full of banter and teasing, but she’s also super protective, always making sure you know you’re safe with her.

Sevika

Arguments with Sevika are INTENSE. She’s not great with emotions, so when you’re on edge, she’s either trying to fix it logically (spoiler: it doesn’t work) or getting frustrated. “What do you want me to do? Tell me, and I’ll do it!” she’ll snap, her mechanical arm whirring in frustration.

But once she realizes she’s made it worse, she’ll sit beside you in silence, waiting for you to calm down. Then she’ll quietly say, “I don’t get it, but I’m trying. For you.”

Daily life with Sevika is steady—she likes routine, which can be comforting when you’re feeling unstable. She’ll bring you food when you’re too drained to eat and let you vent while she works. If you get clingy, she’s the type to roll her eyes but secretly loves it when you hold onto her like a lifeline.

Silco

Silco approaches everything with the cold, calculating precision of a chess player, including your BPD. During arguments, he’s quiet but firm, and sometimes his calm demeanor makes you feel worse, like he doesn’t care. But the moment he sees tears in your eyes, his voice softens.

“Enough,” he says gently, stepping closer. “I’m not leaving. Stop telling yourself that.”

He’ll sit with you until the storm passes, stroking your hair and murmuring reassurances in that low, gravelly voice of his. Daily life with Silco is structured—he thrives on stability and will gently encourage you to find your own, whether that’s a routine or a grounding technique. He’s not the best at expressing love, but his actions—bringing you tea, remembering the little things—say everything.

Vander

Arguments with Vander are rare, but when they happen, it breaks both of your hearts. He hates seeing you upset, especially when you’re directing all that anger at yourself. “Hey, don’t do that,” he says, his voice full of worry. “You’re not a bad person.”

He’ll pull you into a hug, even if you’re still yelling, and just hold you until you calm down. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. “We’ll figure it out.”

Daily life with Vander is comforting—he’s patient and steady, always making sure you feel loved. He’ll cook for you, listen to your rambles, and let you cry into his chest when it all feels like too much. He’s your rock, and you know he’ll never let you fall too far.

Ekko

Ekko’s a sweetheart, but arguments can get heated because he cares so much. “Why do you always think I’m gonna leave?” he’ll ask, frustration lacing his voice. But then he sees you breaking down and immediately softens.

“Hey, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, pulling you close. “You’re stuck with me, okay? Forever.”

Daily life with Ekko is fun and supportive. He’ll crack jokes to make you laugh on bad days and bring you little gifts—flowers he found, gadgets he fixed—just to see you smile. He’s great at reminding you of your worth when you can’t see it yourself.

Jayce

Jayce doesn’t get BPD at first, but he’s trying, okay? Arguments can get messy because he’s such a fixer. “What do you mean you don’t want advice? I��m trying to help!” he’ll say, running his hands through his hair.

But after a while, he learns to just listen. He’ll apologize quickly, his voice soft and full of regret: “I didn’t mean to make it worse. I just want to be here for you.”

Daily life with Jayce is full of love and enthusiasm. He’s always hyping you up, reminding you how amazing you are. If you’re having a bad day, he’ll drop everything to take you out for a walk or snuggle up with you on the couch.

Viktor

Viktor is SO patient. Arguments don’t happen often because he’s great at de-escalating situations. “I understand,” he says softly when you’re upset, his voice calm and measured. “I know it feels like that right now, but it’s not true.”

He’s the king of quiet, steady love. Daily life with Viktor is peaceful—he lets you sit with him while he works, always making sure you’re comfortable. On bad days, he’ll bring you tea and remind you, “You’re not a burden. Never.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is a problem-solver, so arguments can get frustrating because she wants to fix everything, even when you just want her to listen. “I’m sorry,” she says eventually, taking your hands in hers. “I’ll try to do better. Just…tell me what you need.”

Daily life with Caitlyn is filled with small acts of love—she’ll leave you little notes, bring you flowers, and make sure you feel secure. She’s incredibly understanding, always willing to talk things through when you’re ready.

Mel Medarda

Mel is the definition of grace under pressure. During arguments, she stays calm, even when you’re spiraling. “I know you don’t mean that,” she says firmly, but her eyes are full of understanding.

She’s amazing at making you feel grounded—pulling you into her lap, stroking your hair, and whispering, “It’s okay. We’re okay.” Daily life with Mel is luxurious—she spoils you with gifts and quality time, always making sure you feel loved and valued.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa is a bit of a bulldozer during arguments, but not out of malice—she’s just used to being in control. “You’re stronger than this,” she’ll say, her tone sharp. But the moment she sees your tears, she softens.

“I didn’t mean to push,” she says, placing a steady hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to fight this alone.”

Daily life with Ambessa is protective—she’s always making sure you’re cared for, whether that’s bringing you food, making sure you rest, or just standing by your side like an unshakable force.

TL;DR: Everyone loves you in their own messy, flawed way because you’re worth every bit of the work. <3

[cookiescribble]

Flufftober Day 22: “Wait, you love me?” “I always have”

(alternative to Heirloom from last year’s favorites list)

A/N: apologies if this is shit, post con ghost is sad and drained today. Also, I watched a very specific episode of X-Men ‘97 that made me want to write happy Gambit so here that is. - mod ghost

Ship: Remy LeBeau x Mutant GN!Reader

Summary: After a particularly nasty fight, Remy lands in the Mansion’s Medical Lab on painkillers

You and Remy usually weren’t on separate missions, but on this occasion, you were and he had gotten hurt. So, like any person who cared about their boyfriend as deeply as you do, you rushed back to the Mansion to make sure he was okay.

He was asleep when you got there, a thick bandage wrapped around his forehead and the blanket tucked up to his chin. You stepped closer to him until you were at his bedside, the steady beeping of the EKG oddly comforting in this situation.

“He’ll be fine, dear, just needs some rest.” Hank assured you, patting your shoulder before leaving the two of you alone. He seemed to be able to tell that you needed it, to just be with Remy.

You sat with him for hours, one of your hands holding his and the other slowly rubbing back and forth on his chest while being careful of the bandage that was strapped there.

“Petite, my partner’s gonna have a word or two wit’ you if they see you rubbin’ up on me like dat.” Gambit spoke up suddenly, looking up at you from where he lay with his dark eyes.

You pause to chuckle as you realize what he said, shaking your head at him, “I am your partner.” There was a brief moment of silence as he looked you over, his EKG suddenly getting much faster and louder then slowing back to its normal pace as he calmed back down with a quiet utterance of “Oh…”

“You’re lucky I love you.” You couldn’t contain your laughter, your hand moving from his chest to his hair to gently card through it.

“Wait, you love me?” He emphasized your words, realizing the gravity of what you’d said before even you. Which was somewhat incredible, given his current state. It was the first time you’d ever said that to him.

You didn’t want to freak him out right now, though, so you nodded as your hand continued its trek through his long red hair, “Damn straight, I always have.” You confirmed, leaning forward to gently kiss his forehead, “but go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. Beast’s orders that you get rest.”

“Forget the ol’ coot right now, chère, I have more important matters on my mind.” He grabbed your shoulder before you could fully pull back from kissing his forehead, tugging you back down to press your lips to his. It was soft and sweet, a contrast to how he usually kissed you when he’d arrive home from a mission, though it was brief since he was still aching. “Gambit loves you very much, chère. Remember it.”

“I will, swamp rat. But only if you get some sleep.” You teased him, covering his eyes with your hand to make him laugh.

“Alright, okay, fine. C’mere, though.” Remy tugged on your arm until you were laying down beside him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he adjusted the blanket to compensate both of you.

“Remy—“ You tried to stop him, but eventually gave in as he cut off any protests you were about to give him.

“Don’ worry about Hank, I’ll take it up wit him. I missed my chère and he’ll have to deal wit dat.” Gambit tutted, pressing a kiss to your forehead just like you had his and kept you held close to his side as the pain meds eventually won out. Pushing him back to sleep and getting the rest he so badly needed. You didn’t disturb him, letting him rest and slowly falling asleep yourself as you rested your head against his chest.