#they just rotting away at your core for no good reason

[lizzy019]

𝒞𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑅𝑜𝓁𝓁?

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Plus-size Fem!Reader

cw -> insecurities, tough-love, oral (sixty nine), but a sweet ending :)

Word Count -> 1.4K

As a plus-size girlie, I genuinely wish I could get this, but no man likes a girl with stomach fat and it’s KILLING MEEE

This blasted mirror, you thought to yourself.

Hands scooping up your protruding apron belly with a sad expression, you look at yourself disapprovingly in the mirror as tears well up in your eyes.

Ugly, ugly, ugly! Your mind chanted in disregard of your mental health.

You didn’t care if people said, “Oh, but you have boobs!” or “Oh, but you have a full ass!” It wasn't about that anymore, you just wanted to feel pretty again. Like that young teenager who had no care for their looks, just getting good grades in school to finally have that dream job.

Now your job has you cooped up in your home all day, stress eating until you feel guilty and crying about it. It was pathetic.

You were pathetic.

Sniffles escaped you as you hid yourself in the baggiest clothing you had, frowning when you could still see the fat in your arms and the face fat that made you look old.

A knock at the apartment’s front door had you quickly wiping your tears in a hurry, trying to fix your breaths as you exited your room to go see who it was.

Opening the door to the apartment, you’re met with the familiar white skull mask and stocky body that you’d swooned over the first time you saw him.

“Simon!” You smiled, gently hugging him and allowing him inside. After months, he was safe and back home.

“Hey, luv. You gained weight?” He responded, dropping his duffel bag and eyeing you closely.

You winced at those words.

“Are you high or somethin’? Why’re your eyes all red and puffy?” He asked.

This had you freeze up, giving a nervous chuckle as you played with the hem of your sweatshirt.

“No no, I’m not high, I promise. Just tired.” You lied as smooth as you could, gesturing to the kitchen for him to go and get food.

Even if Ghost could tell you were lying from the way your body language was all closed off, he didn’t wanna dig and hurt you. So he just trudged to the kitchen for food and let you be.

The rest of your evening was spent in the bathroom, eyeing the laxatives you bought to thin yourself out with skepticism. While you wanted to take them, you didn’t know how they’d make your system react.

A waste of money, you thought to yourself.

But working out was a waste of time when bills had to be paid and the house needed cleaning, or family needed help, or groceries had to be done.

It was all too much, and you found yourself silently beginning to sob again.

Hands holding the disgusting fat at your abdomen, you curled up on the tiled floors and weeped. How could Simon deal with you? How could he want to be proud of you? Was he lying? Pitying you?

Ghost could hear the sounds from the living room, but he paid no mind to it. You never handled crying in front of others well anyway.

11:30 at night, Simon stripped bare in front of you as you hesitated strongly to take off your own clothing.

You felt bad for so many reasons, the two most severe ones being that you were scared he’d judge you and make cruel jokes about the pounds you’d gained, but also not taking your clothes off and making him upset or frustrated.

Ghost’s hands didn’t even let you choose, your shirt came off within a few seconds and so did your pants and panties.

Mortification crossed you instantly, and you wished you could run back into the bathroom, lock yourself away and rot. It’s the only thing you could do better than stuffing your face full of food.

Ghost got into position, and you felt awful when he got on top of you instead of you usually getting on top of him.

Flimsy cock at your mouth, you gently put it into your lips and began to work on what he’d pleaded for upon return. His own mouth attached itself to your core, but you weren’t wet. You couldn't focus on enjoying the pleasure when everything else was pulling you away from it.

Regardless, everything kept going, even your mortification which refused to leave. You were just too self-conscious, too fearful of his true reaction and anxiety creeping up because he hasn't said anything about it yet.

Once Ghost was good and hard, he moved once again into a missionary position and grabbed some lube and a condom, rolling the latex on first before lubing up your entrance. His tip pressed your core before a sharp thrust was executed.

Only a soft whimper exited you from it, and this really gave Ghost the sign that something was up.

“Luv, what the fuck is up with you t’day? You’re actin’ all reticent and timid for no goddamn reason. Or is there a reason that you’re just not informin’ me of?” He asked harshly, his expression not visible through the dark fabric covering his face.

His question made you think hard. Should you tell him? Would he laugh at you? Simon wasn't exactly an understanding person, and he never comforted anyone properly. With a shaky sigh, you shrugged.

“You said it yourself earlier, I gained weight. I tried not to, but I don’t have time anymore to be physically active asides small walks, it’s pissing me off and I understand if you think it’s not as attractive anymore-”

“Who the fuck told you that I said somethin’ as stupid and jacked up as that? Holy shit, is that all you were pissin’ yourself over? A few extra pounds?” He almost raised his voice, almost.

Reluctantly, you nodded your head and winced a bit.

He sighed heavily, his hands coming to pin down your wrists as he gently kissed your cheek. You were confused, what was happening here?

“Luv, you don’t gotta worry about my preference on your body. You’re you, you took me in and loved me in a way no one else chose to, I’m not in it for your body, I’m in it for you.”

This made your eyes water out joyful tears, this wasn’t something you heard on a regular basis, much less from someone who was way out of your league.

You gave a soft nod, and this made him fully begin to thrust into your core. That was what made you erupt in little moans, you just needed to be properly consoled.

Simon however, was going absolutely feral for the little jiggle in your tummy, the bouncing of your breasts, and the way your thighs happily squished against the mattress’ fabric.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl. Takin’ it so well, you like it? You like how my cock’s stretching this tight lil’ cunt open? Yeah, yeah you do.” He smiled softly under his mask, lightly degrading you with praise built in as he answered for you.

You were too blissed out to have even heard it.

A climax was nearing, and he moved himself into a mating press to violently assault your dripping cunt while pinning your soft body down against his.

“Simon! Gonna cum..!” You mewled out, hands clasping his shoulders before you finally spasmed and seized just to release all over his hard length.

This alone had him gasping for air, his thrusts heavy and desperate as he kissed all down your neck, sucking the skin to make hickies, before he couldn't continue it anymore.

“Fuck, I’m cumming, I’m cumming- shit!” He moaned out, ceasing all movements to fully release into the condom.

Huffs were the only thing you two heard for a good few moments, taking off his mask in totality to show his full submission to your trust.

Those pretty brown eyes and blonde lashes, lovely scarred cheeks and little amount of blonde stubble on his jaw and chin. Chapped lips and pinky nose. He was handsome, you felt like he could get any woman if he tried.

“Stupid British.” You teased, kissing his lips innocently before you two moved to get under the blankets to rest.

Ghost’s hands came to rub the pudge of your stomach, eyes soft as he looked at it with adoration.

“You’re like a cinnamon roll.” He murmured.

“Cinnamon roll?!” You exclaimed, laughing and kissing his cheek. “You goof.”

Ghost chuckled dryly, kissing your forehead before pulling the blanket to cover your shoulders to stay warm.

“Sleep well, cinnabon.”

[adoregojo]

↬ two paths 一 ⦁ nagi.s, reo.m

▶︎ sooooooooooooo... this is some rotting dabble i abandoned, and since Im kind of desperate for any glimpse of motivation, i finished it. and surprise, surprise! its a reo and nagi fic lmaolmao.

▶︎ summary: reo have had a crush on you for a good long two years, and when it's the time to word his love to you, but a obstruct of your part says otherwise. ▶︎ context: nagi is your childhood friend, jealousy, idk if this counts as a love triangle? it's more like your a brick head, some angst (ofc) kind of a plottwist !!gn reader!!

"i like you, I've liked you ever since you stepped into my world, i like everything about you, your smile, your eyes, your gentle hands, your laugh, and most of all your soul that kept me hostage. and i-"

the hang up sound cut him off.

silence fell upon the other side of the phone, only the stillness of the disconnected tone nudging him back to reality. his hold on the phone was a robust one, so stout to the point of a crack to echo. the compound of bitterness, remorse, frustration, all were hefty on the little pinning heart of his.

and with that, you rejected reo, without even saying a word.

and the next days were nothing but a grievous duration, to him the most. as much as reo didn't want to see you for a while, there was no escaping you when you were in the same school, classroom, 一hell, even club. you were in every corner and every ditch, and he'll be a dead lier if he said that your appearance alone wouldn't tiptoe on his heartstrings. reo can stay still ever so firmly and yet you'd still be able to prod him out of his ground as convenient.

reo wanted to be mad at you, to hate you even, but he couldn't, he sincerely couldn't. even when the strain was tense, unbearable, but somehow it also felt pitifully suffocated, graciously. it was you after all, where he felt like a fragile creature under your spell, gosh一 you had reo warped around your finger with cement.

nevertheless, what drove him to the edge was how you operated it. while reo handled it by immersing himself in two blankets and eat ice cream to pacified him to crying himself to sleep. however, you on the other hand was having the time of your life. greeting him good morning to saying goodbyes, even asking him how his day went, did his confession meant that little to you?

reo wondered if you bat an eye, you just denied him after all, but some acknowledgment would've been great. or at least have a talk about it. but instead you acted like it never even happened. the idea of you skipping over his feelings made him sick to his core, it sounded so ill-suited, you above all if not the most considerate, thoughtful person he'd ever met. that's how reo fell for you in the first place.

he wasn't gonna apologies for being selfish, he wanted you to himself. reo kept all his feelings for you bottled up for a good old two years, and he just cannot bare with the fear of someone else stealing you anymore 一something that kept him on trails of restless nights一

maybe that's what herd him away from you, the decedent between the two grew by each day. yet reo loved you too much to live with the consequences of his actions, he can't even look at you without screaming 'why don't you care as much as i do', your sudden unfamiliarity stings him slowly and most of all painfully.

for you to blow him away like a dust that burdens your clothes felt it was caused by a clone, or did he just never knew you like he thought he did?

it ached to see you asking him if he's okay, if you did something wrong to drive him away. and goddamn it hurts seeing you like this, he would rather bang his head to the wall repeatedly than see that anguished expression ever again, and worst of all, reo was the reason for it.

you were heavy on his mind 一as if you weren't already�� the recollection of you standing with your sweaty palms rubbing against each other, a bad habit you do when you get uneasy, he really fucked up to the point where you have became a nervous wreck in his presence. your utter was light, questioning if he even wanted to be your 'friend' anymore.

you weren't the one to blame, reo was the one who stopped talking to you, stopped sitting with you for lunch, he even withdrew the club you two shared 一he didn't even have a liking for it, just joined because you were there一 all that and you still tugged on the last tie of faith reo would walk back into your life with open arms.

but reo didn't want to be your 'friend', not anymore. he wanted to be the one to protect you, to understand you, he wanted to be your man, your other half more anything, for him to be your everything just like you are his. you can't just make heaven a living place on earth then walk away when he was on knees for you.

he left you at halt, saying that he needed some time. you never knew time for what because he walked away before letting you word anything out. so now, his hands buried deep in his pockets, he felt heavy, mind and heart on a race track. he felt awful, the image of you standing in confusion, lost on what to do will hunt him to his grave. he tried running his fingers throughout his violet lockes, he was petty, selfish, and reo knew he could've worded it better instead of this.

from the corner of his eye, he could spot a bunch of flowers fluttering under the rush of air, hit by the sunlight to outshine any other plants besides. he could've think of how beautiful they looked, but no, the first thing that popped out his mind was the image of how bliss you'll be seeing them flourish just the way you liked it.

reo contemplating his actions, the pure, straightforward out of his heart gates confession and how far it had driven him. how beyond it had tossed what you two had. something blended with bittersweetness squeezed within his chest, envisioning of your smile made it a challenge to breathe.

so he keeps on strolling, trying to straighten himself until a familiar tall white headed form comes to his view. ranking ahead of a vending machine, nagi was too busy searching for what it appears to be a coin to even notice reo.

nagi was your friend, the one who watched the two of you downfall in silence. he didn't say a thing about it, didn't get involved and much rather concentrate on his phone-games. but there was something else, nagi have been your friend for what reo have been told since childhood. it was something anyone can figure out in the first glance, nagi doesn't leave your side for what it seems like eternally, he remained as your sidekick for decades. he witnessed all your phases, your growth. and he wasn't planning on departure his spot. it was a rare sight to see nagi not glued to your side, did the sky spare him? did his desperation reaches the empyrean?

"hey," reo announced his presence, nagi's bored eyes soaring over him. so the purple head flipped a coin to his direction, nagi tamed it halfway, staring at the single coin then back at his friend. "need another one." he uttered flatly as ever, so reo push out a sigh as he tossed him another one. the snowy head mummers a low thanks.

"listen, i need to tell you something." reo enunciates after a moment of hesitation, caressing the back of his neck as his lilac hues kept on swirling around. his friend just humming in acknowledgment, supporting his chin with his hand while still examining over the endless optionals of drinks.

"it's about yn."

nagi rattled momentarily, your name was like a cold water on his senses.

well, that was easy. reo thought. "i did something a few weeks ago, and i think i fucked up everything." he says, undertone. as if he was admitting an unforgivable crime.

"what did you do?" there was something off about nagi's tone, his grip on the coins was merciless. but his face still seemed boarded, nonchalantly but oddly firmed for some reason.

"i kind of admitted my feelings to them..."

nagi's daze expression shattered in an instant, not anything crazy, but his eyes grew obscure, casing over reo like a giant blacked cloud.

for nagi to carry that kind of aura was eccentric, that face would only arise every time an unnamed got a little too close to you. at that time, reo convinced himself that he was imagining that, because nagi out of all people stood his ground when it comes to dating, he'd always say the same thing 'dating sounds like a hassle'. and sometimes something wild like 'don't need someone else around, I already have yn.' reo wasn't a backstabber, he only confessed to you because he lived under the roof that his friend wasn't even able to handle anything intrigued with romance.

"i just, been liking them for ages. and i found the strength to finally say it to them, they-"

"hung up on you." the snowy head finished his line, which made reo eyes widen a bit.

he shifted awkwardly, "haha, did they tell you? how embarrassing.." he tried laughing it off, trying to avoid nagi's gaze for his sake.

"they didn't." nagi spoke quickly, voice strained than usual.

"oh? so how did you?.."

"because i did it. i was the one who hanged up."

there was a moment of lull, where not even the waves of wind could sooth over the tension. reo stood still, waiting for nagi to stick out his tongue playfully and shout 'gotcha!', praying for whoever might've fell upon to this to be a sick prank.

"you what?" he doesn't even realize he spoke before the words had already slipped.

nagi sigh tiredly, his fingers still at halt to press the numbers of his wanted drink, he didn't like focusing on two thing at the same time. "i thought you'd figure it out already. man, do i have to explain myself now? what a hassle." he let out softly.

"nagi, you-"

reo doesn't get get the chance to speak, to think, before nagi cut him off swiftly handling the conversation, like he knew this was coming. "listen, reo. i like being your friend, but i can't let you have yn." his words kept hurtling reo, it all poured down at his like a sucker punch.

"i don't understand."

"it's not that hard, i liked them first, i found them first. so they're basically mine."

oh, oh.

it all made sense now. reo felt like an idiot, why is he seeing this now? this is why you were clueless, because you didn't answer it in the first place. why, why was he so rushed to say it and not letting what he thought was you speak first.

every time when nagi would drink from the same bottle of yours, when he would twirl around a piece of your hair randomly, when his head would rest on your shoulder in every ride home, when he would shut down every time reo rambled about you, he just got it. why was he just connecting the puzzle? was his feelings for you so blinding that he couldn't see this?

reo wanted to say something, in fact things. but the lump in his throat clogs his attempts to protests. leaving his mouth agape.

and it was like nagi couldn't get a hold of concern about this, in fact he found waiting for his drinks to make it way down more interesting. yet he sensed a blazing breeze from his friend's direction, it was hard not to when they were on the same burden as an elephant. so the snowy head swiftly retorted, "plus, you already are the standard, right? I'm pretty sure you can find someone else, it'll be better if you found one quicker."

after that, nagi bent over to grab what was supposed to be his lemon tea alongside your favourite one. boredom eyes doubled-dyed at the cans, mostly at yours before blowing out a vague breath一did he just scoff?

"why you.."

"sorry, don't like sharing."

and with that, nagi walked away. head empty with the only maintenance thing was a picture of you as he handed you your favourite flavour with the money that wasn't even his. leaving reo dumbfounding at his back, he didn't get a say on this, like this wasn't even meant for him.

this wasn't a stage he can purchase to himself, not even to earn a role. he felt like a third-wheel in you and nagi's love tale.

it loathes him, brings him to edge even. but most of all, reo now wanted you more than anything.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

He’s not a NRC student but…

Rollo: “What are YOU doing here?” (Assuming that pre Playful Land piece you wrote happened and Rollo just happened to be at NRC for whatever reason.)

[Referencing this fic!]

This interaction is fr the "wow, these people are so weird; thank god I'm the normal one" meme 🤡 Pretend Gidel's off chasing butterflies or something--

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“What are YOU doing here?!”

The words had been taken right out of his mouth. They were spoken simultaneously, two accusatory fingers pointing in the opposite directions. One away from him, one toward…

A young man with a silvery bowl cut, bangs short, dark circles under his even darker eyes shaded by a tricone hat. His robes were elaborate in their stitching, golden thread spinning into flowers that hugged his waist and circles his arms. The aura he radiated was quiet but intense, all the heat and power of a devastating wildfire contained in a single human being.

“I remember you!” Fellow cried, brusque with his declaration. “You’re that shitty brat with the awful personality! The one that brushed us off at the docks and threatened to set me on fire!"

"And you are the incredibly shifty, invasive conman who sought to lure innocent children into the claws of magic." Rollo grimaced, pressing a handkerchief to his nose. "... It seems you've dropped the polite pretenses since our last encounter."

"Yeah, well, no point in puttin' on those airs anymore. I left my last job, so I'm not obligated to kiss ass."

"How... good for you."

Rollo’s reply, while curt, was phrased politely enough—but the pause stuck out. His eyes burned with disdain, as though he were regarding something offensive. A piece of trash, maybe. No, dirt. Perhaps something even lower than dirt.

Rollo averted his gaze, as if to end the conversation then and there. The dismissive motion grinded Fellow’s gears, sandpaper rubbing on his skin.

What, am I not worth his time to talk to? Who does he think he is?!

Fellow clenched his jaw and forced a smile. “So, my good man! What have you been up to since we last met, hmm?”

“… Official business.” Rollo glanced at the documents tucked under one of his arms. “As Student Council President of Noble Bell College, it falls to me to act as our representative and to engage with other magic schools.”

Fellow blew out air through his teeth. “You’re a real hotshot, huh?”

One of the lucky ones, polished and put on a pedestal. Envy tugged at Fellow’s heartstrings. What he would give to be a part of that glittering world, not a worry to his name.

“One could say that, yes.” Rollo seemed to be frowning with his entire body. His expression, his posture. “Hmph. It is a burden I did not ask for. How troublesome.”

Fellow straightened—irked. “What are you talking about? You have any idea how many people would kill to be where you are? Be a little more grateful, wouldja?”

“Excuse me?” Rollo’s brows twitched. “Who are you to judge others and determine how they ought to behave?”

“You don’t have to be a somebody with a fancy title to know when there’s a bad seed around.”

“You do not know me,” Rollo said icily. “Do not presume that you do.”

You could never understand what I’ve been through!!

He looked the beastman up and down, noting the patchwork in his attire, the holes in his façade. “… Pray forgive that I do not place much stock in your word. You do not present as a scholar, nor an upstanding adult of any sort.”

The comment cut deep, striking at his core. Fellow lashed out in defense.

“S-So what?! I don’t need a hoity toity kid like you labelling me. You’re bound to school and its rules. Me? I’m free to go wherever I like, whenever I please.”

Rollo sniffed, unimpressed. “So you claim—yet you linger at the feet of this institution of those who worship sin. It’s perfectly clear what your motive is, Mr. Honest. Like an parasite drawn to rotting fruit, you seek to be in the vicinity of that power, hoping to leech some of it for yourself. You too are one of the mindless sheep clamoring for a crumb of magic, not recognizing that pursuit will inevitably lead to your demise.”

Fellow blinked. His anger wavered, mixing with confusion. “Wh-What the hell, kid! You always gotta talk like a doomer?! Unclench your face for a second and take a breather, sheesh! I’m getting depressed just standing here listening to you mouth off.”

Rollo scoffed. “If you ask me, you do not take life seriously enough.”

“Life’s meant to be fun. Not all work, no play. You’ll become a dull and jaded grown-up if you keep going down this path.”

“I would rather be that than a fool who holds fast to his childish delusions.”

"Psssh. Least I'm not a hardass. All the privilege in the world and you still gotta act all sour."

Rollo stared at him, his gaze cold and steely. Fellow returned it. The same thought filled both of their heads.

He isn't satisfied with what he has now. He wants something more for himself than this. He's...

Deplorable, Rollo thought.

A greedy bastard, Fellow thought.

And when, at last, the staring became too much for either to bare, Rollo coughed into a fist. "If you will excuse me. I mustn't dawdle. These documents have to be delivered to Headmaster Crowley in a timely manner."

He paused deliberately.

"... I will pray for you," Rollo murmured as he walked off, his steps brisk and snappy.

Fellow gawked after him, appalled.

"Yeah, good riddance!" he hollered. "Hope the door hits ya on the way out!!"

[anthemofgvf]

Groupie Love: Jake Kiszka x Reader Fanfiction

"you're in the bar, playing guitar, i'm trying not to let the crowd next to me. it's so hard sometimes with a star, when you have to share him with everybody." description: being jake’s groupie was heaven on earth, yet sinful in every desirable way. while the world reveled in his public, entrancing persona, you reveled in the boundaries of reality and fantasy intertwining in secrecy.

word count: 6.9k+

trope: groupie! reader x jake

taglist for future fics

warnings after cut…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

warnings: good amount of plot, mentions of drinking, alcohol, smut (18+ minors dni), swearing, unprotected sex, hardcore dom! jake, choking, spitting, praise/begging/degrading kink, rough sex, spanking, fingering, oral (male and fem! receiving), bit of fluff, some aftercare

disclaimer: this does not follow the real events of the starcatcher tour for the sake of the plot. thanks!

a/n: would also like to mention that yes, this IS based off of the Lana Del Rey song with the same title. As soon as I heard it, I immediately thought of Jake and writing a fic based off of it. If you haven't listened to the song, now is the perfect time to do so! hope you all enjoy :) <3

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

There was something so addictive about secrecy. To share such vulnerability with someone where no one's eyes could witness, but only you and another alone. To know each other by touch alone if every sense was stripped away, yet hiding the true reason why you could pick them apart in a crowd from that feeling. And while you two were friends with one another publicly, behind closed doors, you were both fucking like animals. There was no better way to describe your relationship with Jake. You were just one of his secrets, hidden in a closet, and you had accepted that.

You had met him after one of Greta Van Fleet's shows when their careers were just about to skyrocket and thank God you were able to catch him then. You hadn't really listened to their music before or even heard of them, but local concerts under 30 bucks as a fun night out with friends was always on the table. If it weren't for their small fanbase and lack of fame, you were positive you wouldn't have become Jake's personal groupie.

After hooking up with him in the venue's bathroom, twice, Jake simply couldn't have enough of you. And you, you were entranced by him and his sexual drive. You both also enjoyed each other's company in the short period of time you knew one another, so, you and he exchanged numbers and kept in contact. Whenever he was in town, you'd be next to him, and when he was gone, you were with someone else. More often than not, you two were spending time with one another purely for sex, but it was rare for you to leave immediately after. After all, Jake cared about you regardless of the label of your relationship with him, and you were enjoyable to be around.

There was no discussion of monogamy, so it was mutually decided that seeing other people was no issue. Sure, no one compared to the guitarist, but there was always someone to run down your time in the day when boredom struck, and you were unable to be at Jake's beckoning call. Even though Jake would always call you his, it was words that withheld no meaning. Only in moments where you and Jake were together alone did they obtain meaning, but you knew never to take him seriously.

Jealousy is a bitch, though, and it possessed you. It rotted you to your unchaste core. You could easily pretend it didn't bother you that other girls have had Jake the way you have or have even looked at him in that manner. Of course, you'd be lying to yourself if you said there wasn't a single sliver of selfishness towards him. How many girls Jake had been with next to you was a mysterious number, but you didn't choose to spend your time thinking about how many girls he's said the same things to as you. But, rather, feel empowered that there were fans in their crowds at shows that desperately wanted your place. Fans that screamed his name, made signs and t-shirts for him, dreamed of being more than just a fan in the crowd. That was something you had over them. That's what made you special. That's what gave you your title of a so-called 'groupie'.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

They had closed their most recent tour with a show in Nashville, and of course you were in attendance. Jake had even asked if you'd be there, knowing well enough that there was no way in hell you'd be skipping out on it, because you knew where the night would take you. Besides, you hadn't seen him in months. You hadn't been with him in months. You had grown a sense of longing for him after a short period of time away from the guitarist.

Before Greta Van Fleet had a larger fanbase, you were able to sit in the seats and get escorted backstage to Jake so you could watch as a fan. But, due to suspicious speculation amongst fans, and you and Jake wanting to continue the secrecy and keep the reputation of "just friends," you were granted a backstage pass and allowed to come into the arena or venue they'd be performing at before fans would arrive. Every place was different, so the execution of reaching him was always tweaked, but no matter what, you and him both knew you'd see one another after the show. You preferred to hang in the sound booth rather than backstage, anyways.

Rarely did you come early to be in attendance for soundcheck. Sure, there would be absolutely nothing wrong with it, but you always enjoyed watching him look for you amongst the fans, and his eyes light up in the slightest that had your heart stopping only for a second at the sign of recognition, feeling as though your breath had been taken from you and forcing your body to freeze. It never got old feeling his eyes latch onto you.

And you never got tired of watching him perform on stage. Now, with the new introduction of 'Mirador,' you got to watch him nearly twice as long. And, God, you never knew he could sing that well. That certainly was a turn on for you. Now your mind was wandering off to the thought of him singing in your ear.

You rarely tore your eyes from him while he was on stage, and he knew that he was hypnotic. He liked knowing that there were people who only cared to watch him and come to Greta Van Fleet's shows to be in his presence. Thrusting into his guitar as he spoke to himself and the crowd, hairs sticking to his cheeks with the accumulated sweat and still breathlessly giving his performance his all. You kept your eyes locked on his stomach and watched as the sweat beads dripped down his tender skin, and his hair whipping around and throwing his head back as he skillfully played on his instrument, exposing his Adam's apple to the fans that kept their eyes glued on his every move while he struck the next few chords of the song. You'd always convince yourself while swinging to the music that he was performing more theatrically for you, but you'd never been proven right nor wrong yet. He was entrancing to watch, and sometimes you found it unfathomable that you were a person in his life. A person who knew things that most didn't, a person who saw things most people didn't.

Your adrenaline always arose as soon as the four boys left the stage, and the lights illuminated the venue. Hearing different conversations from a multitude of fans that surrounded you, shuffling of feet and complaints of exhaustion. But there you were, hanging out in the sound booth waiting for security to come to your aid to escort you to backstage.

You wore a silver halter top that accentuated your chest, with a pair of velvet-blue flared leggings and converse. Thankfully, your shoes weren't shown due to the coverage of your pants, and it truly did not matter what clothes were on your body. They would be thrown on some floor in less than an hour, and that's all you cared about.

Eventually two men from Greta Van Fleet's team made their way to you once the venue was near empty from fans and began leading you backstage to the green room. You always loved that feeling in the pit of your stomach; it excitingly tumbled and twisted with each step closer you were to him. The awkward silence never faltered while the security guards guided you to backstage, but that gave you enough time to collect yourself before seeing Jake.

Your eyes were first met with Sam cracking open a beer, chatting with his girlfriend and keeping to themselves. When they saw you, they smiled without a word, and allowed you to keep moving. While you and Jake became "friends" the more you two saw each other, you had been brought around the band from time to time. More likely than not, it was for some sort of party, large gathering, or simply catching the boys after the show - uncommonly anything intimate. They knew what your purpose was, but they never questioned you. Either they simply didn't care, or they didn't want to ask questions they did not want answers to.

Danny was nowhere to be found, most likely in his dressing room, but the twins were walking into the green room, laughter erupting from Josh as he cracked his large, infamous smile that put his perfect teeth on display. His presence always soothed you when eyes seemed to be peering down your neck from your presence. Both were still in their stage attire, which was usual when you'd come so soon after the show had ended.

Josh had noticed you first, closing his mouth to a smirk that raised with the right corner of lips and pierced his cheek to reveal his dimple. Once Jake laid his eyes upon you, they were already following down your body, finally greeting you with a crack of a smile that told you his mind was already somewhere else.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you again," Josh greeted you with a tight hug, "nice seeing your face after so long." He patted your back and pulled away with a grin still plastered on his face.

"It has been long enough," you huffed a laugh. "Tour was good?" You flicked your eyes to Jake.

He gave you a slow, steady nod. "Was great. I'm sure you'd love to hear all about it, huh?"

"I wouldn't want anything else." You huffed a laugh, sticking your tongue in your cheek at his light sarcasm.

"I expect you'll be sticking around to celebrate the end of Starcatcher with us?" Josh said as he began to walk away. You followed his movements with your eyes as he walked over to a small fridge, turning to Jake who gave you a blank stare. Josh wasn't hinting at your intentions with Jake, but rather what would occur after-the-fact. He shrugged at you suggestively, but you couldn't depict what his choice was.

You chose to be safe. "We'll see, Josh," you directed your attention to him for a moment, "if I don't, I'll be sure to say goodbye to you before I head home."

He sauntered over to you with a beer in hand and patted your back with a soft smile. "Always a pleasure, y/n."

Leaving you and his twin alone, Jake ran his hand to your side and found the small of your back, pressing light enough to signal movement forward and follow him to his dressing room. You dared to look at him, to examine the light sheen of sweat that resided on his forehead that he forgot to wipe away once he exited the stage. And you knew he could feel your eyes lingering upon him, but he liked to be looked at. He liked the attention.

His dressing room door was already open, welcoming your entrance and waiting for your arrival. You eagerly stepped into the neatly decorated room and scanned the area for familiar artifacts of his scattered about: sunglasses, bracelets, necklaces, and his attire to be thrown on after his stage wear was stripped from his body.

He turned his back to you quickly and closed the door, locking it swiftly behind him. And once he turned around, he was wearing a softly cracked smile. It was always so intimidatingly perfect, how his eyes rested into a look that only told you that he was going to devour you.

"Barely said a word to me since I've arrived," you said innocently with your hands behind your back, "what's with the shyness, Jake?" You began to slip off your shoes as his eyes faltered from your own to do the same.

He took slow steps towards you to increase the intensity of your heartbeat in anticipation. He knew you craved the taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on your figure. He always remembered what made your heart bang against your chest and your face flush into a pink hue.

His index finger cradled your jaw as he focused your eyes on him intently. "Was it so wrong of me to want a more private 'welcome home' from you?" His voice was coarse with the words slipping off his tongue smoothly like butter. Close to a whisper - the tone of intimacy.

You flicked your eyes to his coy smirk, then back to his dark brown eyes that peered at you so attentively. He was always so patient in these moments for an answer back.

"All this is, is private. Doesn't mean I don't enjoy the gesture, though." You wrapped your arms around his neck after motioning your pointer finger back and forth between the two of you, and in return, he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you against his body tightly.

And there he was, breathing softly down the side of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, and feeling the figure and warmth of your body in an embrace. You buried your face into the crook of his neck that you made room for with your arm to feel the skin that rested there to remember how it feels to be so close to Jake once again.

"You're a good singer, Jake," you said lowly into his ear, "better than I had expected."

You felt him chuckle against you, but his laughter came out in small breaths. He was amused by your playful banter and humbling words that he knew were harmless.

He unwrapped himself from you but kept the close proximity between the both of you. His tongue darted out and ran across the middle of his bottom lip, cracking a coy grin as he looked down at you with half-hooded eyes. He was effortlessly seductive.

"You're lucky I like you, y/n." His hand raised to the side of your face as he slowly began to caress it, watching the motions of his fingers as they began from your temple and journeyed to your jaw. "Because if I hadn't known better, I'd think you were disrespecting me." He gave you a playful, lazy glare.

You gave him a small smile, allowing your fingers to focus on toying with the silver jewelry that hung dangerously low on his exposed skin.

"Well, you and I both know that you love to play that game." You said softly to yourself. Loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough to showcase your lack of desire for a response.

You took the opportunity to run your hands onto his chest, letting them reach to the waistband of his trousers, and looking to him innocently with a smile. And he smiled back at you softly, waiting patiently for you to be finished reveling in his presence and this moment.

You placed your hands onto his neck, thumbing at the skin and looking at him for direction, for initiation. So, he cupped your jaw and placed a gentle, longing kiss onto your lips. You practically melted into his mouth and encouraged his tongue to begin roaming around the inside of your mouth as you began to dance your own in his. The kiss grew deeper quickly, and you both remembered the addictive taste of each other. The swift routine of throwing each other clothes began, where you're tugging down Jake's pants to leave him in his boxers, and he's tossing off his cropped, black jacket to land onto the ground.

Your hands traveled into his damp hair and tugged him deeper into your lips as his fingers played at the waistband of your leggings. The muscles at your stomach began to tense up at the sensation of the pads of his fingers toying at the idea of diving down into your underwear and satisfying you.

His mouth pulled from yours for a moment to throw off your top, which you assisted him in doing, and allowed it to fall wherever it landed. As soon as he got the sight of your bare breasts, he encapsulated his mouth onto yours, and massaged one in his hand, while the other hand held its place at your waist.

You snaked your hands in between your glued bodies and cupped his hard cock with a light squeeze, eliciting a deep, rumbling groan from his throat and into your mouth.

"God, how I've missed you." He said into your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip. His lips began to travel to your neck, pressing rough, sloppy kisses onto the skin. You contemplated telling him how much you missed him, but you knew that he knew you did - you were like putty under his touch.

Your head titled back to allow Jake more access to your neck. One of his hands ditched your body and tugged at your hair to gain dominance, keeping your neck bent back as far as possible so he could taste your skin. His other hand traveled to the small of your back to keep you on your feet, and you swore you would've fallen to your knees if it weren't for Jake holding you up. With your eyes shut, you tuned into the feeling of his wet tongue trailing its way up your neck and to your jaw, then suckling down to your collarbone. His mouth always felt like a beautiful curse against your skin, while compelling, still so unbelievably relieving.

Your hands stuck onto his hair, tugging and pulling as his lips trapped your right nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirled circles around it, with his index and thumb massaging the other with the movements. Soft moans escaped your mouth, but you were sure to monitor any sound out of you.

His eyes peered up at you as he removed his mouth from your body and grabbed your face with his hands clasped at your jaw.

"Pants off, now." He instructed lowly, and while you slipped off your underwear with your velvet flares, he was throwing off his boxers and revealing his throbbing cock. You could hardly focus on anything other than him inside of you at this moment, with your head dizzy at the thought of his length filling you up to the hilt.

He never got sick of the sight of you naked, running his hands down your waist and to your hips while a deep sigh escaped his mouth. You watched his eyes focus in on your clit, with his thumb dancing around the area and causing your knees to grow weaker and weaker. Your hips bucked forward, and your motion only caused a light snicker to come from his mouth.

"Get on your fucking knees." He demanded as he pushed you down by your shoulder, although you were quick to follow his instructions and obey.

His length rested onto your left check, and his hand reached down to lift your chin to look up to him. He loved how submissive you looked before him. The way your eyes lit up to the sight of him bare in front of you, along with his devilish grin that captivated you.

He held your eyes with his own. "Good to know you're still such a good girl for me." That sentence had sent a shiver down your spine, with how intimidatingly dominant Jake was. There was something about his small, cracked smile, and the light squint in his eyes that always had you feeling shy and overexposed. Yet, you were always so comfortable being vulnerable around him.

He tapped at your jaw, which signaled for your mouth to open, and you allowed his thumb to travel onto your tongue, sliding the finger out and dragging your bottom lip down with the motion. You slid your hands over his thighs, kissing the head of his cock and slicing your tongue onto it. He groaned at the sensation and landed his hand on the back of your head in preparation.

And you grabbed his length, wrapping your lips around it and beginning to bob your head up and down at a slow pace. You took all of him for a moment to elicit a harsh groan - a response you craved hearing from Jake and pulled off his cock to purse your lips and spit onto his tip with your hand aiding you in coating him.

You immediately resumed bobbing your head up and down, while your hand at the base of him began working slowly with a twist of your wrist. He deeply sighed, looking down at you to see his cock disappear into your mouth. You were irresistible to him with the way you took him into your mouth so effortlessly.

"Fuck, just like that, y/n." He winced lightly as your tongue swirled around his tip. His mouth was slightly hung open as he admired the view of you below him. Hearing your name had never sounded better coming from someone's mouth.

The unoccupied hand of his landed at the side of your face with his thumb caressing at your cheek. He was being gentler with you than usual, which could only mean he intended to be rougher with you later on. You didn't mind the lack of degrading, though. It was good to soothe into things after being away from him for so long.

His breathing was deep, and the muscles at his stomach were tensed up as you quickened the pace of your mouth and hand. Your other hand massaged his balls lightly, which evoked a deep sigh from him. Hushed slurs drew from his lips as you worked your way up and down him, spit dribbling down your chin. The back of your throat fought against taking his whole length, but as long as he felt good, you could care less about your own pleasure. You loved to feel as though you belonged to him and were the only one making him feel this good.

His head was thrown back, while the hand that tousled with your hair on the back of your head had a harsher grip. It was as if he was innocently guiding you, but really, it was to steady himself as he cautiously bucked his hips into your movements. Jake had his bottom lip tucked behind his teeth, fighting against his own release so quickly.

He grabbed your hair and held it back for you, tugging you off of his cock and raising you up to your knees by the pad of his index finger resting under your chin.

"Think you deserve something in return, huh?" He said as his hands relaxed from their places and found your waist. The rhetorical question had you pressing your thighs tightly together with a whine trapped behind your closed mouth.

He was slow with his hands, letting them fall down to your hips, then scooping you off of the ground whilst you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you over to the long table that sat before a mirror, setting you down and immediately forcing your legs open for him. He was quick to step in between your legs and place a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on your lips as his fingers traveled down your stomach and to your heat.

His right hand rested at the inner of your thigh, his thumb at your pubic bone and mere inches from your clit. He rested his forehead upon yours and listened intently to your unsteady, choked breaths, while he traced his index fingers and middle up and down your pussy agonizingly slow. Your back arched into him with a whine, closing your thighs together cautiously in hopes his fingers would caress you. But instead, he forced your thighs back open, and removed his forehead from yours with enough space to just barely see the entirety of your face.

"Don't. Fucking. Move. Be a good girl for me, yeah?" He glared at you, practically spitting in your face at your small movements in a silent plea to have him touch you. But you nodded vigorously. "If you want me to touch you, you're going to have to beg for it. Don't act like you have forgotten how this works."

The way he was looking at you was sending butterflies into the pit of your stomach, and it was nearly overwhelming to you how lust-filled his eyes were.

You threw your head back, sliding your right hand onto his bicep and sighing heavily with shut eyes. "Jake," you whined out, "please."

"Please what, y/n?" He urged you further. He loved playing this game.

You brought your head back up and looked at him in mere agony, desperately saying, "please touch me."

A devilish smirk twisted onto his lips as he flicked his eyes down to your pussy, leaning down and pursing his lips to allow spit to dribble from his mouth and onto your folds. As soon as the spit hit your pussy, he was gathering it onto middle and ring finger and locking his eyes onto yours. He captivated your attention just to mimic the way your mouth fell open as his fingers eased themselves into your entrance. He even repeated your deep exhales as his fingers curled inside of you and began to pump in and out of your entrance. You couldn't contain your moans and allowed them to fall out of your mouth while Jake admired your breathless state.

His calloused fingers added an extra layer of sensation to what you were feeling. He began kissing at your neck, humming onto the skin and trailing his mouth to your ear.

"Feel good, y/n?" He asked in a pitiful, mocking tone. He knew the answer, yet he wanted to hear you say it. Just another thing he did to control you and what you said.

"Yes, yes Jake." You moaned. "Please, don't stop."

He tugged at your earlobe and said, "so we do remember our manners, hm?" in a teasing tone.

Your hand reached for the back of his head as he continued to suck at your neck and travel down to your jugular. Your other hand was gripped tightly against the edge of the table to keep yourself upright while Jake meticulously drew every sound possible from you by his touch. His tongue flattened against the skin and slid its way up to your jaw. You never realized how deeply you missed Jake until you were finally with him.

You had your eyes shut with furrowed brows as you allowed your head to hang back. Every movement Jake made with his fingers, his mouth, his hand that found its way to your breast and massaged it - you were in euphoria. Only did he make you feel this good, and you made it known with your lack of words and preferred usage of pleasured sounds.

Then your eyes were shooting open and your fingers gripping harder at Jake's hair as you felt his tongue circle at your clit. You looked down at the sight, seeing him kneeled down before you as he devoured at your pussy. He hummed in satisfaction of the taste of you - sweet like honey, and your mouth hung open in an "O" shape, unable to utter a sound. Finally, an exaggerated groan rolled off of your tongue, and your head was able to be thrown back with your head fuzzy in ecstasy.

Your hand that rested at the back of his head landed back onto the table, clenching and unclenching, which Jake was quick to notice. His hand immediately found yours and folded his fingers into your own, giving you something to squeeze onto you. The small note of intimacy made you crack a small smile, but quickly allowing it to fade away as Jake grasped harshly onto your hip to keep you in place and reminding you where your focus should be.

He lapped at your folds as he kept a steady pace in and out of your pussy while your thighs squeezed tightly around his head. He switched between sucking at your clit and allowing his tongue to do all the work. You were grinding your hips to the motions of his tongue, and while normally you were ridiculed by him with a slap at your thigh, he allowed it after being away from one another so long.

You were clenching around his fingers, which elicited a pleased hum from him. He could tell you were close to your release, and that's exactly where he wanted you to be before stripping it away from you so suddenly. The tightened knot in the pit of your stomach completely dissolving, not unraveling, always had you whining in annoyance.

He flattened his tongue once more and dragged it up your pussy, then pushed himself up by slapping his hands on the tops of your thighs and levering himself that way.

You encapsulated your mouth onto his by bringing him with your hands harshly slapping against his face. He groaned into your lips with satisfaction, while you wrapped your hand around his length and began stroking it. At some points in moments like these, you felt like you just barely had some sort of dominance over Jake, and he was submitting to the pleasure you were granting him. He found it harder to kiss you back, resting his forehead against your own with eyes squeezed shut. As if anything you had asked him to do, he would without hesitation. And his face even showed how resistless he had become under your touch, contorting and softening with his eyebrows pulled in and mouth parted open.

You kept your eyes open to see the way his face shifted emotions, watching him grow restless with your position of being in charge. He wrapped his hand around your own and stopped your motions, looking down at his cock and focusing on lining himself up with your entrance. You quickly propped one of your legs up onto the table to allow easier access for him and impatiently waited. As spit dribbled down from his pursed lips and onto his cock, with a few more strokes, he was easing himself into you and resting his forehead onto your shoulder.

"Fuck, y/n," he drew out in a long breath as he was fully rested inside of you. He was slow pulling himself out, but quick to slam into you.

He raised his head off of your shoulder and met your eyes, seeing yours with the lids of them resting halfway, mouth opened in an 'O' shape with eyebrows softened. You made it known to him that you were all his - and always will be, but in this moment, you were whatever you needed him to be. Through your lust-filled brain you imprinted the memory of how perfect Jake feels inside of you, how he knows exactly where his fingers need to dance onto your skin, or where his hands should rest. He was wickedly talented at the art of pleasure, and he knew what made your body tick. He was in tune with your body, which he oh-so adored, and wasn't going to go anywhere until he felt satisfied enough.

You had one hand sprawled behind your back onto the table and the other on Jake's shoulder, throwing your head back as he slammed into you and rattled the items that lay astray on the tabletop. If anything were to fall, neither of you paid mind to it. What mattered was the sensations that ran throughout your entire being, your heartbeat increasing with every second, and your body accumulating a sweat that began at your hairline.

His breaths were heavy, daring to look at you while his pace increased. The corner of his lips curled into a malicious smirk, forcing your lips onto his by pushing your head towards him after landing the back of his hand in your damp hair. His other hand was placed beside your thigh to keep him up, but every once and a while, it would travel to the outer of your thigh and squeeze tightly.

Your kiss shared with him was a sloppy mess, with both of you breathing into each other's mouth and unable to contain your moans from sputtering out from your lips. His tongue danced alongst your own, toying with it before resting his back in his mouth and pulling from your lips to kiss your cheek. He reached your ear with his lips, tugging at your earlobe, and allowing you to hear his restless, guttural groans that tore at your core with pleasure.

"You're all mine, you know that?" He groaned to you. "Your pussy is for my pleasure only - no one else's. You understand?" He continued his fast-paced thrusts while borderline whispering these words to you.

You swallowed harshly, breathing out a small, "yes," as you were unable to utter anything else. It was already a battle enough to keep yourself quiet to minimize the noise anyone in the green room could hear, but yet, they all knew why you were with Jake. And frankly, Jake didn't care about the noise. In fact, he encouraged your cries of ecstasy. He demanded it from you.

He wrapped his hand around your neck tightly, forcing you to look at him as he withheld your breath.

"Say you understand, y/n. Say that you understand that no one else can have you but I." He breathed, lessening his tight grip around your neck to allow you to speak for him.

"I understand, Jake," you said as your eyes rolled back from the way Jake was thrusting into you, "I'm all yours."

You didn't have to refocus your eyes on him to know he was smirking - you could just hear his lips curl. Now he was quickly pulling himself out of you, and in a swift motion, lifting you off from the table and barely giving you time to land on your feet before turning you around and bending you over. You were face to face with yourself, seeing how your makeup had run, and your lips were swollen and darker tinted than normal.

But then you saw him, and how he looked from behind you. His eyes landed on your ass, and in a near second, you saw his hand raise and swat against the skin. You jumped with a light whimper trapping itself behind your lips as you bit down on your bottom lip. His eyes met yours, and there he was, giving you the smallest hint of a smile, and forcefully pushing himself all the way inside of you.

One of his hands rested at your hip with a harsh grip, and the other was at your shoulder while he watched the movement of your ass each time it hit against his stomach. He was entranced by the way your body moved, how good it felt to be inside of you, how perfect you looked fully exposed to him.

He whispered something near incoherent, but you were able to pick it up.

"Good, good fucking girl. That's it, baby." He said as he kept his eyes locked on your rear. You watched his lips drop open, his hair moving with his motions and his eyebrows softening and furrowing with each sensation that drove through his body. He grabbed at your ass once more, giving you another swat to make sure he would leave his mark on you as if the bruises caused by his mouth weren't already stained onto your body.

You moaned his name, begging him not to stop as he was hitting the spot you craved to be caressed the most. You dared to reach your fingers down to your clit to reach your orgasm, but as your hand began to make its way there, Jake immediately caught on, and grabbed ahold of your hair and tugged you far back enough to where your back arched away from his chest.

"Greedy now, are we?" His hand from your hair released itself to forcefully grasp your throat with his pointer finger and thumb harshly pressed at your jaw to look towards him. You didn't know what to respond with, other than to rest your hands onto the edge of the table and allowing your knuckles to turn white.

You dared to hold eye contact with him, and he squeezed your cheeks with the intent of forcing your mouth open and spitting onto your tongue. You swallowed the substance without thought, looking at him as you raised one hand to hold onto the side of his face. And the grip he had onto your face wasn't harsh enough, because you felt your head turn forward and lean back with a loud moan as your orgasm grew closer, and the pads of his fingers rubbed vigorous circles onto your clit.

"Greedy little whore." He whispered into your ear, looking at you through the mirror. He watched the way your breasts bounced, how your body twitched, how you were nearly unresponsive with the amount of pleasure you were receiving. You truly were all his.

"Jake, please," you begged quietly. There were more words you wanted to say, but they had fizzled and left your mind, and you could only focus on the way Jake was pumping in and out of you at a quickened pace.

Strands of his hair began to stick to his cheeks, and his silver necklaces that he had on left a cold sting onto your back as they would barely graze the skin. Every single sense in your body had become heightened and intensified, along with your entire body tensing up that had your entire body running hot. All you could do was chase your release, to tune into the intoxicating sensation of Jake delivering as much pleasure to you as possible.

"God, I'm gonna cum." He warned as his thrusts became inconsistent, yet perfectly paced to reach his high. "Gonna cum with me?"

There was only one answer to that question, and he knew that. But hearing you say it helped send him over the edge. It helped him feel more in control of your orgasm. Hell, you were surprised your release hadn't overtaken you yet.

"Yes, Jake, just please, don't stop." You moaned.

And as you felt the tight knot unravel in your stomach, you began to fall forward with your legs trembling, and Jake coming to your aid by bracing his arm across your chest as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“That’s it darling,” he soothed, “there you go.”

His head fell forward as he finished inside of you, draining himself fully and leaving himself with a heaving chest. His arm fell from your chest and landed his hand on top of yours on the edge of the table, with the other hand teasing at your sensitive clit once more just to feel you twitch a final time around him.

After you nearly grabbed his wrist to move it away from the overstimulation, he landed his hand onto your waist, and stayed inside of you for a moment. His eyes found yours in the mirror, and he pressed a soft, long kiss onto your cheek.

"You okay?" He said to you.

"Yes, yes I'm okay," you giggled, "more than okay."

He chuckled at your statement. "Just making sure." He said as he looked at you.

His lips traveled onto your neck with soft, relaxed kisses, reaching to the end of your shoulder and stopping there as he pulled himself from you. You tried to turn around to face him, but as he saw your legs nearly give out, he came to wrap his hands around your waist, and keep you on your feet. If it weren't for the warm liquid dripping down onto the insides of your thighs, you would have forgotten that Jake had finished inside of you.

After seeing that animalistic side of him, you had nearly forgotten how caring he was, and how important it was to him to tend to you after practically using your body. And while one hand stayed at the small at your back, the other raised to your cheek, and his thumb softly swiped against it in a back-and-forth motion.

You two allowed each other to catch your breaths, keeping your eyes locked onto his and smiling at him softly in your hazed state.

"Do you want to stay after for a bit before you head off?" He said to you, finally having his breathing under control.

"Don't want me to stay over for the night, or are you already sick of me?" You said to him with a knowing grin.

He chuckled at your response and placed a soft kiss onto your lips. "Go on and get dressed and we'll head back to mine when you're ready to, alright?"

You nodded at him and began to clean yourself up, which he helped with, then aiding him, and getting dressed to make yourself presentable to walk out of the dressing room and accept the stares from the rest of the band and any of their team members who witnessed the sounds that erupted from Jake's dressing room.

But they all knew why you were there. After all, you were Jake's personal groupie. And you enjoyed the lifestyle. You enjoyed Jake, and he enjoyed you.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

taglist:

@hollyco @songbirds-sweet @ageofhearingloss @sacredjake @mountain-in-springtime @ignite-my-fire @gvfsstardust @jakesguitarsolo @gold-mines-melting @digitalcalamity @demolitionndann @lipstickitty @bluee07 @lexii-nv-c @joopsworld @gvfgal @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @writingcold @stardustcatcher @absolutely--mental @hippievanfleet @gretasfallingsky @dont-go-home-without-me @threadthatssacred @indigofallingsky @audgeppp @sinarainbows @brujamagik @bowievanfleet @laneygvf @idontlikelizards @josh-iamyour-mama @starshine-wagner @lyndz2names @jaketswine @jjwasneverhere @mulberrimouse @starcatcher-jake @lallisonl @jordie-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf

[amyriadofleaves]

outside it starts to pour — neuvillette | chapter twelve

synopsis: in the limelight of fontaine, the prying eyes of its people never truly tears their gaze off the iudex and you, the présidence du conseil d'état, which makes for baseless rumours to fester and echo throughout the theatrics of opera. you and neuvillette are challenged by the reputations the both of you are expected to uphold, and the weighty decision to navigate these intricacies rests upon the discerning judgement of fontaine's archon.

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ao3 : wattpad  ˚　.˚　　

⌗ pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader ⌗ feat : neuvillette, reader, furina ⌗ warnings : mention of prostitution, horrendously inaccurate depiction of poisoning, assassination attempt?? ⌗ word count: 4.0K

You cannot help but feel as if you’re walking into a deposition.

The halls stretch out, and your slim fit suit now constricts like a cobra against your pounding ribcage. In manifestation of your argument is a file, threatening to slip from your grasp, sweat clamming your composure and fogging a rational train of thought you spent half of this morning to keep under wraps; and it comes shattering as the routine click click click of your heels no longer serves as a comfort or distraction to what you, in actuality, are terrified of.

Any ordinary individual would find comfort that the most impartial judge is by their side — but you cannot help but regard him as more of a liability than a lifeline. 

“Does something ail you, Madame?” He questions, eyes trained on the door at the end of the hallway.

Fixing your collar, your lips twist in displeasure. “Nothing at all, Chief Justice. Just that I have this feeling I’m about to be interrogated. Terribly.���

His steady stride stutters, inclining you to spin around to look him in the eye. After just a second of taking in the subtle lines of his face, you convince yourself with great difficulty that he looks somewhat worried. But just what good does that bring to your own anxiety, exactly? Nothing. Because not only is he blatantly telling you that you should be afraid, any pretentious diplomat could stroll over to him at this moment and tell him off for breaking his pledge of impartiality. But you shake the idea away after coming to terms with how far-fetched the latter sounds.

“There is no reason to worry,” he assures, his once reprimanding gaze a morbid comfort you find yourself confiding in — and it is no secret you must always take it upon your habits to tell yourself that this is wrong, that you shouldn't find yourself believing in a ruse set up by the woman you have so come to despise, but you just cannot help it, and it eats at you from the inside like an apple with a rotting core.

(You conveniently ignore the twist in your gut that tells you this is, as much as you despise it, real.)

His gaze flickers, and for some reason your idea of him being of the inability to understand human emotion strikes him again, another one of those expressions betraying his attempts to keep them at bay. And this time, he’s mulling over something.

His Adam’s apple bobs, and while your eyes naturally settle over the veins trailing along his neck, he finds it in himself to intertwine his fingers with yours — and you find it in yourself to not pull away, against your better judgement. And amongst the pragmatic reasoning pushed to the back of your psyche, you can almost make out their shouts: an unwavering you are going to regret this echoing into a cacophony of a thousand songs. And yet —

And yet.

The last time he held you like this had been that one night where you explicitly told him that any dealings of this nature were prohibited by your own edict. You cannot help but shudder at the bitter irony: the irony being that that very command has now crumbled under your own faltering complacency.

You cannot hear anything, save for the shrill strain of a violin that too, dwindles under the softness of his hold. “Monsieur Neuvillette, what are you —”

“Sorry,” he mutters, the apology slipping out of his lips the second he catches sight of your faltering attention that does everything in its power to deflect his imploring stare. 

You draw in a shuddering breath, eyes shut before whispering: “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” You slip your hand from his grip, fingers slipping between the gap of your collar to spare a little room for air.

His glovedi“From what I know, there is nothing they can use against you.”

“Right.”

“Is there something you’re hiding from me? Because if so I am entitled to know. To pro— defend you.”

“No. Nothing at all.”

“Alright then.”

If this were five years ago, you might have considered the scant number of diplomats as a blessing from the Archons above. But you certainly aren’t the girl you were five years ago, and you certainly aren’t going to let it slip you for even one second that the very matter you celebrated half a decade is now cause for concern. Yet, you are no longer the girl of half a decade past, and you find yourself acutely aware that this sparse assembly is, indeed, a matter of grave concern.

You reach for Neuvillette’s shoulder as leverage to whisper into his ear: a meek, faltering warning — a manifestation of your anxieties, if you will. “We’ve got trouble.”

Neuvillette’s attention, previously trained on you, shifts to mirror your own nervous, studying stare directed at the group of the representatives. “We might, but I don’t think a couple of personal jabs your way will have you crumble, ma femme.” You ignore the flutter in your chest and completely disregard the way he indirectly just complimented you — but it could just be a statement for all you care.

Pfft, like you care.

A nicely dressed man sits opposite to your place on the table, spotting the quiver of your eye like an archer to a target. This causes you to shift uncomfortably in your seat — and amidst the bustling small talk amongst the other diplomats in  this chamber, he seems to zero in on your tell.

The diplomats help themselves with the teapots laid uniformly along the table, but oddly enough, do not take the effort to actually take part in the consumption of it. However peculiar, you go out of your way to take a light sip of the tea, immediately wincing at the aftertaste of chamomile tea that shouldn’t even exist in its palate; because instead of something sweet, the flavour leaves your tongue bitter, mildly prickly in nature.

“Does your tea taste peculiar to you?” you ask, our turning excruciatingly slow, as if unable to admit that you’ve got something on you no one else should be aware of. Neuvillette’s keen eye does not miss your faltering hold of the teacup, the subtle cant of his head all the more reason to divert what you started to the men who, judging by the accentuation of their wrinkles, are beginning to grow even more restless by the minute.

“No, I do not think so.” “Nevermind that, then.”

Your lips are pressed into tight, worried lines, the bitter taste still lingering, clinging to your every sense. A sonorous disquiet blooms in your stomach — not from the effect of the poison, but from your insidious conclusion you draw yourself upon — that someone had gone to such lengths to harm you. You are not one to trust your gut from its first warning, but this time, you tug at your intuition like a lifeline when it tells you that someone in this room is complicit in your attempted murder. And your money’s on the man seated opposite of you.

Your mulling over every one of the possibilities is thrown under the clinking of someone’s cup, a resounding strain that draws onlookers to the source and its maker: the man from earlier.

“Ladies —” the man takes an effort to regard both you and Lady Furina — the only women in the room, before ghosting over the others. “— and gentlemen. The meeting shall commence.”

You take no malice in his regards, but instead choose to narrow in on his sharp tongue: a manner of speech you find yourself almost drawn to in terms of his manner of a pointed timbre, a dialect you cannot pinpoint — because, to put it simply, it does not exist. It comes off to be some sort of curious amalgamation – like the accents you hear from traders recounting their journeys across the blue expanse of Teyvat. But you know a trader when you see one: and this man is no trader.

“Lady Furina, as the representative of the Fontainian Parliament, we hereby declare that your action as Archon against the prophecy has been nothing short of deficient and nowhere near as efficient enough to have us back on our feet.” The parliamentarian’s booming baritone echoes against the brick walls of the chamber, eyes a steely blue.

“I’m sorry, Monsieur…?”

“Blanchard. Corbin Blanchard.”

“Monsieur Blanchard, if you are so intent on pulling at my reins, wouldn’t it be politically irresponsible on your end, considering all you’ve been doing is maintaining the tea exports?”

A cocky smile pulls at your lips, drinking in the bitter taste of her own proud look that says I do my research sometimes.

Monsieur Blanchard lets out a stunned, cocky scoff of disbelief. “I think you’re losing sight of the main reason we’re all gathered today. We aren’t here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about you. And this —” he almost grunts before slamming a thick folder of documents, and you wince at the sound it makes when it comes into contact with the table.

Lady Furina shoots from her seat, the screech against tile a most unpleasant sound to be greeted with at this time of day. A flicker of panic flashes across the brush of her brow before she straightens, rolling back her shoulders against the padding of her blazer before fabricating a confident — if by all means arrogant — tilt of the chin. “I rebuke that claim! I have done nothing but salvage the lives of the people — uhm, uh — ask a citizen. They’ll tell you, heh…” The poised posture of her shoulders drop into a curve, her haughty guise hesitating when the assembly shows no sign of support.

“Tough crowd,” she grits, a quip of desperation slipping like a whistle through the gaps in her teeth.

“What she means to say,” Neuvillette interjects, rising from his seat (what the Chief Justice had in grace and stead, the Archon lacked). “is that action will be taken immediately to improve our manpower.” A reassuring hand makes its way to cup around Lady Furina’s shoulder, the shudder of her fear moulding into the palm of his hand. 

The man, like any textbook diplomat, is unamused by this way of reasoning — and his eyes dip into slits, a silent dismissal of Neuvillette’s defence. “I do not need your word Monsieur Neuvillette. I need hers. And what I am calling from her word is a bluff; here — look at this file.” He slams a folder onto the table, pages spilling out. “It is a record of lives that were lost not too long ago, and everytime an incident of this nature occurs the death toll is still the same along with frequency. So what exactly do you have to say to this?”

Lady Furina’s eyes dart to the damning evidence before her. “I — I!” 

Forget what you said about her keeping things together; this was everything but! You must say, her response is nothing short of embarrassing that you almost feel for her. “Forgive me if I am wrong, but amidst this whole phenomenon, the Présidence du Conseil d'État and Iudex of Fontaine have decided that if they were to get married, it would be in the midst of decline! Which — let’s be honest — is pure drivel. “

Neuvillette moves to rebuke this claim, but in fulfilment to the arrogance of men, Monsieur Blanchard holds up a hand to silence him. And Neuvillette complies. 

You shoot him a scolding look. You’re really letting this man step on you?

“Oh, do not give me those looks, all of us know what arrangement you both signed. ” 

By this point, your sight is nothing but a swirl of colour, a distortion of what you wouldn’t call nausea and neither would you call it enlightenment, so you come to the brusque conclusion that you’re caught in the limbo between nirvana and a possible assassination. The gnawing ache in your head gradually subsides after a series of contractions, and you pray it’s your mithridatism playing its part.

Another man, shorter in comparison to his superior, stands, a smug, taut smirk, shooting daggers at both of you.  “Lady Furina — if you are one to play tricks like this, I’d strongly advise you to run a background check on your cast!”

Lady Furina casts a wandering eye to your side, but your sight is impaired by the gavel hammering in agonising successions against your temple. You find no effort in taking heed to an accusation you know full well is right, despite your own defensiveness. “I hired a private investigator to look into your background, Madame. And what I found was shocking.” Your eyes tiredly drag to his mannerisms, and you spot nothing but pure malice and foul play threatening to pull you under.

Neuvillette lets out a defensive groan. “Monsieur, you should know that unauthorised acts of following are prohibited and are inadmissible in court.”

“Oh I know the law. Which is why I’m going to ask your pretty wife,” he plasters a feigned amiable smirk your way, and you muster all of your pettiness to return the gesture (though you think your own leer is far more practised, lacking a quiver like his does). “Why is it that I have no trace of your surname Lavigne, and that there is absolutely no lineage traced back to it?

You lean forward, hands splayed on the white cloth of the long table to stabilise your teetering balance.“I — I don’t know what you're talking about. Surely, this is a mistake.”

“Except it isn’t. See — I’ve had someone check you. Why is it that the only person with such a surname is a woman with no inheritance to her name, a prostitute and a maid—” Everything around you spins like a toy around its axis, your only anchor being the sound that spills in defence: your own, rugged voice. “Enough. This information is clearly false and I implore you to stop this.”

Neuvillette’s eyes round in worry as he moves closer, inspecting every crinkle in the dip of your eye, to the strength at which you’re gripping the corner of the table. “Monsieur, without any feasible evidence, this is classified as slander.”

“Do not lawyer me. This is not the court, and this is clearly not the Opera Epiclese. So until then, you have no authority over me.” If you were sound in health, this ‘diplomat’ would be out the window, but you’re not, and for the first time in your life, Neuvillette is not tolerant of this gesture of contempt.

His jaw ticks, and he cranes his neck intimidatingly downward to see eye to eye (though, in a million universes, this would not ring true in any metaphorical sense) with him. “What did you just say to me? Do you really believe that these walls grant you immunity? We are here to deliberate, not to conduct an inquisition upon my wife—”

Neuvillette’s words fray into the backdrop, and you’re suddenly struck with a split-second decision. If someone possessed the audacity to poison you, it stands to reason that they are able to have accomplices in their arsenal both outside and within these walls. Should Monsieur Blanchard prove of no use, you could outwit an oblivious conspirator and feign a damsel in distress. You take no hesitance in second guessing this decision — and you tell yourself that if there is any time to critique your method of action, it would have to wait; this, at this point, seems to be your only recourse of procedure.

A hand comes to rest atop the apex of his knuckles.“It’s alright, mon coeur. If you’ll excuse me, I need to leave for the restroom.” “Wait —” You find generosity in you to flash him a reassuring wink. “Don’t worry.”

Time to put your act on.

Neuvillette watches as you stumble down the hall and slam the door shut (almost), clutching your stomach like a vice. He finds himself nearly ready to abandon the crucial proceeding at hand for a mere sight of you, a simple assurance that you were alright.

Neuvillette watches as you stumble down the hall, steps faltering before slamming the door shut (well – that’s what you think; the door didn’t come anywhere close to the latch). You clutch your stomach as though in a vice, face contorted in faux agony. This almost inclines him to wipe the smirk off Monsieur Blanchard’s face, because whatever you’re up to, the cards are in your favour.

He follows your figure through the slit of the door you couldn’t muster enough strength to close, his body tensing in dawning realisation: you weren’t headed to any washroom at all. It was a dead end, and only he knew it from his frequent visits for meetings. You, on the other hand, are unaware of the possible prospects headed your way.

“Not so impartial of you now, huh, Chief Justice? Now, tell me — can we expect you to manage court proceedings now that you’ve got someone to lose?” This stirs chuckles from a minority in the room, but the Chief Justice’s steeling gaze is enough to have them shrivelling up in their seats. 

It did not take no detective — let alone the most revered judge in the world — to realise this specific faction are cruel, unfeeling politicians spilling blood to claw to the very top. With no evidence, Neuvillette made it his priority to have them crumble, to prevent their abuse of power.

To prevent anything happening to you.

He turns a blind eye to his jab, already irritated at everything else spilled in bad faith. “Gentlemen. I believe our business here has been fulfilled. Please, see yourselves out.”

Corbin Blanchard makes his ridicule creep through the defeated scoff that brings his shoulders to stutter in the action.

Lady Furina lets out a sigh of relief, before being silenced by Neuvillettes cutting gaze and him being light on his feet. He paces out of the room, stalking down the hall before realising you’re nowhere to be found. This leads him to another, horrifying conclusion. You had made a turn into either one of the split junctions that branch into far more narrowing corridors.

Archons, how long ‘till the guy comes along? You’ve been making all sorts of turns to lure him further into a dead end, but you scold yourself for digging yourself a hole you are now unsure of whether you are able to get out clean. Did I make a left or a right turn? I took the right. No — it was the left — oh God. What have I just gotten myself into?

“Miss Moreau.”

Took him long enough. 

The voice doesn’t harbour the same cadence as Monsieur Blanchard’s — but the use of your… old surname brings more questions than answers. Your father was no pussy. So why, in all the world, would he send people for you?

Even if it is instinct to respond otherwise, you push yourself to continue walking. But in your current state, you hitch in your tracks for a second too long. The hallway, now dimly lit, stretches ominously before you, and the echo of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“What is it that you want?” you seethe, moving only the slightest inch of your head to catch a glimpse of the man behind you. Sweat beads on your forehead when you realise that there is not one distinguishable quirk to his features you can describe — the only notable thing being a smirk that curls wickedly at the edges, almost branded into his skin.

“Nothing. Except that I want us to be partners — because, well, frauds know frauds.” His eyes gleam with a predatory glint, advancing closer with each word — the echo of his footsteps reverberating off the walls. The poison in your blood runs cold as well as every sensible bone in your body ( you resist the urge to slump against a wall and succumb to it all). 

You swallow hard, pulse spiking. “You’re threatening me. Tell Monsieur Moreau if he wishes to contact me, he should do so in person and not through some measly informant.” Your voice is steady, but your hands tremble as you tighten your grip on the hem of your dress.

He chuckles darkly, his eyes never leaving yours. “So be it, Madame. I’ll tell him exactly what you said.” His words hang in the air like a venomous promise.

A voice resounds from the other end of the foreboding expanse of the corridor — and this time, it’s warm, honey like — a lifeline amongst unforgiving shadows.

You pause, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears, and glance back toward the source. A familiar face is what greets you, and you have never been so glad to see him, out of all the people in the world. 

“My apologies, but I don’t think you’re authorised to be allowed in this section of the building. Shall I escort you out?” A cruel, harsh smile rips the perpetual frown off the man’s face. “Oh, that shouldn't be a problem. Remember: clock’s ticking.”

As he turns to leave, you subconsciously mimic his action, balancing on the balls of your feet, a subtle strain settling into your muscles. A distressed wrinkle etches into the temples of your brows, a flickering look of satisfaction and fear for both the same reason, both emotions prompted by the same, uneasy conclusion: your father is coming after you, whether you like it or not. The thought of it has your blood running cold, leaving you teetering on the precipice of dread — and you find yourself uncertain whether the clarity of knowledge or the comfort of ignorance would prove the lesser burden. 

Your name spills from his lips like a prayer — except it’s lower, gravelly, if you will. “Mind telling me what that was about?”

“Well. Someone’s on my tail.” “I beg your pardon?” You almost lose your want in telling him because of the amount of times he’s said I beg your pardon? Over the period you’ve grown to know him. Or, rather, forced to know him.

‘It’s nothing, really.”

His face twists into a confusion of wanting to pry and worry of overstepping the boundary. Forgive me, but I do not believe it is merely nothing, he sighs, words ending in a whisper, his approach slow, but not enough so it would shake you to cave.

“I said it was nothing!” Your voice escapes you in despairing exclamations. Neuvillette lets another one of his emotions paint themselves, a clear canvas, on the fine lines of his face. 

As much as your body yearns for a soft, fluffy mattress, it shifts its priority to some sobby man that makes it his life’s mission to be by your side at all times! Well — maybe not all the time — you wouldn’t want him peering over the curtain of your shower, would you? (For some reason the idea doesn’t bring you much repulsion as it would to the you a few months ago).  “Sorry,” you mutter, and this time, despite your shattered conviction, you mean it.

Neuvillette doesn’t have it in him to regard the tug in his jugular, the rapid pounding of it beneath the strong expanse of bone. 

It strikes you as you open your mouth to explain yourself: he hadn’t even requested for one! And you’re out here, giving out unwarranted information to the man you never muttered words of unnecessary drabble. “If it is of any merit, I am a hundred percent certain I was just poisoned.”

His shoulders sag as if relieved, before blinking twice and taking a stunned step forward. “E─excuse me?” 

You pat him on the shoulder. “I was just poisoned. But don’t worry — I am fine.” The last of those words leave your lips shakily, an unstable promise laced with a nature that abandons its pillars once a sliver of wind catches in its marble grooves.

“How can this be? Surely you —” he takes in the playful glint in your eye, and stops mid syllable. “You’ve been taking preventive measures, haven’t you?”

“What do you think?” You are generous enough to give him a second of self reflection before bumping your elbow against his. “Let’s leave, this place is a bad omen personified.”

“I must escort you home.” Well. He does not seem to be taking your joke as intended. 

“Don’t you worry about that, I can take care of myself.”

“At least around your residence.” You shift your weight to your right foot before exhaling a defeated sigh. “...Fine.”

a/n: the next few chapters are the ones ive been DYING to write pls. also I tried to develop their relationship a little bit more here. I mean let's be real ─ we're twelve chapters in. there MUST be something to show for it 😭

taglist : @sek0ya, @souxiesun, @11111112222222sblog @floffytofu

[huckleberrykai]

berry ‼️‼️‼️ i’m so down bad for kai rn. the kai brain rot is rly taking over he’s so hot LOL

hyper specific question/ponderment for you……got any fluffy OR smutty thoughts about his nose? LOL this is so embarrassing to be typing but i looOoooOoOOoove his nose so fkn much.

i saw u said you wanted to sit on his nose and i couldn’t agree more. his face is too sittable ><

ok gonna hit ask and run away bc this is so embarrassing LOLOLOL

NOOO IT'S NOT EMBARRASSING and absolutely yes i do 😌

okay first and foremost ~ soft thoughts !

nose rubs. he loves being close to you, and you love being close to him - so that obviously leads to you rubbing your noses together whenever you cuddle, right before you kiss, hell sometimes he'll come up to you for no reason and give you cute little nose rubs. its not even just your own nose he'll rub against either, he'll shove his face in your hair or neck and just nuzzle in like a cat :( he's so cute

also ofc nose kisses !! with a pretty nose like that he can't expect not to get a boop or a kiss at least twice a day ! he never gets used to it though, so whenever you kiss his nose he'll turn so shy, the cutest blushy giggly baby >.<

he also loves when you just run your fingers down the bump of his nose. he likes sitting between your legs, laying the back of his head on your tummy while you play with his hair with one hand and softly stroke his face and poke his nose with the other. he's just a sucker for you touching him, and he loves that you love his nose so much :')

and for the more zesty thoughts hehe~

kai knows you love his nose and he likes to use it to his advantage <3

we all know this boy could spend hours between your legs if you give him the chance, and of course he likes to tease you, bumping and nudging his nose against your clit while he teases you with his tongue, dipping in and out of your entrance.

"mm feeling good cutie?" he'd taunt before asking for what he really wants. "wanna ride my face princess?"

and who's gonna say no to sitting on such a pretty face? so he flips you over hoists you up onto his chest as soon as you give him the green light <3

he taps your ass softly with a pout when you look at him apprehensively - "come on baby, don't keep me waiting."

his grip on your thighs is strong enough to bruise the second you sit yourself on his face comfortably - nose already rubbing against you. it only heightens the pleasure you feel from his hot tongue slipping inside you and the vibrations from his little whines against your core.

he chuckles against you as he eats you out, and when you start to get more desperate for release - bucking and grinding your hips against his chiselled features and his gorgeous nose stimulating you just right - he'll grip your thigh against his cheek with one hand and rub your tummy soothingly with the other as he guides you to your orgasm. when he nuzzles further into your pussy it sends you over the edge, and you feel him smile against you as your release crashes over you.

and when you finally come down from your high and shuffle back to sit on his chest, the sight of his pretty face is one to behold - remnants of your slick and his saliva gracing his lips and chin, even making the tip of that damn nose glisten adorably. he has this big stupid grin and his eyes flutter closed, he looks so fucked out and you haven't even touched him >.<

you smile and him and run your finger down his nose gently, booping it softly at the tip, right on his little mole. he looks at you bleary eyes, smile never wavering ~ his dazed state doesn't stop him from flirting with you though hehe

"i knew you liked my nose cutie, you look so pretty from that angle... wanna go again? <;3"

EEK I LOVE HIS NOSE SM I GOT CARRIED AWAY BUT MAN I JUST WANNA KISS IT AND BOOP IT AND RIDE IT AND AND

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

Hello Mara, i follow you for a while and i saw lots of your fanarts of narutaru, i became interested in it and a few weeks ago i decided to finally read it. Honestly, i loved it, (even if the ending was kind of sudden) and now its one of my favorites mangas.

I wanted to ask whats your thoughts on narutaru, and what made you like it. Its not a popular manga so its so hard so find others opinios and analysis, so i decided to ask you since its the reason i decided to read it.

hi anonymous, i just got power back from the storm; trees smashed several places around me;

if you asked me several years ago i could give you a better answer but present-day-me is fairly far removed from really having much passion for narutaru except holding on-to some memories of what i think i liked about it: it was a series i found very early back on maybe / b/ or /a/ on 4chan, likely in a thread about dark manga, and narutaru would be mentioned as coming across as some childish pokemon-esque comic that then turns really depressing--and i always remembered it being referred to as exactly shadow star narutaru, so i always remembered it as shadow star and associated it with the goofy little star guy--but i could never make myself read it because it was insanely boring and the art was incredibly lame, at the time; then in my self-harm spiral i read it (easily over a decade later) and i fell in love with it, because i thought that: it was a series utterly and completely empty and exhibited a real evil at its core that had no pretense to it or strive to be that, just that it was--like there is a permeable funk or mold crept through the architecture of narutaru more obviously shown through all the characters wrapt around some dumb moody issue (akira is the case study here), but shadow star never seemed something 'evil' because of those story-beats that are paint-by-numbers in misery-porn; take, for example akira explaining the connection with the shadow dragon, and how empty of a thing they seem and how their 'link' is like a vampiric one where a draining of the soul must occur and drain out through the human and into the queer little dragon thing when at perfect unity between the two, and how akira is nervously at complete resistance to letting this happen because (though she thinks she wants to die) there is something repulsive about having that precious self occult away into a moronic wall-eyed lump of clay ensof; then hiroko, my favorite, named as a shell heap and a good foil to akira because she is willing to completely drain off into oni and undergoes this malignant 'truth' there there:s an unreality to her life and her needing to keep living and her needing to be warped by unrealities that have been hammered down into strange forms of parent and friend and enemy and such-and-such; and, foil to it all are the latter characters who have completely been devoured by the shadow star, and sheol itself--all not really portrayed with a heavy dilemma or mood or misery, but a just-so attitude that "this is all completely empty, and that is completely fine;" it is a story not-so evil because of some subversion of good or resistance to good, but an evil because there is absolutely nothing inside of narutaru. if it seems a house it is only hiding decrepit flooring and rotting structural support, and if it seems even that then it is even less-than. plus, although i'd never watched an episode of the anime, it has a really nice ED theme that i liked to listen to during a breakup.

i was put off talking about it for some time because, may-be because of those surface Miseries, it seemed to invite "shared misery," sometimes over the self-harm, but also the 'infamous' censored rape-murder volume, and it felt like the last thing i wanted to invite into my life were other people sharing a love with me over images of rape and messages about how beautiful it was--something about all that felt rotten and against the shadow star, that there is something i just dislike about placing grace onto 'antithesis' of what is commonly good (rape bad? no, rape beautiful!) and that (and what i still like about narutaru) is its found-grace in an absence of values either good or evil--as from primordial churning chaos before something were, there were enough grace for creation to come-from, and for it to return-to;

but i might also just be a contrarian and don't like seeing myself in other people. didn:t go to church yesterday and just drove around with my mom; take care.

[biscuitbox23]

Dead weight.

summary: you run into the woods to get away from the group, you were reaching the end of your life as you suffer from aplastic anemia, only to get stopped by Rick.

A/n: I’m not a medical expert, i have no familiarity with the field of medicine I am just an idiot who is a sucker for terribly made sad stories. This may be a very long opening to the actual climax so im sorry for that :( please do DM me for advice on how i can make my fanfictions better!

Warnings: inaccurate depictions of the illness, non-established relationship (rick and reader), mentions of death, angst, cursing. (Not much due to me being a minor.) somewhat bad grammar since English isn’t my second language.

words: 1.3K

It has been a while, well, a while since you had a good stock of medicine. You had been in an abandoned cabin a few months after the outbreak. During it, you got stuck in a pharmacy in Atlanta. The law was gone now, so you hoarded a ton of antibiotics, capsules, injections, and anything you could get your grubby hands on.

When Rick and Daryl saved you from a trio of men who were trying to take advantage of you, you joined them and did not stay inside forever, especially when blood stained the floors of your shelter. It was a mistake.

You wanted to stay with yourself, isolated from the horrors and sacrifices that the world has offered now. It was harder to find medication now that most stores were stripped clean. It was easier for you to catch minor fevers, and you tended to have more rest than the others in the group. The only reason you were there is because you knew how to survive.

In the woods, in the apocalypse, no problem. Whatever your dad knew your dad would teach you, he was an outdoor person and loved to forage different shrooms and plants. God knows what happened to him.

You grew closer to the group, helping them find food and clean water, scavenging what you can find in abandoned retail stores (even if it does not have much importance.)

Now you find yourself walking out of Alexandria by attempting to climb the steel borders to the outside of the wall, your head spinning as drowsiness has consumed you to your very core, yet you still have the urge to continue. Or else you are just dead weight. You had a few foot slips —you swear, Enid makes it look easy— but managed to get out. You can sense your muscles aching as if you did not even have the strength to pull yourself up despite climbing trees more than a million times when you were a teen. You needed to disappear 

from the people, the group. Rick.

Rick was a leader, for sure. He had all the correct morals and cunningness and looked up to him for it. You were no longer the person of any use to him and his group. You could not even defend yourself without stumbling down to the ground.

You were around when T-dog and Lori passed away. You 

remembered falling for Rick when you first saw him, only to discover he had a pregnant wife and a kid. It started like a rocky road. You were so used to the isolation that it took a lot of convincing to get you to come with them to the prison.

You took a liking to his daughter Judith. You loved babies. It was a surprise. You thought that you would never find a baby in this world again. Carl was the closest to you. You tell him stories about your life and would do the same, reminiscing about the world that used to be. He praised his father a lot and got a good idea of what Rick was like as a father. Hershel would check up on your health while Rick would stand beside the old sport as Hershel examines you.

Making your way into the woods, you stopped by a tree to take a breather. Your hands were on your knees as you stared down to the ground, crinkles of the leaves crushing on the bottom of your shoes. The night was cold and airy. The chill on the tip of your nose was evident as you took one more glance at the haven that shielded the real outside world from its inhabitants. The sour stench of rotting meat was not detectable and gave some fresh air — It is not like you cannot get fresh air in Alexandria. You want to be alone most of the time.

“thought I'd find you here." A voice called out, the voice echoing in your ears sounding familiar as the crunching of leaves has gotten closer and closer.

“fuck” you curse under your breath, “how did you find me?”

“Carl saw you tryin’ to climb the walls.”

“huh,” you playfully scoffed but was met with a chill and a cough, “thought I was being sneaky…”

“what're you doin’ out here?” Rick asks out of the blue, staring you up and down as you lean back into the tree.

“Rick," you sighed heavily, “go back.”

“I'm not goin’ back till you tell me what happened, y‘know that, don’t you?” Rick asked with a twinge of concern mixed with his southern drawl.

You paused.

“I'm leaving, Alexandria,” You rubbed your forehead as your stomach grumbled. Sliding down to sit as your back leaned onto the tree further.

“If this is about your illness we can make—“Before Rick could finish his sentence you interrupted.

“Make it work? Yeah, I don’t think so…” You retorted, “You don’t understand, Rick. I have a condition where my bone marrow doesn't produce enough blood cells, and I have no meds to help me, what are the chances of finding a pharmacy? A pharmacy where it has all the things I need to survive?” You spat, frustration filling your mind like hot liquid.

“Denise can help you, Y/n, you have seen her efforts in helping you,” You can sense Rick’s desperation to get you back to Alexandria’s infirmary. His voice remained gentle but firm.

“Why, Rick?” Your eyes stared into Rick's ocean blue orbs, frustration, and confusion, “I’m not strong, anymore. I can’t go on runs, anymore. I can’t protect anyone.”

“Because we still need you—“

“Maybe it’s you who still needs me, Rick…” You spat, leaning your head on the wood as you got the strength to finally stand up, with the support of the tree, of course.

“Y/n we can discuss this once we get back,” Rick sighed, coming closer to you as he held both your arms gently.

A rush of adrenaline painfully scours into your veins as you push him away with all the remaining strength you have.

“GODDAMNIT RICK, WHY CANT YOU JUST LET ME DIE OUT THERE!” You yelled at him. “YOU KNEW I WAS GOING TO BE A BURDEN AND YOU SAW HOW MANY PILLS I HAD ON THE TABLE!”

Rick scoffed, “You're giving up now? After all that has happened? The prison, terminus… and you decide to end it all here? Where we’re finally safe?” His tone wasn’t as gentle but it was now harsher, deeper.

“if you think more treatments, will change anything, it won’t. I'm done and I won't let you guilt me into continuing this charade.”

“then what’re you gon’ tell Carl, hm? That you’re sick of bein’ alive so now you’re gonna leave?”

“This isn’t about Carl, Rick it’s about you keeping me to fill in the gap of what Lori gave you,” you glare with poison in your very eyes. “Leaving you to care for a child that was never yours.”

Rick went quiet, as you realized what you had said, “i-I’m sorry… Rick…” you pleaded, holding his hands.

Rick sighed, “Maybe you're right."

You nodded, your breath becoming shorter as your legs finally give in. You feel your body starting to shut down. Rick helped you sit down comfortably on the ground. You were paler and had many bruises on your arms and legs. You were heating up again.

“I'm sorry, Rick,” you breathed heavily, clutching the hand he gave you.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Rick comforted you, kissing her knuckles as her legs trembled. Rick’s voice was shaky, almost labored.

“I don’t wanna turn, you can ask Daryl to keep my gun, you’ll need it,” You softly chuckled. Rick looked at you, taking his revolver from his holster.

“Get back to Alexandria, to Judith…” you smiled as you felt bile in your throat, blocking your airway and your heartbeat becoming more abnormal.

Rick gives you a final kiss on the head as an act of kindness and comfort on the edge of a quick and painless death.

—————————————————————

a/n: Hello everyone! This is my very first Fanfic and I thought about it on the spot 😭 Reading it for me makes me kinda cringe but don’t we all? Anyways hope you guys enjoyed it (cuz I didn’t but I’m a sucker for tragic love)

[merbear25]

Request:

Reader wakes up strapped to a table. She thinks it's sleep paralysis, but it really isn't. And then Caesar basically experiments to his heart's content. I don't know why reader woke up in this state, you get to imagine the reason, or perhaps it's unknown. I'd like it if Caesar talks like someone trying to calm a child down, while still making no effort to hide his sadism (not age play, but more like "good girl" and stuff like that)

I got the idea from my own inner fear of waking up during surgery, sleep paralysis and similar situations. I am weirdly into mixing these nightmare scenarios with the person I love the most, Caesar. Mixing pleasure with pain is well known, but I want to mix it with fear of death too! And Caesar is just amazing, he can kill you in mere seconds and still be super comedic in other situations!

Hello! I adore writing things like this, and I couldn't agree more. One of the things I love about him is that although he can be really goofy, he's extremely lethal. I hope you like what I've written for you. 💜💜

The sounds of drilling faded in and out. Your eyes fluttered open but fell soon after. Blinding lights above and a shadowy figure looming in the corners just out of reach before you slipped back into unconsciousness. A rare opportunity had presented itself to him, and you took center stage in his twisted fascination.

CW: fem!reader in mind because of ‘good girl’ but no other gendered language is used, very suggestive, mentions of experimentation, surgery, and the threat of death.

The reason I lie awake at night (Caesar)

Images of the reaper stalked your dreams. Hidden behind thick swamp fog, his dark shadow looming in the distance sent your resting heart into a fit of terror. The thumping against your chest, the pumping of adrenaline in your veins, the bead of sweat running down your temple: you were riddled with fear that kept you cemented to the murky sludge; the gunk rose the closer he got. Approaching through the parting clouds which flooded the earth was a smile that beamed with unnerving pleasure. It paired with golden eyes that shined from even the faintest glimmer of light.

Any attempt to flee that who hunted you when at your weakest was in vain. The muddy waters of the swamp continued to thicken and solidify around your legs, inducing a panic that the personification of death was eager to lap up. A sharp inhale to taste your sweetened scent of torment now lingered on his tongue. He licked his lips slightly as your eyes widened from the sheer size of him towering over you. Long dark flowing hair cascaded down your sides as he leaned in to whisper words void of genuine empathy.

“Shhhh, there, there. Don’t get yourself so worked up,” he hushed. Without having touched you, you felt the extension of his hand caressing the side of your face. Your chest tightened from it as you struggled with comprehending your own reactions to him.

No words could be formed, and yet you could hear yourself screaming at him to stay away. Trapped in limbo—you were abandoned here feeling as if this was your eternal resting ground: the upturned land in which you were meant to rot. Soft hums trailed into your ears. The soothing sounds and gentle touches left your mouth dry.

His fingers ghosted your jugular; its delicate pulse quickening under them made his smile more sinister. Teeth borne down at you and a gaze that held a piqued interest: the air around you grew frigid. Puffs of your breath were kept short and faint as the cold grew more and more bitter. Drilling sounded in the distance as his grip on your neck became firm. Your breath caught in your throat from the teasing pain burrowing down to your core.

While his fingers laced around your fragile neck, your gasps turned into choked moans the tighter he held on. Slight jostling from above carried no searing burns, but the discomfort from them shook down your frame. Soft whimpers were barely audible, each being sucked straight from your lungs by the king ruling over the land of the dead.

“Oh, how fascinating you are.” His deep, velvety voice made your eyes roll back. Strangled cries escaped you but that was the only thing that obtained freedom.

The fog was settling as darkness crept further into purgatory. The shadows from before completely engulfed you for a moment—a total black out. Soft praises from him allowed a light to flicker on. Its ray spread across your limp form. Rumbling laughs were half-heartedly suppressed, while the drilling remained consistent. When it suddenly stopped, only your trembling breaths could be heard.

“Good, very good.” Such drawn out praise coiled around you, snaking up your bare legs and teasing that knot tightening deep within. “Good girl,” he cooed. A shrill laugh followed suit, when your legs trembled. 

The quaking of your now tired state was jostled awake. A deep gasp filled your lungs and your body tensed from the waves of electricity coursing through you. Your vision went white before smearing into a blurred contortion, and while your lashes batted, the room shifted. You could feel a slab of metal beneath you and the light above reflecting off of it made you wince. Lazily turning your head from side to side lured the reaper out of hiding.

Gloved hands straddled the sides of the table as he eased himself down, his lips ghosting your ear. “Don’t move. We wouldn’t want any accidents, now would we?”

“N-No…” Was all you could muster.

He brushed your hair off your face and grinned at you with half-lidded eyes. A sharp jab in your arm was promptly followed by his soothing whispers. “This will make it so you don’t feel a thing. Just let yourself dream. It’ll all be over soon.”

Your protest was muffled as you slipped back into the cold grip of despair. The sounds of clinks and clanks were the only visitors this time round.

Strings of wire blended in with your hair as the monitor flashed images of your twisted nightmares. You were perfectly punctured in the ideal places on that pretty head of yours. Admiring his own handiwork with a smirk, he sighed and brought his attention to the screen. The only one within his grasp that was plagued with tantalizing misfortune, your horrors were his playground for as long as they intrigued him.

Swirling masses of creatures that threatened to tear you into fragments of your former self were all a ruse, figments of your cruel imagination, and yet to you they were as real as life itself. He glanced down at you. Your pulse was raised, and your breath was sporadic. Testing the theory he was mulling over, he reached out to touch you. His fingers ran their way up the dip of your hip and the subtle curve of your waist. Your breathing was becoming more regular, so he turned back towards the monitor.

The creatures were kept at bay, though still present. Their roars of blood lust morphed into shrieks of agony the more he caressed you. Even with this nightmare being witnessed through your eyes, the gentle sways of your head and heaviness in your limbs were experienced like they were his own. Disorienting but not foreboding, his curiosity was piqued further.

“You’re doing so well.” The furrow in your brow was subtle but didn’t go unnoticed. That sly grin stretched his purple lips again. “Such a good girl.” He hung on those last two words like he was savoring them. Accompanying the ill-intentioned praise with a squeeze to your hand caused cracks in the enclosing darkness to form. Speckled rays of light being played out in front of him made him huff in amusement.

This sensation of calmness, peace, and tranquility…how naive of you to find these in him. With his smile having faded, a stern expression took its place. His fingers danced upon your skin, relishing the twitches they coaxed out of your body. Your lips quivered the closer they got to your face, and your eyes darted rapidly behind your eyelids. Taking his hand away for a moment, the fog returned to the trance he forced you into.

The outline of your bottom lip was then graced with the curvature of his index finger. Those golden globes that brought upon both mercy and peril burned into you. Your soft sigh was warm, inviting even. Snapping his hand away, he typed furiously on the computer. The urgency to record his findings thus far struck each key without a moment’s hesitation. 

A screen recording was put into place, and the security camera above made you the star of the show. Without bothering to throw another glance your way, he turned to leave the room. Slapping his hand over the switch, the automatic doors sealed you in the metal tomb, which granted access to the corners of your darkest fears to eat away at you.

[cult-of-the-eye]

( this is on the post of the list of The Fears from scariest to least scary)

please tell me your thoughts about The Fears

1. To me the corruption is the scariest cause wdym there's something inside me slowly rotting me inside to out and there's nothing I can do about it apart from let it take me and it hurts and there's no known cure (btw I am deathly afraid of getting cancer)

2. Flesh isn't as scary as corruption cause like it could be removed from the idea of life, we used to go to the Bangladeshi butchers and watch then cut slabs of frozen fish using their huge machines and shit but also gore and body horror kinda terrifies me, it goes hand in hand with medical horror, like someone's been sliced in half and you realise just how fragile human life is, how at the end we're just organs that are pumping blood and moving chemicals around.

3. Slaughter is less scary than the others cause it could be comforting being killed as a collective but also the theme of death continues, the idea of masses of bodies is so very human in it's causes and consequences and doesn't feel so fictional

4. Buried is less scary than the others cause it's less about death but listen. my entire life I've been terrified that I'm just gonna get stuck somewhere. Like I once couldn't get a churi (bracelet) off my wrist and I got so panicked I just smashed my wrist against a wall to break it off. So yah.

5. The stranger is less scary than the buried cause I could run away from the stranger but the idea that this person I know is not at all who I thought they were is bone chilling. It feels like betrayal at its core.

6. Dark is less scary than the stranger cause over the years I've gotten slightly less scared of the dark but I've gotten more scared of people not being who I thought they were. The dark is comforting, it's a sensory neutral and a life saver on some days. Other days i sprint up the stairs cause I'm scared the murderers hiding in the cupboards will stab me.

7. Mmm now that I think about it I'd probably put web a little higher cause I despise the idea of being manipulated, like don't fucking do that to me, if you want something just fucking ask. But maybe I was right to put it here cause it mostly just makes me irritated than scared.

8. This is the mm kinda chill territory I think cause spiral is just how I spend my life, my brain is not a fun place to be so yeah I'd enjoy being the incarnation of indescribable for the rest of my existence but also the idea of losing my control over myself is a little scary despite my having so much experience in it

9. The eye is ok, I feel some comfort in being watched over, never been left alone, constantly needing information like I get it, I was an autistic 7 year old gorging myself on horrible histories once. But also like if eyes started growing on me I'd start screaming and never stop but I think that's more body horror than beholding

10. The vast is so fucking comforting like the idea that I could just be inconsequential in the face of everything, I could maybe just relax and float in the nothingness for a while. But then also I'm scared of drowning so like I'm bringing arm bands

11. Everything ends. I'm good with consistency and the idea that everything ends makes me feel like there's something to keep going for. I'm not good with endings but what comes after, I am extremely skilled at.

12. I adore the desolation. Oh how I've fantasised about giving it all up, watching it burn before me, the cruel satisfaction in it. I like how quiet everything is after it's been destroyed. A clean slate.

13. Yeah so I have re occurring dreams about being hunted. I think it's half the idea about being wanted enough for someone to pursue me if I run but also the comfort of survival mode. The comfort of knowing the fight won't ever end.

14. The lonely. Oh man. Let's just say I'm on 40mg of fluoxetine for a reason.

[the-glorious-evolution-fanart]

About the narrative of Convergence comic

It’s Ekko’s comic first and foremost. It treats him well, it shows us his inner conflicts about wanting to help his parents but struggling with the feeling that he’s imposing his will on others, then he wonders if he imposes on others due to his advantages due to intellect.

There are problems in that narrative too though. He threw away his Z-drive? Okay let’s say he did want to get rid of it, even though he would know how it literally has an ability to give people a second chance to survive fatal incidents. Why would he not dismantle it? Destroy it? Wouldn’t it cross his mind that someone might find it and misuse it? And how did the other kid find it in the end? Nobody knows, and the authors surely don’t know.

The other Lost Kids are annoying. We care about them just because Ekko cares about them, not due to any quality of theirs as characters. They’re there to serve as emotional fodder. Sorry narrative writers, you gotta do better than this. (Also shouldn’t “Lost Kids” be a title for orphans? Oh well it just has a weird vibe)

Now about Viktor, what everyone has been waiting for, staring at this Viktor-centric blog:

Do you like supervillains who are bombastic, convinced of their superiority of whatever kind, very harmful to others, and physically scarred? Congrats, you win another one. New Universe lore treats Viktor as a morally bankrupt character who for some reason believes “free will” is a flaw. It is intentionally written to make him clearly a villain, and then sprinkles in “but he tried to save lives” as a way to make him sympathetic. Guys he’s a villain here, he treats people like cogs.

Yaay let’s go slavery! Mind-controlling slaves to sacrificing themselves for “greater good” is not greater good. People are called heroes if they decide to risk themselves for others by their own will.

This is written a tiny bit naively, but in principle I fully agree Viktor would be willing to collaborate with someone to help him with public relations. A Piltovian as well. Remember, Viktor approached Jayce originally to ask for a collaboration! So, I like this aspect of the comic ^__^

I’m really not a fan of cheap sci-fi vibe of pulling out brains and putting them into mechanical bodies which then go “Beep-boop! We follow orders!” Like what the fuck. Also this fusion of in-game Viktor and Arcane Viktor is giving me the heebie-geebies. No thanks

Dear Riot writers. Either you don’t understand what Viktor is supposed to be about, or you concluded it’s much more profitable with a wider reach to have him be this type of villain.

This frame though... this frame comes dangerously close to the real valuable core of Viktor’s story. To one aspect of it at least. Can you feel it? Can you sense it like I can? His expression is also good here. Him being silent is also good here. There is something about the Evolution he believes in, but doesn’t know how to explain it appropriately. Partially because the Evolution is in big part a response to his trauma. You can’t explain your coping mechanism to random others who haven’t gone through that trauma.

Wide_Viktor.jpeg

It’s a good idea to have Viktor see others misuse his work (again)

For a moment, was excited, I had hope Riot would handle well the dumb Glorious Evolved which they introduced. A religion forming around his work is something Viktor wouldn’t like at all. I don’t like how Riot wrote the zealots as even rotting while trying to replace their bodyparts... It doesn’t go that way!! They would all have been already dead!! But then Riot goes 180 and has Viktor go “yees you opened my eyes to perfection” again to make sure he stays a villain, and encourages MORE mind-controlled slavery and sacrifice.

Do you want to be used like this? If not, then Viktor is a villain here. (I say this because I’ve seen A LOT of relatively new Viktor fans who like him for some other reasons, and then fall into a trap of trying to logic their way out of this evil characterisation. Trust me guys, you don’t have to do that, because you don’t have to justify all writing of a character. Writing is often done by many people in a company, motives change, etc. etc.)

Wide_Viktor2.jpeg

This is literally a Saturday Morning Cartoon. A prosthetic leg isn’t going to be able to mind-control you. The sensitive ones work by picking up signals from nerve endings and dumping back signals onto them for very specific senses of touch/pressure. An amputee using a prosthetic is not going to be mind-controlled guys, please.

Also it’s fucking absurd how new lore treats augments as “Tee-hee, I got my arm replaced for funsies and now I have a robotic claw”, like NO that’s not how these things go!! Call me a killjoy cause I’m listening to MCR!

Let’s go Viktor, atta boy, I’ll kick your ass that’s how much you go on my nerves. And I’m supposed to be your stan?

Ignoring the anatomy, Viktor floating and the complete mismatch of tech style, does Viktor look like a guy trying to merge with other people’s minds? No. Does he look like someone who’d want to be the ruler of that one giant mass of mind-controlled humans? Arguably yes. Boring villain characterization.

Even a child can identify that this is not “perfect” functioning. Anyway, as I said, Saturday morning cartoon and I’m tired now so I’ll end it here. Every other bit of the comic is just repeating what has already been said.

Enjoy the comic for the qualities it has, and I’d say don’t take it as any reference for characterisation or references or whatever.

[bunzeezilla]

Hi.

This is going to be the last post I make before completely discarding this account. I know I haven't been active since a good long while ago and that is cus I've moved to a more mature blog/blogs that fit my interests a bit more then this one. I only come back here to let the people who follow me and are mutuals with me that I will leave this blog unactive, for a few reasons. One of them is just that I'm not as connected to this blog as I use to be the other one is what I'll get into. This information is already on place like youtube and twitter, and somewhat on here. But regardless I still feel the need to talk about it. These are videos that should help explain why I'm not only leaveing hti s blog but also why I'll be taking a small step back from the undertale and undertale au community. [pt1, pt2] I am disgusted that this is a norm here. Because not only do the big top dogs do this kind of shit, but the smaller ones as well. And I won't blame the game or the aus for it, but please can this community get it's act together? There are too many grown adults going around here talking to CHILDREN in the most vile ways. I have been a mod in an utau server and had to deal with adults being disgusting towards me and my friends [all minors at the time]. Why is this so common and why is swept under the rug allowed to keep going? 1 person supposrting these ppl still, is too many, but 50-100+? 100 people who would rather children be prayed upon then even dare go a day without their percious au animations? And I can no longer comfortable saying that I'm apart of this fandom anymore. It sickens me to my core that there are still ppl defending and supporting, Camila, Nyx, Jaki. So I'm leaving this blog and taking a break from the fandom. If you are a minor in this fandom or any, and you see this, please stay safe. If an adult flirts or talks sexual to you, if you can, screenshot, record, tell another adult, report them, block them, get away from them. They are not your friend. They are an adult that does not need to be speaking that way to you. And if they try to guilt you, rather that be with getting their friends/followers to bully you or with taking ur own life, just get you evidence and don't bother contacting them anymore. There are adults and groups of people who can help you and support you and give you more saftey tips. One of those people being a youtuber by the name Lio convoy and the small group he works with. There are other groups like him that you can go to and they can help you file a report or at the very least, make sure that person isn't allowed to show their face on any platform. I feel now but heartache for the victims of this disgusting situation and wish them nothing but peace of mind and justice . And as harsh as it may sound, I hope that Veir, Artty-chan, Camile, Nyx, Jaki, and all the other scum who partook and/or kept quite about this rot and burn. This is absolutly disgusting and I hope that something like this dosen't happen again. Edit!: It's been two years of not being here and while i still stand on that fact that what happened was disgusting and shouldn't have stayed hush-hush for so long, I would like to leave a note that I thin lio is not a person you should put your trust into, in any shape or form.

[the-real-rain-world-confessions]

what if i want to see nasty iterator bullshit because they have nasty creators that would've likely let this happen so they could ascend and make them solve their stupid fucking problem that made them all miserable and fucked up to begin with when created. not even in terms of relationships or anything.

their existence is fucked up and they should be allowed to do fucked up stuff. pebbles literally nearly killed moon if it wasn't for significant giving slag keys. maybe pebbles would come to moon even including giving up his core. you can see his observers start to wander further in game after the core is taken. suns fucked up with pebbles when they did their best to help and advise. same with sliver who is dead and tried to help bring others with her to end their suffering. to them at this point with everything they knew so rotted away and pointless to keep up when a new ecosystem is taking hold in the abandoned world. they have no reason to hold ties to old relationships and bonds that won't matter in the new world that's to come.

besides, maybe being a bit fucked up with media is good for refreshing yourself on what's good and bad. perhaps even allowing you to healthily go through motions of trauma you've had that could be compared to the iterators and reaffirm you made the right choice to get help. who fucking cares as long as the media isn't condoning it and labeling it as "normal and healthy". not everyone heals by always consuming media that's aligned with their struggles and reality. sometimes they heal by ripping that bandage off and cleaning it the fuck up by looking at it to see how to clean it. (metaphorically speaking.) you let that wound fester and it becomes rot like pebbles with his attempts.

he didnt come clean with others. he should have listened. but they all still cared about him anyway and that's a love that transcends labels. its unconditional. regardless of what they did to each other. regardless of what they all suffered. they had each other. even if they could not show it in the healthiest of ways. even when so far apart. at least moon and pebbles were so close. pebbles even chose to die the most painful ways as an iterator to right his wrongs. isnt his twisted rage and care so admirable? that he tried to break the cycle for them all, fucked up, and did the most he could to fix it when it all came to do or die? he gave up everything to at least say he is sorry in the way he could. moon should have been furious and she was but she didnt lash out. she understood completely despite not knowing how to tell him. same with suns. same with significant. and i bet that goes for sliver too. they all love each other unconditionally in some manner. even if their ruined and decayed lives slowly being swallowed up for the new civilizations...

media that doesnt touch on dark or potentially taboo topics just don't hit the same. if you want to have reality really hit you in the face and realise you've made the right choices to become better than before no matter what, then dark stories will do that for you. no matter how cute. no matter how stylized. your heart and mind changes in that moment, even if by a little.

keep media literacy alive in rain world <3 (and thank you mods)

.

[mellocat925]

"So, some good news.

Apparently you can just walk in and ask the agents of SCIA for the kid that they stole, and if you're cursed to have everyone inherently dislike you like I did they'll just hand the child to you along with some money to get you to leave.

For safekeeping I got into contact with A*** and brought the child and money over to them. I'm sure they'll know what to do with him, and the child was already screaming at me to let him return home...a sign of the curse taking effect.

After that, I went back to break Pascal out of his prison. He seemed grateful for me saving him, but the agents of SCIA took over his house and somehow got access to his bank account. To help with the living situation, I took him to Willow Creek to let him reunite with the child, and for the first time in many years I received genuine gratitude from someone that wasn't A***.

It feels nice. I'm not sure if he's immune to the curse or not, but my feelings quickly changed once he learned that his brothers were there too.

He keeps wanting to talk to them. And I know Vidcund forgave his other brother, but I know fully well he would never forgive Pascal. We had an argument about this, and I decided to tell him the truth - that he was the one who pushed his family away, left one of them to die on the streets over a fate he couldn't control, and cut off contact anyone who still cared about him.

Vidcund had improved a lot since A*** and I first met him, going from someone who was extremely stubborn and terrified of people to an honest and well-mannered person who wasn't afraid to confront people while still being horrible at making eye contact. But despite all that, I know his core values remained the same - he will not forgive his oldest brother, or his ex, and he's willing to hold a grudge until the end of time.

We may not talk anymore, and we may not have gotten along either, but I want to at least try to respect those wishes."

~ M.F.

---

BONUS:

Crystal: (Oh, it's Vidcund! I should say hi.)

Vidcund: Why did you have to bring him HERE of all places?

Melony: Oh I'm sorry! Did you expect me to just let him rot inside of a government prison while your own nephew got raised by his captors?

Vidcund: Yeah, but there's a million other dimensions you could've taken him instead! Why this one?

Melony: Because I knew there were people here who could look after the kid! And I assumed that you and your OTHER brother would at least be interested in looking after your nephew! He's the reason you're doing all of this anyway, right?

Vidcund: That doesn't mean I want TRAITOR NUMBER THREE in the same town as me! What if he sees me, huh?

Melony: Well that's your problem. Now if you excuse me, I need to find some random person to kidnap so I can activate my powers. Goodbye.

Crystal: (...Seems like there's a lot more going on here than I realized...)

[castlebyersafterdark]

Curious about your take on some of the big fandoms with canon gay couples that are popular right now as a guy whose super into Byler and how they stack up and if you're also into them. Mostly because I like all of these but they just don't hit as much as Byler for some reason and the possibility that they won't be canon haunts me. As much as I feel like we're being spoiled lately with good queer rep it would be so much bigger through ST. These: ofmd, rwrb, 911, wwdits, iwtv

I agree that nothing really hits as much as Byler for me and never has, but most of my previous fandoms have been very big ones with minimal possibilities of canon gay couples or even gay characters at the forefront. So that's what's exciting for Byler - that it is very very likely to be true and Stranger Things is as big as the other stuff I've fixated on, this time with a queer storyline that can't be edited out for the overseas box office or touted as the 34th first gay character who appeared for 3 seconds in the background and is a bug lady with a bug wife or some shit haha. Byler is gonna be a game changer - because of the size of it and how mainstream the show is. Hell yeah. Keep the faith! And best friend to lovers is my favorite trope and to have one so well done is rare and I think that's why the brain rot is invasive to the core here.

Hmm. Look at all those acronyms haha.

OFMD - Watched the first season and good for them! Much love to older gays. Cool that this show kind of had a major moment. Didn't watch the second season. Just wasn't that into it, the humor wasn't really hitting for me? Maybe one day.

RWRB - Maybe I would have liked it more if I read the book. It was cute? Kind of simple? Almost too cute? But always nice to see more gay love stories hit the mainstream. I'm sure readers were stoked it got made into a movie. This one was part of a 'smoke up and have a laugh' night for me and you know who hahaha Also, the American guy was hottttt but he was not a good actor!! This was based on fanfic right? I think that's kinda cool. But you could tell.

911 - I'm happy for yall and for yall's firefighters but I know literally nothing about this one.

WWDITS - Never watched it.

IWTV - Also never watched it. But it looks kinda interesting. Maybe.

I think the overall thing to take away here is it's so fucking cool there's a list to have opinions on at all?? I feel this barely skims the surface. We've a ways to go and fandom is certainly helping make queer love stories mainstream and widely accessible. Spent my younger days deluding myself that they were gonna make Stucky canon or Andrew Garfield's spiderman bi even though I knew that was super lame to hold out hope for and now here we are with the reality of Byler which is part of one of the most major IPs around.

[greencruz]

Dedicate (pros quatro 😔🙏🏻)

SEND ME “DEDICATE” FOR A SONG DEDICATED TO YOUR MUSE FROM MINE : ACCEPTING !

nesse aqui eu fiz o seguinte, coloquei a dedicação deles e as minhas.

KANG & AHRA.

interlude: i am not angry anymore - paramore. (a dele)

i'm not angry anymore well, sometimes i am i don't think badly of you well, sometimes i do. i'm not bitter anymore i'm syrupy sweet i'll rot your teeth down to their core if i'm really happy. well i'm not angry i'm not totally angry.

@ my worst - blackbear (a minha).

maybe i'm the best mistake you ever made it sounds so fuckin' beautiful when you say my name i'm praying to a god, a god i don't believe the more i hide my scars, the easier i bleed. but maybe i'm the worst, the worst you ever had tell you you're beautiful, then stab you in the back. you're prayin' i'm the one, but maybe i'm a curse the more you try to fix me, the more you make it worse. could you love me at my worst? could you love me even though that, that it hurts?

ED & HAERI.

nonsense - sabrina carpenter. (a minha)

think i only want one number in my phone i might change your contact to "don't leave me alone" you said you like my eyes and you like to make 'em roll treat me like a queen, now you got me feelin' thrown, oh but i can't help myself when you get close to me baby, my tongue goes numb sounds like bleh, blah, blee i don't want no one else [...] cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in and when you got your arms around me ooh, it feels so good i had to jump the octave.

just like heaven - the cure (a dele)

"show me, show me, show me how you do that trick the one that makes me scream", she said. "the one that makes me laugh", she said and threw her arms around my neck. show me how you do it and i promise you, i promise that i'll run away with you. you soft and only you lost and lonely you strange as angels dancing in the deepest oceans twisting in the water you're just like a dream.

JIMMY & JAY.

tear in my heart - twenty one pilots (a minha)

sometimes you gotta bleed to know that you’re alive and have a soul but it takes someone to come around to show you how she’s the tear in my heart i’m alive she’s the tear in my heart i’m on fire she’s the tear in my heart take me higher than I’ve ever been. the songs on the radio are okay but my taste in music is your face.

bad for business - sabrina carpenter (a dela)

he's good for my heart, but he's bad for business tears me apart when he grants my wishes. all of my friends think I've gone crazy but they don't know me like my baby. we look good in photographs, i like the way you like to laugh at dirty jokes, i know they'll always land. used to get to work on time, now you're taking up my nights never been so glad to be so tired. if i'm just writing happy songs, would anybody sing along? you had to go and break into my head and i would try to fight these feelings i can't find a single reason i'd make all the same mistakes again.

SUZY & YUNA.

queen bee - lauren sanderson (a minha)

queen bee i think i'd like it if you sting me and now we're crawling to my backseat you taste like honey when you kiss me queen bee. i don't know what i'm doin lately i been feelin clueless maybe fate just introduced us i can't lie you're like the coolest. hot mess hot sex what if we rolled around all day in my bed? do you love me? love me yet? am i makin' this up? is this all in my head?

bad idea - girl in red (a dela)

it was a bad idea calling you up was such a bad idea 'cause now i'm even more lost it was a bad idea to think you were the one was such a bad idea 'cause now everything's wrong. you put your hands under my shirt undid my bra and said these words darling, you're so pretty, it hurts you pushed me up against my wall threw my clothes down on the floor darling, are you ready for more? it was a bad idea calling you up was such a bad idea, i'm totally fucked it was a bad idea to think i could stop was such a bad idea, i can't get enough.