#the plan is to try and get them started this week and to queue them up for Wednesdays but we’ll see if I actually do that

[feniverse-unfiltered]

I know it’s not Wednesday, but I made this in preparation and have 0 self discipline about posting

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 of Mister(s) Steal Your Girl

Long awaited, but no Johnny smut just yet. Soon, I promise. (And Kyle will be back. It's been so long since he's gotten to smooch our dear reader.)

Also! A little reminder than you can check the queue to see what I plan to post for next. I try to update it often as the worms wiggle. Next I plan to do the final chapter of Greater Bad. (Unless I get my not-so-secret, no-longer-a-surprise oneshot out first)

Lastly! Please note that I wrote the "posts" from his perspective. So inconsistencies with the actual story and any grammar/spelling errors were purposeful or for "authenticity".

Content: Brandon.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ I asked my fiancé for an open relationship before marriage. It worked. A while ago I posted on r/adultery about the affairs (yes, multiple) I was having behind my then-gf’s back. We’d already been dating for ~4 years and I was seeing one of my coworkers (my “work wife”) regularly and one of her coworkers on and off. People on my other post were critical and called me all sorts of things like selfish and pig. I know it’s not traditional, but I genuinely don’t think I could ever be satisfied by one woman. My work wife (Rachel) and fiance’s coworker (Lucy) provide things my fiancé just can’t but I still love my fiancé. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. When I posted on r/adultery I was trying to figure out how to propose without her finding out. I knew she’d expect me to help with stuff and possibly want to look at my phone more often. It would have been harder to sneak off to meet up with Lucy or Rachel with wedding planning and I was sick of being stressed she would find out. Some nicer people on the post suggested I ask for an open relationship. I took their advice and sat her down to sell the idea. It’s a good thing I’m so good at sales (top 3% in my company for 5 years in a row) because she agreed. Yes, actually agreed. At first she got kind of pale and her eyes got really big and blank. I thought for sure she was about to start crying and run off. Maybe even kick me out. She doesn’t really get angry but she gets upset and it freaks me out. After I explained everything about how good it would be for us though, she agreed. This is my official unlimited hallpass. I’ve been seeing Rachel on weekends and Lucy once or twice during the week for drinks. Tonight I’m going to sign up for every dating site I can. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge. If anyone has other suggestions, I’ll check those out too. Fiance has been kind of off but I think it’s just an adjustment period. Sometimes I can tell she’s been crying but she hasn’t come to me about it so she’s probably just being emotional about all the changes. At least she’s got our house to focus on while she gets used to things. I feel a little bad about running out every night but she’s just so mopey and sad all the time and it’s not enjoyable to be around. I know she probably feels like I’m abandoning her a little but once she starts getting back to normal I’ll spend time with her again. You really can have your cake (all the cakes heh) and eat them too. Edit: no, I never told her that I already had Lucy and Rachel and I’m not going to. What good would it do? She’s already agreed to an open relationship and telling her that I didn’t have permission first would just hurt her for no reason.

Kyle’s been gone for two (long, lonely) weeks when he finally gets a chance to call. So far, he’s only been able to send scattered texts at odd hours. Always something sweet – telling you he’s alright, or that he’s thinking of you. Sometimes you even catch him for a brief exchange before he apologizes and “goes dark” again.

Not that you begrudge it. This is part and parcel of dating him and you knew that going in. You’re not complaining when he’s putting his life on the line so that the public can live in blissful peace.

That doesn’t stop you from missing him though. His hugs, his smile. Getting his voice - even roughened by distance - is a nice compromise though.

“How have you been holding up, chickadee?” he asks after the initial reassurance that he’s whole and hale. 

“Easier this time!” you answer proudly. “I know what to expect with you gone and Johnny’s good company.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding pleased.

You can just imagine him now, leaning his hip against the nearest surface, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tends to duck his head when he smiles, and you unintentionally grin to yourself, thinking of him hiding into his phone. God, you miss him. 

“Mhmm! We found a board game bar that you’re going to love. Oh, and we’re going to the Hay Festival this weekend.”

He hums. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to take you, luv, but I knew Johnny would be good to you.”

More than good to you, really. There’s not been a day he doesn’t call to check up on you - if he doesn’t see you in person, that is. Dinner, movies, coffee. He’s somehow both a gentleman and an incorrigible flirt, but only with you. He’s nothing more than polite to anyone else, keeping his focus on you and whatever the two of you are doing.

You don’t know what to do with the undivided attention. If you didn’t know better…

“You two are getting close,” Kyle observes.

“I think so,” you admit, then hesitate. “Is… that okay?”

“‘Course, luv. I’m glad.”

You blink. “You are?”

“He’s my best mate and you’re my best girl.”

An odd pang of anxiety pierces your chest. Johnny calls you that too. His “best girl.” You love hearing it - but maybe you shouldn’t?

“It… doesn’t bother you? That we’re spending so much time together.”

He snorts softly, but it’s not derisive. It’s a noise he makes whenever he thinks you’re being silly, but his voice comes out soft and warm. Not an ounce of condescension.

“No, baby, I’m not fussed. You spend your time with whoever you want, however you want. Yeah?”

Your chest floods with warmth. “Okay.”

“There’s a love. I’ve got a brief, so I have to go. I’ll call soon as I can.”

“Be safe, Ky.”

“Do my best. Give Soap a smooch for us, aye?”

You blink as he hangs up. That’s a new one.

You ponder over it while packing on Thursday night. Was it just a joke? A tease at the little crush you’ve developed for Johnny?

Because it is a crush, you know it is. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. Not with that smile, that laugh, the goofy humor and sweet mannerisms. He still sends you flowers every few weeks - just as the previous ones are about to die. It’s so thoughtful; you’ve started feeling a bit warm every time you look at them.

But you feel greedy, being even remotely interested in anyone else. You have Kyle and Brandon (even if you two are going through a… patch) and that should be enough for you. Shouldn’t it? You’ve never been with more than one person at a time before; it took you weeks to shake the compulsory guilt when you first met Kyle. It feels almost unforgivably audacious to want Johnny too, especially since he’s Kyle’s best mate.

Still… Kyle’s not a jealous or passive-aggressive guy. You’ve been with him long enough now that you know he’d just tell you outright if he was unhappy about something. And he’s been with you long enough that he can surely tell you’re more than a bit fond of Johnny.

Maybe that’s why he made the joke about “smooching” him.

Regardless, you want to talk to him about it. Things always make sense when you think out loud to him. His levelheaded and practical approach to difficult topics always straightens your panic spirals out into neat lines.

Plus, it’s not as comforting to hold your own hand. (God, when is he getting back?)

“Where are you going?”

You blink up at Brandon, folded pajamas in hand.

“The Hay Festival,” you answer.

Speaking of - you slip past him into the bathroom. He doesn’t follow, rooted to the spot spinning his phone around in his hands.

“Alone?”

You snort. “Of course not, I’m going with a friend.”

The allergy pills are at the bottom of the medicine basket beneath the sink. You really need to organize it the next time Johnny’s too busy to hang out. There’s no way you need three bottles of paracetamol. 

“I need that suitcase.”

You toss the bottle in and pivot for the dresser. “What for?”

He shifts, eyes sliding away. “An… overnight.”

Ah. That’s what he’s calling it now?

You snatch a few (too many) pairs of underwear from the dresser.

“Just bring them here,” you say over your shoulder.

There’s a long, tense beat of silence but you’re too busy rummaging for socks to break it first. Will it be too warm for thigh-highs? Eh, you’ll go with the sheer ones; the little lace roses match one of your dresses anyway.

“Bring who here?” Brandon asks slowly.

When you turn, he looks paler than usual. You shrug, trying to project casual comfort.

This is a totally normal and reasonable conversation to have. Just a couple in an open relationship, discussing a stranger coming to the house for a shag. Nothing to make a fuss over.

“Whoever you need the suitcase for? I know you’ve had people over before anyway, and I’ll be gone all weekend.”

He stutters, color returning to his face in bright pink blooms. “Why do you think I’ve had people over before?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I do the laundry, remember? And there was lipstick on one of the wine glasses.”

That had sent you into a tizzy at the time, disgusted that some stranger was in your bed, with your fiancé. You washed the sheets twice on the hottest setting and tossed in a bit of bleach for good measure. Hadn’t been able to look at him the whole week - not that he was there much to not look at.

Now, though, you seem to have adjusted to the idea, even if you’re still not thrilled. Brandon can have his… whoever over, and you’ll goof around with Johnny in Wales.

“Just toss the bedding in the wash afterwards,” you add.

“I thought you do the laundry,” he sniffs.

“I’m not traveling all day just to do chores when I get home,” you answer. He does a double take like you’ve started speaking a new language. “You’ll be here all weekend, I’m sure you’ll have time.”

He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s about to argue - though you don’t really know what about. It’s not like he can’t do laundry or dishes, after all. He lived alone before you moved in together.

Thankfully, his phone distracts him before he can form the words. He spins away to tap at the screen and shuffles out of the room, shoulders till tense. You go back to packing and teasing Johnny about the amount of hair gel he’ll bring.

Friday afternoon can’t come fast enough. Even though you’ve taken a half day from work, the few hours seem to drag. You’re practically daydreaming about the food and drinks, music and activities. There’s a baker’s dozen art stalls you want to check out as well, and a gift to pick out for Kyle…

“Hope yer thinkin’ o’ me when ye make tha’ face.”

Your head snaps around so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. Johnny grins down at you in all his casually handsome glory – ripped jeans, green tee, and brown boots. Angels are singing somewhere, you think. Or maybe that’s just your nosy coworkers ogling from their own cubicles.

The reality of him sinks in a moment later and you leap up from your cushy chair – and right into his arms. He’s like a furnace compared to the cool, conditioned air of your office, a welcome source of warmth for your chilly fingers.

“What are you doing here?” you giggle. “Who let a rowdy guy like you in?”

He smells like bergamot and pine. It takes active thought to resist pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It looks cozy there.

As always, he squeezes you a bit tighter just before letting go.

“Hey now, Marcy’s a discerning lady. She knows a fine gentleman when she sees one.”

You snort, belied by the smile curling your lips. “She may need new glass then.”

“Och, don’t go talkin’ poor about my second-best gal now.”

“Is it that easy to get in your good graces?” you scoff, glancing at the time on your computer. It’s later than you expected; no wonder he came up to retrieve you. You spent so long daydreaming that you’ve lost track of time.

“Aw don’ be green, dove, you’re still my number one. Send ye flowers ‘n all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering just how special that is.”

He stands close, proclaiming his case for how obviously special you are while you shut everything down for the weekend. You’re only half listening to the bit, admittedly. Mostly just basking in your excitement for the mini road trip and the weekend to come. You have no doubt that it’s going to be fun, even if it would be better with Kyle along too.

“Where are you headed off to?” Lucy asks.

“Hay Festival,” you answer shortly.

You’ve never been a big fan of Lucy, but lately she’s been insufferable. Talking over you during meetings, leaving you out of emails, throwing away papers at the printer. (Okay, you haven’t seen her do that last one, but you know.) Worst of all, she can help but make backhanded comments about every flower delivery.

“You’re not taking Brandon?” she simpers. “Something wrong?”

“He’s hanging out with a friend this weekend too,” you correct, “and he doesn’t like hay.”

“Shame that,” Johnny adds, sounding like it’s not a shame at all.

You haven’t told him much about Brandon – but you’re sure that Kyle has. From the face Johnny makes the rare times your fiancé comes up in conversation, he doesn’t think much of Brandon.

“Have fun you two!” your manager, Selene, calls.

You wave and shoot Lucy one last, unimpressed glance before stepping onto the elevator with Johnny.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ My fiancé is going on a weekend getaway with another man. I’ve posted in r/adultery and r/cakeeater before. I’m not looking for judgement or insults here. I really just want advice.

A little context: my fiancé and I are in an open relationship and it’s been like this for a few months now. I originally asked her to ope the relationship and for a while she was weird about it but lately she’s been getting sbetter. I thought she was finally getting used to me going out with other women and things were getting back to normal.

A few weeks ago, I noticed she was on her phone more. Like, all the time. Even at dinner when she used to be really picky about phones at the table. One day I came home from work and she was talking on the phone to someone. Giggling and laughing. When I turned the corner she was kind of blushing too. It kind of bothered me but I figured she was talking to a friend and just hot from cooking or something.

Lucy texted me pissed off one day, asking why I was sending my fiancé flowers but not her. I told her I hadn’t sent any flowers. I think they’re way too expensive for how long they realistically last and that they take up a lot of unnecessary space. But I thought it was weird that someone was sending my fiancé flowers and got kind of uncomfortable. That’s a pretty romantic gesture and her family isn’t the type to randomly send flowers either.

I tried taking her out on a date but she was all mopey again and turned her phone to ‘do not disturb’ so I wouldn’t even see if she was texting someone. We don’t have much to talk about now. I love her but she’s not a good storyteller or into very interesting things. All her ‘funny stories’ are just mundane things that happen during the day. We’ve run out of interesting topics about because we’ve been together so long. (That’s why I like having more than one partner.)

Yesterday she randomly started packing for a trip. I don’t even think she was planning to tell me until I asked her. She was packing a bunch of cute clothes too. Like dresses and tights and things like that. Stuff she only used to wear on our dates. I asked who she was going with and she just said ‘a friend’ which is weird because she would usually say the name of someone even if I don’t remember who they are.

Well today Lucy sent me a picture of my fiancé leaving her job with some guy. I couldn’t see his face because he was turned away, but I could see the side of my fiancé’s face and she was smiling at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe. It took me a few minutes to process that she’s going away for a weekend with a complete stranger.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is? Where did she even meet this guy? They’ll be gone all weekend so are they sharing a room? A bed? I nearly threw up thinking all these things as I called her.

I asked her to cancel her plans and come home. She seemed confused and reminded me that her plans were with someone else and it would be rude to ditch last minute. I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with her and that I’d been missing her. She seemed surprised and said that she’d see me on Sunday night, but she was looking forward to the festival with her ‘friend’ and wanted to go. As a last ditch effort I asked if her friend was more important than me, nearly begging at that point. She must have heard the desperation in my voice, but she just told me that she was already on the road and it was too late.

My fiancé doesn’t like lying but it’s hard to believe this guy was just a friend. Even if she sees him as a friend I know how men think and I doubt he sees her the same way.

She said some other weird stuff before she left about having someone over while she was gone. I don’t get it. How could she just casually invite someone else into our house like that? Has she had other people over? Is she dating now?

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like that she put this trip over me. Should I talk to her about how bad this makes me feel? Should I call again and tell her to come home more forcefully? Am I blowing all of this out of proportion?

Edit: she doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing Lucy. I haven’t told my fiancé about any of the women I’ve been seeing. (mostly just Lucy and Rachel. I’ve done a lot of texting through apps and gone on a bunch of first place, but most women don’t put out right away and I usually can’t be bothered to get to know them better). Even then, I wouldn’t tell her about lucy. They don’t get along and never have. It would cause a lot of unnecessary drama.

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[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 30/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@pandorainabox ha chiesto: Hope this isn't a dumb question,but do you plan to/already are posting the bio parents ah anywhere where it can be viewed all in one piece? With the between posts in tumblr,it gets confusing and I still don't quite know how to navigate it so I was curious if I could binge read it anywhere all in one clean read? (I constantly want to re-read it lmao,it brings me so much joy,its so damn cute!!) Anyway apologies for the random question!! I love your work,you're doing so good and I hope you have an absolutely wonderful rest of your day/night! Thank you so much for taking your time to read and respond if you do so!! 💚💚🌙

i mean… I THINK the masterpost is the easiest way to read it for now (and once you read one chapter you press “NEXT” at the end of it.)

if I would put it, let’s say, on Webtoon (which I can’t) it kind of would be the same thing. A list if chapters, when you click on one it opens the chapter with the 10-20 panels and then you click the “next” to go to the next one.

i don’t think putting all chapters from one part would be nice since it would be a super duper long list of panels (and the page would take a lot to load with so many medias) and one Part of the comic contains multiple arcs.

i’m open to suggestions though!

@robinpika ha chiesto: I was just wondering why is wukong kaiju form unstable? What inspired you to go that route

it was an headcanon of my of why we never see it in the show, even though it is present in JTTW AND war forms are… well normal in LMK, so I figured he must have a reason why he didn’t use it, considering it could have spare them a lot of trouble giving its power.

@imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: I can't find the option to ask anonymously oof— Enyway this is Tumblr and that's what I'm here for. Ever made a design for a Red son and MK kid? From your AU I mean (ignoring every nature law for a second). Also, where did you got that name for MK from? Is something from Jurney to the west? Mainly thanks to your AU I am going to try and read that book (has more them a 1000 pages :') )

we all subconsciously agreed that the spicynoodle lovechild is Kai from lego ninjago and MK real name is his name in the chinese dub.

@avencaeheng ha chiesto: Can you reccomend any websites to watch lmk? 🙏

You can find MOST of the episodes on youtube. BUT you need also the specials to understand the story. If I link you a site in 2 weeks it will be down. The best is that you join the Lego Monkie Kid Fanspace discord. They have links to see the show and they update them every once in a while.

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Another silly headcanon <3 Since MK unlocked he’s monkey form he started teething like a baby monkey but… adult. I don’t know how baby monkey teethe but when dogs teethe they get a lot more bite-y and the bites hurt a lot more than before teething. I can imagineMK getting a lot more bitey with things, like chewing food longer then needed be and maybe when he’s play fighting with the baby monkeys he bites one and it chirps and Wukong is like: ! One of my children is in need! And he discovers MK is teething and does something idk yet. After having given my evidence… Do you think this would happen? Does MK have fangs in his human form like how some people draw him?

hi! I guess he did have a period in which he had a little teething.

no, his human form doesn’t have fangs, because his human form is just a kind of glamour/shapeshift. In the AU the monkey form became his normal form (since it always has been his original form to begin with)

toomanylegos ha chiesto: Hey, I just want to say I absolutely adore your ShadowPeach comic and the beautiful art with it. I went through nasal surgery on the 19th, and seeing an update from you really helped soothe my nerves about it, so thank you! I can't wait to see more updates throughout my recovery :D burry-penguin ha chiesto: As a spicynoodle shipper I love your work sm and what ur doing for this community KEEPING US FEED FOR DAYSSS!! 🔥🍜 🔥🍜 You’re so amazing and keep doing what you’re doing because you’re a damn good story teller and artist. You’ll go so far someday! You’ve helped put a smile on my face on my best and worst days just from seeing each new update and going absolutely fuckin feral over it and I thank you for that 🫶 imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: Not really a ask. I would just like to say I inhaled your AU comic like a vacum cleaner in less them a day, also big fan of the art style. Anonimo ha chiesto: I'm recovering from a toxic relationship and the shadowpeach bio parents au is helping me think through everything ,, The love these monkies show me how relationships are supposed to make you feel good... thank u

turtlewearingclothes ha chiesto: Howdy! I just wanted to say thank you for making your amazing comic, and being the reason I got into Lego Monkie Kid. I've heard of the show, but I never watched it. Then I came across your comic like, 2-3 weeks ago? And after binging it, I decided to watch the show, and now I'm obsessed lol. Thank you!

AWWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE!!!♥️♥️♥️

@selfdestructivecat ha chiesto: Hey so I recently binged your LMK comic because I absolutely fell in love with your ISAT x COTL comic and knew anything you made would be amazing. I’ve never seen LMK though so I’m sure I lost some of the context (it was still so good though, I’m really rooting for everything to work out for the characters!) But I decided to give the actual series a try because of the comic! And here was where I planned on writing you a message after a few episodes to thank you for getting me into a new series, but… I’m on episode one. I only watched the intro. Dude. IM ABSOLUTELY HOOKED. THE ANIMATION! THE STYLE! THE CHARACTERS! I’m so so excited to watch more (which I’m gonna do now!) but thank you so much for bringing this series to my attention!!!

ahaha welcome to the club!, now you can enjoy both comics!

@therivergirl ha chiesto: I remember back in the beggining of eclipse arc you mentioned that Mac feels insecure about his body being part of the reason he's hesitant to take of his clothes even in front of Wukong and it being part of the reason (aside from basic decency) that Wukong looked away. And now in this part Mac appears butt-naked to help Wukong out, adding yet another layer of vulnerability...gah! (Maybe I should finally watch LMK because I feel I would be doubly obsessed with this comic then...)

For Mac being exposed was the last of his issues considering that what he was seeing was Wukong at his lowest and most naked. Now excuse me while I cry.

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: You probably know Chang’E’s story from LMK, but did you know there is a second version of her story that I like better? In the second version Chang’E and her husband(I forgot his name), are getting used to living as mortals after being kicked out of heaven. But someone hears of the immortal elixir they have and try to steel it while Chang’E’s husband is out hunting. After getting beat up a bit she decides to drink the elixir so the robber couldn’t get it. But she instead went to the moon so she could be closer to her lover. Her husband dies because he’s still mortal, and Chang’E is left be herself. I have silly little headcanon the day MK and the others went to the moon was her and her husband’s anniversary 🙃 Bye <3

AH. OK.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Do you think that wukong and macaque act like cats?

as in they would purr? I moslty think Wukong wants to cuddle and stroke his head on Mac neck like a cat, while Mac is that one cat that sometime is annoyed when people touch him but eventually let them do it.

Anonimo ha chiesto: ✨Hear me out :3✨ MK can hear the past. He heard the fight of of prentice and held his eye like he was getting hurt by Wukong and not Macaque. So now picture this: MK has a vision again, his this time it is about how the monk used the circlet on him :3

AHAH. NOW HE CAN’T SEE TANG THE SAME WAY AGAIN. FUCK.

Anonimo ha chiesto: When I first found your comic in your TikTok account, I thought it was something very silly... How very VERY wrong I was.(As I get shot 57 times.) I hope you are taking very good care of yourself because when I downloaded Tumblr to keep myself updated to your comics(which was somewhere around 13-16 December probably) there are a LOT of panels. I enjoyed the newest and most recent parts of the shadowpeach bio parent au and can't wait for the next!!! Don't work yourself to the bone too much! Remember to take mental and physical breaks.

AGHDMHSMFYS THANK YOU!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Are there others who flirt with MK ? He looks good, is very powerful and has a sunshine personality. I bet there are others who are interested in him

I guess there haven’t been any for NOW.

Anonimo ha chiesto: After reading the post about swk's circlet, I srsly want him to look at mk and say "oh, hey we're matching!" ... "OH SHIT WHY ARE WE'RE MATCHING?!"

NOOOOOO!!

@delightfulcupquakequeen ha chiesto: Hey there!!! Been awhile sincenI've written an ask, just wanted to send love and being greatful that you are doig this amazing AU!!!! Appreciating ever pannel you make and gosh dammit hitting me right in the korokoro!!!! Keep being your fabulous self!!! Until next time!

THANK YOUUUUU

@l1br4rycrypt1d ha chiesto: Feel free to ignore this if it's spoilers for the comic, but are we gonna get to see the Gold Star of Venus? Just curious, since you reblogged the meme post that mentioned him during the takeover

There will be a small space for them as well, yes.

@kaothedemon ha chiesto: Fun fact, while I doubt Pigsy has all of Zhu Bajie's powers, his ancestor did have a kaiju form, which he could use if he ate a fuckton I'm sure it's not gonna appear in the story, but the idea of Heaven having to deal with 3 Kaiju dads (+ theoretically a sworn uncle) is extremely funny to me (picture courtesy of OSP's latest JTTW episode cause even when I read the book there weren't any illustrations of this)

I SAW THAT!! Man now they must add it to the show. Yeah I don't think he has ALL of Zhu Bajie's powers (I don't think he would ever want to have them) but it would be interesting if it was a high stake situation

@roseltelle ha chiesto: I think Macaque would actually enjoy working/ volunteering at the playhouse specifically doing shadow plays. But he does regular plays as well. His favorite days are when classes of children come in for field trips. Wukong often paints the backdrops, scenery, and other items for plays. They both enjoy their hobbies.

Awwwww yeah I think Macaque would totally love that.

@lmk4ever ha chiesto: Can you imagine Wukong just being out of it after he distracted the celestials for too long in his war form?

I think that as soon as he sees Macaque again he immediately switch back and become behaved again.

@peach-fury ha chiesto: I think I know the answer but theoretically... Who's war form/kajiu is stronger Wukongs or Macaque's and how would it go? I don't know it started as a thought. Now I can't stop laughing.

Wukong's is stronger.

blbllblblblll ha chiesto: do you know the pronunciation of xiaotian? ive been stuck on how to say his name for so long 😭

I know that the "Qi" is pronunced "Chi" and I think "xiao" is pronunced the same as you would read it, while I THINK the "t" in "tian" is more of a mix between a t and a c/k? I aint chinese and the way I pronounce things or read them is probably different from u cause I'm italian.

eerieqloss ha chiesto: Okay question, is Wukong's war form bigger/taller than MK's?

it's taller.

@elliboom ha chiesto: I was wondering, will Erlang Shen ever appear in the Shadowpeach parent series? (And questa domanda la scrivo in italiano giusto per levarmi un’altra curiosità in futuro, preferisci che le domande vengono scritte solo in inglese o vanno bene anche in italiano? So che non ci sono molti italiani ad essere fan di LMK e JTTW, posso capire la scelta di scriverli solo in inglese per rispetto e far capire ai altri fan, e generalmente per scrivere le domande uso google translate, perché faccio pena con la grammatica inglese, mi scuso se in futuro farò domande con qualche errore 🥲🥲)

Si apparirà. Manda pure in italiano shalla ahah.

[netherfeildren]

Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is a long haul truck driver. One day he finds a pretty girl in a diner and decides he’d like to keep her. 

Murder and sex ensue!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Graphic depictions of violence; Murder; Blood; Gore; Threat of SA; Impotence; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Loss of virginity; Virginity kink; Breeding kink; Spit kink; Rough sex; Blood mention; Pussy slapping; Dark!Joel; Mean!Joel (also kinda crazy and pathetic); Obsessive behavior; Possessive behavior; Discussions of suicidal ideations; Unreliable narrators; Alcoholism; Consensual non consent kind of (But not previously discussed - they're both into it tho); Use of misogynistic language; Grief

A/N: Hi :) Another one just bc I have no self control. 

Parts of the narrative read a little disjointed and/or confusing. This is intentional. I was kind of trying something weird out here, I guess.

Word Count: 9.7K

Read on AO3

The first time Joel sees you, it’s a Thursday. His least hated day of the week, but not his favorite, for he doesn’t really have any favorite things anymore. Your eyes’d stunned him at that first look. They sparkled as if dusted with frost – speared him with an intensity that burned. 

But no… that was a lie, and Joel is trying not to be such a liar anymore. He does have one favorite thing now. This middle-of-nowhere diner, this place where’d he’d found you. 

The first time he’d actually talked to you, you’d interrupted his own stubborn, sour silence with a silence of your own. Different, agonizing, compared to your usual persistent fishing for his attention. 

“What’re you doin’ out here in this wasteland, sweetheart?” Because you look sweet as that cherry pie you’re always trying to push on him. 

“Been here my whole life.” It’s verging on evening, the sky gone to melancholy, and there’s a young girl with dark hair weeping on the shoulder of an older woman in the booth over. He wants to snap at her, demand to know what the fuck she could possibly have to cry over? He’s sure she mustn’t have a dead daughter like him, and so there really seems to be no reason for tears. 

“No plans to leave?”

You shake your head, hum a little, set the coffee pot down on the edge of the table to pop a hip out and think on your answer. “Guess you could say I’m a little bit weak or scared, don’t know.”

“Doubt that,” a surprised laugh forced out of him. Entirely improbable, he knows this just by looking at you. “You’ve got eyes that seem as if they’ve never held fear within them in your entire life.” And he makes you laugh at that, head thrown back, throat rippling. The sound like the tolling of the bell indicating the start of the rest of his life. 

When you’re done gifting him your laughter, you ask, “What about you? Why are you here?”

“My daughter died.” Plain. 

Your eyes seem to shutter or flicker, something like a chimera about them, “When?”

“Two years ago.” He watches the crying girl and the old woman get up to go. And then the two of you are alone. You move to sit in the booth across from him. He’d been coming in here to see you for more than half that time since, and now, the first time the two of you are having an actual conversation, and this is what he’s decided to open with. But really, it’s the only story he has to tell anymore. He watches you watch him for a long moment, as though you’re searching for something within him, or mulling over what it is you want to say to him, the shift of your jaw from side to side as you chew on your words. He feels easily frightened now – fragile – and yet vibrantly malignant, at the same time. A juxtaposition on two opposite ends of the spectrum of good and not so good, or perhaps, verging on very, terribly bad, in the grocery store line of human morality. Two Joel’s at the start and end of the queue who could not seem to come to terms with one another. Enemies – they were enemies of each other. A Joel who’d once had a daughter, and a Joel who now did not. A Joel who’d pulled a trigger at his own temple, and one who’d never even considered such a thing. He draws his finger along the line of scar tissue at his temple.

For a long time he’d wanted to tear a hole in his world and escape, but he was no master of inventiveness. On the contrary, he found his attempt rather miserly – had short changed himself at the last moment and flinched. But perhaps, it had been for this reason – for you, to find you. He wishes he could peer inside your mind, crack open your skull and read everything you’re hiding away from him inside there. A violent thought, but you make him feel slightly violent, or – no, that’s not it – for Joel is already a violent man. It’s more that you pull a specific hue of violence out of him, incite it, like he needs to move, to howl, to claw at something, at you, scream and scream and scream to keep your undivided attention on him forever. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say finally, voice quiet. “How old was she?”

His loss. That was a funny way of putting it. It had never felt like a loss. The word was too small. Four letters was not enough to describe what it really was. There was no word for what it felt like. An emaciation of his very self until he simply ceased to exist. Something that had sucked his soul, his heart, his brain out of his body, but they didnt feel lost. They felt destroyed, decimated, or like they had never existed. Sometimes the feeling left him confused, disoriented – this strange purgatory he’d been relegated to, it was like it had never happened in his mind sometimes, or like it had happened to a different man. Like that life with that beautiful little girl with the green eyes who’d had a father who loved her, who’d then died, had happened to someone else. Someone who wasn’t Joel. Like a war that had raged and raged for centuries, and now nothing was left in its wake. Only that terribly fraught reminder of a violence too grotesque for a human mind to conceive. 

How could he miss something, wish for something so, so, so fucking desperately he’d peel his very skin from his body himself to get it back, but also feel like it didn’t belong to him anymore? Like it had never happened to him, like he remembered it out of his own body? A dream that belonged to someone else, and Joel’d only been told of it second hand. His mind was fractured now, he knew this. He wasn't right – broken or glued together the wrong way. His bones didn’t fit in his joints the way they were supposed to anymore. He was all wrong and ugly and fucked. 

“She was twelve.”

“My whole family’s dead,” you say it almost casually, with a half shrug of your shoulders. “Is that why you started driving? To get away?”

He’s been a long haul truck driver for going on two years now. Started just after Sarah – needed to get away, to get lost. He didn’t enjoy it – he does not enjoy it. Not because the work is bad or boring or what have you, but because he doesn’t enjoy anything anymore. But it’s productive and pays well and… well, he does appreciate the solitude. There is that, at least. He’d been on the route from New Mexico to Washington for several months now, and it was fine. Occasionally, he’d head up to the Dakotas – not so fine, longer, harder trek, but he managed it. He preferred this one, preferred the darkness of the north west corner of the country. He never went further south than New Mexico, though. Absolutely never into Texas. He’d never go back there again. 

“Sure… to get away.” He couldn’t be there anymore afterwards, had nothing left. “My neighbor, Anna, she’s got a teenager, Ellie. Sweet kid. Weird kid,” he laughs fondly, remembering the two of them. “The kid was friends with my daughter, Sarah. And after everything– well, after everything, Anna made sure they both stuck around. Didn’t let me shut myself away the way I wanted to,” ill-shaven recluse, confused, fractured, “They’re good people. You’d like them, I think. They’re… they’re my friends.” They were another reason he kept doing the driving, he liked to send money back to Anna and Ellie. He knew they didn’t need it, didn’t want it, but he had to. He needed to feel like he was still taking care of someone, contributing to someone’s well being. It was just part of who he was. 

“I’m sure I would.”

He watches your silent enrapture as you listen to him tell you of his pseudo life. After a while he’d realized that was all he’d started doing, making his way back to you, to this diner where you work. A sad place for ugly men to stop in on a pause from their interminable journeys and lay eyes on an angel. He hadn’t even really realized that’s what he was purposely doing or that it’d become a pattern. He just needed something to see at the end of the tunnel, a light to look towards when he was lost in the darkness. That’s what you are, a single flickering light in the abyss of darkness he exists in now. 

You’re small – tiny compared to Joel’s own hulking size. He thinks he could break you, easily, if he isn’t careful, if he so felt like it. And you were – you are so fucking pretty. He thinks of you so often. Almost as often as he thinks of his dead daughter which might seem wrong or strange, but it’s really nothing more than the two opposite ends of a spectrum of perfect beauty that he’s known within his lifetime that now he cannot reach either end of. Sarah – dead, forever out of reach. And you. Too perfect for consideration, too beautiful and good for these monstrous hands of his. The thing he’s become in his grief is not worthy of a gorgeous creature like you. His existence post Sarah’s death had become some sort of apocalyptic dysphoria where the only monster here was Joel. But he does like to watch, and he does like to think of you. To come to your diner and sit and watch you serve coffee to your customers – the scum that muddles through here isn’t worthy of laying eyes on you – men like him. Sometimes, when he sits here silently, pretending to ignore you and not be entirely beguiled by you, he feels as if he has a purpose again, like the money for Anna and Ellie, getting to inconspicuously watch over you, make sure no one gives you a hard time gives him purpose. And when he goes, even though he never really wants to, he takes you with him in his mind through the long stretches of his hauls. When there are nothing but ghosts to keep him company. When thoughts of Sarah and that dead life become too overwhelming, he calls you to mind, plans his routes to make his way back to you. 

You’re also fucking persistent – not giving him the chance to wallow away in his silence and brooding. He was rude at first, gruff and unresponsive and wouldn’t ever acknowledge your queries of, How’s it going today, and, Oh, back again I see. Sometimes he wanted to snap and just spit the truth at you, ‘course, I’m fuckin’ back, I’m here to see you, I’m obsessed with you. And rounds and rounds of, Can I get you another cup of coffee? The same as usual? You’d memorized his order. Pestered and pestered and pestered for his name until he’d finally ceded it to you, and, How ‘bout some cherry pie this time? After a while you’d gotten sick of his recalcitrant bullshit and just dropped off the piece of pie, slipping it onto the edge of the table and sliding away without a word or a half look back at him. He’d eaten the whole damn thing, savored it, and caught your sassy, little smirk after he’d finished. He’d wanted to bend you over the counter and spank your ass until you cried after that. He bets you’d taste as sweet as that pie, that if he slapped your cunt enough times he could get it red as a cherry. He bets you’d like that – that you’d like it a little rough, a little dirty, a little mean. You might look like an angel, but Joel’s seen the way you look at him, the way you follow him with your eyes, leaning against the counter, chin cupped in your small palm watching him eat his eggs and drink his coffee. 

You want him. 

But Joel is frightened – frightened and cowardly and not right, and as much as you look like an angel, he also worries you might have the ability to entice him into very, very bad things – to provoke him into depravity, even. There is a part of him, large or small given the day and the mood and the weather that he walks in here on, that has the rotten half of his mind whispering at the not-so-rotten half that he wants to defile and debase you, and that he’s pretty sure you’d like it if he did. He wants to fuck you full of his come and then watch it leak out of your used, gaping hole. Then he wants to lick you clean, kiss it all better so that he can do it all over again.

The first few times he’d stopped at your diner, he’d pretended he hadn’t even noticed you, would lie to himself in his mind and tell himself that he had no interest in a little thing like you. He had no interest in women, in making connections, in having conversations. Occasionally… well– no, not occasionally. Twice, it had happened twice now, when the urge had struck, the itch had become too persistent, and his hand not enough, he’d gotten a hooker. The first time he’d shut down completely, lost his hard on and not been able to finish. The second time… he’d finished. He might’ve even made the woman come, he hadn’t bothered to ask, but he thought he might have. Then he’d gone back to his truck and cried great heaving sobs. Like he’d said… not right, he wasn’t right anymore. Couldn’t even fuck a whore without blubbering like a baby. He’d wondered if perhaps his grief had made him impotent. That’d be funny. That type of funny thing that is also a humiliation… you know the sort?

But after a while, the lie had become too much of a farce, even for his own mind. He knew, from that first moment he’d walked in, and you’d spun around, a bright smile and chirpy, little voice telling him to sit anywhere you’d like, be right with you, mister, that he’d taken notice. More than notice. He’d put you in his pocket that day and had carried you with him in some way since. Like a stone chosen off the beach, washed up by the tide and deposited in the sand just for him to come across, or maybe like a fucking infection, like the plague, for he did not want this. He did not want to think of you. He did not want to think of anyone or anything. He wanted to be alone and without anything or anyone for the rest of his life. If he did not have anyone, if he remained alone, then he could never again experience that loss which was not truly a loss, but something much worse and devastating, and even, perhaps, a little hilarious, in that way that a hilarious thing can also sometimes be humiliating and shameful… there it is. A loss that is not a loss for it is a thing so devastating it becomes something else entirely. A humiliation to one’s very existence, a decimation, emaciation, all the things, all the things, and nothing at the same time.

His mind was wont to ramblings, on occasion now. Perhaps, incoherence, was the better word. Anxiety, as well, panic, tears. Couldn’t even fuck a hooker without weeping, howling, a few sobs. 

He had wandered so far, and sometimes he thought, I want to go home, but of course, that home no longer existed. It had been put in the ground two years ago and lost forever. The dissatisfaction of constant ennui. He could, perhaps, return to the geographical place, but nothing familiar would remain. He couldn’t live with the memory, he couldn’t live away from it. It was like it had simply ceased to exist that day that she’d died, and every moment since that moment was just a series of moments filled with a yearning for some place that no longer existed. He didn’t think he’d ever again feel at home anywhere.

And yet…

He turns back to look at you. 

“How did they die? Your family.”

“Home invasion – murdered. He never found me, hid in the boiler closet.”

“Little rabbit.”

“Hmm,” a huff of a laugh, “Maybe. Someone once said I was lucky. Pretty fucked up, no?”

“Do you feel lucky?”

“Never. Angry – that I’d been left behind.”

“Yeah…”

“Alone.”

“Are you alone?”

You turn back to him. Inspect him. He watches the slant of your eyes take in his hair, his face, wrinkled, haggard, his chest, his arms – he feels a flush flare beneath his ribs, then back up to his eyes. He wonders if you’ve ever been fucked before. You’re young – but he can’t imagine how you wouldn’t have been. He thinks he’d do anything in this moment to get between your thighs, but also, he hopes you haven’t, hopes you could be all his, only his, his his. Mine. 

He hopes he won’t cry if he gets the chance. 

“Entirely,” you say finally. 

“I had– have– ” shakes his head, “I have, I guess, a brother. Tommy. But the last time I saw him… I was horrible.” They seldom saw each other now – lie – they never saw each other now. Truth, Joel. We’re telling the truth now. 

You laugh lightly, shrug, “Happens.”

“Sure…”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Ah, just couldn’t get a handle on myself after everything. Things got bad enough eventually, and we fought… a lot. Violently. I was violent. One morning I got out of hand, terrible – one of my biggest regrets. We hurt each other with our words and our fists, and in that way only two people who know each other too well can. He cracked my ribs, gave me half his orange in the evening, afterwards – said our apologies. He was gone the next day. Haven’t heard from him since. I just got to be too much for him,” he says again, needs to reiterate it, make sure you understand that he is too much and too dark, too unmanageable – ugly. That you should not be sat here with him. That he has a violence within him, and that you should probably run as fast and as far as you can, but that he cannot promise he will not follow. “I had…” he is ashamed of this part, surprising for he sometimes wonders if he still possesses the heart to feel shame, “I had a problem with drink for a while – not anymore, though,” he says quickly. “I promise, not anymore.” He should not be promising you anything. “I got control of it – knew it was making it all worse rather than better. Felt like I was trapped underwater with my damn ghosts – that … What's that thing called when – when sick people get like – like trapped inside themselves or somethin’? You ever heard’a that?”

-

“Locked-in syndrome.”

“Yeah– yeah. I read about that once or heard it somewhere – that’s what it felt like when I was drinkin’ – fuckin’ terrible. Let it go after a while… but by that time… Tommy was gone, done with me. I was – dunno… like some sort of demon or somethin’ – somethin’ bad.” He huffs a small, derisive laugh, looks at you with that ridiculously charming, crooked half smile. 

That laugh sparks a kindling of anger inside of you for him. This is a broken, angry, creature of a man, you think. Something fractured – not whole, and he must be handled with care and gentleness. “How could he just leave you?

“Didn't give him a choice. Sometimes people deserve to be left.”

“I wouldn’t have.” That sobers him, wipes the smile right off his handsome face. You think of the invisible giants hurting this man in some unimaginable fashion; of the endless tenderness coiled up inside of him and how the crushing of that tenderness – the death of it – has given way to what may be considered madness. Because after all these months of watching him, of him watching you, you can see it, recognize that tenderness for what it is, but also the madness, for it is impossible to ignore if you’re really looking. Soft marrow at the center of a hard man. 

“I did other things… worse things.”

“Try me.”

“I tried to kill myself.”

You whistle, long and low. You actually had not been expecting that one, at least, not the admittance of it, “You’re just full of truths,” for looking at him – the sort of man he’s built as, the thought that he could be felled by anything, even his own hand, is a little hard to believe. 

“Feels like a sort of confessional in this–”

“Shithole–”

“Diner–”

Your voices overlap. You both laugh. You think you quite like the sound of your voices intermingling one on top of the other. 

“What happened?”

“Flinched–”

“I flinch all the time.”

“Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

You hum, tilt your head side to side on your neck as if you’re letting the thought slide from ear to ear within your skull. “Perhaps only the peripheral idea of it, but never with much imagination or dedication. I don’t think I have that much to kill myself over, you know?”

“Your family?”

“Not really – it’s sort of become just this… this thing that happened once. I don’t feel much ownership over it anymore. Don’t know why, exactly.”

“Sure, that’s how I feel about it sometimes too. That belongs to a different man now – like– like some actor or a facsimile, and I just look in on it as if from a distance. Enjoy the sight of someone else's suffering…” He shakes his head, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, no, I understand. Something to do in the way that a tragedy can be compelling to watch. You can let go, let go of your awareness of yourself and experience it in a way you’d never do so in the present moment.”

“A dissociation.”

“Yes. Why would you want to go and relive the basest parts of yourself all alone, over and over again? Not likely.”

“But it was me.”

“A dissociation,” you repeat, smile. 

“Yeah,” he pauses, turns the coffee cup round and round with the slow spin of his wrist as if to dissolve the remains of the grounds you know the shitty machine has left deposited at the bottom. There is a small dusting of golden brown hair covering his wrist and disappearing up his forearm beneath his flannel. You want to taste it, follow the trail to places unknown. “Not so well adjusted, us two,” And he laughs then. A real laugh. He lets you have a real laugh of his, and it is powerful – special. 

“Well… no.” Of course not. “I don’t think either of us could ever claim that.”

“Bet you’ve never been bad a single day in your life, have you?”

You cock your head, let your eyes slide from him to peer out the dark window. His lonely semi is parked under the single flare of light out there. The evening has sunk into a deep blue, the hue of mourning, of melancholy, and the pavement is wet with evening rainfall.

You'd heard that some trucks had spaces behind the seats where truckers could put a bed, have a place to rest. You wonder if he’ll take you back there and fuck you in his little bunk. And honesty is a fickle thing when discussing a topic like this, isn't it? There’s a depravity about him, and you can’t tell if the truth or the lie would placate him – incite him – more. To be similar in such a way as that which he’s imagining. A little bit of both, then. After all, intent holds weight – imagination, desire, it has a mass to it that can, if enough pressure is exerted upon it, be transformed into something else. 

“Not yet,” you tell him, sliding your gaze back to meet his, “Haven’t had a chance – but there’s still time.”

-

“What would you like to do?” He wants to take a bite out of that soft flesh you’re encased in, draw blood.

“Something depraved?” You’re taunting him – trying to provoke. It makes him slightly angry, but also hard. You should know what it is you’re toying with here. 

He frowns at you, at the lilting song of your words trying to beguile him into doing whatever it is you think you want him to do to you. “What is it that you think you want here? You don’t know what I was, how I lived. Shouldn’t be sat here with me, little girl,” he scoffs. “I was– was not– I don’t fucking know, not a man. I’m not, I’m not. Not a person anymore, just this thing that continues to exist. I should not have been expected to survive. This should mean something to you too. You also have no one. You’re alone too. You’re alone in the world. You know what it feels like to only live in the winter.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, and then you say: “I think I’ve come to quite like the winter.” And at that he knows he’s taking you for himself, whether you agree in the end or not. You’re going to be his. 

But he knows he must also let this roiling anger, this depraved hunger settle before he lays hands on you. Like this, in this state, he’d be too rough, break you, nothing compunctious about him or his jaggedness. He excuses himself for a smoke, your only response simply more of that inciting silence – more thoughts of cracked skulls and a cherry red cunt and tears after failed trysts with someone who doesn’t even know his name. He’s fucking embarrassing. What would Tommy say if he knew Joel couldn’t even get it up for a paid fuck anymore? He’d laugh in his face, never let him live it down. He misses his brother very much. He misses lots of things. 

He’s sucking on his Red under the awning of the diner’s entrance, imagining what it’ll be like to suck on your little clit, when he hears them. 

“She’s usually out about midnight. We’ll snag her then.” Grating, guttural voice.

“But I get to fuck ‘er first. This was my idea so I go first.”

“Yeah, whatever. S’only happenin’ ‘cause of me. Too fuckin’ stupid to see the plan through after all these months of watchin’ ‘er.”

“Fuck off.” Silence, and then almost with giddy elation: “We gonna kill her too?” Something cold and terrifying settles within Joel. 

A beat, “Should we?”

“Dunno, man. Might be fun, huh? Never done it before.”

“She’s fuckin’ pretty,” the voice draws the vowel out in a high pitched, sacharine whine. “Got the face of an angel.” Joel’s angel, his, his, only his.

He’s got his Bowie in a sheath on the back of his belt. Perhaps, this would be a useful exercise in release. After he’s dispelled his excess energy he can come back and touch you, take you. 

“Can’t wait to taste that cunt.” His cunt.

“Seen her tits, man? Fucking round and bouncy. Wanna make ‘em bleed.” And there’s only one avenue of consequence after that. After all, this is not the first time Joel’s done this. 

His most well kept secret.

Sometimes, when the itch cannot be eased, abated, by his hand or a fuck or a drink or any of the other readily available vices, he turns to this. Only when the straits were dire. Only when he saw no other recourse. Only after his daughter was dead and in the ground and his brother gone away from him

. 

But sometimes… sometimes it’s just fun. Sometimes it’s useful for a man to do that thing that he really feels he wants to do, if only to enjoy himself, if only to let go of some of that suffocating tension. If only to keep vermin like this away from an angel like you. 

“We’ll chill in the woods for a while, wait the little thing out, yeah?” Joel edges his way towards the edge of the building closer to them, peeks a lone eye around the corner. Two men, middle aged. Not a problem. Not for a man like him. 

He waits for them to make their way to the edge of the tree-line, watches them disappear into the gloom. He looks back into the diner through the murky windows. The warm glow of the overhead lamps washing you in a hue of golden light that brings out all the warm goodness in you he’ll take for himself once he’s snuffed out this issue. 

No one’s going to touch you but him. No one’s going to hurt you but him. 

As he rounds the corner of the diner there’s a piece of metal pipe propped up against the building by the dumpsters. Very nice. 

He goes after them. 

At the edge of the tree-line, under a swaying, low hanging branch, there is a tiny unfledged bird, helplessly twitching its way towards death in a puddle. He pauses to watch its struggle, gathers his skin about him, tightens his seams – prepares to gorge. He watches the inch by inch pilgrimage towards its last breath, then stillness. He feels so much older than his years, like he’s lived a thousand terrible years, watched a thousand terrible deaths. But there is a buoyancy about him, as well. Filled with a saccharine sweet fizz of sticky anticipation. He’s going to taste your cunt after this is done.

 He moves into the gloom. He’s going to kill them for you, and his cock is hard at the thought.

Stepping beneath the canopy of the trees, into that cold, damp darkness, he sees the absolute truth of the world. On the heels of two men who’d do you harm, he knows that he’d failed to save someone he cared about once, he’d not be bested by failure a second time. Darkness implacable, the crushing black vacuum of their overheard words buzzing in his head like flies, of the harm they’d do you. Two hunted animals moving away from a creature much darker than they could even imagine, scurrying on borrowed time. What most moves him is that the things they’d do to you are not so dissimilar to the things he plans to do to you, as well. The only difference being that after he’s done defiling you, he’ll keep you for himself, with all the care and gentleness a little thing like you so deserves. 

-

You press your ear to the cracked open door leading to the back of the building. It’s not the first time those two’ve talked their filth regarding you. The murdering is new, though. You’d not thought they were smart or inventive enough to come up with an actual kill plot. Rape enough of a hardball for minds as shallow and small as those two’ve got. 

You’d never really considered them much of a threat. Or maybe you’d just never really cared enough to pay them much attention. But as you watch the broad, rippling expanse of Joel’s muscled back stalk after them, his pause at the tree-line to look down at something on the ground, you think he must be more in the vein of taking a stupid man’s shit talk to heart than you’ve ever been. 

He has a thick, forearms-length of steel pipe gripped in his huge fist, and there’s a wicked looking knife strapped to his belt on the back of his hip. 

Interesting. 

You look back at the empty diner, the lonely parking lot beyond the glass of the windows, only Joel’s semi still taking up residence on the wet pavement. You turn back to follow after the three men. 

One you want, two you’re interested to see what fate awaits them.

For some reason, when you step outside, you’re expecting there to be snow on the ground, but there is none.  

You move across the pavement towards the forest-line, and the pilgrimage towards the verdant darkness feels very much like your one-way ticket out of this forlornness you’ve been trapped in your whole life. You’ve been stuck in this small town for so long, for too long. One man had already tried to forcibly evict you, had taken your entire family with him, maybe this one, maybe Joel, would do so in a way you’d more likely enjoy. 

There’s been a steady, faint drizzle all day long, and the puddles of rain look like holes in the dark pavement, apertures into some other realm that glide past underground. You wonder if you stepped through if you’d disappear below into some other place. You wonder if he’d be able to find you even in that unknown other. 

You cross the line into darkness. 

The familiar terror of silence – you don’t seem to find it here. There is only the sound of your rushing blood, the cadence of his voice rumbling through your psyche, firing your neurons up into a frenzy. There is a twisting heat low in your pelvis, dampness between your thighs. What’s he going to do? Why’s he going to do it?Is it for me? Is it for me? It’s for you.

You let out a low whistle between your teeth and move beyond the trees. There is a giddiness about the darkness of the wood – the motley of shadows, the aroma of mushroom rot. 

The familiar terror of silence. Perhaps, that is what they are experiencing now. The great horror of being set upon by a beast more terrifying than anything they could have ever conjured up on their own. 

That infinite tenderness from before, that acute madness – it coalesces in the gap in the trees as you come upon the three men. 

Joel has already started on the first. He murders almost tenderly. With great care, but infused with an aroma of agitated frenzy that seems flavored in the same notes of erotic buzzing that hums beneath your own skin. There is blood and viscera splattered on his face and clothes, in his hair. That great hunting knife embedded in the throat of the first man. The body lays facing you now, eyes open, shocked at his own death. Funny. Perhaps, that’s how they would have liked you to have ended up once they were through with you. 

Oh, how the tune changes when the monster is on your side. 

What are you? Be a creature. Be a creature. Be a creature!

You take Joel in. Thick, massive frame. You love his hair, it was one of the first things you’d noticed, thick dark curls streaked with the silver veins of his age and experience. Something that promised of care and knowledge and patience. His patchy beard with the heart shaped gap in it, you’re going to write your name into that space. His powerful arms, muscles coiled tight, his shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders as he brings the steel pipe up above his head, pauses to look down at his next victim. 

“We won’t bother her anymore, never again – p– please, please, I swear,” the man on the ground begs and cries. There are tears and snot bubbling down his ruddy, pocketed face. 

Joel is silent and terrifying and glorious above him, and then a small nod: “That’s alright… I believe you.” The metal comes down in a whistling arc, makes contact. 

Flesh and blood splatter, the sound of it is pulpy and wet and vindicating. He starts with the man’s knees, then his head, caved in like the shell of an egg, the yolk spilling out like vermilion drool. 

He heaves silently above the man that would have done you harm. Makes the threat go away. 

You step forward, cunt pulsing and wet and eager for him. When he’s gotten his fill of bludgeoning he turns slowly back towards you, as if he’d known the entire time that you’d been stood there watching. 

And the look on his face, it makes something electrifying and sticky buzz up your spine and ooze down your veins. You shift back on your heels

He shakes his head, his eyes are huge, pupils blown wide. “Don’t run,” he says slowly. If you hadn’t just watched him murder two men in cold blood – no, in your defense, he saved you, he protected you, fizzy heart full of satisfaction – you’d say he almost looks a little doe eyed. 

A hollow pounding begins in his heart, as if it had remained silent for the past two years and was only now taking notice of its own silence. His cock, hard enough to burst, angry and throbbing beneath the confines of his blood soaked jeans. Fuck this scum laying on the ground beside him, look at what he has infront of him. Nothing else matters but you. A goddamned angel. Damned for he’s found you now and nothing good can come of this. He takes a step towards you, and you match him with one backwards, away from him, his blood starts to howl in his veins. Different to the humming frenzy that had filled him as he did his murdering. This is hot and viscous and ravenous, and he knows he’ll get to keep his catch once he’s gorged himself on it. He knows he’ll get to keep you once he’s caught you. 

You take two more nervous little, quick steps away from him. Your eyes are slightly manic, face flushed, frame jittery, excited. A rabbit that knows it’s about to be caught. He watches the pause of your limbs as they fill with coiled energy, getting ready to make the bound and leap towards escape. He lunges, goes in for the kill, teeth bared, talons  brandished. 

Faster than you can even comprehend, he lunges, takes you to the ground with one massive, powerful shoulder to the vulnerable, soft of your belly, one huge paw cradled at the back of your skull to protect you from the hard ground. Your spine hits the cold, wet earth, the breath knocked out of you. You think you let out an animal noise, high pitched and supplicant. A thing that knows it’s been caught and is soon to be devoured. Your limbs scramble against the dirt, heels digging into the ground for purchase, you feel the loss of one of your shoes, as you try to get away or to crawl closer, who can be sure. A spider caught in the web or a larger, hungrier arachnid. He sets the huge heaviness of his muscular weight over your much smaller frame, one strong hand caged around the column of your throat, the other pushing your chest into the earth as he shoves his hips into the cradle of your own, forcing your thighs apart and your skirt to pool at your waist. You feel the stretch of the center plaque of your tights as his wide breadth settles between your legs, making room to take you for himself. You bring your own hands up to the wrist holding your throat and dig your nails into the skin there. You can feel the light smattering of hair covering his forearm beneath your soft palms, the cold, wet dirt beneath you, the searing stretch of the inner muscles of your thighs spread wide for him, the damp of the air surrounding the two of you. He leans forwards, pressing you down into the ground, and you have the fleeting thought that you want to transfuse yourself into the earth, into him. 

He pauses then to look down at you, appreciating the gloriousness of his catch. “Caught ya.” And he’s filled with an exuberance, a sort of victory. Look at what he’s snared – all for himself. 

You try and struggle again, if only to see the flare of annoyance in his eyes. It makes your cunt tight and achy. Even more than it already is. There’s a part of you that thinks you want him slightly angry – rough or mean. That you might like it even more if it hurts. Be kind enough to be cruel about it, you want to beg him. He leans forward to press his nose to your cheek, drags the cold vermillioned flush of it along your jaw, down the line of your throat, bites harsh and painful at your collarbone then over the peak of your breast. 

“Are you a virgin?” He whispers into your skin. It sounds very much like a threat. 

“Yes.”

“Saved this cunt all for me.” And it is not a question. Yes, you moan anyways. Let him know. Let him know that this defiling is a gift you’re granting him. He sits up on his haunches between your thighs, his hands sliding down to press on your lower belly and digs his fingers into the center of your tights and pulls, ripping a hold in them for his pillaging. You try and press your knees shut at the feel of the frigid air on your sensitive inner thighs, dig your nails into the ground above your head to try and drag yourself away from him. 

He digs his own fingers harshly into your flesh, his nails biting painfully into the soft skin of your thighs and ass and brings you back towards him. There’ll be streaks of pain left in his wake after this. Bad little rabbit. He smacks the inside of your thigh, watches the smooth flesh ripple for him. You let out a warbled, angry screech, little nails still trying to claw yourself away from him. He laughs then, a little mean, condescending. “Fight harder, little baby. This is pretty pathetic.” He rips your thighs apart, keep your fuckin’ legs open for me, his hands slick with the blood of his victims slide up the back of your thighs, anchoring his palms beneath the damp creases of your knees to press you open and wide for him, slaps your cunt, hard, over the soaking gusset of your panties. 

“Who the fuck’re you wearin’ this tiny little thong for?” he growls. It’s white lace, with a sweet, little pink bow adorning the front. “Me? Wrapped yourself up all nice and pretty for me?” Your little foot sneaks up under his armpit and tries to push with, what he’s sure is all your valiant might, at his chest, trying to unseat him from his conquering position above you, but he takes your ankle in a vice like grip, bites harshly into the meat of your calf so that an animal squeal of pain is clawed out of your throat at the same time that he slots his fingers under the damp center of your panties. “Sing as loud as you want, sweetheart. No one’s gonna hear you out here.” He can feel the soaking wet seam of your cunt against the backs of his knuckles, and he rips them clean off you. The sound of the last remaining barrier of protection of your cunt against his ravaging being decimated has you going shock still – prey that knows it’s caught and has decided to give up. Good, this is how he wants you. Your big, wet eyes look up at him as he flings the lace towards the still steaming dead bodies. That’s all they’ll get of you. The rest is only his. Mine, mine, fucking mine. 

You let your arms go limp above your head, soft and pliant and ready for ravaging, melting into the earth.

He presses your knees back and up, letting the red blossom of your wet cunt bloom for him. It’s slick and swollen, and he knows when he shoves his cock inside it’ll be burning hot. “Look at this gorgeous virgin pussy, baby. All for me. Only for me…” he murmurs, hypnotized, mesmerized. He drags the back of his knuckles over your slit, uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart, admires the swollen nub of your clit. You’re just as hungry for him as he is for you. Messy, eager little whore. He moves to undo his belt and free his aching length. Huge and brutish, thick veins pulsing just beneath the thin skin. He’s going to split you in half, break you, mold you in his image. 

He spits right onto your soaked folds, watches the thick glob of saliva slide down to mingle with your own leaking slick. He’s not even going to make you come first. Little virgin cunt and he’s not going to even bother getting you ready – just gonna shove the whole, unforgiving length of himself inside of you. Force you to take it. He fists his thick fist around himself, jacks his cock once, twice, squeezing at the bulbous head so that a trickle of precum seeps out of the slit. He presses his head to your clit, slides down to give you a small threat of pressure at your opening. When he looks back up at your face your eyes flutter shut, a look of pure contented submission washing over the gorgeous planes of you. 

“Not gonna be gentle, baby. Don’t got it in me.” He notches the fat head at the slick mouth of your entrance and crams his cock inside of you in one go, meets that thin barrier that says you still belong to yourself and rips through it. Mine now. No reprieve, no respite. And God, the feel of it, cleaved in half, scorching hot, filled to the brim and never deep enough. He is a rabid, snarling beast of a man as he hits the very end of you, grinds his cockhead at the mouth of your womb. You let out a warbled, pained moan, little fingers coming up to claw at his throat and chest with kitten-strength, down to dig into his thick thighs as he pins you down, and you tilt your hips to let him in deeper or escape him, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. He pulls his hips back and forces himself back in, too thick cock wedged into the too tight space. “Christ, goddamn tight fuckin’ pussy – made for me,” he grits through bared teeth.

He fucks you raw and cruel, and he needs you to just lay limp and still and take it.

And you do. And he does not cry this time. 

He sets a brutal pace, throbs deep in your belly at every pause as he grinds at your cervix. It must be painful for you, perhaps, but the flush in your cheeks, the fever in your eyes, the ripple of your cunt around his driving length tells him you also like it. “What a good girl, taking my big cock,” he coos. You preen, tilt your hips this time in supplication he’s sure, hitch your feet higher along his sides. There are tears running back down your temples and into your hairline. His cock makes you cry. If he could, he’d split your throat and drink, he would. But he cannot, so he’ll split your cunt instead. He thrusts into the hilt, complete negligence for care, for gentleness lost in the dark wood, for the desperate necessity of feeling your virgins blood coating his cock. Your protestations lost to the louder song for more, for harder, for deeper

Joel, Joel, Joel. 

He’s going to listen to you sing his name for the rest of his life. 

He feels unhinged, a thread picked at too many times, spun loose, unraveled and frayed. That edge that separates good and evil – his bloody fingers clamp down hard on the edge of your jaw, forces you to open for him, and he spits into your mouth – direct, dirty … warm. “Lemme see…” he rumbles, and you stick your tongue out for his inspection. Once he nods, pleased and smug and conquering, you close and rub the slick of his saliva onto the roof of your mouth with your tongue, savor the taste of him. This was the taste that you’d longed for… that which teaches you what that professed edge really is. Is he good, is he evil – he’d just killed two men, you’d watched him, cunt wet at the sight of it. Albeit to protect you… sure – but does it even matter? You swallow his spit down. Probably not. 

He is huge and life altering inside of you. Your virginity scoured away on his invading length. 

He leans forward, hand clamped around your jaw to pierce you with his manic gaze, like his cock pierces your cunt. He smells like the forest and sweat and power. “Little fuckin’ tease,” he grits, “Bringing me cherry pie like that all the time – fuckin’ provoking me. You just wanted me to pop your cherry for you. Didn’t you, little girl?” All you can do is nod dumbly and take what he gives you. He hooks one of your knees over his elbow, the other propped over his shoulder, foot bobbing limply at each slam of his hips. He has you bent entirely in half, cunt splayed wide open for him to fuck down into the deep, devastating end of you. Your vision goes blurry, black stars streaking across the back of your eyelids. All you see is him. Perhaps he’s all that exists now. Maybe you’re just as dead as the two bodies laying beside the two of you. You wonder peripherally what the sight of the four of you must look like. Joel’s hulking form fucking you like an animal into the dirt. You open your eyes to look up at him, there’s blood splatter across his face, in his hair. His skin is burning hot against yours. You think that perhaps you’ll have scorch marks in the shape of his fingers in your skin after he’s done with you. Two dead, brutalized bodies cooling beside the place where the two of you are fucking. 

“Can feel ya tightening up, baby. Gonna come all over my cock.”

He does something to change the angle, and it fucking hurts. “Too much,” you beg, try to push him back weakly, but your cunt pulls sharp and tight, and then your muscles are rippling around him, womb contracting painfully as your orgasms blinds you with its sudden intensity. 

“Don’t care,” he growls back. “Do not fucking push me away.” No, he must not care. Prey doesn’t decide how it’s felled, after all. 

He pulls out and back then, suddenly, slaps your cunt harshly, once, twice. You mewl, high and shocked, writhing around in the dirt. He grabs you by the hips and flips you so fast you’re left disoriented, pulling your ass up, up, up. 

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he croons, bends to bite down on the meat of your asscheek, and then notches back at your gaping, fluttering hole, orgasm still running through you, and pushes back in. You’re soaking wet, slick and fucked open by him and the taking is much easier this time. You feel his thumb press down on your asshole, “Gonna take this too. Gonna have every part of you, every piece. Gonna swallow you whole.” All you do is arch your back further, cheek smushed into the dirt, fingers digging into the cool earth for purchase, for salvation.

The sight of you stretched around his thick base, so slick he feels you dripping down his balls and further below, into the bloody earth. There’s a red tinge of your own blood coating his skin, and he’s going to come. He’s going to fill you up with his spend and fuck it deep into you until it takes. Until no matter how far you want to run, he’ll be with you, always. He lets his head fall back on his neck and stares up at the dark canopy of the trees, groans low and deep.“You’re gonna be my little hole now,” he promises, presses one large palm into the small of your back to deepen the angle and fuck down into you. “Gonna take you with me and fill you up whenever I feel like it. My gorgeous little cumslut.” The ramming of his hips starts to grow sloppy and stuttered, close to the edge now. Victory is so, so near. 

You start to claw at the dirt and wiggle again. Little knees chafed raw and scrambling against the hard ground trying to get away. He slaps your ass hard, hopes there’ll be the print of his hand to appreciate later. 

“Not inside, not inside – not – no birth control,” you stutter, beg.

“I’m not fuckin’ pulling out.” He twists a cruel and unyielding hand into the back of your hair and presses your face harshly into the ground. Your eyes pinch and tears seep and mingle into the blood and dirt beneath you. “Gonna pump you raw and full. You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ anymore, baby. Gonna take care of you,” he grits and you press yourself harder back into him. There is an existential seesaw inside of you – a volleying of your wants – you want him to hurt you, to force you, to take care of you and keep you, all at the same time.

“Promise – promise me you won’t leave me,” you cry and beg because really, that’s all you want. All you’ve ever wanted. For someone to stay, for someone to never leave, no matter what.

“I promise – fuckin’ swear.” And you go loose and passive again at that – his to do with as he will. Nothing else really matters after all that.

He senses the change. The loosening of your muscles into capitulation. He stops his thrusting and grinds, strums at your clit. “Oh fuck, you want me to fill you up? And what happens if I do? What happens if it takes? Want me to get you fuckin’ pregnant?” Starts to fuck into you again, “I think you do.”

Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care.

“You’re mine. Fucking mine.” He says it again and again and again, yes, yes, yes, lets himself fall forward, anchored above you with one strong arm as he presses as deep as he can physically go and starts to fill your pulsing cunt with his come, the heat of his spend inciting you to roll into one more throbbing orgasm. He brings his face down close to yours, open your eyes, little thing, lemme see you. The fluttering of your lashes, sweaty, dirt-streaked face, and you are seraphic, the wet crimson heat of your blood pounding beneath the delicate membrane of your skin. Gorgeous, perfect, conquered and his. 

“Fucked full’a me now,” he whispers, presses a soft kiss to the tender skin of your eyelid. You nuzzle into him, and then look up at him with the warmest, most vibrant gaze he’s ever seen. Fucking pleased and sated. 

“They wanted me, but only you get to have me now,” you whisper. “How does that make you feel?” Provoking, provoking again. 

“Like I fucking own you.” He grinds his still spitting cock further, feels the pull of your muscles milk him deeper. 

He lets his weight fall partially over you, too heavy for the full mass of himself. You are, after all, a delicate thing, and he must remember to handle you with care, occasionally. He feels the pulsing and quivering of your cunt around his softening cock, and the two of you settle to lay there in the dirt, bodies still dead, virginity scoured and stolen, and stare at each other. 

“Have you ever been in love?” you whisper, dragging the tip of one little finger, whisper soft, over the arch of his brow, the slope of his nose.

“I feel a little in love with ya right now,” he confesses, and you press that finger against the seam of his mouth, begging for entrance, and then inside, against the flat of his tongue to inspect the wet gleam of it. It’ll be inside of you soon enough, you should take a look at that which you’ll be writhing against in due time. 

“Good. That was my plan all along.” Smug, conniving little creature. 

-

Once it’s full dark, he packs you into his truck, buckles your seatbelt for you, tucks a blanket around your dirty knees and drives off as if he hadn’t just murdered two men and taken your virginity with their blood still hot on his skin. He goes for miles and miles, eventually finds a dark, secluded spot to park the truck for the night. He takes you into the back bunk and fucks you like you’d wanted him to, on your side, one leg slung over his shoulder, hand gripping the lush of your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock, watches your ass bounce against his thrusts. A demanded play with it, lemme see ya push it back in, as he watches himself drip out of your messy hole. Eats your cunt until you cry. Afterwards, the two of you lay, naked and damp, facing each other, tracing the lines of one another in the quiet dark. 

Sometimes he’s worried he’s blood hungry – or pain hungry. Starving for something he doesn’t have a name for. But he thinks that, perhaps, he can use your name to fill in the blank space now. He’d always felt as if his devotion was a punishment to the receiver. After all, everyone Joel has ever loved has left him. But as he looks at you, there’s something in your eyes that tells him that perhaps, you’ll remain. Perhaps, he can compel you to, force you to. Perhaps, he can anchor you to himself, and in turn, give you everything. 

“Are you a ghost?” he asks.

“No. Are you?”

“Sometimes I think I am.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re like a fuckin’ angel or somethin’. What were you doin’ out here in this wasteland?” He asks you again.

“Maybe I was waiting for you.” This answer he likes.

He’s quiet for a long time after that – taking you in, cataloging you, memorizing you. His fingers ghosting over your face, your hair, strumming the fan of your lashes. Later he asks: How do you remember the memory of someone else? How do you keep them when they’ve gone somewhere entirely unreachable?

“Because you love them,” you tell him.

“That’s enough?”

“Of course. Will you ever forget that you loved her?”

“Never.”

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[whatdaikesneed]

One of the bartenders at the not-quite-a-gay bar I frequent is an out-and-proud lesbian working her way through a psychology PhD. She's 23, early in the program, straight out of undergrad. She's been working at this bar since she turned 21, so I've known her for a few years. She's also, like, fucked up. I love talking with her about school, because she gets visibly horny talking about studying abnormal psych and abuse.

This semester she's in a seminar on familial abuse, and a few weeks ago she's telling me all about this family where the parents are grooming the kids from when they're preteens, and she's talking to me about trying to look the right amount of disgusted in class, meanwhile fantasies are swimming around in her head about getting abused like that. I asked her if she would masturbate to a client's trauma story if their parents had sexually abused them. She said, "Probably not in front of her."

I know she's not planning on going into clinical therapy, but I kind of want her to. Bet she'd come back and tell me great stories about the confidential shit that's happened to her patients.

Anyway she says she's so glad to be able to talk to me, because she's got no one to talk to about any of this stuff, but it's hard at the bar because she can't be as graphic as she wants to while she's working. So I offer to make plans to hang out at my place, where she can come get it all off her chest.

Two days later she shows up at my place with a laptop, so excited. We sit down on the couch and she opens up the laptop and goes to fansly. She's subscribed to like twelve accounts, that don't look like they have anything to do with her.

She pulls one of them up, scrolls down a bit, and finds a particular video, which she plays. The girl in the video is doing an RP video with a dildo sticking in from off camera, talking to her "Daddy" and sucking and fucking it. And the bartender girl says, "Her dad really fucked her like this. Almost beat for beat." I noticed that the performance felt a lot less contrived than these things usually do, like there's a whole backstory but she's not worried about filing you in on it.

After a few minutes of that one, she goes over to a femboy with a huge cock, and pulls up a video of him riding a dildo until he makes himself cum hands free. No mention of family here, but while he fucks himself she explains, "he didn't get molested, but his sisters both did. He said he wonders sometimes if that's what made him want to be so feminine, because that was how you got Dad to want to play with you. Later, he raped one of his sisters. She still won't speak to him, but he said it was worth it, because it was the best sex of his life. He thinks she might eventually admit how good it was and come back for another round. He also thinks about raping the other one, to see if it's just as good. He doesn't think she knows about her sister."

Bartender girl fully had her hand down her yoga pants and was rubbing her clit, watching this oiled up twink cum, and, I imagine, wishing she were his sister.

"How do you know this stuff?"

"My advisor works on sex workers and trauma. She interviewed all these people."

"And she told you about it?"

"Fuck no," she said, queueing up another video. "I broke into her filing cabinet and took photos. Look, see this girl? That guy fucking her is her real brother."

That video was a good half hour long, and she was settling in to masturbate right through it, so I said, "Do you mind if I join you?"

"please do," she said, and I took my cock out and started stroking. She reached up her shirt and started playing with her nipple, then noticed me looking and pushed her shirt up to show off her tits. A couple minutes after that she pulled her yoga pants and underwear down her thighs, and went back to masturbating.

She said "this is my favorite part," and rubbed herself so hard as the boy—the girl's brother—pressed deep into her and came.

The girl said "did you just cum inside me?" And he goes "yeah." She says "you can't do that, idiot! I'm not on the pill!"

But this is only like halfway through the video, and this guy straight up cuddles up to his sister, says it's gonna be okay, strokes her hair, then opens her legs and starts fucking her again.

Without turning to her, I ask bartender girl, "What was your dad like?"

And she said, "What? Fuck!" And doubled over herself, rubbing so much harder.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine! Ask me again!"

"What was your father like?"

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—"

I put a hand on her back, and said, "What kind of man was your father?"

She had a shaking, screaming, whole-body orgasm.

When she began to regain her composure, she said, "Thank you. That was so good."

"Anything you need help with, I'm your daddy."

She nuzzled up to me, and said, "do you mean it?"

I said, "Of course, sweetheart. I'd do anything for my favorite daughter."

Tremors shot up and down her body as she took that in, and she said, "Thanks, Dad."

(to be continued)

[perkypeony]

𝕋𝔸ℕ𝔾𝕃𝔼𝔻 𝕀ℕ 𝕋ℍℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻𝕊

Model Nanami Kento x fashion designer reader

You were flicking through the pages of your sketchbook, your head spinning as you tried to decide which design would be best for your new streetwear collection. You thought you’d ask your friend's opinion later, but for now, you were going to get ready and head to the newly opened branch of your daily wear boutique.

Despite studying fashion design during your time at the creative arts academy and being able to create meticulous designs, you opted to build your own brand of daily wear that’s stylish yet affordable. Your business started small, but with the support of your friends—who happened to be the famous actor Gojo Satoru and the rising singer Geto Suguru—more people came to know your brand. Just last week, you opened the third branch of your boutique, and you were already planning to open the fourth branch overseas in a few years.

You got out of your midnight black Mini Cooper and saw a long line outside the boutique. It was probably too crowded inside, so the staff had asked the customers to queue outside. You made a mental note to install some sort of shade so the customers wouldn’t have to wait in the sun. The staff recognized you immediately and greeted you, asking if there was anything they could help with. You told them you were just doing a little observation.

You smiled as you overheard a customer praising the high quality of the material despite the affordable price. As you walked around, talking with some customers for feedback, you spotted a blonde man wearing a black mask—one you’d recognize anywhere. It was the hot model, Nanami Kento. He became famous after modeling for big brands and even appeared on the front covers of internationally known magazines. And to add to that, he was your crush back in the creative arts academy and still is today. That’s why you would remember him forever.

You admired his calmness and respectfulness. He always maintained a very professional work ethic. Unfortunately, you and he had never been close, only talking a few times. The only person you still kept in touch with was Nanami’s best friend, Haibara. He tried to set you up with Nanami, but you were always too shy and quickly declined his crazy plans.

You were surprised to see him in your boutique. Did that mean he wore your creations? Not gonna lie, sometimes you imagined him modeling your designs, but you had never hired a famous model before. After all, you had two famous friends willing to post pictures of themselves wearing your brand on social media. Without those two idiots, you wouldn’t have been successful today.

You gathered all your courage to say hi to him, hoping he would remember you. “Hi, Nanami. Uh... what are you looking for?”

“A hoodie,” he replied, then looked up to meet your eyes. “Y/N? I never thought I’d meet the designer herself.”

So, he did remember you. You could feel your stomach do silly things. It was probably the butterflies. “I’m just doing a quick observation. Is this your first time at my boutique?”

“I’ve bought a few pairs of pants and shirts from your boutique before. I really like them. And since this new branch is closer to my condo, I thought I’d give it a visit.”

“Thanks for your support. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said with a warm smile. “We haven’t seen each other in quite a few years. Do you have any plans tonight? Maybe we could catch up over dinner?”

A dinner? With your crush? That surely sounded like a dream come true!

“I would love to go to dinner with you tonight,” you answered, trying not to sound too giddy.

“Perfect. Text me your address, and I’ll pick you up at 8.”

“Alright. I have to go check on the... um... cashier. See you tonight.”

Nanami nodded and smiled as he watched you leave. He couldn’t wait to tell Haibara that he had finally asked you out for dinner.

[rosylix143]

sweet as sugar | l. felix

pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

synopsis: your boyfriend is coming over to pick you up for a date, and you baked cookies—well at least you tried your best.

cw: MDNI, established relationship, felix is such a tease (woof woof grrrrr), he calls reader a “good girl" and "sweet girl," light grinding, he is very touchy lmao (let me know if i’m missing anything)

wc: 2627

———————————・❥・———————————

The kitchen was a mess. Your frilly pink apron was covered in flour, the ingredients were still scattered all over the kitchen island, and you were just placing another tray of cookie dough in the oven because your first batch got burnt to a crisp. You told yourself to not dwell on your first failure of the day and move on to cleaning up the kitchen. You quickly threw away all of the scraps into the trash, put all the leftover ingredients in their respective places, and wiped down the kitchen island clean. While cleaning and sanitizing the kitchen, your phone suddenly vibrated in your jean pocket. You jolted a little and grabbed your phone to check what it could be. Your eyes widened at the ringing alarm, and you were rushing to get everything all nice and clean as the clock continued to tick.

Fuck, I have fifteen minutes. This is what I get for waking up late.

The kitchen was now clean, but the only thing you now have left to deal with was the tray of burnt cookies. Oh how you hated looking at them. The sight brought tears to your eyes a little. You wanted to throw them out, but you also hated the idea of just wasting food. Maybe the burntness added some special flavor. You would never know. Before you were reaching to grab one of the burnt cookies, your phone buzzed again. You opened your phone once more, and all you got was one singular text. It was the kind of text you typically loved receiving, but only this time, it sent you to another frenzy.

Lixie: i’m on my way, angel baby. see you soon <3

Oh fuck, he’s on his way. You quickly snatched your apron off, and immediately rushed to your bedroom to change into your clothes for the evening: a simple and cute off-the-shoulder baby blue minidress with white knit stockings, a white ribbon to put your hair up in a half ponytail, and of course a pair of baby blue ballet styled shoes. You planned this whole outfit for weeks but couldn’t figure out the right time for it. Well, this was the day for it. After putting on the outfit, you rushed back to the kitchen to check on the new batch of cookies in the oven. The oven started to ring, and that was your queue to take the cookies out. You put on your pink oven mitts, opened the oven, and gradually took the tray out. However, as you were doing so, your doorbell rang.

Felix!!

You quickly put the hot tray and oven mitts down on the kitchen island, closed the oven, and approached your front door—all while trying to stay as composed as possible. You opened the door, and in front of you was your boyfriend standing in the most lethal outfit he could ever put together. First of all, that damn black turtleneck, which fitted him like a glove. You could even see the little sliver of his skin if you looked down at his waist. He was also wearing a pair of black jeans to go with his shirt, and black leather dress boots. He looked like he just walked out of a VIP event or a business meeting or whatever thing rich people do in their free time. Second of all, his sandy blonde hair looked so soft and fluffy that you just wanted to play with it all day until your heart’s content. And finally, his hands were of course occupied with a large bouquet of your favorite flowers, which made you swoon all over again.

“Hey, Handsome,” you giggled.

Felix couldn’t help but chuckle too. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking in how utterly adorable you looked in your outfit. The way the dress fitted on you, along with the cute stockings made you an enticing sight. Not to mention, all the baby blue: his favorite color, no doubt

“Hey, Gorgeous,” he leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek before handing you the bouquet. “I got these for you.”

“Awww you shouldn’t have,” you took the bouquet in your hands and sniffed it, already entranced by the strong floral scent. “Mmmm it smells wonderful.”

“So does your house,” Felix walked in through the door, already hungry from the smell of freshly baked cookies. “Did you make cookies?”

“Yep, I made some. I just took them out of the oven, so they’re still a little hot.”

Felix nodded and walked to the kitchen, while you went to your living room to put the bouquet in the empty glass vase that was on your coffee table. You realized that you forgot to get water for the flowers, so you went back to the kitchen to get a cup of water. Once you entered the kitchen, you saw Felix enjoying the cookies you made—the burnt ones. Your heart stopped, realizing that you totally forgot to take care of the burnt cookies.

“Felix! Why are you eating the burnt ones?!”

“I didn’t know you were a talented baker, Baby,” he teased, wiping the black crumbs off his lips.

“Oh shut up,” you retorted, walking up to kitchen island and pushing the burnt cookies aside. You then grabbed the tray of perfectly baked cookies and put it in front of Felix. “Why have those when you could have these instead?”

You put your hands on your hips and gave your boyfriend a sassy expression. Felix laughed a little, loving how your pouty lips looked. He grabbed one perfectly baked cookie from the tray and took a bite. His heart immediately melted at the first bite, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure, shamelessly moaning. You couldn’t help but laugh at his honest reaction, all while your cheeks were heating up with that pink glow. He chewed on it softly, intending to savor the warm, delicious, and gooey chocolate taste. There was even a hint of saltiness, which was perfect to his taste.

“Mmm, these do taste delicious,” Felix said before pulling you in by the waist and kissing your temple. “You outdid yourself, Pumpkin.”

“Really?” you blush and nuzzle into his side. Your nose was then hit with a puff of his spicy and sweet cologne. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered, and you couldn’t help but get an extra sniff, already making your legs feel weak.

“Yeah, but the burnt ones are tasty too.”

“You’re lyyyyiiiinnnngggg,” you whined, your voice a little muffled by the fabric of his turtleneck. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, Honey, I’m being for real.”

Felix grabbed a burnt cookie and gently pushed it through your lips. Your eyes widened, and you were immediately hit with the hot taste of charcoal and no sweetness. The burnt cookie was so crunchy that it disintegrated in your mouth. Your tongue felt so sandy and dry, and you immediately rushed to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. Felix laughed, as you took a breather from drinking in so much cold water to wash out the awful, ashy taste.

“See, I told you it wouldn’t taste bad,” Felix chuckled.

“It was awful,” you coughed, “That thing felt like chewing on a burning cigar.”

“At least you did better the second time. The non-burnt cookies really are tasty.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course, Angel,” Felix pulled you closer to his body and held you tight. Your cheeks reddened once more, as his arms wrapped around you. His cologne was once again overwhelming your nose, making you feel a little lightheaded. Not to mention, you could feel his abs through his tight black turtleneck, igniting the temptation to just touch him. “And even if they were burnt, I’d still eat it. I love anything my good girl makes.”

His lips were right against your ear, his hands landed on your waist—tightly grabbing you—and his deep whispers sent shivers up and down your spine. You blushed even more. Your cheeks might as well be a second heater. It wasn’t helping that you could feel his hands slide down your thighs—his fingertips sneaking a little up under your dress.

“Feeeeelllliiiixxxxxx,” you whined again, squirming in his touch. “Don’t tease meeeee.”

Felix laughed and kissed your neck tenderly, sniffing your very fragrant and sweet perfume, immediately recognizing the scent.

“You’re wearing the perfume I bought you,” he said, “Mmm…You smell so sweet with it. Sweet like sugar.”

Felix kissed your neck more, and you melt into his touch, letting his hands wander on your skin and do whatever they pleased. You couldn’t help it yourself when you teasingly rolled your hips back up against Felix’s front, coaxing a deep groan out of him. You giggled, but it was cut off when he gripped your hips tighter and pulled you closer. You hitched a breath, and Felix pinned you against the counter. You were facing the sink, while Felix was behind you, holding all the power of the world in his hands.

“Felix—”

“You look so pretty today, Y/N…” Felix whispered in your ear, his voice so deep and husky. “My sweet girl always looks pretty for me, yes? That cute dress is very tempting.”

Your breath was coming out in small pants, and your face was probably redder than a rose. Felix still held you tight and nibbled on your ear, as he gently rubbed the growing tent in his pants up against your ass. You whined and arched your back against his chest. The butterflies in your stomach were fluttering faster, making all the heat rush and pool down to your core. You were on the verge of dropping your panties right there in the kitchen. However, you remembered that you wanted to go through with the original plan for the date first before doing anything else.

“Felix, wait,” you started.

“What’s wrong?” Felix pulled away slightly and stopped his movements—his hands still on your hips.

You turned around and faced him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You looked deep into his pretty chocolate eyes, and gently ran your fingers through the back of his sandy blonde hair, tugging it a little.

“We have a movie to watch, remember?”

A small smile formed on Felix’s lips, and he leaned in to kiss your plush lips.

“How could I forget?” he asked, “What movie are we watching again?”

Felix stepped away from you to give you space, for you were moving to gather all the good cookies and put them in the cookie jar and throwing away the burnt ones.

“Beauty and the Beast,” you answered, as you grabbed a bag you prepared—full of other movie snacks and drinks—and put the cookie jar in the bag. “They’re showing it at the drive-in theater.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Felix smiled warmly at you, ready to watch his favorite movie with his favorite person.

You left the bag on the kitchen island to grab a small measuring cup, filled it with water, and walked to the living room to finally water the new bouquet of flowers. You grabbed your purse from the couch and then went back to the kitchen to grab the snack bag. You looked up at your boyfriend with fond eyes.

“Ready to go, Hon?” you smiled.

Felix looked at you back with loving eyes, and went in for a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Of course, I am,” he said softly.

With triumph, you excitedly rushed to exit your house and get in the passenger’s seat of Felix’s car. Felix couldn’t help but laugh fondly, loving how excited you are to spend the evening with him. He closed the door behind him, making sure to lock it with the spare key you handed him. Felix then got in the driver's seat of his car and started the engine.

“Is it the same theater we went to last time?” he asked.

“Yep,” you replied.

Felix nodded, and he buckled his belt, as did you. He pulled away from the driveway, and he started the drive to the theater. You laid back in your seat like a passenger princess, and you were beginning to snack on the cookies you made. Felix looked over at you, and he couldn’t help but put his hand on your thigh. You blushed as he squeezed your soft flesh. Drives with him were always like this. The city lights were sparkling and shining so bright, your favorite songs were in the background, and your boyfriend was holding onto you while you looked through your window.

Your stomach growled a bit, and there was some pain too. You remembered that you got so caught up with baking the cookies that you forgot to actually eat something. You reached down to your feet and grabbed the cookie jar from the snack bag and took one cookie. You snacked on the cookie you grabbed, and Felix snuck a glance at you enjoying your little treat. A few minutes later, you both finally arrived at the drive-in theater. Felix parked the car in front of a very large screen, and he turned on the radio for the movie. You then pulled out more snacks for you both to enjoy, along with some soda.

“Tonight’s gonna be fun,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

Felix also unbuckled his belt, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around your shoulder.

“Mmhmm….” he agreed, immediately nuzzling into your neck, kissing it softly. Your face glowed pink, and you couldn’t help but squirm from the ticklish feeling. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Honey,” you ran your hand through his sandy blonde hair, taking in a moment to feel his softness, but you immediately bursted into laughter when his hand started touching your lower stomach, his fingers dancing. “Felix!! That tickles!!”

“Sorry, Angel Baby, I couldn’t help myself.”

The movie was about to start, and the two of you got even more comfortable in your car seats. You handed Felix a soda bottle, and you grabbed one for yourself. Felix took his bottle and started to sip on it, while you started snacking on the chips.

“Can I have one, Y/N?” he asked.

“Okay,” you nodded.

You handed Felix the cookie jar, and Felix happily grabbed another cookie for himself. He placed a kiss on your temple, inhaling the scent of your lovely floral shampoo. He then opened his mouth wide and took the sweet treat into his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction, falling in love with the warm, sweet, and chocolatey taste all over again.

“Hmmm…what’s the secret ingredient, Pumpkin? How are your cookies better than mine?”

“I used the same recipe, Honey,” you replied.

“My recipe?”

You only nodded, and Felix was shocked by your answer. The same recipe, yet different tastes. Perhaps there really was some magic touch that you had, or maybe the cookies tasted better because it was you who made them.

“You think they’re better?” you asked, your heart fluttering with warm excitement.

“Yes, they’re way better. Even when they’re burnt.”

“Feeellliiiixxxx.”

“It’s true, Honey, it’s true.”

The movie finally began, and you focused your attention on the movie, while Felix had most of his attention on you. He wanted to pay attention to the movie and let you enjoy it yourself, but he just couldn’t help it. He was addicted to you. You were just too good and too sweet to simply ignore. Felix nuzzled his head into your neck once more, inhaling the sweetness of your perfume. God, he loved that scent. It was the scent of flowers and wine. The sweetest you could ever be. But nothing could ever compare to the sweetness of you—sweeter than sugar.

———————————・❥・———————————

a/n: i don’t know if i like this one as much as my last felix fic but oh well lol. comment down your thoughts and reblog if you liked it <3

masterlist | taglist

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (3)

***

Vander wakes up hopeful the next morning. He washes his face and gets dressed quickly, turning up early to the mess hall. He gets coffee and a big breakfast, and takes a table near the counter so he can watch the queue.

Felicia comes in, then Benzo and Connol, and a few others he knows. The room slowly fills up with the low grumbling of mornings. The warning bell sounds, signalling twenty minutes until shifts start, but there's still no sign of yesterday's mystery saviour.

"What's up with you?" Felicia asks as they sign out hard hats and gauntlets from the store room.

"I was trying to find someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know his name," Vander says, pulling his hat on.

"But you need to find him? Does he owe you money?"

"Nothing like that." Vander looks around as they join the stream of people heading into the mine. He's surrounded by faces but not the particular face he's looking for. "He stopped me from getting run over by a cart. I figure I owe him a drink at least."

"What's he look like?"

"About your height. Dark hair. Blue eyes."

Felicia gives him a doubtful look. "That doesn't narrow it down much."

"He was–" Vander nearly says 'pretty' but Felicia would only tease him about it. "About our age. Under twenty."

Felicia shrugs at him as they clock in for the day. "Maybe you'll see him at dinner?"

He doesn't. Which is weird. There's only two places to get food in the camp: the mess hall and the company store. The company store doesn't sell much food and it's all overpriced: biscuits, jerky, sweet jellies and harsh tobacco. That's why everyone eats at the mess hall. Everyone except his mystery guy.

By the third night of watching the crowd, even Benzo's noticed. "Who are you actually looking for?"

"He doesn't know," Felicia chimes in. "Doesn't know his name. Just saw him in the mines and… wants to know him much better."

Vander does his best to ignore the suggestion in her tone. Connol and Benzo bray like donkeys.

"Is this the one with the eyes?" Connol asks. "The striking blue eyes?"

That's what Vander gets for talking to his friends at the end of night, after he's had a few too many drinks. Mockery. Heartless mockery.

***

It annoys Vander that he can't find this guy. Felicia suggests trying to draw him, so they know who he's looking for, but Vander's artistic talents stop at stickmen. Connol asks what they talked about, to make such an impression, but it was only a few sentences.

"He told me if the tunnel starts rumbling above me to run," Vander says and Connol shrugs at Benzo.

"That's common advice," Benzo says. "Common sense, really."

"You're sure he definitely exists, right?" Connol asks, and Vander glares at him.

In the end, Vander decides to stake out the courtyard. It's the last day of the month, the day when two Piltie bookkeepers in fussy white suits come down to the mine with a cash box and a dozen enforcers. It's the one day a month when the mine works on a skeleton crew while the miners line up to withdraw some of those company credits in silver and bronze.

Plenty of coin will change hands today. Debts repaid, gambling markers settled. Some have family staying outside the city and will take the coin to them. Some will go up to the riverside, eat fresh fish tonight. Babette and her girls will set up tents outside the fence line, camp for a week while miners can pay for their company.

It's a long line but it's full of hopeful chatter, everyone sharing their big plans for their hard earned money. Vander sits in the courtyard, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, and watches them all. The line seems endless, slowly trudging forward as the hours pass. Eventually it starts to dwindle to only a dozen people left, and still, no sign of the guy. Vander joins the end of the queue and thinks as he waits.

The only miners who don't line up for coin are the ones working. There's always someone who'd rather have an extra day's pay than bronze in their pocket. So once Vander's signed for his redeemed credits and safely tucked the silver away, he wanders over to the mouth of the mine and waits for the shift end bell to sound.

Only a small crowd walks out of the mine. It's easy to spot who he's looking for.

"Hey!" Vander calls out, ducking around people to get closer.

It's maybe a bit too loud because he stops walking and those blue eyes narrow up at him. "What do you want?"

It's a very fine face: high, lean cheekbones and a small chin, sharp nose and delicate mouth, and still, those blue eyes are the prettiest he's ever seen.

"I wanted to say hi."

"Mission accomplished." Those blue eyes glance from side to side, like he's checking for an ambush.

"I'm Vander. I wanted to thank you for the other day. For saving my life from that cart."

"You wouldn't have died. Broken ribs. Broken leg, maybe, but I didn't save your life."

"I wanted to thank you anyway. Buy you a drink? Or maybe dinner?" Vander asks, noticing how skinny the guy is. Narrow shoulders and long, lean thighs. A waist so small Vander could probably wrap his hands around it and have his fingers meet.

"Ah," he says and Vander drags his gaze back to the man's face. "Perhaps you should visit Babette's. If you can spare that much, she's bound to have some eager company for you."

With that, he turns and starts walking over to the store rooms to return his gear. Vander blinks a few times and then scurries to catch up. "You didn't tell me your name."

"You didn't ask," he says over his shoulder. "It's Silco."

Vander grins. "Was that a no to dinner?"

"I'm happy to eat," Silco replies. "But if you wanted some action tonight, Babette's is a much better investment."

"I'd rather have your company," Vander says and Silco only looks suspicious.

"Why?"

"I think you're interesting." Vander smiles but Silco still looks unconvinced. "Come on, I've spent days trying to find you. Let me buy you dinner."

Silco rocks back on his feet, head tilted as he watches Vander. "Why didn't you just come down to level three?"

"What?"

"I knew the cart lines well enough to see you were standing on them. Therefore I must be familiar with that shaft," Silco explains. "Why not come down to level three to ask about me?"

It makes sense once it's explained like that. "Didn't occur to me."

"So you decided to wait outside the mine to find me?"

"No," Vander admits, "I watched the cash box line all morning."

***

[kikohao]

ᅠᅠᅠᅠ ⠀⠀⠀⋆˙. let me protect you instead

★ ㅤㅤpairing ; bf!jihoon x reader (student!jihoon x student!reader) ★ ㅤㅤsummary ; in which jihoon comes to save you when you're at your lowest ★ ㅤㅤthemes ; established relationship, fluff, comfort fic ★ ㅤㅤwarnings ; mentions of trauma, traumatic relationship with parents, reader cries, cursing ★ ㅤㅤword count ; 1.05k ★ ㅤㅤtaglist ; @nonononranghaee ★ ㅤㅤa/n ; i hate how there's literaly no jihoon fluff fics :( so decided to take matters in my own hands 🗣🗣 likes and reblogs are appreciated! &lt;3

We most certainly didn’t plan a movie night to be going about on such a horrible, pouring day. “Such luck,” you scoffed to yourself, positioning the pillows on the couch, placing the snacks on the small table Jihoon had bought for you when you first started living alone. It was a simple, yet elegant circular table that had such attractive engravings on it.

You didn’t particularly hate rainy days, just the thunder that came with it; that was the dreadful part.

Ding.

“I might be late today, got extra work at the studio. I’ll try to be there by ’15. Love you.”

I loud sigh escaped your mouth. You didn’t really care that he was going to be late; just the fact that he’s working overtime again – fourth time this week. But then again, it’s Jihoon, its not anything new to him. Moments like this take you back to your high school memories – when you first met Jihoon as a transfer student at your school.

You were walking home from school, after yet another long, exhausting day at cram school. Oh how you wanted to head home, grab a big cup of hot chocolate, and just sleep.

Deciding to grab some hot chocolate powder, you set foot in the convenience store by your house. Greeting the part-time worker who seemed to be about a year or two older than you, you make your way towards the appropriate section, getting a hold of a packet of the powder. “Wouldn’t hurt to get some marsh mellows I suppose..” You grinned.

You rush to get a spot at the queue to pay, leaving the store at that. Walking back, you spot a familiar student surrounded by a group of senior at your school. The first thought that came up in your head was just to ignore. Ignore them. Don’t get involved.

“Hey!” You yelled, most likely impulsively – earning confused stares from the the same seniors that were trying to bully the student. Oh, for fuck’s sake, here we go again.

You walk towards the boy, grabbing his wrist; you stand in front of him. In attempt to leave the place, you take a step ahead, just for the way to be blocked my one of the seniors. He wore a cap the wrong way around, trying to look “cool”. What a generation, you sighed.

“What do you think you’re doing? We were talking with him?” He started.

7:58 pm. Nah, I’ve got no time for this.

I ignored their comment and lead the student some place away from them, receiving absurd scoffs from them.

I turn to him, “Are you okay?” I ask him, ignoring my racing heart. Obviously, you didn’t think you’d get away with such a thing. You expected a fight or something like that; you planned on taking a run for it. His stare bore through you. “Don’t worry, they’re gone now.” You whispered to him, which was met with small sigh. “Was it relief?” you thought to yourself.

You walked with him for a while.

Silence.

Not one of us dared to utter a word.

Yeah, I’m not having this, you thought to yourself. “I’m Y/N,” you started in attempt to loosen the mood, hoping to start a conversation. “What’s your name?”

“Jihoon.” A small mumble. His voice was cute. This is when you actually looked up to him. The street lights helped along the way; you looked at him. He was charming. Charming in the cute sort of way. The way his round face appropriately fit with the rest of his features.

Did your heart just skip a beat?

“If those seniors ever bully you again, tell me. I’ll protect you!” You stood in front of him, hand on your chest as a sort of pledge, earning a small smile, later fading.

Guess you didn’t realize that he went from a stranger to someone who you couldn’t stop thinking about.

The rain started to beat down further, accompanied by the rumbling roars of the thunder. You were alarmed. You hated thunder storms. You hated them so fucking much.

It reminded you of terrifying memories. It reminded you of your parents. You thought it would stop re-appearing after you walked out of their lives. Guess it didn’t. Guess you’ll never forget how they made you feel.

You sat down, knees against your chest, your hands placed on your ears in attempt to block out the sounds. Tears welled up in my eyes. You hated how your anger turned into tears.

It felt like hell.

“Congratulations! You survived the war! Now, live with the trauma.” That. That’s it. It lingers, forever.

Another spur of tears raced forward, just to be stopped by someone.

Jihoon.

That was the end. You didn’t like being like this – especially in front of him. You were supposed to be the one protecting him. You didn’t want him to see you feel weak. You didn’t want him to see you at your worst.

It wasn’t sobs now, but tears. “It’s okay, It’s okay,” He soothed, rubbing circles onto my back, engulfing me into a hug. “Everything’s okay,”

But it wasn’t. Everything was ruined.

“Let me protect you instead, Y/N.”

That was when you knew – when you knew he was the one.

I was surrounded by a few students, maybe older than I?

“Hey! Aren’t you the new transfer student?” One spoke. I nodded.

“Do you want to join the new basketball team? We’re looking for more players from Class 11.” Another spoke. “Basketball?” I spoke out, receiving a nod from the seniors.

“Well,” I started, only to be cut off by a girl, rushing towards us.

“Hey!” Everyone from this school is actually insane, I thought. What I nearly didn’t expect at all was her to grab my wrist. She was talking for me. She was standing up for me.

Cute.

Never did I believe in fate. But there it was. A meeting of fate. I suppose I fell for her without even realizing I did.

And suddenly, all the love songs were about you.

[soaps-mohawk]

So...

I've been doing some thinking about a couple of things.

This blog has grown considerably, even from its start and I appreciate each and every one of you so much. Your support never ceases to amaze me and I owe all of you a lot for giving me something to focus on this year instead of spiraling into insanity.

But

Things have gotten a tad bit overwhelming recently between trying to run the blog and trying to write. I find myself either having to ignore the blog to get writing done, or sacrifice writing time and energy to spend time on the blog and keep up with all the replies/reblogs/asks etc. Definitely not complaining, you all never cease to amaze me.

But, I am just one person and my brain only has so much power right now. So, I'm planning to take some (more) time off each week right now while I focus on writing and planning since we're getting into some serious plot stuff soon. So I'm planning to be on the blog three days a week for a while: Saturday, Sunday, and Thursday. That gives me some time to get some writing done as well as some time to rest my brain.

Saturday and Sunday of course to post the chapter and respond to replies and reblogs so I don't get super behind. Monday I'll have some asks queued up as well as maybe a few reblogs. I'll still use the queue Tuesday and Wednesday for reblogs/asks with spoilers as usual. Thursday I'll be on the blog answering asks from Monday - Wednesday as well as things I get that day. I'll queue up a few things for Friday since that day gives me a little break between to prepare for the weekend and posting the chapter.

I'll probably add more days as time goes on. You can still send in asks on the days I'm gone, but just know I won't see them or respond to them until later in the week. I already get behind by a couple days on asks anyway so that's not much of a change.

Don't feel bad for sending them either, I love getting all these asks, I just tend to get behind on days I spend more time writing.

The second order of business

has to do with my taglist. Most of you probably haven't noticed (which I don't blame you lol) but my taglist has gotten very big. Very, very big. It's just over 230 people right now, and I'm sure there will be others asking to join. It's quite time consuming to do all of these tags for every chapter (especially since we can't tag in blocks anymore) so I've been doing some thinking into how I can make it easier for me, and for you.

I know there's at least one blog I've heard of, though I'm sure there's more, that have made side blogs that they have people follow and turn on notifications for and just make a post on that blog when they post a chapter or fic, etc. I've been considering doing that since the taglist is a lot of work and time.

I've also seen blogs that have side blogs that just post chapters/fics and nothing else. I know quite a few of you only follow for the fic, so if anyone is interested, I could put together a side blog like that as well that you can follow and get notifications from instead of having to follow this blog and having to go through the probably 100 posts that I make a day 😂 (at least it feels that way for me)

Having a separate blog for the taglist too would allow me to schedule posts so I can have them come out a bit earlier than I get up for those of you across the world who stay up to read and have to wait for me to post in the morning when I get up (or later like today because I slept in). Of course Ao3 will get posted later because I can't schedule posts there, but at least for Tumblr I can have things post earlier.

So let me know what you think about the taglist side blog and the possible just chapters/fics side blog. Feel free to send in asks (anonymously or not) with your opinion. I might not answer them all (not tonight because my brain is fried and honestly i'm not sure if this is even comprehensible English) but I will at least use them to make the decision (or make a post with all of them and answer it as just one).

[sserpente]

Memories to Enemies 🎃

Synopsis: The TVA is no more—not like it was before, anyway. When the multiverse breaks free, Loki finds himself back where he belongs, on the verge of claiming the throne of Midgard and this time… this time he finishes what he started. But while he’s gained so much, he’s lost even more, for there was one thing the chaos of the timelines had not fixed—it hasn’t brought you back to him. You, the mortal he had refused to fall for until he realised it was too late all along. He never stopped searching for you after Thanos snapped his fingers and now, with so many timelines at the tip of his fingers and a tempad in his pocket… you were out there somewhere and he will find you. But when he finally does… he realises that not only are you the leader of the very rebels aiming to end his ruling, you are a Variant. And you don’t remember him.

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN, people! 🎃 Requests from two anons. There are no spoilers for Season 2 in this. I’ll have some more spooky Halloween Imagines coming up this week (I hope), I just didn’t manage to get any writing done as I had initially planned because I spent the whole weekend queueing at Comic Con, haha!

Words: 2407 Warnings: smut

Additional NSFW warnings: edging, very light dub-con

“The rebels are causing trouble again, my king.”

“Which is to say you are unable to deal with a bunch of disobedient humans?” Loki looked up, legs spread on the makeshift throne in what used to be Stark Tower. He lifted his chin, his menacing glare all but intimidating the former politician, now reduced to nothing more than a lackey.

“N-no, of course not. I just thought you should know. They… they made it to the lower levels of the tower last night.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, leaning forward a little. “Who did?”

“The rebels, their leader… we caught her face on camera but… security managed to overwhelm them. I believe they were trying to plant explosives somewhere in the building.”

“Where are they now?”

“They’re being held in the cellars.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “You should have led with that, you fool. Send them up. No… bring me their leader. I believe it is time we have a little chat about where her… loyalties lie.”

The politician nodded and excused himself. Silence filled the room after he left and Loki sat back again and sighed. Those rebels were hardly a threat to him but if they had made it to the tower… he would have to up his game and patch the holes in his security. A spell or two should suffice. Possibly something that would make any uninvited guest grow mushrooms all over their body should they trespass.

If only… he sighed once more. If only he had you by his side. You had always loved this time of the year, made him hand out sweets for children and carve out pumpkins. After all this madness… he still had not found you again. You had been snapped away in the sacred timeline, so he had found out… and even though the now-forgotten Avengers had reversed the titan’s doing, you remained unfound, out of his reach. Wherever you were… he would tear every single timeline apart until he had you back by his side. Would you be overjoyed, to see him where he belonged? On the throne, ruling as he was meant to be?

“The prisoner, my king.” The politician returned after the metal elevator doors swung open yet again, dragging with him a young woman who carried herself quite regally despite her predicament. She lifted her head, her hair revealing her face…

Loki’s face dropped. It was you. You… you were the rebel foolishly trying to put an end to his reign? Desperation and relief paired with anger and disappointment, the sadness that had been residing deep in his heart after he had lost you not quite going away. Something was off.

“Leave her here. Get out.”

“No security, my king?”

“I can handle a mortal woman. Now get out.”

The politician nodded and left without another word all the while you kept on staring at Loki as if you were ready to plunge a dagger into his chest any moment. You probably were—and it broke his heart a lot more than he would have liked to admit.

Your eyes widened when he spoke your name. “So you already know me then.”

“Know you? I have been looking for you for years, pet.”

You blinked. “Pet?”

Loki’s face fell when he realised. You did not know. You did not recognise him. You did not… love him yet. It mattered little, now did it? He would make you love him again, he would restore your memories. Were you a Variant? Had you met him? Had Thanos’ horrors taken your memories? He had to find out, needed to find out.

“You will not believe me, of course. But you were in love with me. I lost you when Thanos snapped his fingers. My path, too, changed. That is a story for another time. Come here, pet. It is so good to see you,” he purred.

Containing his emotions and his excitement had never been so difficult. He all but longed to jump up from his throne and sweep you up into his arms, holding you close until you struggled to breathe. But he didn’t. He wanted you to come to him. Only you remained frozen in place. He could practically feel the defiance radiating from you.

“I’m not falling for your stupid tricks, Loki.”

The God of Mischief smirked. “Would you like me to prove it, pet? Ah, let’s see… I just so happen to know you love Halloween. Carving out pumpkins… handing out sweets to children… watching scary films and eating this disgusting snack you call popcorn… and of course, how could I forget, the hot chocolate with small marshmallows and whipped cream on top? It’s reserved only for months that have the letter ‘r’ in them, no?”

Loki watched with great satisfaction how your lips parted in shock. He stood, taking a step forward. “What else… ah…” He tilted his head. “There is a particularly sweet and sensitive spot on your body that has you absolutely feral for your lover. It is… right… here.” He took another step and brought his hand up to brush his thumb over the spot right below your ear. You shivered, clenching your jaw.

“Lies… y-you’re… you’re tricking me.”

“No tricks,” he purred, “only treats.”

To Hel with the restraint. With a low growl, Loki pulled you close, lifting you off your feet. Your rather pathetic resistance died quickly once you realised that you weren’t going anywhere. Loki was too strong—you’d do well to save your strength for when it truly mattered. But… did you want to?

Why, on Earth, was there a part of you that enjoyed his touch? The way he looked at you… so full of hope and lust… that could not be acted, could it? To win over the leader of the rebellion, make her compliant… was that his plan? Or was he telling the truth?

And if he was, then what would have ridden you to dedicate your life to stopping him at all cost? Heavens, last night, you had attempted an assassination.

Loki put you back down on your feet once you reached his bedroom. He had redecorated, of course. Everything was green and gold, even his bed sheets. It looked… beautiful. Homely, almost and faintly familiar.

A shiver brought you back from the depths of your mind when Loki sneaked his hand under your shirt, slowly pushing it up.

“Do you truly think it’s a coincidence you react this way to me?” He tilted his head, smirking when you flinched at his fingertips ghosting over your bare stomach. He was right. He was so right and you hated it. Part of you wanted him—right here and now. The other part was seething and then, yet another… wanted to give in to his advances out of curiosity.

“Why… why don’t I remember then?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, pet. We will restore your memories. You could be a Variant—a version of yourself from another timeline who has not yet met me. We will worry about this later. I missed you.”

He sounded so… genuine, so full of relief. It was not hard to believe him. But how could you? You hated this man, you loathed how he had taken Earth for himself and declared himself its ruler… you would never kneel before him… right?

Why were you questioning yourself? Perhaps… perhaps it was for when you gazed into his blue eyes, you detected just how troubled his soul was. There was more to this than tyranny. More than a hunger for power.

You ceased to resist when he pulled your shirt off of you. Mesmerised, dazed… perhaps even charmed, you lifted your arms for him to remove it and then allowed him to make short work of your trousers. Only a few more moments passed until you stood completely naked before him, breathing heavily.

His kiss was soft when he held your chin with two fingers, almost as if testing the waters. Your eyes… your eyes fell shut. Why… how did this feel so good?

“Give in to me, pet. Let me show you.”

You bit your lower lip. “I’m supposed to hate you.”

He chuckled. “Why yes… We can speak about your little rebellion after I have had my fill of you. You always longed to be by my side, pet. What changed?”

“I don’t know you.” And perhaps that was the reason. You did not know him. Did not yet see behind the mask. Would things be different if you did? You could have tried to kill him the very moment you stepped out of the elevator. So why hadn’t you? Would you, under different circumstances, support his cause? Aid in his rule? Rule… by his side? That was such a silly thought, wasn’t it?

And yet… even though the arrogant god kept calling you his pet… the way he looked at you made you feel like he regarded you as his equal. Maybe your subconscious knew that there was more to it. Maybe your soul had recognised him.

“Then I will make you know me again. You, my darling, are the one good thing that has ever happened to me. I will not give you up.”

You swallowed, unsure of whether you should regret the words that left your lips next. “S-show me.”

“With pleasure.” Loki smirked, lifting you up once more. The warm leather of his armour against your naked skin made you whimper but it was gone within a heartbeat, melted off his body in a green hue of his magic. It felt tingly, familiar… as if you’d felt it a million times before.

The God of Mischief crawled above you, spreading your legs as he did. Skin against skin, he towered above you like the king he was, his raven hair framing his handsome face. You resisted the urge to reach up and stroke his cheek—just about, for when he leaned down and assaulted your neck with his lips, you dug your nails into the soft bed sheets instead, fighting, desperately, for composure your body was eager to give up.

Every touch, every kiss… it felt right. And you were craving more.

A gasp escaped your lips when Loki sank his length into you with but one deep stroke—it was both out of pure bliss at his size and surprise at how wet you were. How had him undressing you slowly done that?

Deep and languid thrusts soon drove you to the brink of madness. No one… no one had ever fucked you as well as Loki was fucking you right now, and the fact that he seemed to know exactly what turned you on almost filled you with fear.

The intense eye contact, the gentle touches, the soft dominance radiating from him… without a doubt he would pin you against the bed if you so much as attempted to flip around and ride him instead without… without asking for permission?

You whimpered at the thought, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You were close already. Loki was working his magic… firm and yet gentle, you felt it teasing your clit, applying just enough pressure to bring you closer and closer to climax. Once he had you there, right on the edge, the delicious pressure eased, his rhythm speeding up.

“You’re enjoying it…” Loki purred—his tone smug, if anything. You groaned.

And then, once again… he pushed you toward that blissful cliff only to stop—again—right before you could fall. You realised soon enough what he was doing. He was edging you. No one… no one knew about your filthiest desires and kinks. So how did he? He really was telling the truth, wasn’t he?

You pretended to hate this but you loved it… loved how he was in control of your pleasure, able to take it away if he so wished… urgh.

“What is it, pet, hmm? Did you want something?” His strokes were relentless—how he managed not to rut into you like a beast you had no fucking clue.

“P-please…” you choked out, “…let me cum.”

Loki tilted his head. “I think you can do better than that.”

Another grunt on your end but this time, you were ready to throw hands—only the God of Mischief above you didn’t let you. The invisible force tormenting your clit wrapped around your wrists like invisible shackles, holding them in place.

“Please…” you repeated, “…I need to cum. Stop… teasing me…”

“Let me hear it one more time, pet. Scream for me.”

A groan of frustration escaped your lips. All helpless beneath him, there was nothing you could do but endure his torturing treatment. Your toes curled, that all too familiar knot in your lower stomach tightening…

“Oh, fuck, please, please, PLEASE! Just… LET ME CUM ALREADY!” Loki chuckled—he chuckled and then, finally, the delicious pressure on your clit returned. And this time… it didn’t stop again. You tensed up, all air knocked from your lungs as your orgasm washed over you. Contracting around Loki’s cock who did not stop rocking into you for a second, fucking you right through your moment of utter bliss until he too, came.

Loki’s moans were quite possibly the sexiest thing you had ever heard as he buried himself inside of you as deep as he could, coating your walls with his seed, twitching and jerking.

He rested his forehead against yours then, eyes closed—content, at ease… and so unlike what you had expected from a tyrannical ruler.

This… it had felt like your bodies were made for each other. Perhaps they were.

“I want to remember. I want you to prove to me that you’re not the evil tyrant I imagine you to be,” you said, breaking the silence.

Loki chuckled. “Hmm… ever so demanding, pet.”

“Why are you calling me that?”

“Because it turns you feral, am I not right?”

You bit your lower lip. Yes, damn it, he was right.

“We will find a way to restore your memories, I swear it. You are mine.” You shivered when he spoke your name. “You are the very reason I am not a tyrant. Whatever you see, whatever you believe… Midgard is in good hands—it is your home realm, after all.”

“So I’ll just have to trust your word? The word of a Trickster?”

Loki smirked. He knew. He knew that your heart already did.

"Yes. Now then... shall we carve a pumpkin together, pet?"

A/N: Party hard tonight! 🎃

[pawborough]

Beta Expectations and Our Development Goals

Hi everyone! This document serves as an outline for starting expectations when beginning Closed Beta. 

Things to remember as we move into Closed Beta are: 

Cursing is allowed! We’ve dialed back our filters quite a bit, but absolutely no innuendo or sexual content. Details are outlined in our TOS.

In this beginning, the application feels closer to the Alpha state than it does the full game. It is in a mid-development limbo, which is why we are stressing that it is the Closed Beta state. Our biggest milestones have been backend technical foundations that have taken significant time. If the game were a cake, we have finished baking the base, which is what we’re starting the testing for. We’ll be making aggressive updates throughout the next few months of the test, which will introduce the “frosting,” and advance general playability. We plan to roll out new mechanics every month. You will find a list below of what these goals are.

Temper your starting expectations, but get excited for how much we’re going to continuously develop and update!

We will not be moving into Open Beta until we feel the game is close to done. Think of Closed Beta as phase 1, and Open Beta as phase 2.

Things will break the moment you try them. This is normal and expected. Always report!

Because of this, things won’t be very fun yet. But as we roll out improvements and new things, users will get to give live feedback on what they want to see and how things feel.

Early Access will be less smooth than full Closed Beta as we detect the kinks of letting more people in en masse. It’s the nature of early launching. Brace yourselves!

In the same vein, several aspects are temporary. Topher takes the place of icons in the queue, and compromises we’ve made for early economic simulation (example: a placeholder merchant to simulate the Processing mechanic) will be barren. NPCs are sketches, UI colors may be temporary, and UI banners are sketches.

Any and all prices of items or features are temporary or subject to change. Things like the price of kit rolling or accessory items will be tooled.

All updates and communications with testers will be posted publicly instead of through email. Eventually, we’ll use the site forums, but not until we can guarantee no more content wipes, and we’ve developed the sticky system on the User Dashboard.

Everything in this test, minus your username, password, account ID, and purchases is temporary. Your account content will be erased at some point in time, and when it is your Kickstarter and Alpha reward codes will be re-activated for use.

If anything is broken about your code, please report! We’ll fix it!

Any premium purchases you make will be restored upon wipes, and exist in this state as a means to support us moreso than to stimulate longterm collecting. By purchasing any currency, you’re helping us develop! But please do not feel pressured!

Bundles will be added come the full Closed Beta.

Pelt submissions are open for user testing, but you’ll have to re-submit upon any wipes.

When you complete registration (entering your DOB and confirming agreement to the TOS), your founder and follower IDs will be reserved, so you can take your time going over the details.

These starting cats will be wiped completely, and when Open Beta begins, follower and founder IDs will be totally up for grabs again upon first-come first-serve login and confirmation.

We’ll be around to grind for the next two weeks. Then, in two weeks, there will be a bit of a lull as our developers take a breather and regroup, and we’ll be back in March. We’re making this plan known so it doesn’t look like an abandonment or nervous silence. We’re simply planning rest and pacing ahead of time!

We’ll be sending out periodic surveys to get honest criticism and check how the economy is feeling.

The first survey is ready and waiting for your input! This survey focuses specifically on the economy, and can be filled out once per day. Please do not feel pressured to do so every day, but we encourage you to respond as many times as possible. Your input is immeasurably valuable for the fine-tuning of our economy, and guaranteeing the long-term enjoyability of the site. Please find the survey here.

With over 700 items on this site, we may have missed necessary data entry for some as we learn the ins and outs of our own program. Always report and we’ll fix it!

Some accessories are in the re-coloring queue, and if so will have their recolors seeded into the economy as we finish them.

It’s a marathon, not a sprint. We’re ready to hit the ground running, but it will be a long journey. We’re excited to embark on it together!

Here is a list of things available from the get-go (hopefully useable, if not they will be!):

Cooking and Crafting

Daily Duties

Flea Market and Merchants 

Breeding

Dress up and general cat customization

Beta retirement (bare bones)

Cat relationships and cross-cat gift giving

Archetype discovery (we are adding new ones as you play!)

Forum posting and custom board creation (image hosting!)

Cat profile CSS boxes

User profile CSS boxes

Storage and stash functionality for item organization

Bank functionality for currency storage

User customization settings (icon selection, pronoun and slogan editing, Borough swapping, username swapping)

Crest application

Beta guild play (basic errands)

Multiplayer guilds

Incense and metamorphic functionality

Pelt submissions (the refined pelt rules are a work in progress, because for this chaotic testing phase we’d like everyone to go nuts and have some fun! The only steadfast rules are no gore, copyrighted materials, religious iconography, or sexual content!)

Friend requests and adding friends

Premium shop (intended for user support, benefits are bare for at least the next week or so while we focus on user bug reports)

Now without further ado… here is what we’ll be working on in the coming months, in order of general priority! Open Beta will not happen until we finish this list.

Replacing frontend assets with final renders.

Updating item cards to reflect dynamic button displays depending on the page in which the card is being viewed.

User report system for all user-ran content.

Wardrobe functionality; full sandbox dress up available to any visitor.

Infrastructure for sharing sandbox creations in comments and forum posts; text language like :catID: to paste an image link of a cat.

User to user DM functionality.

User to user private trading.

Item database and lore encyclopedia.

Processing functionality + dye system. For now, recolors are seeded in a temporary merchant.

Visual faunapedia record for fauna studying (including unlockable lore.)

Adding a slew of archetypes. Dedicated archetype collection page with user featured display.

Sitewide search functionality of all user content.

Aesthetic updates to comments + addition of comments onto cat pages.

Splitting the Undercoat into two patterns: Dilute (dynamically lightened) and Standard.

Adding a white patch selector into the creator and founder designer.

Dashboard refinement + forum news widget and stickies.

Splitting cooking and crafting to bring back Winnipeg and keep the mechanics more organized.

Farming.

Much of it has been started already, and we’ll continue to share our progress. We plan to stay in Closed Beta likely over the summer, but it will be as long as these developments take.

And then we will move into Open Beta! Where we can focus on the following:

User notebook entries (blog posts.)

Forum board updates to better accommodate posting

Sitewide tagging and filtering.

Cross-account breeding.

Dedicated Guild refinement and updates.

Achievement system.

Referral system.

Team features like a team hoard, team notes, and shared scenes.

Refinement of any feature feedback we get :) 

And from there… it’s full launch, baby! 

Again, a marathon, not a sprint. This list may seem long and arduous, but we’ll continue visual content updates (patterns, breeds, etc.) throughout the length of development.

Let’s get crackin’, catfolk!

[axelsagewrites]

Hello. Could I request a fic with f reader working at Richmond and Jan Maas faling in love with reader. Just fluff. ❤️

Jan Maas*Sweet As You

Pairing: Jan Maas x f!reader

Word count: 1134

Warnings: pure fluff

Masterlist here

There were definite perks and draw backs of working at Richmond. On one hand as a receptionist, you got paid to do honestly not very much. However, on the other hand you had to deal with a weird amount of prank calls from football fans.

One recently developing perk was the free coffee you received every morning. No, it wasn't a company thing or from your boss or other colleagues. Every morning this week Jan Maas walked in with a black coffee in one hand and an iced caramel mocha latte with an extra shot of expresso in the other.

It all started when you happened to walk into work at the same time and he noticed the Starbucks cup in your hand. "Is that even coffee at this point?" He half teased half seriously wondered.

"It is coffee," you said, drawing out the words as you defended yourself as Jan opened the front door for you, "caffeine not enough for me. I need that sugar high to deal with you lot,"

Jan chuckled at you, walking you over to the desk where your coworker pretended not to be listening in. "Funny. I thought you were sweet enough. See you later," he said, walking away to leave you a blushing mess.

However as soon as he got out of sight Jan became equally as flustered as he realised what he'd said. What was worse was Sam hearing him muttering under his breath about it resulting in Sam telling all the guys who then set up a plan to teach Jan how to flirt.

The issue was he wasn't very good at it. Instead, every morning without fail he got your coffee for you. "Hey Jan," you called, rolling down your car window as you slowed down. It was 7am and he was walking to Richmond with two coffees in hand, "need a lift?"

Jan preferred to walk. He'd never really seen the big deal around cars. However, he was quick to accept your offer. "My coffees will bankrupt you," you joked as you accepted the drink before resuming your drive.

"Don’t worry about it," he laughed, "your worth the money,"

"Think you can buy my affection? “you teased as you were pulling into Richmond.

"Maybe," he said it quietly, his eyes darting away before back to yours. "Is it working?" He asked.

You turned the car off, taking a long sip out your coffee while pretending to think about it, "I think it might be," you finally said, a smile on your lips and a large grin on his. "Throw in a pastry next time and I'm yours,"

When people saw you get out the same car there were some rumours to say the least. Another drawback of the job. However, another perk was walking in right now with a coffee and a suspiciously sweet-smelling brown bag.

"I wasn't sure which to get so I picked whichever looked the sweetest," he said as he placed the bag down.

"You know me so well," you grinned, "thanks though. Take it you don't have time to have one before practise?" You asked despite knowing he didn’t, but you couldn't help but try.

Your smile plus the way your eyelashes batted had Jan Maas willing to pay the late fee. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt," he said as he moved to sit on the edge of the reception desk as you offered him a pastry, "You should make Stroopkoeken with me one day. You'd like them,"

"What are they?" You asked, not realising how adorable Jan thought your head tilt was in your confusion.

"They're like a Carmel biscuit. My mum would make them for me growing up. Better than any Starbucks pastry," he joked, “But you have to make them from scratch to get the best experience,”

“You’ll have to teach me some time,” you smiled back and is if on queue his phone began ringing.

Jan deflated when he saw his teammates call, “I’ll need to go now. I’ll see you later,”

As he began to walk away you cringed before taking a deep breath, “Wait!” you called making him stop in his tracks. “Are you free tomorrow night? Maybe we could try making those biscuits,” you offered with an awkward smile that he found insanely endearing.

A wide grin broke onto his face, “I’d love to. It’s a date,” he said before actually turning to go to practise, leaving you a grinning mess.

-

“A baking date is perfect!”

“Nah man you should go out to a restaurant for the first date,”

“Oh, what if you take her to Sam’s place for dinner first?”

“There’s a new bar up the street you could go to after,”

“What you gonna wear bruv?”

“Make sure you actually clean up. Chicks notice that kinda stuff,”

“Oh, you should get her flowers. Birds dig flowers,”

“And make sure when you go to kiss her- “

“Woah woah guys!” Jan said, standing up from the bench and pushing past his teammates who’d essentially jumped on him after practise when they found out why he was late, “It’s just a first date. Well, I think it’s a date. I said it’s a date, but people here don’t always mean date, oh god what if she doesn’t realise it’s a date?” Jan began to panic, turning to his equally clueless mates.

They were all panicking till a loud, “Oi,” stopped them, “Don’t listen to these pricks,” Roy told him after pretending not to care the whole time, “Shower, shave, tidy up, and calm down. She’ll know it’s a date since all you two do is flirt like some snot nosed teens,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Roy’s right,” Sam said, standing to put a hand on Jan’s shoulder, “You’ve got nothing to worry about,”

“Not what I said but alright,” Roy shrugged but this time he got ignored.

Well apart from Jamie who rolled his eyes before adding his own words of wisdom. “Yeah, mate just be yourself,”

-

The kitchen was now a mess, sugar spilt everywhere, and a pot that looked like it would never be clean again and of course a plate of perfectly made biscuits. “I don’t know how my mum made it look so easy,” Jan said.

You laughed as you reached up to wipe the flour off his forehead, “Yeah but they taste good so who cares,” you said, noticing the way his cheeks tinged pink whenever you touched him.

“They’re almost as sweet as you,” he smiled softly, brushing your hair out of your face making your own skin flush.

Enough was enough you thought, “So tell me something,” you said, Jan humming as he waited for you to ask, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” you nearly whispered.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

Pairing: Jan Maas x f!reader

Word count: 1134

Warnings: pure fluff

There were definite perks and draw backs of working at Richmond. On one hand as a receptionist, you got paid to do honestly not very much. However, on the other hand you had to deal with a weird amount of prank calls from football fans.

One recently developing perk was the free coffee you received every morning. No, it wasn't a company thing or from your boss or other colleagues. Every morning this week Jan Maas walked in with a black coffee in one hand and an iced caramel mocha latte with an extra shot of expresso in the other.

It all started when you happened to walk into work at the same time and he noticed the Starbucks cup in your hand. "Is that even coffee at this point?" He half teased half seriously wondered.

"It is coffee," you said, drawing out the words as you defended yourself as Jan opened the front door for you, "caffeine not enough for me. I need that sugar high to deal with you lot,"

Jan chuckled at you, walking you over to the desk where your coworker pretended not to be listening in. "Funny. I thought you were sweet enough. See you later," he said, walking away to leave you a blushing mess.

However as soon as he got out of sight Jan became equally as flustered as he realised what he'd said. What was worse was Sam hearing him muttering under his breath about it resulting in Sam telling all the guys who then set up a plan to teach Jan how to flirt.

The issue was he wasn't very good at it. Instead, every morning without fail he got your coffee for you. "Hey Jan," you called, rolling down your car window as you slowed down. It was 7am and he was walking to Richmond with two coffees in hand, "need a lift?"

Jan preferred to walk. He'd never really seen the big deal around cars. However, he was quick to accept your offer. "My coffees will bankrupt you," you joked as you accepted the drink before resuming your drive.

"Don’t worry about it," he laughed, "your worth the money,"

"Think you can buy my affection? “you teased as you were pulling into Richmond.

"Maybe," he said it quietly, his eyes darting away before back to yours. "Is it working?" He asked.

You turned the car off, taking a long sip out your coffee while pretending to think about it, "I think it might be," you finally said, a smile on your lips and a large grin on his. "Throw in a pastry next time and I'm yours,"

When people saw you get out the same car there were some rumours to say the least. Another drawback of the job. However, another perk was walking in right now with a coffee and a suspiciously sweet-smelling brown bag.

"I wasn't sure which to get so I picked whichever looked the sweetest," he said as he placed the bag down.

"You know me so well," you grinned, "thanks though. Take it you don't have time to have one before practise?" You asked despite knowing he didn’t, but you couldn't help but try.

Your smile plus the way your eyelashes batted had Jan Maas willing to pay the late fee. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt," he said as he moved to sit on the edge of the reception desk as you offered him a pastry, "You should make Stroopkoeken with me one day. You'd like them,"

"What are they?" You asked, not realising how adorable Jan thought your head tilt was in your confusion.

"They're like a Carmel biscuit. My mum would make them for me growing up. Better than any Starbucks pastry," he joked, “But you have to make them from scratch to get the best experience,”

“You’ll have to teach me some time,” you smiled back and is if on queue his phone began ringing.

Jan deflated when he saw his teammates call, “I’ll need to go now. I’ll see you later,”

As he began to walk away you cringed before taking a deep breath, “Wait!” you called making him stop in his tracks. “Are you free tomorrow night? Maybe we could try making those biscuits,” you offered with an awkward smile that he found insanely endearing.

A wide grin broke onto his face, “I’d love to. It’s a date,” he said before actually turning to go to practise, leaving you a grinning mess.

-

“A baking date is perfect!”

“Nah man you should go out to a restaurant for the first date,”

“Oh, what if you take her to Sam’s place for dinner first?”

“There’s a new bar up the street you could go to after,”

“What you gonna wear bruv?”

“Make sure you actually clean up. Chicks notice that kinda stuff,”

“Oh, you should get her flowers. Birds dig flowers,”

“And make sure when you go to kiss her- “

“Woah woah guys!” Jan said, standing up from the bench and pushing past his teammates who’d essentially jumped on him after practise when they found out why he was late, “It’s just a first date. Well, I think it’s a date. I said it’s a date, but people here don’t always mean date, oh god what if she doesn’t realise it’s a date?” Jan began to panic, turning to his equally clueless mates.

They were all panicking till a loud, “Oi,” stopped them, “Don’t listen to these pricks,” Roy told him after pretending not to care the whole time, “Shower, shave, tidy up, and calm down. She’ll know it’s a date since all you two do is flirt like some snot nosed teens,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Roy’s right,” Sam said, standing to put a hand on Jan’s shoulder, “You’ve got nothing to worry about,”

“Not what I said but alright,” Roy shrugged but this time he got ignored.

Well apart from Jamie who rolled his eyes before adding his own words of wisdom. “Yeah, mate just be yourself,”

-

The kitchen was now a mess, sugar spilt everywhere, and a pot that looked like it would never be clean again and of course a plate of perfectly made biscuits. “I don’t know how my mum made it look so easy,” Jan said.

You laughed as you reached up to wipe the flour off his forehead, “Yeah but they taste good so who cares,” you said, noticing the way his cheeks tinged pink whenever you touched him.

“They’re almost as sweet as you,” he smiled softly, brushing your hair out of your face making your own skin flush.

Enough was enough you thought, “So tell me something,” you said, Jan humming as he waited for you to ask, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” you nearly whispered.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

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[sngj08]

[Not so Quiet Boy] Sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: your friend tries to set you up with an old acquaintance of yours in hopes to get him a girlfriend by the end of his senior year

genre: crush to friends, friends to lovers, crush to lovers, high school romance, after school and outside of school hangouts, mixed signals, friends playing cupid, friends not saying everything, obvious flirting but protagonist doesn't see,

warning: profanity

author's note: all of this is from true experience and none of them were altered besides names.

prev / masterlist / next

Chapter 1: Guardians of the Galaxy(Avengers Campus)

"I would go but my parents told me to not ride it though." Jennie said, making me scoff in your head.

"This is disneyland! You paid for your ticket so make the most out of it!" You said trying to convince Jennie as your main goal was to enjoy the park.

"Yeah she's right. You just got to live a little!" Sunghoon agreed with you as we started walking to the ride.

"Did you guys ride anything?" Elisa asked the two as they nodded.

"Yeah we rode the spiderman one." Jennie said as you got bummed as you were planning on riding that one.

"Can we go on the spiderman one though? I was planning on going on that ride weeks ago." You asked the others.

"But- Yeah we can go again!" Jennie was about to turn it down but Sunghoon agreed to the idea with some enthusiasm.

As we got into the queue for the Guardians ride Elisa had an idea.

“Let’s play charades while waiting! Sunghoon, you have the app on your phone right?” She said as he took out his phone, searching for the app.

“I know my mom had it downloaded.” He said going through the app store and downloading the game.

“So what category do you guys want to do?” He hands Elisa his phone as you look over to the screen to see the options.

“Let’s just do the act it out category.” Elisa says as they all nod in agreement.

“Ok who goes first?” Elisa asks as now everyone shakes their head.

“Yn?” Elisa says as they all look at you.

“No, I'm bad at charades.” You explain and it ended up with Jennie being first.

As we were having fun and acting it out, it ended up being my turn. 

“Wand? Wizard?” You were guessing a lot until someone said. “Sunghoon but with a scar on his head!” Jennie explained as you took the hint. “Harry Potter?” You said as everyone laughed at the statement. “Why can I see it though?” You jokingly said, still walking backwards as you were going in the building you slipped on the wet floor but before you fell, Sunghoon held your back and arm to keep you from falling.

“Oh thanks.” You said to him while handing his phone back to him.

As the line went closer and closer to the ride, you all stopped playing to get ready for the ride and enjoy the interior.

“I’m kind of nervous though.” Said Jennie making us all look at her.

“I could hold your hand if you want.” Elisa said as she placed her hand out to Jennie.

“Yeah just scream it out on the ride Jennie.” You said reassuring her as Elisa nodded in agreement.

“Bet I’ll be the loudest in there.” Jennie said as we all laughed. 

“No, It’s ok. We have kids riding with us so you’ll be fine dear.” A mom said to Jennie.

“You should have heard them in the line! I bet you guys ARE the loudest there.” Another lady said to us jokingly, making you all chuckle. “Mom, is it scary in there? Why are the big kids scared too?” The kid asked his mom as the mom bent down to tell him. “We are all here for fun. I promise you, you’ll be safe there buddy.” The mom explained to his kid then turned to us. “I hope he still trusts me after this.” Making all of us laugh.

“You want to hold my hand too?” Elisa offers to you, which she seemed to notice you were also scared of the ride and she was right so you didn't turn down.

“Sit by the side so you can also hold on to the railing if you need to!” The lady beside us spoke again. So we all agreed that Jennie will be at the right most side to hold the railing, then Elisa, then you and Sunghoon.

As we got to our seats, you and Jennie were holding Elisa's hands for dear life but the difference was that Jennie looked seemingly more nervous than me and that she could use two hands to hold on to something.

The ride started going up which made you scream in excitement and tension. In the midst of the ride going up, not knowing where to put your left hand, you held onto the handle which was in between you and Sunghoon. As the ride dropped, you screamed your lungs out, legs together, while holding on. During the ride, you see Sunghoon turn his head slightly to look at you, to see you curled up into a ball mid-air and fighting for your life.

As the ride was over you all went to the screens to get the picture they took at the very top of the ride.

“Yo our pictures!” You said as Elisa added. “Jennie looks like she’s dying.” She joked until you noticed her embarrassed, making you state. “It’s ok, I couldn’t hear you.” Trying your best to reassure her but then in realization, you pointed your finger to Sunghoon. “But this dude had no peep! Crossing his legs as if it's a normal thing!” I complained at him playfully as he shrugged his shoulders. “I just enjoy things on the inside.” He said while proudly nodding at himself, as if he’d spoken something wise, making the rest of us shake our heads at him until he added on. “Where do you guys want to go next?”

“Let’s go to the Incredicoaster before the line gets long!” Elisa chimed in, making us all nod.

taglist: (open) @enhacolor @beigerin @tasnemluvs @parkjjongswifey

wc: 889

[knitwit1912]

Team Tadpole: Modern AU Disney World Edition

A friend and I started riffing on what would happen if Team Tadpole went to Disney World.

Halsin 100% has a different ear headband for every day of the trip

Astarion tries to pretend he's too cool for everything, but is in fact loving it and gets a little emotional when they go for lunch at Be Our Guest

Minthara is just wondering how in the hell she was talked into this for the first half of the trip but betrays her growing enthusiasm by screaming gleefully on Tron.

Wyll gets blushy and nervous at all the princess meet-and-greets (Astarion does not let him live this down)

They go to Mickey's Not-So-Scary Halloween Party and Lae'zel spends the entire time repeatedly riding Space Mountain because it's the one time it's 100% dark and as intense as Disney gets (she whines about going to Universal where they have "real rollercoasters")

Eating around the world: Gale, Halsin Drinking around the world: Astarion, Shadowheart, Karlach

Halsin laughs at all the dad jokes on the Jungle Cruise, Minthara seethes quietly, Astarion mumbles about whether he'd get banned from the park for jumping overboard

Karlach nearly gets the Mad Tea Party ride shut down for decontamination by spinning her teacup so hard the other occupants nearly lose their lunch

Minsc ties helium balloons to Boo until he floats. Otherwise he's carrying stuffies and huge amounts of food ("Gale, my foodie friend! Cheeseburger spring rolls; we must try these!")

Gale organizes the itinerary around dinner reservations (he's still a little sad everyone was like "HELL NO, GALE" when he floated the idea of doing the $425-per-person Chef's Table dinner at Victoria and Albert's)

"Which one would just run off and start causing chaos?" "Oh, Karlach. 100%. Well-meaning chaos, but chaos nonetheless."

Smuggler's Run positions: Pilot: Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Minthara (fistfight narrowly avoided by Jaheira splitting them into two groups) Gunner: Karlach, Wyll, Astarion Engineer: Gale, Halsin, Minsc

After the first 30 seconds of hearing the song on "Journey into Imagination" Astarion, Minthara and Lae'zel start discussing how they would like to kill Figment and settle on disembowelment (we will not discuss how "It's a Small World" goes)

Astarion and Shadowheart are Big Mad that the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique is for children only, because they are pretty pretty princesses. Karlach is sad for the same reason but manages to badger everyone (except Minthara) into getting pixie dusted, meaning they're all finding glitter on their clothing (and elsewhere) for weeks.

Halsin makes everyone take the train to Rafiki's Planet Watch just so he can pet the goats

Crying at "Happily Ever After" fireworks: Astarion, Karlach, Minsc Cuddling their crying partner: Halsin, Wyll, Gale Using the fireworks to ride the rides with no lineup: Lae'zel, Jaheira, Shadowheart, Minthara

Most likely to have watched every All Ears/Mammoth Club/Disney Food Blog guide: Gale, Lae'zel

Mostly likely do have done a reasonable amount of research and preparation: Wyll, Minthara, Jaheira, Shadowheart, Halsin

Least likely to have looked at anything that has the faintest whiff of planning prior to the trip, including the weather forecast: Astarion (therefore also most likely to have to spend $$$ for a spirit jersey because he didn't pack warm enough clothing.)

Most likely to figure out on the first day how to game Genie+ and makes it their life's work to get the most lightning lanes possible and the earliest Guardians of the Galaxy/Tron virtual queue boarding group: Lae'zel and Minthara

Halsin seriously suggests staying on a tent/RV campsite at Fort Wilderness; Astarion votes for concierge-level Grand Floridian

Person who always asks to squeeze in one more ride on Pirates of the Caribbean: Wyll Person who somehow always gets wettest on Pirates of the Caribbean: Gale or Astarion