#very light gore but i want it in my tag <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[clegfly]

Calling

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 2

Source for pic

Trouble 2

Word Count: 4550

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: Chapter 2 is here! Please enjoy while everything is light and fluffy 😋 Maybe the author will quickly turn this into angst and horror! Who knows? 😯

Masterlist | |Chapter 2| | |Chapter 3|

Saturday comes in a heartbeat, and with it, a lingering anxiety. Zoro assured you that you had nothing to worry about, and deep down, you know he’s right. But that still does nothing to stop the churning in your stomach or the maddening pounding of your heart.

Luffy had long since left his grandpa’s house, your neighbour, but he had traded the farmhouse for a nice, cosy home not too far away, and with a backyard big enough to host weekly gatherings, as Nami had filled you in. 

One that’s standing right in front of you.

Your shaky breath does nothing to soothe your lingering nerves, and you clutch the strap of your bag tighter as you fidget with your hair. Then you stop, tempted to turn back around, deciding that perhaps this isn’t a good idea at all.

Who, in their right mind, would want to hang out with someone they haven’t seen in forever?

Are you boring company? Are you actually fun to hang out with? They remember you from when you were a teenager. Years have passed. Will they still like you?

“Oi? Are you coming in or not?” Zoro’s gruff voice is enough to ground you, and you nod, taking two shaky steps forward before you regain your stride. “You’re late.” He grumbles from his leaning position on the front porch where, apparently, he was waiting for you.

“Fashionably late. It’s a thing, google it.” You quip back, a quick grin spreading with the easiness of your and Zoro’s banter. 

“How can you say that with a straight face when I just witnessed you wavering in the front yard, pissing your pants from meeting your oldest friends?” Zoro gives a thumbs-down and blows a raspberry. “Shaaaame!”

“Shut up! I thought your bad sense of direction had rubbed off on me for a second, and I was lost.” Climbing the steps, you meet his gaze with a look of defiance, but he merely snickers at you. 

“I’ll pretend to believe you, Trouble.”

You take a deep breath and face the closed door, licking your lips nervously as you fidget with your hair again. 

“There’s no need to be nervous. We’re all friends, and everybody’s missed you.” Zoro nudges your shoulder with his, and you chuckle. 

“Right.”

“Ready?”

“Let’s make an entrance.” And damn it, if your words aren’t a prediction. As soon as you open the door, you stumble on your feet, almost falling face-first to the floor, if not for Zoro’s steadying hand around your upper arm.

“That’s one way to do it…” He mumbles through clenched teeth, and you grimace. But there’s no more time to counter-argue or to say anything else, really. All you see is a red blur, and then you’re being held in a tight hug. Luffy’s arms grip you as if he’s made of rubber, his smile so wide it’s contagious, and you can’t help but smile and hug him back. 

Why were you nervous, anyway?

-*-

Everyone is as friendly and welcoming as you remembered them to be. Nobody treats you as an outsider, as you feared, and the evening goes by smoothly. You meet new people: Vivi, Nami’s beautiful girlfriend, and you bond instantly since she’s such a kind person. Then there’s Chopper, the youngest of the group. Apparently, they’ve been classmates since junior year of highschool - after you left - because he skipped a few years, being practically a genius. A very shy, adorable genius. Barto, a very punk-rock-looking man, seems to follow Luffy around and indulge him in all kinds of shenanigans. 

Sanji is the most recent addition to the group, but he blends in so well that it's almost as if he's always been part of the gang. You all get along like you’ve never left, and you’re having the time of your life. 

At one point, the groups separate casually: Robin and Nami are huddled on the sofas, gossiping about a party at their office and the ensuing scandal; Kaya and Vivi are secretly shopping for a gift for Nami’s birthday on the front porch; Sanji is preparing more food with Luffy and Barto hovering around; and Chopper is playing a videogame with Usopp. You travel from one place to another, throwing your two cents when asked, but you notice the casual way Zoro follows you around, almost like he’s hovering, expecting you to need him at any given moment.

You don’t think he’s doing it on purpose, though. As Kaya and Vivi return to the living room, you sit with the girls and notice Zoro leaning against the doorframe, closing his eyes as if he’s resting them, but his stance is alert. Then you go cheer on Chopper, who seems a bit overwhelmed by Usopp’s prowess in the game, and Zoro follows you, lingering in front of Usopp long enough to make him lose the game. 

When you go to the kitchen, Sanji is leaving with more food, and you decide to tidy up the dirty dishes before joining them, feeling a bit overwhelmed yourself. After a few seconds, as the warm water from the tap relaxes you into an easy smile, Zoro appears, leaning casually against the counter, facing you. Close enough that you can smell his strong cologne.

“Hey, Troublemaker. Making trouble?”

A smirk tugs at your lips as you rinse a glass. “Not this time. I’m sitting pretty tight. Didn’t even bump into any chair for about half an hour.”

“That’s an improvement right there.” He teases back, and you chuckle. A small, comfortable silence lingers as he takes a sip of his beer. “You don’t have to do that, you know? If the cook sees you doing that, you’ll give him a stroke.”

“Sanji is being very nice by cooking for all of us. I can lighten his load by cleaning up. Besides, I needed a little space.” You let out an exasperated sigh.

“The crew’s too much, right? You’re not used to it anymore, Trouble?”

Shaking your head, you rinse the last glass and turn off the tap, wiping your hands on the clean rag that’s hanging by the counter. “Not used to it at all! But it’s… refreshing.” You turn fully towards him and realise he’s even closer now. 

“And don’t you feel silly now?” He laughs, and you roll your eyes.

“Extremely. I don't know what I was afraid of.” You take another step, being pulled towards him like a magnet. There’s just something about Zoro’s steadying presence that makes you feel safe and secure. 

“We’ve missed you.” He whispers, his smile dropping at the same time as his eye lingers on your lips as you wet them with your tongue. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah?” You ask, nonchalantly. There’s no denying that there’s attraction between you and Zoro. Heck, it’s always been there, even when you were teens. Is now finally the time when you two can act on it?

“Hey, have you seen– shit! Sorry!” Nami curses and turns away when she sees you and Zoro practically over each other. You and Zoro fall apart quickly, a blush spreading fast on your cheeks.

What were you two about to do? Isn’t it too soon for this? You can’t do this! You and Zoro are friends, you don’t want any relationship. 

“Nami! What did you want?” You ask with a squeaky voice as you turn to arrange a plate of snacks. 

Nami chuckles and exits the kitchen. “Nothing, nothing, forget I was here! Carry on, carry on…” She sing-songs, and you grunt. Zoro just chuckles, and the moment passes. 

-*-

Night falls down pretty quickly and Sanji decides to fire up the grill in Luffy’s backyard. You’re not sure how anyone can eat another bite, but then again, Luffy is always ravenous and Sanji likes to please. So food keeps appearing and disappearing in a heartbeat. There’s a slight chill in the air so someone lights up Luffy’s backyard fire pit, and Nami is already petitioning for the games to turn into drinking games. 

Sanji finishes up grilling the meat and sits down to complete the circle. Nami giggles when Zoro sits on the arm of the lounge chair you’re sitting on, but you try to ignore her. You can almost feel the body heat leaving him and trailing up your skin, though, no matter how close to the pit - and Zoro - you are, you can’t help shivering slightly.

Zoro raises a brow at you and sheds his jacket, draping it casually over your shoulders without another word. Your face raises to meet his, but his eye is back on the fire pit, hand clutching the bottle he brought for himself. You can’t help but feel your cheeks warm up as you snuggle against the warmth of his jacket. “Thanks.” You mumble and he grunts back at you.

“Marshmallows!” Chopper exclaims excitedly when Robin passes a bag around along with some skewers. You giggle and reach for one, but Zoro steals it away before you have a chance to grab it.

“What are you trying to do, Trouble? Skewer yourself or get burnt? I’ll roast you a damn marshmallow.” He says between grumbles and positions himself in a way he can roast the sweet, though his attitude is a stark contrast to his annoyed words. 

“Hey! I can very well roast my own sweets!” Crossing your arms, you pout and scowl at him, but that only manages to make him smirk. 

“Yeah, I bet you can. I just don't think the sweets will be the only thing roasted when you're done.”

“Mean!”

“Truth teller!” He counters and you jab him in the ribs to coax a laugh out of him, instead of those annoying snickers and chuckles, but it doesn't work, it only manages to make him wince. 

It takes a bit of back and forth for you two to notice Nami staring at both of you with a knowing smirk, her arm laced around Vivi’s waist. When you see her, you swear even your ears turn red as she begins to laugh. 

“See, honey,” Nami leans towards Vivi, “aren't they cute?”

“The cutest.” Vivi quips back and you sink in your seat. Zoro seems unfazed, though, as he squishes your marshmallow between two crackers and a piece of chocolate. 

“S’more. Take it.” You mumble a thank you and immediately shove the thing in your mouth, trying to disappear from your friends scrutinizing gaze, since Zoro's attentiveness only makes them snicker more. “It's still hot so don't–” Zoro turns and sees you huffing and waving at your open mouth, a deadpan look crossing his features. “You just had to, didn't you? I should've known…”

That just makes Nami and Vivi cackle more. When you finally manage to swallow the s'more, there's tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, so Zoro pulls out the bottle he's been nursing the entire evening and reaches for a glass, filling it with two fingers of the crystal clear liquid and handing it to you. 

“Here, this will help.”

Wiping your tears you accept the glass. The ice floating in the - almost pale golden - liquid, seems like paradise to your scalding tongue, so you swirl it a bit before sipping slowly. It's like tasting silk. Smooth, delicate and floral-like in its flavor. You've never tasted sake as delicious as this one. 

You hum in contentment, your tongue still aching, but much more at ease. “This is exquisite, Zoro. Where did you get this sake?”

He smirks, proudly, resting the bottle against his chest as if it's a prized possession. “Daiginjo Sake. The best there is. Mihawk, my Captain, gave a case of it to me some time ago, for an achievement.” His eyes focus far away but he doesn't elaborate and you don't press. 

“I can't believe this!” Nami says, irritation dripping from her words. “I've been begging you to let me try it for years, Zoro! Years!”

She seems genuinely annoyed and you open your mouth, clearly caught in the midst of a battlefield of an ancient war. 

“We've been through this, Witch, you don't appreciate good liquor. It would be wasted on you.”

Sanji gasps like he was the one personally offended by the comment and your eyes jump from Zoro to Nami to Sanji. “Take that back, Mosshead! Apologise to the lady!”

Mosshead? Your eyes linger on Zoro's head and there's a flicker of recognition when you connect the nickname to the why of it. Zoro growls at Sanji, shoots you a warning look, as if daring you to tease him about the nickname, and gets up with clenched fists. 

“Wanna start, Curly?��

Curly? Oh! The Vinsmoke brows. Dang, that would've been a good quip to throw at Ichiji way back when. 

The two men face off, faces inches from each other, and Nami sighs. You shrug and offer her the glass. “Want to try it?”

She shakes her head, a silly giggle dancing on her lips. “Girl, I tasted it the year he got it. He just never realised it. I'm such a good thief.” She throws her tongue at you while Vivi shakes her head. “I just said it to rile him up. Aaaaand to prove a point.The drink is special, and he just shared it with you.”

Nami lets that thought linger in the air as she grabs Vivi’s hand, pulling her away from the scene. Then she stops near Sanji and Zoro and exaggerates a faint. “Oh, what I wouldn't give for a warm, soothing drink.” 

Sanji perks up, stops fighting with Zoro, and with a swirl and a declaration goes off to give Nami and Vivi a warm beverage. Zoro keeps grumbling as he sits on the arm of your chair again, his brows furrowed and lips pursed. 

“Thank you.” You say after a moment of silence when he sticks more marshmallows on a skewer, probably imagining swirly brows in each and every one of them. 

“For what?”

For what? Everything… “Making me feel like I'm still part of the crew? Giving me a s'more? Your jacket? A taste of your prized booze?” You chuckle nervously. Nami has been pointing at it the entire evening, but is she right, though? Does Zoro think you're special? “Choose…”

You don't look at him and he doesn't look at you. The fire suddenly seems much more interesting. 

“It's nothing.” He answers after a while. But glancing at him from the corner of your eye, lets you know his ears are red and his frown turned into a slight smile. 

-*-

“Come on, Nami, aren't we a little old for that?” Zoro grumbles as she boos him. 

“You're never too old for a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’, right, gang?”

There are boos and cheers all around, but eventually, the crew agrees to play the game. Mainly because it's cold and Usopp found an old bottle of whiskey that Garp had given Luffy when he bought the house. 

“I'll start: Never have I ever… drank until I passed out!” Nami starts with a giggle and sips her drink. Everybody but Luffy and Chopper takes a sip and agrees. 

Usopp is next, and he snickers, eyeing both Luffy and Chopper, who are now behind on the game. “Never have I ever eaten so much meat - or sweets - that my belly got bigger!”

Luffy and Chopper whine and sip their drinks, a tiny sip, followed by a big chug of cola to mask the booze flavor. Barto also takes a sip, and the crew laughs at that. 

It's your turn, and you see Zoro yawn from the corner of your eye, so you decide to mess with him. “Never have I ever fallen asleep during work hours.”

“Damn you, Trouble.” He says, amused, before sipping the drink.

“How did that happen, officer?” You smirk, quirking your brow, waiting for him to brush you off, but he becomes rather serious. 

“Murder investigation, way back. I found the body, so I assisted the detectives. Pulled shift after shift, barely resting until we caught the culprit. Had to find effective ways to rest in between.”

You weren't expecting that… 

“Wow, Zoro, I don't think you've ever graced us with that much explanation on why you did something…” Nami says nonchalantly before staring at you, deadpan. “Looks like someone's special!” 

There she is again, hinting at that. But are you really? 

The game continues with silly exclamations and serious ones, and after a while, nobody feels cold anymore, and laughter comes easily around the circle. 

“Ohhhhhh, I've got a good one!” 

“Nami…” You whine at your friend, somehow already anticipating some form of embarrassment from her sentence. 

“Never have I ever…” her eyes glint mischievously as she locks her gaze with everyone before setting her brown eyes on yours with a smirk. “Had a crush on someone sitting in this circle.”

You freeze. Shit. Almost everyone takes a sip, but your hand seems frozen. Will it be obvious who your crush is? It probably already is, anyway… so, with a sigh and blazing cheeks, you sip the drink. 

Zoro does, too. 

And chaos ensues. 

There are wolf whistles all around, cheers and whoops, and you don't know if you should giggle or feel mortified. 

But Nami strikes again before you have a chance to do either. “Wait, wait! I can figure this out… so, Usopp and Kaya are obviously each other's crush, as are Vivi and me. Sanji has a crush on all the girls in this circle…”

She sighs as Sanji flushes red, babbling in agreement. 

“Chopper has been infatuated with Robin since he met her–” Chopper squeaks, and Robin smiles sweetly at him. “Barto has had a weird thing for Luffy since forever, platonic or not…”

Barto just shrugs as Luffy laughs out loud, and you begin to sweat. Damn Nami! Is she a sleuth, or just a witch, as Zoro calls her? She's got dirt on everyone! 

“Now I'm actually curious about these two…” Her gaze sends hot flashes through your neck and up your face. Zoro seems unaffected, though, at least from what you can tell from the corner of your eye, since you refuse to look straight at him. “Who's your crush, Zoro?”

Zoro grunts, you stifle a squeak, and Nami beams.  

“Is it Sanji?” She begins, earning an outraged cry of ‘sacrilège’ from the blond and a curse from Zoro. “Or maybe…”

“Just drop it, Witch.”

“What if I don't want to?”

They both stare intently at each other before Vivi places her hand on Nami's and she relents. “Fine, I have another anyway.”

“It's not your turn, Witch.”

“Never have I ever let someone drink from my prized bottle of sake.”

“Witch…”

You start to sink lower into your seat as Nami remains relentless in her teasing. What is she trying to accomplish? Embarrass you to death? Because it's working. 

“Or maybe, never have I ever had a crush on someone since high–”

“Blergh!”

Chopper suddenly throws up into the fire pit, startling everyone and putting an end to whatever was going on between Nami and Zoro, as everyone rallies to help poor - not-used-to-drinking-at-all - Chopper. 

Zoro sighs on your left and takes two sips of his drink before getting up to help Chopper. 

-*-

“This was so fun. Thank you guys for having me.” You smile at Nami while Luffy hugs you for the tenth time in a row. He’s already made you promise to return next weekend since, apparently, they have gatherings like this almost every weekend. 

You say another goodbye and turn around, looking for Zoro to give him back his jacket, but he appears next to you before you can call out to him, hands in his pockets and his usual scowl in place. “Let’s go, Trouble.”

Tilting your head, you raise your brow. “What?”

“I’m walking you home. We just got you back. You think I’m going to let you fall into a dark abyss, a cliff, or, God forbid, a large pothole, just because you can’t see what’s in front of you?”

If looks could kill, Zoro would be squirming on the floor. “You’re terrible.”

“And you’re terribly impaired to walk safely home. Let’s go.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but, truth be told, there was none to have anyway. Once again, you find yourself craving more of Zoro’s company, more of your quips and jabs, more of your back and forth.

Is it flirting? Is it just banter?

Whatever it is, it makes you happy. 

Your house isn’t that far from Luffy’s new home, but the night is pitch black and there’s barely any light along the way. You’re secretly glad Zoro is walking home with you because, once again, you feel that weird prickling in your neck, a shiver that doesn’t come from the cold, but from a deep unease, and you don’t know why.

The silence surrounding you is quite comfortable, and it’s only broken by Zoro’s grunts and mumbles of ‘careful’, or ‘watch it’ as he steers you away from trouble, something you attract without even meaning to. 

“How are you feeling, Trouble?” He finally asks, a lightness to his tone, almost like he knows what you’ll answer.

“I know what you want me to say.” You tease and bump his shoulder, barely making him budge but getting your point across.

“Then just rip the band-aid off. Say it.”

“Nope.” You stretch the ‘p’, and shake your head, skipping two steps ahead, away from his reach.

“Is it so hard to admit, Trouble?”

“Hmm, hmm!” You mumble, ears turning bright red as you turn to him and walk backwards, making him curse and reach out to you with another warning of ‘careful’, like he’s constantly watching your step, afraid you’ll fall and hurt yourself. “Fineeeeee!” You roll your eyes and turn forward, making him sigh in relief. “You were right…”

“I barely heard you.”

“You were right, Zoro! I had fun, I didn’t feel left out! There!” You give him what he wants just as you reach the steps of your porch. The darkness of the night finally illuminated by the weak light of the door lamp. 

“Was that so hard?” He asks as you climb the steps with harsher stomps than necessary and hear him chuckle behind you. 

“No…” The words leaving your lips are barely a mumble.

“I can’t hear you.”

Instead of climbing another step, you turn, ready to tell him again, louder and angrier this time, but he’s right there, a few breaths away, and you can almost feel his heat against you.

“I…” The words get caught in your throat as you stare down at him. Zoro is standing two steps below you, making you slightly taller than him. His eye is staring right at your lips, and you gasp. “You…”

He climbs another step, and you hold your breath. He’s at eye level now and you feel like leaning in. It’s just a peck, how wrong can that be?

Is it because of the alcohol you’ve been drinking? Maybe… Or maybe it’s just because you and Zoro are attracted like magnets. He’s drawn to you as much as trouble is…

Wait…

Perhaps Zoro is trouble…?

“You were saying?” His breath feels hot against your lips, and you can feel the ghost of his touch against your waist, where his hand lingers, not touching yet, but inching closer by the second.

“I…” What were you saying? Maybe there’s nothing to be said… 

Your eyes drop to his lips and you lick yours slowly. Zoro releases a soft grunt and leans. 

It’s happening.

You can almost taste the sake on Zoro’s tongue, you’re so close… so close…

BANG!

You gasp and pull back, startled by the loud noise coming from the barn. Zoro’s hand shoots to his back, where he probably has a gun, and he looks around, alarmed. 

“Get inside.”

“But–”

“Now!”

You don’t make him repeat it, and fumbling with your keys, you enter the house and close the door with the loudest click ever before drawing the curtains to keep an eye on Zoro. He only moves after he makes sure you’re inside the house, and you watch him draw nearer to the barn with carefully measured steps. 

Your heart thrums against your ribcage, and you fight to calm it down. It was already under stress because you and Zoro were about to kiss, but the noise that disrupted the moment almost made it jump out of your chest.

It takes a few minutes - that feel like forever - for Zoro to come back. You quickly open the door, an alarmed look on your face, before he chuckles with a shrug. “It was just the barn door. It was unlatched and banged with the wind. There was nothing inside the barn but scared cows and half-asleep horses.”

You nod, but your face doesn’t relax. “That’s strange, though… I latched the door myself.” You always double-check the latch, lest the animals go off wandering into the night. It happened once when you were younger, and the scolding was so big you never forgot it again. 

“Maybe the gust of wind was so strong it unlatched it on its own?” Zoro tries, and you look at the trees. At the unmoving trees. There’s barely any wind. “Is Mr. S. home?”

You sigh and take the phone out of your pocket. “He sent me a text ten minutes ago saying he was leaving the bar where he went to see the game, so he must be almost home.”

Zoro nods. “I’ll keep you company until he arrives, okay?”

You nod, your eyes still lingering on the barn door as that familiar shiver courses through your spine. Was it really just the wind? 

What wind, though…?

Or did you really forget to latch the door properly?

You never do…

“Oh!” You shed Zoro’s jacket and hand it to him when he climbs the steps to join you. “Your jacket, thank you.” 

Zoro waves his hand. “Keep it. I don’t need it, I’m already hot.”

His line is so ridiculous that it diffuses the tension and gets you giggling. “That was so lame, Zoro.”

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Another chuckle leaves your lips as warmth spreads through your chest again, chasing away the lingering fear from the earlier fright. Zoro is so easy to be around. He always was. 

You can’t help but think that, maybe if you hadn’t left town, you and Zoro might’ve been something together. High school sweethearts, perhaps? The kind of couple that gets together early and just knows they are meant to last?

Or perhaps you would’ve just remained friends…

But you still left. And now all the possibilities are opening up again. Are you willing to embrace them, though?

But before the moment builds back up again, Shanks’ car enters the property and you and Zoro sigh at the same time. 

“Your dad’s here. It’s my cue to leave. Take care, Trouble. Stay safe.”

You snort and turn around to open the door again. “Right, I’ll be really careful climbing the steps to my room. Thanks for the tip, officer.” When he doesn’t answer, you turn to see his gaze still lingering on the barn before he says another quick ‘bye’ and goes to talk to your father before leaving.

Tags: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

|Chapter 3|

[sparklykat-hideoutenthusiast]

I've seen people doing an intro post so I suppose I should do the same right? I have no idea how to do this, I'm just winging it :3

INTRO POST TIME WOOO!!

[last updated: sat dec 7th at 7:18 PM 2024]

(I update this often, a reread of it every now and then would be greatly appreciated!)

Maybe every week/month depending on your time scale? ↑

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that blog is just for reblogging nature stuff and posting nature stuff. (Occasionally rhymes come with it ig)

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I'm always working on making reference sheets for OCs ^^

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I will continue to edit this, probably for the rest of time to get it right since I'm a slight perfectionist lol

Hello! I've been an artist for around 5 to 6 years, and I still kinda suck at it! I do traditional art normally but I've been branching out to digital art as well. I mostly draw animals, anthropomorphic creatures, creatures in general, whatever beautifully ugly faces I can come up with, and sometimes human faces!

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My main Media for traditional art is, pens, pencil, gel pens, paint markers (posca) and normal markers! I hope to soon branch out to ink! (Maybe one day you'll get to see some watercolor stuff from me. It's not that good of watercolor art and I don't enjoy painting too much tbh)

Anatomy You say? Don't know her 😔

If you are interested, I do art requests! It's not guaranteed to be good or to be done quickly but I will try my very best every time. You can even request multiple times if you'd like! Like a ton of times! I really don't mind!

You can also request art of fandoms I'm not in but make sure to give me a good reference or the drawing will look off :3

Art requests open until further notice.

If there's something I don't mention here that you're wondering if I can draw or not, give me an ask in my inbox and I'll let you know! (Pls, I'm friendly I swear)

You can also dm me if you'd like but I'd prefer the askbox instead (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

I can't draw/don't want to draw: items, anatomy, bodies (unless you want the equivalent of a boxy stick figure), rendering, lighting, dragons (without a reference), romance/NSFW (no, just no.), hands, human legs (for the life of me 😭), +more

I can draw/like to draw: faces, animals (mostly cat related ones but you can request any animal and I'll at least try to draw it.), different hair styles (only with a reference), eye bags (I think they're pretty lol), dragons (only with a good reference), gore (not the best at it but I'll will try my best to make something nice and bloody for ya!), +more!

My name is Ecko and it's my preferred name but you can refer to me as Melleona (my OC) or by a nickname as well if you'd like! (just please ask me first if you want to use a nickname as I'm bad with setting boundaries.)

My pronouns are She/Her but feel free to refer to me as it/it's! :3

Speaking of which! This is my OC, Melleona:

She is 14 years old, she is introverted and blunt but also shy and insecure. She has anxiety, dealt with a bit of depression, and she's very casual as well as lazy (like me lol)

She's half Cat, she has greyish blue eyes (not visible in the drawing), slightly blueish black hair that's long enough to reach her ankles, she has a mushroom themed party hat, and some wicked whiskers!

If there's anything you'd like to ask me about her or ask her, go ahead and ask away! I love anons and normal asks! ❤️❤️❤️ (There is a slight filter on the drawing. I'll edit this later and put her color palette below ❤️)

I'm a minor! Mind your words, don't send me gross/weird asks or messages. (I've already had a few people message me asking for my age, a picture of me, and my sexuality. No, I will not be sharing my real appearance on here. my age? Minor, that's all you need to know. My sexuality? I don't know and you don't need to know either, respectfully ^^❤️)

IDC if I post something slightly suggestive or that says I know about 18+ themes. I posted it, not someone saying something to me of those themes. Sure, I understand the stuff but It really doesn't matter now does it? It just means I understand enough to know you shouldn't be saying that stuff to me. (Boundaries ✨)

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I do half-curse in posts from time to time. I do censor it a bit tho, like "f7ck" for example. Hope ya don't mind (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）

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I'd appreciate it if people reblogged my art!

I don't appreciate reposting it however.

Just in case you don't know what the difference between reposting rather than reblogging: it's when you (typically) take a screenshot of the art, and then repost it on either Tumblr or a different app rather than hitting the reblog button!

While this has never happened to me personally, I do feel like it's worth mentioning.

Oh, and, don't under a circumstance feed my art to AI. I can forgive reposting my art. I put out there for people to see not to get fame from it but under no circumstances EVER will I allow feeding my art to AI. It is not human. It does not make art.

AI artists don't exist unless it's used ONLY to assist with a process that is still mostly YOUR OWN SKILLS THAT YOU'VE CULTIVATED OVER TIME. AI is NOT art but it can HELP with art.

ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ-ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ-ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ-ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ-ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ

don't dm asking me to commission from you. like said before, I don't have money bc I'm a minor + I don't like being pestered for me commission you. talk to me like a person, not an ATM.

If I want to commission someone, I will dm them and even then, I'm most likely to commission art from a friend to support them.

I support the lgbtq+ community! And I don't discriminate against race. I really shouldn't have to say this. (˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘)

I will respond to money asks with "!!" And that's it. I don't have money and even if I did I don't got any money to spare. I'm broke and struggling too. Not to mention, I'm a minor and can't just go out and get the stuff. I hope you understand and I wish you all the best!❤️❤️❤️

Some games and shows and stuff I like:

Shows and stuff: Rick and Morty, adventure time, lost in space, bsd (never watched it but I've seen enough of it on the Internet to know a bit about it. Very interesting :3), Some of the Life Minecraft series, httyd, doctor who, and more!

Games/fandoms: Yonder(Yonder Cloud Catcher Chronicles.), Minecraft, the Stanley parable, tiny bit of South Park, cotl, MLP(childish I know but I don't care. I love them), creepypasta, SCPs, Trevor Henderson's creatures (mostly cartoon cat), plants vs zombies, fran bow, little misfortune, and more!

Stuff and things (hobbies?): Art, apparently I make rhymes now too??, rollerblading, climbing, Hiking (iffy), sleeping, being annoying+lazy, doom scrolling, interacting with people, and more!

(I'm not really in any fandoms really..kinda like on the edge of being in each and every fandom I come across..)

General facts about me! Yippee!

I think eye bags and wrinkles are pretty (odd, I know lol), I live in a bus (not decked out like you see on social media though. We just live in a bus lol), I live with my ma (my dad is my step dad and he and my mom just broke up psooo ye), I blank out a lot and just stare at people for no reason (which freaks them out), I have greyish blue eyes (a long with some, I'm pretty sure permanent eye bags lol), I get energy right before nighttime mostly (and then it disappears as soon as it reaches around 11 pm to 12 am), My favorite color is maroon (and any type of blue along with orange and yellow and forest green..mostly just comfy vibe colors tbh but maroon is a fixed piece), my favorite animal is a cat (although I have a dog. Muffin doesn't count as a dog, she's practically human. Apart of the family.), and more!

(I'll update this as I go)

[I will block as I see fit]

Do not interact with my blog if: You're racist, you only or mostly have sexual themes on your own blog (I apologize but it makes me uncomfortable. Have some other interests and it might make me less uncomfortable ^^), if you in general just enjoy hating on people for no reason (I like to make my area a safe space for people) if you're a Zoophile (No explanation really needed but animals can't consent.) (more will be added later when I think of what to add)

Don't dm me unless you're a moot or you say your intentions within the first 1-3 messages. (moots that I've interacted with can send me a dm unprompted with stated intentions anytime they'd like. Special privileges ✨)

(Added a specific part of that bc a moot felt they were making me uncomfortable by having such themes on their blog. I didn't really realize at first but yes that does make slightly uncomfortable but I don't really care as long as you have other interests. If s3x is your only interest, it weirds me out to have those types of people interact with me. Just know you're all good moot, you're not the type of person I was aiming it at. There are other people that just don't think about anything else but $ex and relationships that creep me out and you are not one of them. ^^❤️)

Things about me, (random stuff): I am cringe from time to time, my fav colors are maroon and any kind of blue, orange is nice too though,

I appreciate any and all constructive criticism. IDC if it sounds rude and might hurt my feelings, TELL ME so I can help better myself and my blog! I'm dum and will most likely not notice I'm doing something weird or anything :P <3

•Send me asks! Wanna to hug one of my OCs, Want to slap the sh1t out of one of em, Want to introduce me to a new (or old) fandom I don't know of but you think I might be interested in, Want to say hi, Want to give a music suggestion, send an ask!

I LOVE interaction and if possible, I want to be busy with asks at all times so send a ton!

•Moots:

@theachskid @voidsweirdthoughts @burningbutter @rafrfr @rateater2000

@footlongdingledong @ender-the-insomniac @thistlebriar @rspoetry @virtualcroissantflapcolor

@jawdoesstuff @storythesilly @yourfavoritecuntist @chamber-of-voices @i-draw-things

@2oo7xddd @catsreblogging @silli-billy15 @totally-not-a-commie @khloethecatsworld

@1nd13gh0st @cur1os1tyk1lledme @nonbinaryriverclan @ilove-fanart-and-lore405 @hermitchild

@my-mom-named-me-duck @hermitchild

@williamsart12345 @lilytheaxoltollover @twobraincellsremaining @nn-the-doodle @emmajasonartz

@bugba-bugbee @railway323 @xho-the-scribble @asqadia-banthen @nasthesilly @ceaselessbackflips

@the-anxious-acrobat @justuravghazbin @callmekiyo24 @maybeyoullfindthissomeday

@sensehumor ♥️

+any future moots/one's I might have forgotten (I hope I wouldn't forget anyone 🥲)

If you don't like being tagged in tag games, let me know and I'll move your name over here cuz I copy paste the ones above for tagging in stuff: (nothing here yet!)

Moot side blogs: @thistlebriar-tags @my-dad-named-me-goose @mysterious-other-being @

Btw, moot/friend privileges: tagging me in whatever the heck you want, sending nonstop and possibly annoying asks, dming me and having a convo at random, +more! I love all y'all and am more than happy to interact ❤️

My art ↑

Yippee!! That's all for now folks! ❤️

I'll update this whole thing as I go, any questions, just send an ask and I'll update this with the answer as well as you know- replying in general lol :3

I seem incredibly childish in this intro post and my general posts but do know, I am over 12 years of age lmao 🤣

I'mma keep some notes here as well... mostly for tone stuffs cuz I can't remember these 😭

/lh = lighthearted

/j = joking

/hj = half joking

[amalainse]

"born under a bad sign"

— sukuna ryomen

tags ට yan sukuna, zombie apocalypse au, sukuna typical violence, slight gore (also typical), dubious consent, fingering, petting, dirty talk (are we even surprised), caretaker kink, minor infantilization, wildest backshots known to man, virgin reader

a/n ට baby's first ever fic <3 i've seen a lot of yan sukuna on my dash (1 & 2) and these ficlets/drabbles acted as my main source of inspiration. this wasn't at all how i imagined this to go, but i don't mind doing a second part at all. sukuna's probably occ but to me he's so sickingly sweet to you, and so violent to everyone else.

───⠀౨ৎ you puzzle around the reasons why sukuna would help you, of all people. why he didn't leave you to die. why he goes through the trouble. and then. and then he shows you. (3.6k wc)

the circumstances in which he stumbles upon you are purely accidental. sukuna swings down the hammer, relishes in the sick squelch of bone and sinew giving away and the feel of blood spattering back onto his face in wide arcs and the sight of you going very, very, still underneath him.

you had been so loud, before. screaming and whining and pleading for mercy. you're silent now. he wonders if you even dare to breathe. and that is how he finds it in himself to stop. to pull away. sukuna hasn't seen you yet, and he's curious to know what he's found.

slowly, with trembling, dainty little fingers, one of your hands reaches up to touch the dead mans shoulder. the tiniest of whimpers escapes you, hand spasming but managing enough of your strength to lift up and push the body away.

sukuna lets the hammer clatter noisily to the floor, smirk widening across his face at how you jump, shoulders raised and body tense with obvious fear. he crouches down, blood covered hand wrapping around your ankle and pulling you in to him with one sudden move. you allow yourself to look at his hands, his clothes spattered in blood, and nothing else.

you tremble, head hanging low. sukuna's tongue traces his sharp teeth, content no longer with silence.

"won't you look at me, sweetheart?" he croons, hand smearing blood from your cheek. you tremble and shake some more, ready to burst out of your skin at the juxtaposition of his touch.

but you lift your head. you obey. you must be fighting against every wired instinct right now. the ones that tell you to run. to hide. he doesn't bother hiding the shuddering low moan when he sees you.

"oh, look at you, gorgeous, prettiest little thing i've ever seen" he says, pulling in closer. the blood coating your face does little to hide your shining wide bambi eyes, your full lips, the gentle swoop of your nose. he reaches out behind him, patting around for something to clean your face. "good girl, stay still. just like that"

sukuna's big hand is like a brand against your skin. he cups your chin, turns your head to the side. you make a loud strangled whimper, no doubt having seen what was left of your attacker. sukuna tuts, pulls you back to him, pets at your shoulders and the back of your head until you calm down.

when he turns your head again, you keep your eyes shut.

"wh-what's your. your name?" you say, shakily, eyes darting across his face, pretty brown hands curling and uncurling with anxiety. its clear that you're just looking for something to distract you. it's endearing. you're endearing. sukuna wants to carve out a hole inside his chest and shove you in it.

"sukuna." he says simply, eyes catching on a reflecting light. his thumb trails from the side of your neck now, down to your chest. and the small golden pin pressed into your bloodstained shirt. whistles in surprise. "waseda?"

you nod slowly, reaching for your pin again. sukuna lets you get close enough to grab it and then at the last second, holds it above your head.

his presses the pin back into your palm, and pets at your hair. "bet you would've fetched a pretty penny before all of this huh? sweet little girl like you. what'd you study in waseda, pretty girl?"

"law" you mumble, mouth struggling to form around the word. he barks out a loud laugh at that, petting at your face like one would a nervous kitten. your hands curl into your lap. "do—are you in...are you in school sukuna?"

another loud laugh. he manages to sound mocking and sweet all at once and his voice stuffs your head with cotton. "no, sweet girl. not in school"

"oh." you swallow around nothing again, voice quiet. you don't want to know what he did, before. you aren't sure you'll be able to stomach the answer. silence stretches between the two of you once more, and you know he's waiting for something. "do you have any water?"

sukuna smirks, teeth glinting in the low light. doesn't say anything at all. your mind puzzles over your words, searching for an error. you frown, peering over at him question dancing on your tongue.

he says nothing still. and his hand encloses around yours, pulls it into his lap. he traces over your fingers and up to your wrist, up some more—to your forearm. his other hand reaches for the hammer, still bloody, still wet, as he stands to his feet and pulls you up with him.

you have no choice, but to follow him. you're weak, physically, emotionally, mentally—you never would have been able to survive on your own.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

you wrack your brain, searching for a reason.

before, your family had money. sukuna would have been compensated heavily for his time, for his odd stroke of generosity—no matter the violent steps taken in between. but your family is in america, and you are here, in japan. tears bead at your waterline and you're quick to brush them away but they won't stop falling. they fall faster than your hands can move and you curl into yourself.

sukuna raps his knuckles against the door loudly. waits a moment and then pushes both of you inside. its a bit nicer than what you would assume a man like sukuna—the type of bash a mans head in with you still underneath him—would enjoy. but then it breaches your mind in a moment of painstakingly clarity. you don't know him at all.

"are you going to kill me?" you ask through your tears, shuddering and shaking. maybe sukuna's the sick sort of man you've studied in your textbooks. the kind that like's to draw the violence out, so that it'll hurt more. there's a word for that kind of man.

it's been. it's been days, you think. a week, at most. together, you've encountered a dozen zombies. each time is the same. he pushes you behind him, kills them all quickly and the first time, you threw up. sukuna petted at your hair, crooning softly at you—tells you he'll take care of you. he'll make them go away.

"do you want me to kill you?" sukuna asks instead, smirking. he gestures for you to follow, beckoning you forwards with two fingers.

you shake your head, and then when you realize he can't exactly see, garble out a shaky, "no, b—but why would you help me if i can't. i can't give you anything"

a bathroom is where he's led you to. sukuna drags a small stool over using his foot, plants himself down on it. your mouth parts in surprise when the water turns on, sloshing loudly against the tub.

sukuna hums, tugs you forward—dragging you into his lap. he doesn't answer you, not yet, hands reaching up to tug your shoes off, then your socks. massages his bloodstained hands into your calves, skirting up to your knobby knees and higher still to unbutton your long skirt.

you make a small sound of objection, pushing your legs closed as your breath quickens. "sukuna? what are you, stop please?"

the hand that had been bracing you in his lap reaches down to push your legs apart, easily too easily, and when you try to squirm the hand unbuttoning your skirt hooks around your waist. pulls you back in. one swat against your thigh, underneath the fabric pooling around your waist has you stilling against him.

"just gettin' you clean, pretty girl" he says, petting your sides and your stomach. "gotta take a bath"

"s-sukuna" you hate the way your voice tapers off into a whimper, pushing at his arm again. "i can. i can bathe myself"

there's a snorting sound in your ear, rumbling deep from his chest. one of his hands reaches into your skirt, cups your ass, massages you through your plain cotton panties. and his other hand dances up to your hip, reaches up to hook thick fingers around the bands of your skirt and panties—tugging them down to your knees and then dropping them on the floor.

he makes another amused sound when your hands jump to cover your exposed mound. "you can't do anything by yourself. not if i don't help you"

your mouth pulls into a frown, anger swirling inside you. he says it like he knows you. like its the absolute truth. "that's not true. i can"

sukuna ignores you. like you're a child. reaches up under your shirt to unhook your bra, massaging your small breasts. then again at your spine. pulls your blazer off, then takes special care in buttoning each and every button on your shirt. reaches a hand over to turn the water off, to sprinkle in salts. he's methodical, sure in his movements.

the room fills with the smell of flowers, of almonds and honey. your naked, shivering in his lap from the cold and from the fear strumming along your nerves.

he could break you, but he handles you so gently. you find that your body is as taught as a wire. you wonder how long it'll take for that gentleness to go away. for him to hurt you. to kill you, even though he hasn't said he will.

"isn't that better?" he asks, kneeling beside the tub, washcloth running over your skin. the dirt and sweat and grime washes away from your skin, water turning a murky brown. "i know what you need, sweetheart. i'll take care of you. soft little thing like you, bet you spend your entire life being taken care of."

and then—and then he pulls away. you go to wrap your arms around your middle, thankful that it's over. that that's all he wanted. that your still alive.

your stomach lurches for an entire different reason when you hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper, loud in the quiet room. you hang your head, breathe loudly through your nose and wait. a handful of minutes pass by and then sukuna's hands grab at your waist, lifting you up enough for him to join you.

you turn around, facing his chest. a part of you is surprised that he let you. its becoming apparent to you now that you're going to be doing a lot less of what you want, now. the other part, bigger, pressing, is upset. angry. shameful. why are you giving up so easily? why aren't you fighting back?

the answer hurts more than you'd like to admit. you've never fought back. always gave up so easily. you do what your parents want, act how they think you should. make friends with the people your advisors approve of. sukuna had been so shamefully close to the truth—without anyone calling the shots for you, you're afraid of how little you know yourself.

"i can help" you say softly, grabbing the small washcloth from his hands. really, in all honestly, you just want this to be over faster. don't want him to draw it out anymore. "i can do some things"

sukuna hums, hand reaching out to play with your hair.

he's got a lot of tattoos. and he's big, with huge muscles, hard planes that seem to stretch on for miles. there's nicks, tiny scrapes and cuts and littering of scars everywhere.

"you can do some things," agrees sukuna, once you've finished and the water drains from the tub. he's naked still, and now there water isn't there to hide anything. but he's so large, everywhere, the scent of him filling up your head. "would you like to do something for me, sweet girl?"

you have an inkling of what he wants, and your twist your hands in your lap. you have no choice, even if he phrases it like you do. he could toss you back out there, with the dead roaming the streets, bloodshot and thirsty and eager. so you nod, and climb into his lap, tucking your face into his neck—legs spreading out on either side of his hips when he pushes a hand onto your lower back.

"if you'll be good, i can be good." sukuna says, tracing the knobs on your spine.

you swallow, afraid to ask, but knowing that you must. "you wwon't—you won't let. others?"

"smart girl. good girl, it'll be just me. no other man could take care of you like i could." sukuna's fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, spreads your legs apart to look down at your cunt. you've got ugly hips, like a boy. and you don't shave, and you hope the sparse layer of hair isn't enough to turn him off. you want him to like what he sees. so he. so he can take care of you. your stomach clenches painfully when he presses the flat of his palm on your hipbone.

"you got a boyfriend, pretty girl?"

you shake your head, still tucked into his neck as he continues his caressing and petting. his fingers inch closer to your cunt, rubbing at the outer lips.

sukuna smirks. you can feel it rather than see it. "of course you don't, good girl like you. probably focused on your studies. my little lawyer girl. fuck, sweetheart, you've got such a pretty little cunt. you touch yourself? use your words"

"y-yes—sometimes" you reply, hips jerking as his fingers pet around your clit. you can hear yourself breathing heavier now, and its so shameful, you're dirty—nasty. your parents would be so ashamed of you.

he presses a kiss to the top of your head. it's so so gentle, you think you could cry. "with your fingers, sweet girl?"

you nod against his skin again, but remember that he wants you to talk. to use words. you swallow around a soft sound, trying to close your legs. "yes. but—b-but not my fingers...i tried, and it didn't—it didn't feel, it was okay but..."

god. you hate the way your voice cracks and breaks. how you fumble and trip over words. he must think you stupid now, inept, and your scared you're turning him off, that he might go soft. you clamp your mouth shut, screwing your eyes closed with a tapering whimper as he continues to pet around your pussy.

you're getting wetter, slicking up nicely. sukuna drags your slick to your hole, pets around it. returns back to your clit and rubs faster—at an intensity you would've shied away from if it was just you. a sound escapes you, and you're desperate to choke it down, hips bucking up into his touch.

sukuna swats at your ass, not hard enough to hurt. but a warning. the next sound you make, you don't bother trying to cover it up. his fingers flick at your clit in reward, and then his middle finger begins to press inside.

"there we go, good girl, relax for me, fuck, you're so tight" he sounds like he's putting his cock in your...in your cunt. and not, not his fingers. you whimper, nails pricking into his skin when his thumb returns to your clit. he pulls out, presses back in, other hand guiding your hips down into a slow rhythm. "that feel good?"

"yyeah" you sigh, making another high noise when a second finger presses in next to the first. he's speeding up now, and the sound of slick spurting out of your cunt, his fingers slamming up into your hole, stretching you out and its so—its so dirty but he isn't stopping, and had your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders. he's reminded of a cat sticking its nails into its owner, and thats you, you're his little kitten, gushing slick all over his hands, making little uhuhuh noises, endless whimpers and gasps of his name. "su-su'kuna, 'kuna! ohhh, uh, uh—'kuna"

sukuna throws his head back, cock so hard its throbbing. like he could cum. like he could cum and all he's got is two fingers inside your weeping cunny. if you sound like this now, if you're arching like this now, hips bucking up and legs kicking like this now—

"fuck baby, thereee you go" he goads, thumb reaching up to massage at your clit. the coil in your lower belly tightens up, faster and faster and sweat burns down your neck and you can tell you're about to come and you try to—you try to get the words out, hand that was previously clawing at his skin reaching down to try and push his hand away. but sukuna's stronger than you, not stopping, grunting out in your ear "can't wait to get inside this cunt. gonna fuck her so good, gonna give my sweet girl what she needs, shit, baby, listen to you, sound so pretty—you're such a good girl. gonna cream around me so good. go ahead and cum pretty, let go, i'll take care of it"

that feeling draws up, tighter and tighter and to fight back a scream, you bite down on his neck, panting wetly against his skin. your legs kick out, squirming wildly in his lap and your orgasms crashes into you like a freight train.

sukuna—he. he keeps his promise. takes care of it, talks you through it, fingers still pumping inside and stretching you out. presses sweet kisses to the side of your face, doesn't even seem to feel your teeth digging in, free hand running up and down your spine. laughs, whenever you seem to come back to it.

his hand reaches up, pats your ass softly. "on your stomach baby, good girl"

it would have been harder, you think, if you hadn't already cum. but you're pliant, going easily to your stomach. you can feel his hands, hot like firey brands, pulling you up to your knees, gripping tightly onto your hips. he cants his cock up against your pussy, swipes it through your slick before reaching down to guide it inside.

your mouth parts on a loud moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head. he's so much bigger than his fingers, wide and girthy—filling you up so well. he pulls out, pushes in a little more, repeats the process until his balls push up against your ass with a soft smack that has you both groaning out.

his hands fall back to your hips, pulling all the way out before slamming back in. you let out a loud yelp, almost pained, sensitive from just cumming and he's thrusting into you with short, hard jerks of his hips, cock hitting your sweet spot so well, breaths coming out of you in aborted little gasps. you fall forwards into the pillows, moaning louder now and sukuna doesn't slow down—but he speeds up, goes harder, grunting softly underneath your whiny and wet noises.

"ffffuck, fuck, baby, yeah. good fucking girl. knew this'd be the tightest little cunt. squeezin me so tight, pretty girl" pours the dirty words from his mouth as his balls smack loudly against your ass. your cunt squelches, so wet from your orgasm and getting wetter still. your hands fly to his arms, whining, pushing blindly at him. its too much, too fast—you can't take it, and you whine again, hands clawing at the sheets trying to—"no, no, fuck. don't run from it baby. c'mon you can take it, i know my good girl can take it"

you can't speak, so you shake your head wildly, jerking forwards hard enough that his cock slips out and that makes you moan like... like a whore, turning on your side to catch your breath. but its only for a second, before sukuna's back, guiding you onto your front with a soft cooing noise—slipping back inside.

its a different angle now, with his arm around your waist, keeping your ass nice and pert against his cock as he drills into your weepy cunt. dirty talk spews from his mouth, telling you to take it, telling you how good you are, how tight your cunny is clamping around his cock. calls you a whore, a slut, and you whine loudly at that, hands spasming in the sheets as you shake your head wildly.

"i-i'm not," you protest, pushing your ass back, "not a slut, 'kuna, not—i'm not, please, pleasepleasepleaseples—"

sukuna laughs, sounding dark and sarcastic. "no, baby, i'm sorry—fuck, you're not a slut, just fffuck, you're just so good for me aren't you? sweet girl, taking it so well, pussy's so good baby, i'll keep you forever. keep you right here on my cock, mm. wanted to be gentle for my sweet girl, i'll treat her right next time—"

his thrusts send you up the bed, headboard knocking against the wall, and you can feel his face shove into the sheets next to your head as he speeds up. he's close to cumming, he tells you as his fingers intertwine with yours. he squeezes your hand tight, grunting lowly in your ear before pulling out so fast your body crumples to the bed like dead weight. he jerks his cock quickly, spurting cum over your ass and lower thighs.

you cough, swallow around your slightly hoarse throat. "they...su-'kuna, what if they...heard? and they come?"

sukuna's hands caresses your flank, every inch of bare skin he can reach. "didn't i tell you i'd take care of it sweetheart?"

you think you manage to nod, fighting against your eyes slipping shut. and you think, you think sukuna laughs again, promises again that he's not letting you go. and your heart clenches when you realize what it had been, the reason he had helped you in the first place.

and it makes you feel gross, makes you feel used. like a whore. and you fall into sleep. and the last thought on your mind is, he'll take care of it.

[briefoxx]

Hi I'm Brie (she/it)

I'm a stupid little transfemme gender fluid puppy/fox girl-thing and this is my 18+ kink blog thing :p

(currently no HRT)

(this is a side blog so likes and follows are under a different name)

(bwuh)

Asks and DMs open

No minors allowed / No age in bio = block (18+ ONLY)

I'm a stupid little subby puppy and fox girl thing

Please feel free to send me horny asks I am as one might say an attention whore and I love being stupid and flustered so feel free to do anything along those lines or send me just about anything (unless I say I don't like it)

I'm 21 and a lesbian/bisexual idiot who is very weak to women (and dick)

(I generally lean more towards non cis individuals but uhh yeag)

Queer Safe Space

Chasers DNI

Transphobes and Racists DNI

Assholes DNI

Kinks:

Petplay

Praise (please please please)

Hypno

Plushification (make me a puppy plushie >~<)

Mind break

Corruption

Tf

Oral Fixation (mine)

Body writing (write on me :P)

Force fem (to me)

Breeding

Overstim

Degradation (but not too much) mixed with soft dom

Slight humiliation

Musk (I like to sniff :3)

(free use and light CNC is a maybe iunno)

(maybe exhibition idk :p)

I like being called lil sis and calling someone big sis but that is the extent of Fauxcest

No nos:

Scat

Gore

Rape

Detrans/sissy

My asks and DMs are open at all time (good vibes only :3) I'll try to respond to things but I do get stupid, feel free to do whatever you want with me tho :33

If I am uncomfortable with anything I will say so (if it's an ask I probably won't respond) but I do have limits :p

(bad vibes = block)

Feel free to send asks as well (anon or not) :p horny asks allowed :3

#stupid fox talks is my go-to tag :p

(I edit this a lot bc I either change my mind, forget things, or just find better ways to word things :p)

[nightlyrequiem]

You fed us 💗Hyper-fem × Valeria💗 (ty sm <3 ily) Now, would you mind sparing some

🩸Creepy-Goth × Valeria🩸?

AHHH I love the gothic subculture. I wanted to be goth when I was younger, but I was both too poor to buy any clothes and not crafty enough to make or alter my own. I also couldn't get into the music 😔

I'm not sure if you wanted a one-shot or headcanons but I feel headcanons will be best to cover everything!

Will forever have a place in my heart though <3

Valeria with a Goth S/O

A goth in a small town with a very warm climate is very uncommon. In all her thirty-eight years of living Valeria had never seen a goth person IRL. You were in such an odd place too. Well, not odd for normal-dressed dressed people. Seeing you in your long black flowing skirt with your layered black tops and tangles of jewelry caught her a little off guard. Even your makeup seemed unusual. White face with exaggerated eyeliner and contour, black lipstick. And you were just in a coffee shop ordering a coffee.

She approached you, because of course she did, she couldn't just not see what was going on. You were sat at a table by yourself with your laptop. Valeria's first ever words to you were "It's not Halloween yet." She thought it was funny, but you just gave her a singular bored look and went right back to ignoring her. You've heard it all.

Valeria eventually introduced herself like a normal person and asked genuine questions. You were so eloquent and poetic with your words. Using romantic language to explain your hobbies and interests to her.

It didn't take long for Valeria to snatch you up. She did her best to court you. Listened to all the songs and watched the movies you recommended her so she could have conversations about them with you. She even brought you 'animal' bones to add to your collection. Watching your eyes light up made her day.

Most people are weirded out when they find out you're into taxidermy and collecting bones. Why would you do that? That's so weird. You are unstable. Blah blah blah. Valeria didn't seem to mind though. Sometimes she'd even tag along when you went out in search of dead things. She'd even bring you roadkill, how romantic.

Your home is filled with cleaned bones, taxidermized animals, and dried plants. You were very proud to tell her that you cleaned some of the bones yourself. Which devolved into you explaining the process. A bucket filled with water, let it soak, add peroxide, get a toothbrush and carefully clean off any remaining skin or fur. Valeria admired how passionate you were about this.

Other people would've been weirded out. You've been compared to Leatherface and Ed Gein. It always saddened you that people couldn't see the beauty of it'. You were giving a dead thing a new purpose.

Valeria LOVED watching you get ready. Sometimes you'd have hauntingly beautiful music playing in the background or a horror movie. For obvious reasons, Valeria really liked that you weren't all that frightened about blood and gore.

Also, I definitely believe that Valeria has let you goth her up at least once. (And I think she secretly enjoyed it.)

Anyway, back to what I was saying, she likes to watch you get ready. Watching you tease and hairspray your hair was relaxing for her. Corsets, big boots, collard, ruffled blouses, long skirts. Your fingers always clad in chunky rings with bats or spiders or dark gems. Valeria proudly accompanies you in public, showing you off. Or so she thinks. You're really just running mundane errands.

Sometimes you'll say something odd or off-putting. Other people will give you weird looks but not Valeria. She adores how your mind works. She also loves how knowledgeable about bugs and spiders you are. She personally will kill spiders, but she's watched you pick up the non-venomous ones bare handed to either look at them closer or to release them. (I'm heavily projecting here because I love spiders. My favorite is the Goliath Bird Eating Spider, which lives in the rainforest areas of South America.)

She killed one in front of you and found out very fast that you did not like that. She wonders how you'd react to finding out she kills people too. With all the horror movies and books you read she'd think that you would be fine with that. You're very open and passionate about your world views though and Valeria knows you probably wouldn't be.

Like I said, you live in a warmer climate. Las Almas, Mexico to be exact. The scorching sun and all black, heavy clothes don't mix well. Valeria has taken up to carrying around icepacks and bottles of water. She also gifted you an umbrella to keep yourself shaded under1. Black of course. The canopy tapers into the outer ribs like a bat's wing.

Valeria likes it when you plan dates. It sounds cliche but you often set up dusk time picnics in the local cemetery. You're very respectful about the dead. Not trampling over the graves. Picnicking there isn't that bad anyway because the dead are probably happy to get some visitors.

Valeria loves you and all your quirks.

[gracieheartspedro]

Cool About It

joel miller x fem! reader

Description: after your first encounter, joel turns into an asshole every time you're around. when tommy makes you two go out on patrol together, it turns into a muddled mess. turns out, he didn't hate you at all, he just sucks at emotions.

Part 2/3

FIND PART 1 HERE

PART 2 HERE

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, killing of infected (including a child), blood, some LIGHT gore, age gap (more specified in this part), very smutty, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), overstimulation, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, pet names, joel is still a menace to society and a jerk

Author's Note: Thank you thank you thank you!! you all are so fabulous and sweet. I'm gonna make a masterlist soon, so be on the lookout. I'm also starting a tag list so, if you want to be included, please let me know! All feedback is welcomed. I love you all sm.

I came prepared for absolution if you'd only ask

So I take some offense when you say, "No regrets"

I remember it's impossible to pass your test

But I'm trying to forget about it

Feelin' like I'm breaking a sweat about it

Wishin' you would kindly get out of my head about it

Tellin' myself one day I'll forget about it

Knowin' that it probably isn't true

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want Joel on more of your patrols. 

The patrols after your night together ended up being filled with unspoken sexual tension. You’d go home sexually frustrated and hungry for more, but you were never bold enough to make a move. And to be real, you weren’t sure if you should. He’d say something about keeping your shoulders straight when you shot, you’d say something stupid like “make me” and he’d spit back with, “I may just do that, girl.”

But it never went anywhere. 

Even if you tried to make a pass, he’d make an excuse or remind you that you two were strictly working at the moment. 

You once invited him over after a particularly long shift, wanting some relief from the ache between your thighs.

“Got things to get done at home,” He said, “Maybe another time.”

So after that week of patrols, you were suddenly never on his patrols again. You were put on the exact opposite shifts, actually. You had some sneaking suspicions that he asked Tommy to switch it up. He stopped looking at you during morning meetings and eventually you decided to drop the whole idea of him.

It still crossed your mind every time you saw him, though. How he felt on your lips. How his body felt connected with yours.

Your breathing would change every time you reminisced on your time together. He would consume your mind for brief periods and you couldn’t get away. You kept telling yourself that time would lessen the blow, but it never did. 

So you tried your best to forget. 

On one particularly chilly morning, you head to your scheduled time at the stables. You’d be going out with Jesse this time around. He was a newcomer, a real sweetie. Tommy wanted you to teach him all you knew about patrolling and securing certain areas. 

But when you arrive, you notice Tommy, Joel, and Jesse all standing around waiting. You hadn’t said much to Joel the last couple weeks, only a wave or a quiet mumbled hello. His back was turned to you, but you knew those shoulders and back all too well.

“Are we all going out this morning?” You question, adjusting your braid on your shoulder. Joel turns to you, not expecting your voice to come up behind him. His eyebrows furrow at your presence. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy smiles, “You and Joel are gonna be going up to the ski lodge. Heard there’s a hoard or two out there, they need to be cleared.”

“I thought you said I was going with Jesse?” Joel speaks up a bit too quickly. Tommy’s words caught you off guard, so you just stand there waiting for him to respond to Joel, but it never comes.

You swallow, clearing your throat.

“No, I was supposed to go out with Jesse, actually.”

Jesse looks at everyone confused.

He was a cute kid. 20 years young, fresh faced, ready to take on anything. He had all this energy, something you wish you still had. Now you had a bad back, fucked knees, and a terrible sleeping schedule. You were only about 10 years older than him and you’re falling apart. 

“We can all just go together?” Jesse offers, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders. You knew that’d be shot down quick, especially when it came to a newbie. If there’s infected, we never throw the new guys into the pits of hell. They’d never want to patrol again. 

Tommy shakes his head, “No, I want her and Joel to clear that area before I take you that route. They know it well. We are going to head towards the power plant. We have to bring back some supplies I have stored there.”

Joel’s eyes could laser Tommy in half at that moment. He was pissed and completely blindsided.

You surrendered to the idea, too tired to argue and fight about something so stupid. You also didn’t question their orders, simply because they knew better than you. You wanted to make sure Jackson was safe, just like everyone else.

You gesture Jesse to give the brothers some time alone, motioning towards the horses. You’d at least make sure the horses were ready for his trip out with Tommy. He grabs the reins of two horses, walking them outside towards the front gate. You grab the other two horses, doing the same thing. 

He took notice to your tired eyes, “You okay going out today? You look tired.”

“Wow, Jesse,” You laugh, “I thought I looked great this morning when I woke up.”

He instantly starts to backpedal, not picking up your joke. You shake your head, trying to talk over all his apologies. 

“I’m just messin’ Jesse. I am tired, but I’ll be okay, don’t you worry.”

He smiles, nudging your shoulder a bit. 

“You just gave me a heart attack,” He chuckles, “You sure though? Even with Joel?”

You glance over at the Millers, watching them argue about whatever Joel was truly mad about. You knew in your head it was because he didn’t want to be around you. The feeling was becoming mutual. You never wanted to make anything awkward or difficult, but you guess that’s exactly what you did. 

You just shrug. Jesse takes that as your response, grabbing the reins of your horse and handing them over to you. 

“You stay safe out there,” He says, “Don’t let him get under your skin.”

You couldn’t help but snicker, “No need to worry about that, dude.”

–

Oh, but was he getting under your skin. 

You initially just nod at every direction he makes at you, remembering that it was like this before anyway. But then he starts to undermine every suggestion you made. 

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“We will be back before sundown, you know that. Don’t be dumb about it.”

“Stoppin’ would be dumb as hell. You can wait.”

You had been begging for 30 minutes to stop and pee. He was not giving in to anything you’d say. After awhile, you could not hold it anymore. You pull your horse to the side of the trail, not even saying anything to him. You dismount the horse, holding the reins for a moment before you hang them on a branch nearby. 

“What are you doin’?” He spits, noticing you off your horse. You come around the horse, giving him a deadly glare. You grab your pack, finding some cloths you bring on your patrols so you can wipe and throw away. 

“I have to fuckin’ pee, Joel. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Get back on your horse,” He demands, his posture getting more stiff. 

You shake your head, unbuttoning your jeans and turning back to a private area behind a tree. You remember the moments before kissing Joel for the first time. Him telling you how great your ass looked in your jeans. You grimace. 

You tug down your pants and squat. 

You relieve yourself, quickly using your cloth to wipe when you finish. You toss it behind you, standing up in your spot and turning around to head back to your horse. 

You realize Joel is off his horse, bounding towards you. He grabs your arm, pulling you to face him. 

“Why don’t you fuckin’ listen?” He says through gritted teeth. 

It took everything in you not to fucking snap. You wanted to pull away and scream and yell and throw something at him. But instead your heart just started racing at the contact his hand made with your skin and you physically couldn’t do anything. 

He realizes you’re caught off guard. He didn’t grab you hard, just enough shake you a bit to get your attention on him and only him. His facial expression changes as he drops your arm, stepping back a couple of paces. It’s like he realized he was being a bit too aggressive. Maybe it was your expression that brought him back down from whatever pedestal he thought he was on. 

“Don’t touch me,” Is all you could think to say. He wasn’t even touching you anymore but you still felt him all over you. 

He just nods. 

You look down at yourself, realizing your pants are still unbuttoned. You look back up at Joel who’s staring at your panties peaking through your unzipped jeans. His eyes travel back up to yours. You decide to slowly button them back up. 

You don’t hear what he says when he peels his eyes away and walks back to his horse. Probably some asshole comment that was better said under his breath.

You both get back on your horses and continue to the ski lodge in silence. Before you scale the one side of the mountain, you hear something. 

You keep your eyes peeled for infected. You are almost positive that’s what you’re hearing so you whistle to catch Joel’s attention. You nod to your left, which is the direction you hear the familiar clicking. You grab your rifle from your side saddle, gesturing to Joel to do the same.

You always get this rush when you have to kill infected. It’s not a good rush at all, it’s pure adrenaline. 

You dismount again, making sure your horse is tied to a nearby tree. Joel is close behind you as you creep forward towards the noise. The woods are dense with trees but there is also a ton of rock formations that were usually excellent cover.

The clicking gets louder and so does the sound of your heartbeat. 

“There,” Joel whispers, gesturing towards a rock. You kneel, creeping up the formation and looking down. There you see not one, not two, but three clickers wondering around a dead deer. It was torn to shreds, blood everywhere. You weren’t bothered by blood at all, it was just the sick smell of decay that got you a bit queasy. You draw your gun up, aiming it towards the clicker closest to you. 

“On three,” You murmur to Joel. You knew that you’d had to shoot two at the same time to give you enough time to kill the third with a quick reload. 

Joel just nods, drawing his gun up. 

“One,” Breath in, “Two,” Hold, “Three” Breath out.

The sounds of guns sent the clicking sounds to an all time high. Your ears are ringing, but you instinctively cock your gun, releasing one shell. 

You aim, firing your weapon at the third and final clicker. You hear Joel yell something, but your ears are still ringing. 

Then it hits you. 

“Three more!” 

Every time you’re in a fight or flight situation, you always fight. Old you would run. 

You bring your weapon up, noticing Joel’s new position on the boulder. He’s aiming and firing at some infected down hill who are quickly running at you two. 

You refocus in searching the area behind you. The last thing you needed was a sneak attack from a stalker. One enters your eye line and you fire. You keep count of how many bullets you have. Three down, four more left. 

“Got two on your right!” 

You hear Joel’s directions, drawing your weapon up and shooting another stalker between the eyes. The last one was a child, which was always the hardest. You knew that there was no choice, so you pull the trigger, which sent the child flying backwards. You wince a bit, seeing that this was probably just a family who got caught in the wrong situation. You killed all of them in less than a minute. Life wasted. 

Silence fills the air, your ears still ringing from endless gunfire. You turn back to Joel who’s breathing heavily and holstering his gun. 

You never had to question Joel’s abilities, which made him an excellent patrol partner. He knew exactly how to react in high risk situations. 

He made you feel safe. 

“Looks like we found one of the hoards Tommy was talking about,” He says, walking up to you, “Lets hope it’s just the one.”

“Glad it was you with me and not Jesse,” You say, relaxing your arm. 

“That kid would be dead by now.”

-

When you’re less than a mile from your stop, you notice some storm clouds taking over the beautiful summer sky. The air starts to change. The wind begins to pick up, blowing your braid back and tickling your bare neck. The air smells like rainwater, sweet and pungent. 

You use the silence to think about how simple life use to be. You reminisce about your childhood that was cut too short. You were a young adult when the infection started so you hadn’t been able to get married or settle down with a family. Everything was ripped away from you so prematurely and deep down, you crave that simplicity. Get married, have children, die of old age. 

If only you could’ve lived in a world where you didn’t have to kill a child because some random ass fungus took over their humanity.  

“We are almost there,” Joel says finally, pulling you out of your thoughts, “We may have to ride out the storm.”

You just nod even though he can’t see you. 

The ski lodge was actually very beautiful. It was one of two that was used as a safe house for patrols, this one being your personal favorite. You had been there with Tommy once and he gave you the grand tour. It was reasonably clean for being so old, stocked full of canned items, and had very comfy beds. 

You start to bring your horses to the covered back porch when it starts to rain. You grab all your gear, slinging it over your shoulder. Joel jingles a key out of his pocket, racing to the sliding glass doors. He unlocks the door, ripping it open as soon as the rain picks up. You both make it in the quiet lodge, setting your belongings on the kitchen counter. 

“I’m going to get the lanterns up and running,” You mumble, heading towards the living room where all the lanterns were scattered about. Joel locks the sliding glass door, before he starts rummaging through his bag. 

You turn on as many lanterns as you can, lighting up the room with warm glow. 

You find your way onto one of the couches, kicking your boots off. 

“Want me to start a fire? We may have to hang out the rest of the night if that storm don’t let up,” Joel questions, sliding his jacket off his shoulders. 

You shrug, “Don’t matter.”

He starts to pile up some wood as you find an apple in your bag. You watch him slowly pace back and forth from the wood pile to the huge stone fireplace. You watch his back muscles flex when he picks up a piece of wood. You were using him as a distraction to get you away from those dark thoughts from earlier. 

You bite into your apple. 

“You bring anythin’ for me?”

Is he fucking with you?

“There’s canned peaches in the cabinets.”

He laughs, lighting the wood with a match. You watch the fire build and build as he messes with the wood. He was squatting, his shirt riding up a bit. Even his lower back was eye catching. 

“You don’t wanna share?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not sharin’ anything with you.”

He turns back to you with a smirk playing on his lips, “Not even a better look at those panties you’re wearing?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. 

“Pardon?”

“You heard me, sweetheart.”

You did hear him, of course, but were in denial of the actual intentions behind the words. He creeps closer, finding a spot on the couch next to you. You take another bite of your apple, staring at him with curiosity. 

Was he being serious?

You contemplate your options. Do you play into the game? Do you resist and possibly regret it later? He was such an asshole earlier. But then again, he always is. He was before you slept with him. So was that a valid excuse to not play into the game?

You remember the ache between your legs last night after reading a smutty romance novel. You imagined the characters as you and Joel, yet you never wanted to admit it. You knew that you wanted this, but resisting to give him a taste of his own medicine would be satisfying, too.

“Ya know,” He ponders, leaning over to meet your eyes, “I still have your other pair you left at my house.”

You remember the slight panic you felt the morning after when you couldn’t find them. You knew damn well he’d find them somewhere, but you didn’t think he’d keep them. 

“Didn’t even know I left them,” You lie, your eyes averting away from him. 

You were a horrible liar. 

“You’re pretty cute when you lie, sweetheart,” He grabs your chin, tilting your face back to his, “You left them on purpose. Thought you’d use that as an excuse to come crawling back to me.”

He was being smug, you knew that. For some reason, you don’t cave immediately even though the conversation was making you tingle.

“Crawling back to you? Why would I do that?” You question, “When I have all these other guys who will gladly take up my offers.”

He smiles smugly, “Hm, that doesn’t seem very like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t seem like the type of girl to whore yourself out to a bunch of assholes.”

His finger traces your lower lip, catching it and pulling down. You don’t pull away, soaking up the intense tension in the air. 

“You don’t know me, Joel Miller.”

He just stares at your mouth, “I know enough.”

You want to lean in further, push your lips on his and finally surrender to him. But you hold on for a few more seconds. You’re practically quivering under his touch, wanting nothing more to just cut the shit and jump on top of him.

“You told me not to touch you earlier,” he mumbles, “But here you are just fumblin’ over yourself every time I touch ‘ya.”

“Will you just shut the fuck up and kiss me?”

His touch becomes rougher, his one arm pulling you into his lap, the other hand grabbing your face roughly. 

“You start talkin’ like that you get nothin’,” his breathing fans your face, blowing your baby hairs away from your forehead, “Be a good girl like before.”

You squirm a bit, trying to lift your head in defiance. It doesn’t work, he has a good grip on you. His eyes are dark as he adjusts you so you are practically mounted on his lap. He releases your face bringing his hand down to your neck. He pulls you down to his lips, connecting them feverishly. 

You couldn’t help yourself. You melt into him, your hands wrapping around his neck before sliding them down his chest. His hips are practically rutting into yours. You grind down, moaning out at the contact. You knew that being disobedient wouldn’t get you anywhere, so to get what you want, you knew you’d have to play into his dominance. 

He smiles into the kiss, knowing you have been waiting for this moment. 

You pull away, pulling your shirt off. He’s looking at you like you’re his next meal. You kind of are. 

“Missed these tits,” He says his hands resting on your ribcage, right under your bare breasts, “Best ones I’ve ever seen.”

“Joel,” You groan, fumbling for the button on your pants, “Need you. Bad.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I know baby.”

He fondles you for a second before latching his lips around your left nipple. His tongue swirls around it before he slightly bites it. You arch your back, wanting more from him but he just pulls away. You roll off his lap, tugging your pants down, including your underwear. 

“Ah,” He’s not even paying attention to you butt naked all spread for him, instead he’s leaning down to your pile of clothes. He grabs your panties, holding them up, “Baby pink. You fuckin’ tease.”

“Joel,” You whine, nudging him with your foot, “Enough about my underwear.”

He runs his hands up your leg before standing up and discarding his own shirt and pants. He leaves his briefs on, his cock tenting the gray fabric. 

“So eager,” he mocks, “What do you want from me, baby girl? Hm?”

You smile at the million of thoughts running through your head. But you settle for words that you know will drive him wild. 

“Do whatever you want to me, Joel.”

He pulls you to the edge of the couch. He’s on his knees like he’s about to pray at the altar to whatever God may exist. Instead, he’s between your legs, speckling your thighs with scratchy kisses. His salt and pepper hair is messy, his sunkissed bare arms highlighted with some freckles. You never noticed them before. 

“‘M gonna need your mouth,” He mumbles, raising his fingers to your mouth. You grab his wrist with your hands, lifting his fingers to your lips. You suck on every one, releasing each one with a pop. He watches you with his lips slightly agape, almost hypnotized by the action. 

He uses his newly wet fingers to trace your slit before he uses his pointer and middle finger to spread your lips. He’s playing with you, making you writhe underneath his touch. You lift your hips a bit, which causes him to lay his free arm across your lower stomach. 

“Patience, sweetheart,” He gives your pussy one lick, “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

He’s good on his word. 

He dives into you like a ravenous animal. His tongue hitting every desperate spot within you. You were taken to the same state of mind when he first ate you out. You had no words, just moans of pleasure. 

He uses his fingers to toy with your opening, sticking two fingers in initially before he becomes too eager to see you fall apart. He wraps his lips around your swollen clit, suckling and moaning around it. You knew from before that he liked all eyes on him. You watch him as the vibrations mixed with him finger fucking you sends you into your first eye rolling orgasm. 

You don’t think you’ve ever cum so fast in your life. It’s a release you’ve been yearning months for, making it even sweeter. 

He pulls away, giving your pussy a little slap. It makes you yell out. 

“Came without permission, but that’s okay,” He licks his fingers, “You have a couple more in you.  You just gotta beg extra for ‘em.” 

He was a menace. 

You just nod, not able to communicate your actual feelings on him denying you the simple pleasure of cumming all over him. The idea of having to hold back made you a bit eager to see how far you could take it, though. 

“Need your mouth now,” He tugs off his underwear, kicking them across the room. You don’t know how, but it almost looks bigger. Maybe it’s the swollen red tip that makes you overawe over it. 

“Would you like me on my knees, sir?”

He leers at you, “What a good girl, being so polite… Yes, baby girl, get on your knees in front of me. I wanna see those eyes.”

You crawl off the couch, getting in between his legs. His cock is laying on his lower tummy, just waiting for you. You aren’t super into sucking dick, but this was Joel’s. You know that you had to give it your all. You wanted to give it your all. 

You grab ahold of the base of his cock, keeping your eyes on him as you slowly open your lips to take him. Once your hot mouth touches the tip, he hisses in satisfaction. 

“Mhm,” He groans, “Take all of it, baby.” 

You’re not sure if you can, but you are going to do your very best. 

You relax your throat as much as you can, slowly inching his cock down your throat. You’re halfway around it when it hits your gag reflex. You pull back, still keeping his cock wrapped around your lips. You sit up, jerking the base of his cock as you slurp up as much as you can. 

“You got it baby,” He encourages, “Relax and take it slow.”

Whenever Joel praises you, you can’t help but let it get to your head. 

You take a deep breath in as you take more of him in. Widening your jaw more, you finally get him completely engulfed in your mouth. He twitches inside, which sends a jolt of pleasure to your core. You let him take control, raising his hips a bit to fuck your mouth. He has a hold of your braid, which only adds to the experience. You’ve never had your hair pulled before, but you’re beginning to love the sensation. He’s a moaning mess, chanting your name like a prayer. Your saliva is all over his lower tummy by the time he pulls your mouth away from his cock. 

“Gonna make me cum like that if you keep goin’,” He states, pulling you up to his lips. He kisses you, all tongue and teeth, “Let me fuck that pussy, yeah?”

You whimper, “Yes, please.”

“Such a good girl.”

He pulls you up into his lap while you slowly position yourself above him. You loved riding him before and with how sensitive and riled up you were now, you were prepared to ride his cock like it’s the last thing you’d ever do. 

He focused his attention on rubbing his cock head between your pussy lips. You bite your lip as soon as he pushes slowly into your entrance. You groan, letting the sweet stretch take ahold of you.

“Atta’ girl,” Joel sighs, “Take all of me in that tight little pussy.”

You gasp as soon as he raises your hips a bit, repositioning how his cock sits inside you. His hand rests on your pelvic bone, pulling you forward. You realize he’s guiding you, helping you grind back and forth on his dick. Every roll of your hips pushes a moan out your throat, making Joel stare up at you with satisfaction. He removes his hands from your hips, bringing his right hand to your throat. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby girl,” He lets out a wanton moan, while your stomach feels like it’s reaching a boiling point. He realizes how tense your getting so he reaches down with his spare hand, putting more pressure on your clit. “This is my pussy.”

“Mhm.”

“Say it. Say it’s mine.”

“It’s yours, Joel.”

“That’s fuckin’ right, baby girl. All mine.”

“Joel, please,” You cry, “I need to cum.”

“No,” He spits, “You don’t cum until I tell you.”

You clench, trying to resist the release. He notices you slowing down, so he stops choking you. Instead of letting you have a moment to recoup, he grabs your waist again, raising it slightly so he could raise his hips to pound into you. With his fingers still pressing on your bud, he chooses a bruising pace. You are practically screaming, the release imminent.

“Please, please,” You beg, “Joel, I need to.”

He doesn’t stop his assault on your pussy, “You keep beggin’, baby girl. I’ll tell you when.”

“Fuck, fuck,” You can’t stop yourself, the vibration from your incoming orgasm taking over your body, “Please Joel!”

“Cum,” He grits his teeth, “Cum all over this cock, baby girl.”

You have never had an orgasm take over every fiber of your being like it. You throw your head back, yelling Joel’s into the silence of the house. His pace slows down, as your cum soaks his lower half. 

“Oh my god,” You groan, not knowing how to formulate a full sentence yet. You were still seeing stars in your vision, as you try to refocus on Joel. 

“Holy shit,” He pulls out of you, “You okay?”

You just nod, your head falling forward. Your braid falls over your chest in between your breasts. Joel grabs the end of it, toying with it for a moment while you catch your breath.

“I’ll give you a minute,” He picks you up off him, laying you onto the cushion next to him. You grab his hand as he tries to pull away. 

“I don’t need one,” You were still spent from the first two orgasms, it was written all over your face. Joel just chuckles, positioning himself over your body. He cages you in, tilting your face so you make eye contact. 

“You ready for me already?”

“Need you.”

He uses his leg to part your thighs, settling between you again. He was still hard, his cock nudging your swollen wet opening.

“I want your eyes on me,” He commands. 

“Yes, sir.”

He pushes into you again, your mouth parting in a gasp at how sensitive you were. 

He smiles at your reaction while he settles into a steady pace. You try to focus on him, watching his facial expressions as he dives into you over and over again. 

Joel had to be sculpted by whatever God created him. Every part of him was angular, his cheekbones quite high. His nose was just about perfect, especially from the side. His side profile was everything.

You truly didn’t think he looked his age. The only thing that kind of gave him away was the grays speckled through his dark hair. Other than that, the guy was a sex god. 

You are too busy to admiring him, you don’t even realize how close he is. He’s gripping onto your hips, probably bruising them with how tightly he’s holding them. The way his dick twitches inside you, sends that familiar rush back into your body. 

He’s not breaking eye contact. You smirk while he groans pushing harder into you. 

“You better cum inside me,” You murmur, “Want you to fill me up.”

“God,” He cries, “So fucking flithy.”

And he loved that about you. 

He releases into you with a loud sigh. You don’t teeter over that edge until he pulls out of you, looking to see his work. 

He uses his two fingers, pushing them inside you, then back out. He rubs his cum onto your clit, slapping it a couple times. When you jolt in pleasure, he smiles knowingly. 

“One more time?”

He positions himself between your legs again. He’s fingering you so lazily but it’s still enough to have you crying out in pleasure. You don’t even have time to respond to him, before you’re falling over the edge and cumming once more. 

You lay there, trying to catch your breath again. Joel stands up on wobbly legs, making his way to the nearby bathroom. You didn’t know if this house would be stocked with rags or anything, so when Joel comes out with a folded blanket, you can’t help but giggle. 

“This is all we got,” He gestures towards the blanket, “We can burn it when we finish with it.”

You take it from him, running it between your legs. The wooley fabric scratched a bit, but you didn’t have one care in the world. 

Until you get a familiar sinking feeling. Like you did something very wrong.

You sit up while Joel takes the blanket, cleaning up himself. You try to stand, your legs feeling like jelly. You pick up your panties from the floor next to Joel’s clothes. You start to grab each of your clothing items, throwing them on as you go. You watch as he does the same.

“I guess this means you don’t hate me,” You mutter, not knowing what to say after what just occurred. You felt guilty and sick with anxiety.

If anyone else sat in on this day with Joel, they’d say the same thing. The way he talks to you, how annoyed he was to be stuck with you on patrol today, everything. It’d make anyone feel not wanted. 

He shoots you a glance, “I never hated you.”

He says it with such conviction that you wince, not sure whether to believe him.

“You have ignored me for months. You fought with Tommy because you were stuck with me today. And then on the way here, you yelled at me for having to pee. Called me dum-”

“I didn’t call you dumb.”

You breath in sharply, “You’re just impossible, you know that?”

He shakes his head. You know he wants to say something smart back, but it never comes. 

Instead he sits down beside you, keeping his eyes down at his feet. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a lifetime. 

“Listen,” He huffs, “I don’t hate you. I am just not good at…”

“Being nice to people?”

He smirks, finally looking up at you, “Sure, but hey… I don’t regret anything that happened. I enjoy our… time together.”

You wanted to strangle him. 

After months of contemplating what went wrong, he tells you he doesn’t regret anything. 

After spending all that time acting like he did. 

You wear your emotions all over your face and Joel realizes it quickly. He rests his hand on your knee, a gentle gesture that makes your heart rate increase by a thousand. 

“You made me feel like shit for months,” You admit, trying to hold your composure, “I’ve felt like an idiot since the moment Ellie walked in that morning. You made me feel that way, Joel. You made me feel stupid. And here I am, all this time later, and I still feel fucking dumb. Maybe even dumber now, since I just let you fuck me again.”

His hand travels up to cup your cheek. You felt like crying, but you knew that it wouldn’t do you any good. 

“I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, darlin’,” He confesses, “I am sorry for everythin’.”

You felt like you were being manipulated. You always had a terrible time figuring out what a genuine apology looked like. You were used to being exploited and having your heart ripped out and stomped on. 

You turn away from his hand, looking out the back sliding glass door. The rain is coming down, pitter pattering on the tin roof over your head. You see lightning go across the sky, hearing the loud crack of thunder seconds later. 

You pondered if you should just run in the other direction. Away from Joel, away from the emotions and memories that were being sludged up from the deepest pits of your brain. 

“When I grabbed you earlier, you had this horrified look on your face…” Joel starts, bringing your attention back, “It was a face ‘d seen more than a few times. That look of disbelief and fear.”

You just let him continue, not looking him the eyes.

“I never wanna to make you feel that way,” He admits, “I never wanna scare you or hurt you. I knew in that moment, I was using that pent up anger at myself towards you.I just… I spent so much time tryin’ to find ways to keep you away from me because I don’t wanna disappoint you or hold you back.”

You finally look back up at him. 

“I am sick of findin’ ways to keep you away. I like havin’ you around.”

You want to believe him so badly. 

“I like having you around, too, Joel. I just…” You stammer, “I just need a bit, okay?”

He bows his head, “Yeah, ‘course. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll take watch and wait for the rain to let up.”

You take up his offer, stalking off to the nearby bedroom. You just wanted space, a moment of peace and quiet. Your body was still recovering from the greatest orgasms of your life, now your mind is littered with a million emotions you didn’t know how to muddle through. Once you lay down on the old bed, you realize that sleep would probably bring you back to life a bit. You close your eyes, letting your mind ease out of the chaos of reality. 

–

When you wake up, you don’t hear anymore rain. You only hear the crackling of the fireplace. You don’t know how long you’ve been sleeping, which sends you into a slight panic. You waltz out into the living room, seeing Joel lounging on the couch you defiled and reading. It was a random novel, probably from the large bookcase in the hallway. 

“We good to head back?” You question.

“Yeah, let’s get home ‘fore they send out a search party.”

You watch him stretch his shoulders as he stands, his jaw clenched in an unrelaxed way. His hair is messy and standing in different directions from the way he was laying. It makes you smile. 

“Hey Joel,” You say, walking closer to him, “When we get back to Jackson, would you want to go out to dinner or something?”

His gaze softens. You were really trying, he could tell. 

Your rested mind decided it was time to just jump head first. 

If Joel was being honest with his intentions, maybe it was time for you to be honest with yourself, too. 

“I’d like that, sweetheart.”

“It’s a date, then.”

taglist: @pedrotonin @mysingularitybts @harriedandharassed @paleidiot @misatoad @lottieellz101

[lelelego]

⭐I'M OPEN FOR COMMISSIONS!⭐

hi y'all!! after a very long time i'm easing back into the commissions scene for a bit :^D

✅ will draw: fanart, ocs (love d&d comms!!), nudity, light gore, suggestive/light n-s-f-w

⛔ will not draw: heavy gore and n-s-f-w, mecha, boone/oc content (sorry!!)

note: detailed backgrounds and/or designs may cost extra.

check out my commission request checklist below the cut 👇

CHECKLIST

email me at lego.cheong (at) gmail.com. say hi, say hey, and include "commission" in your subject line, please! OR dm me if you need to ask something real quick - but full requests with references, descriptions etc. should be exchanged via email. c:

include:

what type of commission you'd like - b&w/colour, waist up/full body, how many characters

references of the character(s) - if you don't have an image of them drawn out in their entirety, please provide picture references of all their parts (hair, face, clothes, etc.). if you also have a pose reference, i'd love to see it!

what you want to see - what pose do you want your character(s) to be in? what expressions? what is the vibe you want conveyed? is there something you want to focus on in particular (e.g. a character's ring, a scar, a limb, etc.)

are you okay with your commission being public? - you will get a higher-res, un-watermarked version of your commission. i do sometimes put lower-res, watermarked versions of my commissions up in my art tag / portfolio, so please let me know if you would like it to be a private commission.

you'll receive a reply within 2-3 days, at which point we can talk a little bit more about your commission if needed!

full payment will be required upfront through a Paypal invoice only. the invoice will be sent to the email you used unless specified otherwise.

thank you so much for reading, and hope to see you in my emails soon! <3

[frog-necromancer]

Betting on a Losing Dog

Masterlist

Read on Ao3

Chapter 6: Till death do us part

Logan/fem!reader

Summary: An improvised (very soft and sweet) wedding before everything goes to shit. Oh and some angst of course. (Begging you on my hands and knees to leave comments please please please I love you)

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Tags:

#drug abuse and addiction #swearing #angst #anger issues #main character death (it’s Logan sorry babes) #fluff and smut #kissing #alcohol abuse  #graphic description of violence and injuries #heavy angst #biting #thigh riding #oral (f receiving) #p in v sex #unprotected sex (wrap it up)  #attempt at humor #spending time as a family #intrusive thoughts #some gore #hurt no comfort (maybe a little comfort) #found family #marriage!?!! #self harm (skin picking) #throwing up #depression  #smoking #references to Christianity and religion #video game references #road trip

Till death do us part

The following day was a hazy blur. Neither F/N nor Logan spoke a lot, only a few words here and there and Laura stayed mostly quiet too. Sometimes she would throw out profanities in Spanish. Or at least F/N thought that they were. (If you speak spanish I’m sorry…)

Hours blurred together and F/N couldn't tell how much time had actually passed. It couldn't have been more than a day, she thought. It hadn't been night, right? Last thing she knew was that it would take two more days, but she didn't know how long ago that was.

Logan didn't take breaks, his gaze fixed on the road, but F/N could see his eyes fluttering from time to time. She was worried, but her mind was too hazy to do something about it. She felt terrible to numb herself at a time like this. At a time where Laura and Logan needed her. Logan hadn't changed, but neither had she. 

It must have been about a day when they passed an old chapel at the side of the dusty road. The building had seen better days, with a rotting facade and a couple of dirty broken windows. The once clean white paint was beginning to chip from the wood, making the building look almost moldy. 

“I…I want to light a candle…for Charles and the family and…and the others.”, F/N spoke, voice quiet and rough from not speaking for so long. She could see that Logan wanted to protest, to argue that they needed to keep driving, but she could also see how tired he actually was. “Since when do you believe in that stuff?”, He mumbled roughly, but there was no actual snark to his voice. F/N paused, did she believe in that stuff? Did she actually believe that lighting a candle would do anything but be a fire hazard? 

Probably not. 

But Kurt believed it with his whole heart. 

He would have done the same for her. And she had been putting this off for way too long. 

It didn't actually matter: “I don't know. But I want to do it�� (Guys listen I'm an atheist that grew up Christian. I'm just leaning into the whole Christianity allegory. Please don't be offended!) Logan let out a little huff, tired eyes fixed to the dusty road ahead and for a moment F/N thought he wouldn't stop. That he’d keep ignoring her. 

But then he turned the wheel and a moment later the pick-up stopped just in front of the rundown chapel. 

“Make it quick.”, Logan muttered, resting his head on the wheel. F/N nodded, jumping out of the car. Her steps were a little unsteady but she would manage. Laura got out too. F/N sent her a gentle look, eyes just the tiniest bit teary: “let's pick some flowers for” She paused, who were these flowers for? For Charles? For Kurt? For the Munsons? “For everyone we've lost, alright?”, She finally spoke. Laura nodded softly. 

—

A few minutes later they both were holding a bouquet of wild flowers they had each picked. Laura's was a little smaller, but she looked very proud as she held it high to compare it to F/N's. They both were colorful and pretty in their own way. 

The mood was solemn, but at the sight of Laura sniffing the beautiful flowers, F/N couldn't help but smile. It was a sad and tired smile but a smile nonetheless.

“It's perfect Laura.”, she spoke with her hoarse voice: “Let's see if we can get into that chapel.” Laura nodded, rushing over to the double doors of the dusty building. F/N pushed against the wooden door, but there was a big metal lock blocking it. “It's locked.”, She sighed softly. 

Laura looked up at her, determination sparkling in her fierce brown eyes: “No! No!” She shook her head quickly, and before F/N could stop her or protest, Laura had extended her claws and cut down the lock, sparks flying as she cut through the metal. She grinned up at F/N who was not in the mood to lecture her about damaging other’s property. Instead she gently ruffled her head. “Thank you, Laura.”, She murmured, finally pushing the old doors open. 

The rusty hinges squeaked and dust danced in light that flooded through the dirty windows. It smelled of mold and dust, but the place had a strangely calming atmosphere to it. 

Their steps echoed in the building, this place had definitely seen better days, but at the same time the small forgotten chapel had an almost cozy flair to it. 

“Let's put the flowers down for a moment, maybe we can find some old candles” Laura nodded, putting the flowers down on an old wooden bench.

In a dusty carton box behind the altar, F/N found some old tealight candles. They were a little damaged but they would do. 

—

F/N blew on the stone altar to remove some of the dust, she couldn’t hold back a small cough as she tried to make the area look somewhat nice and less like straight from an end of the world movie. 

There was an old wooden crucifix. The small Cross had fallen over and the head of the Jesus figurine had broken off. F/N carefully laid it down, balancing the head on the uneven wood to make it look somewhat tactful. It was a sad display, but she did what she could. This was for her friends. Even if no one listened. 

Maybe this was for herself too.

She placed the candles in the middle of the altar, pausing when she realised that she didn't have a lighter. She was about to break the news to Laura when she saw an outstretched hand holding a cheaper plastic lighter beside her. “Thank you Logan.”, She muttered quietly, reaching for the object. Logan grunted in return. She hadn't even noticed that he had left the car, too deep in thought as she prepared the altar.

Her hands were shaking as she tried to light the candles. Her fingers felt weak and sweaty but she needed to do this alone. Logan was aware of her determination. He wouldn't offer his help. And she silently was thankful for that.

A lonely small flame danced upon the altar. Wordlessly, F/N placed her bouquet at the foot of the stone table. And for a moment they were silent. 

“I- I'm sorry…Kurt…Charles…”, Her voice  was barely above a whisper and on the verge of breaking: “Morph…Jean…Ororo…” She had to pause, take in a shaky breath before she could continue: “I- I had years to think about what to say- I had a speech prepared that I thought I'd one day hold at your graves… but now…I can't remember a word.” She paused, taking in another shuddering breath and Logan was a little worried that she'd fall over. “I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I miss you all so so much”, she finally concluded, a lonely tear slipped down her cheek. Logan's eyes were burning, his heart heavy.

—

Silence filled the abandoned chapel, except for the occasional thud of Laura hitting the dilapidated wood benches with her foot claw, knocking out pieces of splintering wood. 

Logan had sat down next to her, head in his hands while F/N was still standing in front of the altar, head hung low.

“I-”, F/N finally broke the heavy silence, sighing softly. Laura was still holding onto her flowers, abusing the poor benches with her claw. “I always thought we would get married in a place like this” something between a sob and a laugh escaped her cracked lips at her little confession, it felt silly. 

She tasted blood.

Logan looked up at her in surprise, he hadn't expected her to bring up something like this. “Kurt wanted to officiate the wedding…bothered me about it for weeks…”, A teary smile had formed at the fond memory: “I told him it would never happen…” Laura had stopped kicking the bench.

“...but if it ever did, he would be the only one who I'd let perform the ceremony…”, She took in yet another a shaky breath, her throat felt raw and her eyes were burning.

“F/N”, she didn't turn around, she didn't think she could look at him right now without bursting into tears. Logan's voice was gravely yet incredibly gentle, filled with regret, pain and something like hope: “Would you…still like to get married?” He asked slowly, almost as if he was afraid of her answer. 

Finally F/N turned to him, her E/C eyes filled with surprise and anxiety: “Logan- this is not-” He stopped her: “How about right now?” Determination flashed through his hazel eyes. “Logan- I don't know- how much did you have to drink?” Logan shook his head, his voice firm yet filled with love: “Not enough to not know what I'm doing. Do you want to get married? Right now?” 

F/N blinked, her mind racing with possibilities: “Logan there's no one to perform the ceremony…” She began to weakly protest, but Logan was having none of her excuses: “It doesn't matter. You're here and I'm here and that's everyone that matters right now…no offence kid.” He sent Laura an apologetic look, the girl shrugged: “It's okay.”

F/N blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the tears that sprang to her eyes yet again and make sense of her muddled mind: “I- Logan. I- I don't know what to say. I thought you didn't want to-” 

When she looked at Logan his eyes were filled with adoration and love and F/N knew right then and there that this was the right thing to do. Finally she nodded: “Yes, I want to.” her voice was barely above a whisper and Logan let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Let me do this the right way.”, He mumbled, awkward yet determined as he slowly got down on one knee. His bones hurt at the quick movement, although he would never admit it.

His hands dived into the pocket of his dirty jacket, fumbling with something before he finally pulled out a small black box made of plastic. “It's one I picked up at that one gasstation we held at …nothing fancy but-” he stopped himself, coughing awkwardly.

“F/N, would you like to marry me?”, He finally asked, his expression filled with careful hope, gazing into her glossy E/C eyes. They were so beautiful, so soft and filled with love. He could get lost in them. He wanted to so badly…

F/N nodded quickly, her hand shooting to her mouth, she couldn't believe this was actually happening, something between a sob and a gasp: “Fuck! Yes! Yes, Logan!” Was all she got out. Logan gently pulled her hand into his and slid the ring onto her finger. He had to suppress a frown at the picked skin around her nails. The F/C nailpolish had begun to chip off days ago. 

The ring was cheap and fit poorly, it was way too big for her, but at that moment F/N would have been happy with nothing. 

His hand in hers was everything she needed.

Logan pulled her into an embrace, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. He was smiling, tears at the corners of his eyes, this was a bittersweet moment. F/N didn't know whether to laugh or cry, she could hear Laura's quiet “Ew” but they both ignored it, too caught up in the ecstasy of the moment to care about anything.

“So…what now?” F/N asked as they loosened the hug. “We get married, of course”, Logan smiled faintly. It was obvious that F/N was still sceptical, but Logan gave her hands a reassuring squeeze: “Give us a moment, darling. How about you wait in the car.” F/N was about to protest but Logan sent her a stern look. He wanted to do this. For them. For her.

—

F/N was sitting in the car, knees pulled up to her chest, as she mindlessly played with the car window. Pushing it up and down and up again. 

They were in the middle of nowhere and she wondered who even built this church in the first place, there was nothing around it for miles and miles. Yet, she felt weirdly happy and excited, yet any moment she wasn't thinking about the present she was thinking about the past and future and the thought alone made a pit open up in her stomach. She felt like throwing up. 

—

An hour or two passed. She couldn't quite tell. Her phone had run out of battery a while ago. Too caught up in the moment to even care. 

A knock at the window pulled her from her thoughts. It was Laura, a crooked flower crown that looked dangerously close to falling apart adorned her dark head of hair. “You look pretty.”, F/N hummed, an automatic smile springing to her chapped lips. Laura nodded: “Logan made a crown for you too…” It was then that F/N noticed the second crown clutched in Laura's hands, made of the same flowers as hers. Maybe it wasn't exactly the prettiest, but it was the thought that counted. And that alone made F/N's heart swell with love. 

Laura grabbed F/N's hand, pulling her out of the car. “Down.”, She ordered, voice commanding and so much like Logan's. F/N kneeled down so that she could place the flowers on her head. 

Laura's hand found its way back into F/N's, pulling her along to the entrance of the chapel. She pushed the old doors open with ease, the wood creaked at the sudden movement. “Come in.” Laura said.

When F/N stepped inside, her eyes immediately fell on Logan in the front right before the altar. A single red flower in his unruly greying hair. That was definitely Laura's idea and he looked almost cute. 

His eyes were filled with adoration as F/N walked down the aisle, holding Laura's hand in hers. She was a little unsteady on her feet, taking slow steps. 

It was far from perfect but it was them. 

She came to a halt in front of him, a soft tender tugged at his lips, the gentle glow of the setting sun drew soft shadows on his rugged face. “F/N.”, he murmured, voice just as soft as his eyes. “Logan.”, Her face mirrored his and his heart skipped a beat. She looked exhausted and yet she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his way too long life. 

He cleared his throat, not quite sure where to start now that she was standing in front of him. He felt stupid all of a sudden, what the hell was he doing? Was was he thinking???

“I uhm wanted to look up wedding vows but my phone's dead so…”, He paused. 

“He had to pull it out of his ass.”, Laura helpfully added, and F/N couldn't help but chuckle softly, the first chuckle since Charles had died, Logan noted. 

“So…uhm yeah I- we had to improvise and I don't have another ring so uhm just imagine the ring exchange part…”, He cleared his throat again. Logan wasn't one to easily become nervous but right now he definitely was. He also hadn't had a drink since morning so that was probably another reason. 

Laura nodded, she had put on her little sunglasses for this for whatever reason. “You wanna marry her?”, She asked curtly. And F/N couldn't help but think about how Laura probably had never heard of weddings before, let alone knew what the ceremony looked like. 

Logan nodded softly, “Yes, I want to.” His voice was rough yet filled with a tenderness that was reserved for F/N alone. 

Laura nodded, sunglasses bobbing on her nose. She turned to F/N: “You want to marry the old mean man?” It was clear that Laura wasn't exactly saying what she and Logan probably had discussed earlier, that she was going off script, but Logan didn't say anything, simply giving her a look.

F/N hummed and nodded, E/C eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. “I want to.” Laura nodded reverently, as if she was taking this very seriously: “Kiss. Kiss. Bésalo ahora” she exclaimed and Logan and F/N didn't need to be told twice as they fell into each other's arms. 

Their lips connected in a short yet loving kiss. Logan cupped her face, stroking his rough thumb over her cheek. “My wife”, He murmured, eyes filled with hope that F/N had thought was long gone and buried. “My husband”, Her voice mirrored her exhausted face but her eyes were filled with adoration. 

Maybe things would be alright. Of course both of them knew that they weren't technically married. That it was all just a farce. They had made a silent agreement to simply let it be. Who had even made the rules about what was marriage. 

Till death do us part, F/N thought.

Hand in hand they walked out of the church, with Laura throwing scratchy flowers at their heads. F/N felt absolutely exhausted and in the back of her mind played the memory of Charles’ death in a dreadful loop and yet in this very moment she couldn't help but smile. A genuine smile, laced with sorry and loss but a smile nonetheless.

[plasticfangtastic]

A Garden Without Impurity

A Homelander x GN Reader fic one-shot

A/N: Should be working on my other fics but i needed to get this out me system, inspired by a conversation I had in this site and watching the apothecary diaries, not an expert on chinese harem systems but i based this sort of on the Qin Dynasty system bcuz it was like the simpliest, like those emperors got around a lot… this is more drabble than fic-fic but i hope y’all enjoy.

Tags: light smut, 3-some, bilander, dark topics, not proofread I die here, non-canon complaint/canon-divergent, takes place in who knows, traditional polygamy, no dialogue here btw, Homelander being himself, light gore.

Word Count: 5K 

Synopsis: You’re a member of Homelander harem, this is but a documentation of that.

Homelander was always a lonely man perpetually hunting after love, for anybody who could give him attention, who would want him. He clung easily to lovers, too young at first to notice how easily he could be tricked into becoming nothing but a trophy fuck, too inmature to notice how his behaviour frightened them in the long run, and the more and more he was hurt the worse he became, all he’d learned was how to hide his anguish– turning him dangerously bitter.

Lovers came easy but just as easily they left– either scared straight by an army of lawyers, handsomely compensated or increasingly more often in pine boxes… crisis management meetings became so commonplace they began to be run on emails. 

 He was a man desperate for love– so much love to give but nobody could ever give him an ounce of what he needed, an ounce of what he gave, he was hungry for intimate devotion and adoration, the public could only give him bites sizes but it was fading and quick, and his mind steadily warping from this unfulfilled primal need.

Lovers couldn’t handle how pushy he became, how possessive and controlling he could become, how he wished to monopolize everything– so it was a problem, his sickly nature only wisthand by those contractually obligated to tolerate him, Maeve who had been so perfect until the downstairs neighbors logged less and less noise complaints as their passion cool and soured and Madelyn whose allure came in how untouchable she was, how forbidden she was, how much of a special occasion she had to be, and well rumors circulated involving Mr. Edgar but nobody ever dared to discuss it much.

Porn seem to alleviate some issues but the poor team in-charge of monitoring his online usage had filed formal complaint about having to be subjected to so much ‘stepmom porn’ and increasingly bizarre fetishes, whether he watched them to get off or not was unknown but once he switched the porn to browsing  r/watchpeopledie– a meeting had to be made and this time it was in person.

It was hard to pin-point the exact moment a suit suggested this solution– it was merely a joke but no matter how thick these walls were it would never be missed by Homelander, who indulge them.

And the project began to take place, with the end goal to provide him with company, and a controlled environment for Vought overseeing… a facility where the damage would be limited to seven floors and 30 large and luxurious condos.

Legally this building was just one of the many owned by Vought– like many other megacorps it was no surprise Vought dab in real estate, owning a couple buildings around the city to provide employee accommodation much like their Silicon Valley competition. After selecting the small building that once simply served as their own service apartments to accommodate shareholders, the project began to take place.

Homelander found it amusing, interested as to what things were going… surprised about how much he was looking forward to this, much to his chagrin– Homelander was very much a man and at the thought of being supplied with sex on tap he was quite happy to play along giving it a fair-go for a few weeks then forget about it after the novelty faded.

The first iteration was an utter failure, simply nothing but a duped “Playboy” Mansion, women who were paid to seduce him and become available whenever he desired– they were boring,  they weren’t there for him, they were there for the paycheck and presents, for the free rent and the possibility of becoming his favorite perhaps.

It was dull.

Painfully dull, nothing different from what he was doing, only it was kept behind closely guarded doors and managed by the company that micromanaged everything else in his life.

Dull Lovers who barely pretended to care, who rolled their eyes when he wanted to talk about his interest, who looked at their phones during the good scenes of his favorite films, who signed when he wished to be held, who gave no enthusiastic response at anything but Versace and Jimmy Choo’s.

He felt the ever growing emptiness spread further like a cancerous mass. 

As he sat alone sinking on his couch flipping channels in the dark and his eyes finally grew heavy for the night– his fingers stopped in some show about a man trying to balance having four wives, the scenario intrigued him… a man married to several women who seemed enamored with him despite all the drama in the background… These women on his screen weren’t like the ones provided… they weren’t his… They didn’t love him nor wanted to devote themselves to him, they were just high paid prostitutes– even the women at the Playboy Mansion he had met seemed to have a better relationship to the old creep than his own had to him– he wasn’t special or interesting to them.

 It was transactional and the affection unconvincing, unlike this man’s wives who seemed to care about him, who didn’t look forward to meeting other men or keep in touch with old John’s and sold their feet pics online to just any guy.

Vought or the public would never allow him to have a dozen wives, he wasn’t even a Mormon, officially he was an Evangelical just in name not in practice so he couldn’t simply adopt the church's views nor was he interested in even more rigid rules… I mean he did enjoy a cup of coffee every once in a blue moon and he certainly had a spicy tongue.

It took a lot of trial and error and plenty of lawyers too.

But a single joke turned into this…

You had been there for quite a long time, you seen plenty of pretty faces come and go, most left because they disliked the system in place– had they simply bothered to glance the wikipedia article on Chinese harem practices before signing the dotted line their grievances would have been lessened… altho calling yourself a polygamist might not even been an applicable label– after all his rules made it difficult to do so.

 You had simply been a low-level intern when Homelander first laid eyes on you all those years ago.

He watched you for a long time and you watched him with the same intensity, he was a pretty thing, he had a quirky laugh that veer into cackle territory, his hands were as soft as the rest of him and above all you could tell pretty early on that there was a hunger inside him unmatched by anything else.

No lover before had ever made you feel so wanted, he made you feel as if he was born for you, no lover ever devoured you with a single look… it was desperate.

When have you ever felt this desire before? You asked yourself the more intense this became.

You never experience the titillation and the fear that his hunger inspired in you, the way he touched and explored every inch of your skin inside that broom closet made you fear for your life, as if he would feast on you and gnaw at your bones like a dog with a fresh treat, that one spicy rendezvous after office hours quickly became a regular occurrence and he never had enough.

Neither did you.

His gentleness hid praise worthy self-control, he molded his performance after what made you feel best but you would soon learn it was performance– you were puddy in his hands as he trapped you with this pleasure.

To be yearned for was different, he wanted all your free time to be for him, to ignore all the pretty faces and nameless ass that crossed your sight and devote yourself to him, he was honest about wanting you, about wanting you to love him just as much as he could love you.

Made worse by the fact that you had no qualms with the worst of his personality your fights and arguments as unhealthy as anybody else but always over petty things, never about the nights he soaked the carpet with some miscreant chunky remains, after all you had to be a bit loopy and unhinge to look at him as if he was the only source of light in the cave that was your life.

It was a long courtship before he told you about ‘The Gardens’. At first you simply thought it was another luxury building stuck in Manhattan but behind the doorman and reception clerk was a building only inhabited by lovers.

It wasn’t easy to digest– but floor to ceiling windows, private drivers and Hermes boxes demonstrate to your ego that you might have a price… The 6 figure allowance certainly made your stomach drop as you accepted new found facts about yourself… this was not counting any extra presents– after all your job would be to stay pretty and interesting for him.

You certainly had your suspicions but you had been quite enamored with the Supe, unable to look away from those cornflower blues and the sad expression painting his face as he began to suspect your rejection, the palpable anguish he was trying so hard to contain. Accepting simply to do a few excessive sessions of retail therapy on his dime to recover from the shock, coming in thinking he will grow bored of you soon enough and you could commence the healing process afterwards.

But you never left ‘The Gardens’, the people who ran the building would refer to you as the Noble Consort with the Empress or Imperial Noble Consort reserved for whoever Homelander was dating for the papers (altho you would have given the title of Stillwell for the longest time), to your disbelief you found enjoyment in this arrangement, your were free to pursue whatever you wanted for money was now not a problem– all those hobbies you had abandoned, halted and wished to explore were now back on the table, a new career change or education now a possibility, even pursuing a lifelong passion or dream was available, as long as you kept pretty and keep his favor.

There were other rules of course… Nobody besides Homelander could be in your life. Sex-work was out of the question once somebody took residency in one of the handful of luxury condos. Not involving oneself romantically with any of the other concubines or anybody was also a major rule. He demanded a vow of secrecy as well obviously–  telling anybody about the arrangement specially online or the media, and you would have a head on your front door… you would have prefered a finger, a tooth or a kidney like the others on your floor but he left the brainless severed head on yours.

You were certain that Vought kept a dystopian level of watch over your digital footprint while you no longer worked with Vought and did your thing… you heard the rumor of a shadow department whose whole job was to watch this place– it wasn’t really out of the realm of possibility after all Homelander was worth billions to them… and if not Homelander was there watching somehow.

Which is how you end up with having to call somebody to pick up and puzzle the old concubine back together.

He was The Emperor and thus you had to act like a noble, anybody caught breaking his rules would be in more than a little trouble– Homelander was quite cruel once a lover lost his fancy.

 But not as cruel as the other residents when they sensed somebody trying to plant the seeds of discourse, threats to the system were ever present whenever he brought a new concubine, those who survived the longer kept the peace. 

A mixture of jealousy and self-preservation feed the cruelty… after all these years you liked your comfortable life and so did the others– those with more expensive taste to your own, those whose families were partially supported by Homelander (if he was aware or not was not yours or his problem) those who loved him and didn’t wish to part, and those who needed his support to make sure even if he grew bored with them they had a back-up to their back-up, none who would risk losing it all just because some new lover wanted him all for himself– they had no grace about it and would soon realize that tribalistic nature of humans… unless somebody whispered sweetly in John’s ear and prevented the carnage.

Unsure as to why anybody would want to monopolize him as if this entire building wasn’t a red flag about how pointless that was, you discussed with the others.

He was more than an armful, he was too much even for you who obsessed so easily with him, who demanded his attention and affection but ultimately unable to match just how much he needed in return, you stopped disliking this new life because Homelander would never be satiated, because he would wear you down to a stub, because he would scare you away if you didn’t find a way to get breathing room, more for his sake than your own. You loved him, you wanted to hold tight but if he kept going you would let go of his hand mid-flight and the thought of hating him or falling out of love with him filled you with dread.

You needed him on a cellular level, you joked in the past as you talked to a neighbor, who understood you as he laughed.

It stung for a long time to live this way– You just made it look easy.

But you made it, and it earned you some perks.

You checked your agenda to make sure that time had come around, you weren’t called the Noble Consort for nothing– he would reserve you even outside your birthday week.

8.3 million people in this city and he could make sure you felt like the only one in this town.

Perpetually charming you thought as he landed inthe balcony with your favorite chocolate and flowers.

 If Homelander had to explain why he kept you the longest it was how you talked to him earnestly, you treated him as if he was not just a celeb but a husband, how happy you always were too see him, how you always clung to his shoulders even before his boots touched the ground and how quickly you always dragged him inside worried he would get sick from the cold winds, even if he went weeks without seeing you in person you never let him see it, it was as if no matter how long it had pass you couldn’t care less, only the now you experienced together mattered.

He wondered if this was how sailors felt when they came back home after a lengthy tour, if it was warm like this.

No matter how long this had been going on for– your love was genuine, he even thought of you as a weekend masochist for putting up with his whims, but you took him as he was and that was something special… something worth keeping… worth protecting.

He could snuggle in your chest all he wanted, he knew your fingers would scratch his scalp without command, he would find your warmth either gifted by your words or your core.

A perfect spouse to him, he would whisper to himself when you slept or when he missed you, in this intimacy he knew he would stay with you, the only one who understood what this place was all about, who was this emperor’s favorite.

Now when it came to sex–the life of his concubine wasn’t sexless… you doubted the man actually lived in his actual penthouse all the way up in Vought Tower, he might use it to change suits or pick up his mail, for he would share somebody else’s bed every night, if he didn’t you would find out at the lobby, perks of knowing everybody in the building was that rumors traveled quickly and plans of actions would be organized in elevators… so your bed was not infrequent and during your weeks he would always sleep there.

You keep a spare pair of his boots and gloves that didn’t came with the apartment, which said a lot about how infrequently did he slept at his legal address and your longevity in this palace– what did came was a toothbrush, comb, some of his skincare products and extra-creamy milk restocked frequently more so these days.

These private weeks were both sugary and bitter, date nights and cuddling lazily on the couch as he spoke of his day and listened to yours, you spoke a lot catching up with lost time while he washed your back and you washed his hair, knowing he would leave soon enough and return to some girl back in the tower or go downstairs.

And as your week ended he would treat you to something adventurous.

You kissed him in the upper courtyard by the warm dim lights surrounded by whistling shrubs, the night was starting to grow cold, draping his cape around you for your comfort, he moaned as your lips suckled on his neck savoring the feel of your tongue as you drew lines on chin, slowly melting on your sweltering heat, your hand taking his thigh with a firm squeeze teasing him as they came close to his member, kissing until lips bruised and blood inked his tongue, you kissed until his jaw started to numb and his cock leaked with anticipation, being uphere where somebody might see always excited him, he had already baptized every bench in this courtyard but it didn’t lose his splendor just yet.

His hips buckle as your hand finally gave him much needed affection, hearing your muscles push as hard as they could against him, mewling as you chuckled with delight at his reactions, his eyes so hazy.

Trembling as your hand left him, you pulled at his belt watching him blush as he remembered that the one thing you lacked was super strength, you leaned back as he swiftly began to lower his tights, throwing his belt to the ground so the cold steel wouldn’t make you shudder.

His cock was hard, crying rivers into the cold wind until your lips kissed it better.

He made no attempt to conceal his moaning, growling as your teeth grazed the sensitive head, he was unapologetically loud, this was the one place where he forgo all his acting lessons, nor did you want him to be quiet it made you excited to hear him moan, he just sounded so needy– cute too… and tonite he was obscenely loud, animalistic even, grunting and growling as your drooled unto your chin and made his thigh slippery, as you took his cock down to the base, licking down his taint, he lifted his legs adjusting his position to follow your tongue, whining and panting as you pleasured him, aggressively pumping at his cock as you suck gently on his balls.

You look up from half-lid eyes drowning on your own pleasure, he came with ease coating your throat with his thick salty cum but just as quickly as he came he would come back up and just as hard as a minute ago– you made it into a game to see how many times you could make him cum before he begged you to let him do it inside you for that was the only way to kill his battery. Pumping his shaft with short and quick pump focusing on the mid-length as to deprive his crying tip taking sadistic delight in knowing that he wanted you to touch the tip immediately but being too far gone to asks for it clearly as he mumbled incoherently behind his breathy wanton, his hips following the rhythm of your hands and tongue.

A shaky smile crossed his lips as the consort took pity on him, you chuckled knowing you won an unspoken bet with your downstairs neighbor, pulling their hair out of the way as their head went up and down and lips grazed your fingers.

You climbed up letting your fellow concubine enjoy themselves in this debauchery.

Biting on his ears as you whispered what you wished to do with him, calling him by his name with a sweetness that tingled something scary inside him.

Homelander laughed weakly against you, his hand pulling on the other’s hair gently, he spouts his orders, throwing the cushions unto the ground you both give each other giddy looks as the man pulls you down with him with the last bit of composure he had before burying his face with your crotch, one hand kept your hips in place and the other held his other concubine hand, gasping against you as the other took him, you saw red– it was not a competition but you did not want him to only focus on the warm enveloping his cock.

All that filled the air were your choir of moans above his muffled coos and whines as you fucked his mouth, his tongue doing his best to keep up, eyes rolling back as you took fistfuls of his hair pulling harshly distracting him so much that he had begun to run of breath, as he ate everything and swallowed desperately, trying to concentrate on the feeling developing his tongue and lips and the sweet musky scent drowing him, fading with a twsited smile as you fucked him earnestly and harshly, he loved it when he was made into a bitch, he would never say it outloud of course– like many things in this building it went unspoken, but you could tell that all the old residents shared a certain quality to them.

Men and women who provided something everybody was afraid of giving to him before.

You’d seen him cling to men and women who wished to mark him, who told him that he was as much their property as they were his.

That proved their love was not superficial… It was genuine.

Or genuine enough for him.

He moaned and bucked his hips pathetically, yearning to reach the furthest parts of you, filling you, to feel his own cum foaming within you as he fucked you.

Moving you quickly, glad that this time he had thought ahead with these cushions for your knees would be bleeding and burning otherwise– it was all hazy at this point, all you knew was his name, the cold wind hardening your nipples, and the sound of his hips slapping into you as he whimpered with a mixture of desperation and pleasure, he finger fucked your companion, hands fucking his lover just as fast and hard to have the concubine running out of breath begging Homelander to not dare stop, making a mess of themselves on his fingers, coating them as their hole squelched and sucked him right back in, as the man grew pleased with the sight, your hands interlocked squeezing hard as they rode their orgasm to a happy end.

You caught a ruby glimpse reflecting in a metal bench nearby, you gulped knowing you had to think quickly.

Turning your face and arching your back as you begged him to hold you.

Coming loudly letting your knees and elbows give up, letting him push you down with his weight, always surprised how heavy those silly golden eagles are, you couldn’t believe his shoulders weren’t stiff 24/7, with a satisfied chuckle he waits for you both to snuggle with him.

The other urges him to take it into their apartment for it was getting cold and they sure didn’t want to catch a cold.

He half-begrudgingly agreed, wishing deep down to go a few more rounds outside but as he felt your goosebumps he took you both inside urgently.

Your hands never touched after that, Homelander ever so vigilant of both your movements, all you could do was hope the concubine would learn just how stringent and absurd John could be, fearful that anybody would dare hold affections to anybody but him.

You kissed his neck, nuzzling against him as he watched the sleeping concubine coldly, arguing with himself if they had meant to break the rules.

Whispering his name as he squeezed your stomach, soothing his unspoken anxiety he let go of those thoughts.

He returned your affections, easing into him as you fed off his warmth.

You whispered quietly, enjoying each other, easing his worries.

This was a peculiar life but in these quiet moments it was like any other.

In these moments it all felt perfectly normal, the world might never get it entirely and you yourself struggled with it at times but when you woke up to his kisses on your chest as he found a way to turn into the little spoon while the other sneaked to the toilet, you certainly didn’t want to change things.

Not one bit.

[lastoneout]

New Pinned/Intro Post!

Hi, I'm Loo(or Alex), I'm a disabled queer artist and writer as well as a furry vtuber who streams four days a week on twitch(mostly Minecraft but also Soulsborne games and a variety of other stuff).

You may know me from The Tuna Post, in which several thousand of you came together to "force" me to buy damn near 30 American Dollars worth of imported fancy canned tuna to eat and review live on stream. If you're here for it, said live review can be found on twitch and on my youtube channel. TL;DR: 10/10 would recommend.

I currently can't work, so if you like what I've got going on here and want to help me out, I take donations over on my ko-fi <3 Aside from that, follows on twitch help a lot, even if you never end up watching!

(Also, I sell my twitch emotes as stickers on redbubble!)

As a general heads up I am heavily introverted and have ADHD, and between those and my disabilities eating up my energy I often take a while to respond to messages/tags/reblogs/DMs and sometimes forget entirely. This isn't anything against you, and I'm working on it, but just something to keep in mind if you plan on interacting with me a lot.

You are welcome to put screenshots of my text posts on other sites/in your little tiktoks and youtube shorts, but I have rules.

(Note, this does not apply to my art. If I find you reposting my art I will do everything in my power to destroy you.)

Above all else, I would simply appreciate it if you asked first. I am almost always okay with this sort of thing if people are actually willing to reach out and ask permission.

Do not crop out, censor, or otherwise remove my username from the post.

If it's on a site I have an account on, I would love to be tagged in it. I'm a small creator, the boost would really help. Links are in my caard!

Do not edit the post or purposefully leave parts out, you must repost it in it's entirety with the words I actually used. The first post of mine that got big enough to get reposted ended up having an entire paragraph that summarized my point cut off, and that's just rude. (Exception: If you ask first we can talk about editing the post to remove swears and such.)

No AI. If you use AI for any part of the video I do not give you permission to use my content in any way.

FAQ:

Do you take commissions?

Not at the moment, but hopefully in the future!

What do you use for art?

Wacom Intuos tablet + Clip Studio Paint on the PC, though these days I mostly use CSP on a Samsung Galaxy Tab s6 since I can use it in bed on my low spoons days.

What do you want to go to school for?

Digital Art and American Sign Language!

You talk about being sick all the time/having health problems, what's wrong with you?

Too many things to list <3 but the most notable ones are chronic migraines, hEDS, and ADHD.

Queer?

I'm ace, bisexual, bigender, and butch. I'm also polyam but currently in a very happy monogamous relationship and don't have plans to change that. My pronouns are she/they, and while I would prefer to not have people use he/him with me you are highly encouraged to use masculine forms of address(sir, guy, dude, king, man, my guy, grandpa, dad, etc.) whenever appropriate. My assigned sex/gender at birth is none of your business.

Who's Yotsuba?

Yotsuba is an adorable little gremlin and the main character of my favorite manga, Yotsuba &!, and you should go read it right now seriously it's amazing go read it go read it GO READ IT-

What's "ask to tag"?

The tumblr equivalent of "author chose not to use archive warnings", I put it on anything that seems like it could use a trigger warning but where no one has specifically asked me to tag for that trigger yet. Things I currently (try to) tag for: flashing lights/eyestrain, insects, suicide, fatphobia/diet culture/disordered eating, my hero academia, gore/body horror, current events, us politics, politics, covid, cats, and anything nsfw goes under nsft.

I can't promise to be 100% consistent with these tho, between the ADHD and the migraines I am very forgetful, so slip ups are bound to happen.

Loo? Like the bathroom??

LOO is short for LastOneOut, I'm american and forgot people call it that, you can write it as Lou or just call me Alex if it makes you feel better.

LookingForLoo?? Like looking for the bathroom??

On websites where LastOneOut is taken I'm LookingForLoo because I'm literally looking for LOO, LastOneOut. I thought it was clever T_T

Sideblogs?

I have a nsfw alt @looafterdark (18+ only I swear to god I keep a loaded gun pointed at the follow list) and a writing inspo blog @last-scrapbook. I also once ran a couple of character ask blogs, though I don't plan on starting them up again, and I was the mod behind @pokeprofshowdown.

Who's Eugene/Ophelia/Sasha?

My ocs from an original story I'm working on. I get brainrot and post about them a lot. You are ALWAYS allowed to ask me about them!

What's your fursona/can I make art of you?

I'm a dog, kinda like a papillion but not really, and yes you may. My ref sheet is here.

Can I repost your funny text posts to twitter/insta/reddit?

Sure, all I ask is that you include the entire post and leave my username visible. You can also tag me if you want, I'm lookingforloo on twitter, insta, and reddit <3

Can I repost your art/writing?

Absolutely not.

Can I plug your art or writing into an AI program?

Absolutely not under any fucking circumstances.

Can I use your art in an amv/fandom board/as a cover for my playlist or fic/ect.?

Depends, DM me first.

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your fics/art/HCs/AUs?

Absolutely <3

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your OCs?

Art yes, fics no.

What's your stance on the discourse?

There is no amount of posting online about contentious topics that could ever match the sheer power of simply going out into your community and finding a project that helps other people that you can dedicate your time and energy to. Also wear a mask, vote(if you can), and listen to marginalized people when they speak about their experiences.

How old are you?

29

[biowaredisasterbisexual]

MUSIC SHUFFLE GAME

THE RULES: You gotta shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist on Spotify then post the first 10 songs.

Thanks so much for the tag, @hyperions-light!

So I did not follow these rules, as I do not have Spotify. Instead I condensed all the music I most commonly use for inspiration in writing Disaster Rook Universe and Disaster Rook AU stuff into one playlist and shuffled that. 🤣

Normally they’re separated into playlists based on what type of fic I’m ruminating on, so this combo deal should be unhinged.

1. Dragon Age: The Veilguard Main Theme - Hans Zimmer & Lorne Balfe

Off to a thematically appropriate start here, I suppose.

2. Rule # 34 - Fish in a Birdcage

Note: Rule #34 isn’t something I’d play at work, or in front of my kid. Just putting that out there.

We all need something to create smut to, amirite?

3. Stray Italian Greyhound - Vienna Teng

The most Neve romance song to ever Neve romance song.

4. A Study of Dock Town - Hans Zimmer & Lorne Balfe

Sometimes you just wanna ruminate on Dock Town vibes.

5. Start a Riot - DUCKWRTH & Shaboozey

Shadow Dragons let’s goooooooooo!

5. Shoot and Run - Josef Salvat

Also very Neve.

6. LoveGame - Lady Gaga

No idea why Lady Gaga’s FAME album helps with the AU so much, but such is life.

7. Trespasser - Dark Solas Theme - Trevor Morris

Oooh, that tricksy, pointy pre-omelet.

8. Glory and Gore - Lorde

Strong Neve vibes, for me. Also my husband found a lot of my Neve vibes music and made me a playlist! So thanks, babe!

9. Love and Ashes - Hans Zimmer & Lorne Balfe

I mean, I feel like this is appropriate.

10. Beautiful, Dirty, Rich - Lady Gaga

I have no defense. But AU Disaster Rook thinks it’s a bop, so there’s that.

I probably shouldn’t examine what this all says about me as a writer. (Shout out to my husband, @mageofquandrix, who found Stray Italian Greyhound for me, which is the most Neve romance song to ever Neve, in my opinion.)

Tags to: ANYONE WHO WANTS TO! Also @taashyvashedan and @vael-fire. 😁

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

first off, happy happy birthday to you!!!! Thank you for spoiling us on your birthday.

That being said, my heart is feeling angsty so I wanna request the prompt "Stop pretending that you care! We both know you don't." for a fem reader x Kid (NSFW)!

Again, happy birthday lovely! :3

Hello! @limitlesstildil thank you sooo much for your birthday wishes and for your awesome prompt! Now, I've taken some liberties with it, but I do hope you don't mind! It's now a three part fic of Highlander!Kid, sharing the spotlight with another prompt (to be seen in the last chapter). The NSFW part was pushed forward too, okay? I hope this is still okay! Thank you so much for participating! ❤️

Source for Pic

Mine to Protect

Word Count: 4969

Tags for the whole story: Highlander!Kid; Fem!Reader; Alternate Universe - Scotland 13th century; Gore; Blood; Violence; Death; Mild Angst; Fluff; Nudity; Cursing; Sexual Tension; Explicit Sexual Content; Protective!Kid; Possessive!Kid; Soft!Kid; Feral!Kid; Jealous!Kid; Happy Ending; Sort of Enemies to Lovers; Teasing; Banter; NSFW; MDNI; Mature Audiences;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Your father and his allied clans are at war, and you're a liability. When you're assigned a guard to protect you - against your will - you do everything in your power to infuriate him. The problem is that he can be more infuriating than you, as you're about to find out.

Notes: Okay... it's finally here! I coudn't hold out any longer. It turned out to be 16k words, so I've divided it in three (not equal parts because the splitting would be weird, obviously). I edited the first part and plan on editing the rest soon. I will have the entire fic out by the end of the week! Gosh... I'm very proud of this one, I do hope you enjoy, let me know!

Part 1 of 3

|Masterlist| | |Part 2| | |Part 3|

“I don't need a guard!” Your angered cry echoes down the halls of the keep, but the stationed guards at the entrance barely even flinch at your outburst since it’s a regular occurrence. 

You have been at odds with your father, the laird, since early morning and, as night approaches fast, he’s tired of arguing with you. But no matter how much you argue like a wild thing, plead as if he were a deity or present your arguments politely as a lady, he doesn’t budge.

“You need a guard!” Your father says with a firm growl of your name. “We are at war and you're an easy target, daughter!” You scoff, outraged at the insinuation. You might be a lady, but you know how to defend yourself and you’re a feisty creature. “I don't want to hear any more of what you have to say! Out with you! You'll meet your guard later.”

With a screech so loud it could make a banshee blush in embarrassment, you leave the chamber, stamping your feet like a bratty child, feeling much like one since, apparently, you need nannying. And, well, if you’re to be nannied like a baby, you might as well act like one, while you still can.

Passing by the kitchen, you grab a hemp sack and fill it with anything you can get your hands on: bread, fruit, salted meat and grains. It weighs like hell but you couldn't care less. You have a point to prove. 

You don’t need a guard. You can handle yourself.

Night falls quickly and you use the waning light of the sickle moon to guide your steps, the same ones you’ve taken since you were a child. The only difference is that now you’re facing wartime and the streets aren’t as safe as they used to be.

But the people need you and you won’t sit idly by while children starve.

-*-

He was supposed to introduce himself to you as soon as he arrived at the keep, but Kid likes to observe first, so he stuck to the shadows. Despite being big, bulky and muscular, he can move like one. When Kid spots you leaving the keep just as the moon appears in the sky, he realises you're going to be trouble. 

Kid’s sick and tired of being a nursemaid to stuck-up, entitled ladies who think they alone rule the world. Yet, here he is again, his body too broken to be a proper warrior, but not broken enough to be able to retire peacefully. 

With a heavy sigh and a curse, Kid follows you into town, all the while realising just how reckless you’re being with your actions. Your father hired him because of the war, which means nowhere is safe. Especially after nightfall. Especially if you’re a noble lady.

But you don’t seem to care.

He follows you around town while you knock on doors, delivering food and even some jewellery. He hasn’t even spoken to you and your actions are already intriguing him. He’s never met a noble lady who would willingly part with jewels, let alone give them to townspeople. 

Yet, he doesn’t let that cloud his judgement. You think you’re being inconspicuous as you parade around town wearing your expensive velvet cape, with an air about you that clearly states you’re regal. No town girl would have such perfectly braided hair, and fair skin, poised grace, and natural beauty, as well as an elegance to your movements. You’re a dead giveaway for who you are.

And that’s dangerous in these streets.

Tutting silently, Kid watches as you traverse a dark alleyway and, immediately, a group of brigands follows you, their eyes already glinting with greed and something else. Kid approaches, ready to intervene as he’s being paid to do. What he doesn’t expect, however, is the way you pull out two daggers from your thighs and start fending them off.

A grin pulls at the corner of his mouth as he realises you aren’t as defenceless as he thought you to be.

Slicing your way through the brigands, you manage to cut one on the arm and another across his torso, which only makes them more enraged, but Kid nods approvingly from the shadows. There’s more to you than just a pretty face. 

Then you make a mistake. You lose sight of the largest man in the group and he gets behind you, locking your arms and incapacitating you immediately. With a grunt, Kid pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on and grips his Lochaber axe with his good arm. Time to intervene.

It takes only the blink of an eye for him to reach you. His weak arm slams a punch to the jugular of the man pinning you, causing him to let go and fall to his knees, gasping for air. Pivoting, Kid slices another brigand with a swing of his long axe, his guts splashing to the floor with a sickening sound as the man screams himself into shock. With a thrust of the weapon, Kid immediately kills the remaining brigand by piercing his neck. 

He didn’t even break a sweat. 

“I’m not scared of you!” You say, breathing hard, pants escaping your parted lips and Kid can clearly see your fists trembling as you grip the handle of your blade. You mistook him for another brigand. Smirking, Kid takes one step forward and you gasp. “Don’t come any closer.” Your voice is firmer now, a hint of aggression in your words. Good. 

He still takes another step, and with a swing of the axe, he lunges. You shriek and tense up but open your eyes as soon as you hear another sickening slice and the unmistakable gargle of a man drowning in his own blood. Kid sliced the neck of the brigand who had pinned you at the beginning of the skirmish and was getting ready to run away.

“I said back away!” You lunge, place your foot wrong and throw your weight like an amateur. Kid scoffs and easily disarms you, raising an eyebrow as if asking if that’s all you’ve got. You huff and puff like a wild beast and lunge empty-handed this time, landing a punch on his chest which he barely feels. He chuckles again and you seethe, swinging again, trying to hit his jaw, but this time he stops your mid-air, twisting your body and pinning your arm behind your back.

“Yer swingin’ like ye’ve never thrown a proper punch, lass.”

-*-

You blush from the tips of your ears to your flaming cheeks as the man twists your arm further, making you wince. Who is he? He easily took down the brigands who attacked you, but he doesn’t look like a common thief. He moves like a warrior, even though his left arm seems slower and heavier. 

“Let me go!” You hiss, feeling his taut muscles press against your back.

“Ye did alright with the daggers, but there’s a lot to be said about yer footwork. Also…” His large, calloused hand reaches out as he pulls the hood of your cloak down, his fingers brushing against the skin of your neck. “If yer gonna walk the streets of a war-torn town at night, ya better do it dressin’ like a commoner, no’ a noble, aye, lass?”

The nerve!

“Who are you, trying to tell me what to do? Let me go, right now!” He twists your arm more, and your hiss turns into a groan, but you refuse to scream in pain. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction, though it almost feels like your arm is about to fall out of its socket. 

“Who am I?” He chuckles. “That’s rich. I’m the one who just saved yer spoiled ass from gettin’ robbed. Or worse, lassie.”

You lower yourself, sensing a slight give in your arm as he loosens his grip, and elbow him hard in the stomach as you manage to break free from his grasp, hearing him grunt slightly. “I didn’t ask for your help, you brute.” You take two steps back, swiftly scanning the floor, hoping to find your fallen dagger. Since you can’t locate it, you focus back on the enemy, and your eyes widen as you finally take a good look.

He’s huge. Tall, bulky and built like a warrior, full of scars. His eyes and his hair are what make your breath catch in your throat: they’re fiery red. 

“Ye did no’, but ye sure as hell needed it.” He grins and takes another step forward, just to see you falter. “I’m no’ gonna harm ya, lass. I’m yer new guard. Yer da hired me.” He picks up the dagger you’ve been looking for but missed and hands it to you, handle first, along with the one he took. “Eustass Kid, at yer service.” 

By the resigned sound of his voice, he’d much rather be anywhere else but here. You snatch the daggers from his hands with a scowl. You’d much rather he be anywhere else as well but, alas, here you both are. 

“I don’t need a guard.” You grimace as you manoeuvre around the dead bodies, your stomach already used to the stench of blood by now, walk around Kid, and out of the alley, not even bothering to see if he’s following you. 

But of course he is. How is he so silent when he’s built like an Angus?

“Ya sure about that, lass?” His voice is clipped and dripping with sarcasm which just makes you grit your teeth as you quicken your pace. “Seemed like ya needed one back there, nae?”

“I had it covered!” You snap back, hands balled into fists as you stomp your way back into the keep. 

“Aye, I saw. Maybe I should’ve let ya finish, then. Were ye gonna use yer witty words on them? Pray they let ya go just because ya have a sharp tongue?” He scoffs and you stop abruptly, pivoting with a finger in the air, your eyebrow raised high.

“I don’t appreciate the mockery, you don’t even know me.”

He leans down, his face inches from yours with that infuriating grin on his lips. “Aye, I know ya well enough tae paint a pretty picture, lass. Stubborn, reckless, proud.” His hand rises and he stabs a finger against your forehead, pushing you back with just the strength of that one digit. “Prancin’ around a war-torn town in fancy clothes, screamin’ yer noble and ready tae be robbed… aye, real smart, lass!”

You swat his hand away with the swing of your arm, growling as your temper flares. “You don’t know shit!”

“Ohhh.” He laughs, this time, a hearty laugh that sends a tingle down your spine. “Witty and foul-mouthed? What cannae that tongue do?”

“What am I supposed to do, then? Behave like a proper lady and stay in my keep, filling my belly while my people die of starvation? I don’t think so.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you raise your chin high, defying the infuriating man to say something else. 

“No’ what I’m sayin’, lass. But at least have some sense about it.” The grin fades and his voice hardens as he becomes serious. “There’s a war ragin’ and the street’s nae place for a noble woman. And there’s a difference between bravery and stupidity. Guess which one yer tippin’ on, right now?”

Is he serious? 

You don’t even grace that remark with a proper answer. There’s no use fighting with this man. You told your father you didn’t need a guard and he went and got you the most infuriating one of the lot!

Just my luck.

-*-

You’re so pissed that  you have a shadow following you everywhere, that you don’t leave your room for the next three days, hoping he gets bored and just leaves. 

He doesn’t.

On the fourth day you’re the one who’s bored so as the sun rises, so do you. You take your breakfast in peace, your guard nowhere to be seen because you’re in the keep where it’s safe. You can almost feel him as you walk around your own home. It’s a prickling at your nape, a sensation that makes you want to caress your neck. It tingles.

Days pass and you avoid making conversation with him at all costs. You keep running away from him, trying to evade his ever-present shadow, but you fail every time. More than once you think you finally did it, only to find him leaning against a wall –trademark, infuriating smirk in place– or for him to appear whenever you're about to be robbed. 

That is also why you now avoid going into town delivering food. The increase in attacks gives your guard the satisfaction of saving you and it only infuriates you. He shadows you everywhere, always wearing that smug smirk or his infinitely bored expression. He’s insufferable. 

The morning breaks like many others but you’re so frustrated you need to vent. So you pick up a sword and decide to take your anger out on the dummies in the courtyard. The sword feels heavy in your hands since you’re more used to daggers, but the recent attacks got you thinking that perhaps the gruff guard made a valid point. It’s wartime. Two measly daggers aren’t gonna save you. The sword might.

You start swinging, hitting the dummy but not making real damage, and then you sense him watching you. That damn prickling again, it’s like a pressing need at your nape. You let out a growl paired with a curse, and a bit of straw flies out of the dummy as you strike it again. 

“Ya swing that sword like yer holdin’ a broom.” You stop, take a deep breath and don’t turn around, going for the dummy again and trying your best to ignore the annoying prick. “Yer form’s all wrong.” He continues and so do you. Whack, whack. “That’s a good way tae get killed, lass.”

Pivoting around to face him, jaw clenched and knuckles white from gripping the sword, you show him your best leave me the fuck alone look. “If you have nothing useful to say, then stay quiet!”

“Feisty.” He replies with a chuckle and you grunt in exasperation. 

You give him a few more moments of your time, eyebrows raised in defiance as you wait for more remarks, but he raises his hands in the air and you turn your back to him, continuing your dummy slaughter. 

It doesn’t take long for him to speak again. “Yer still holdin’ it wrong. Yer gonna hurt yerself first before ye hurt someone else.” You sense him approaching but don’t turn. “But, aye, let’s just be stubborn as a mule, that also works.”

Your head whips back so fast you’re certain you pulled a muscle. “Are you calling me a mule?”

“Just sayin’ yer as stubborn as one.” He takes another step, his head leaning to the side as he observes you and you feel yourself flush under his gaze. “Yer too stiff, relax yer grip on the handle.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice.” You bite back, venom in your voice and fire in your eyes.

“Lucky ye, here I am offerin’ it just the same.”

“Screw you.” You mutter but still relax your grip on the handle as he says.

“Maybe later.” He grins as you scoff, then invades your space, his hands pushing your shoulders down, the touch sending a shock through your system. “I said relax, no’ stiffen more, lass.”

You shoot him a sideways glance but still do as he says, relaxing your shoulders and your hands. 

Then he nudges your feet with his own, spreading your legs into a wider stance. “Open yer legs wider for me lass, will ye? Now try again.” You flush crimson at the insinuation but still do as he says, though you keep grumbling. When you swing though, the hit actually cuts through the dummy and you gasp. “See? Yer actually capable.” You grin, a small smug smile curving your lips. “It’s no’ that yer a good student, I’m just a great teacher.”

And there goes your good mood.

“Insufferable.” You bite back.

“That too. But damn good.”

You stop your swing mid-air and turn to him, lifting your blade to his chest. “You know, maybe I should stop practising on dummies and start practising on you.” The smirk you give him is devious. 

“Ye cannae take me, lass.”

Glaring at him through lowered lashes, you raise your chin. “Try me.”

His eyes darken and the tingling sensation at your nape intensifies tenfold. You see him tense up but you don’t wait to see what he does next. You lunge forward, sword raised, relaxed grip and a wide stance –like he taught you just now– and he easily swings out of the way. 

With a frustrated grunt, you pivot to swing your sword to the left, where he dodged, and he evades you again, a small smirk tugging the corners of his lips. You suck a deep breath through your nose before letting it out slowly through your mouth, centering yourself. Then you swing again, leg planted firmly on the ground for support.

Kid hits your elbow from below, twisting your arm and disarms you with a quick flick of his hand –the sword clatters to the floor– then, in a second he has you in his grip, your back flushed against his chest, one of his hands at your throat and his other arm pinning you against him, rendering you immobile. 

Damn.

He’s intoxicating. His scent lingers everywhere and the warmth of his body against yours crackles and burns. 

“Yer easy.” He whispers against your ear and it’s a caress that travels down your neck, through your nipples and into your throbbing core. Fuck.

“Let me go.” Lacing your voice with authority doesn’t get you far, as your words fall empty and shaky. 

“Make me.” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, sending goosebumps down your neck. “Yer no’ as tough as you think, lass.” He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on your traitorous body, and he’s using it.

Two can play that game.

You turn your head to the side and tilt your chin up, your movements slightly constricted by the hand on your throat, and brush your lips against the exposed skin of his neck. “I’m not what?” Your hot breath fans his skin and you notice how it prickles before his jaw tightens and he loosens his hold. You use that opening to your advantage and shove him, taking a step away from him and almost gaining your freedom back –he doesn’t let you.

With a swift movement his arm envelops your waist and he pulls you to him again as you let out a frustrated groan. “It’s over, lass. Yer done.” There’s more gruffness in his voice now.

“I’m not done until I say I am.” You bite back, struggling to free yourself but he’s not even making an effort to hold you against him. 

“Yer stubborn.”

“Aye! We’ve established that already. It also means I’m tenacious!”

“Ya dinnae know when tae quit, nor when tae ask for help.” He twists you in his arms with surprising ease and now you’re facing him as he places his hands on your shoulders. “Ye need tae learn tae trust someone besides yerself.”

“Trust you?” You begin and thank the gods your voice is still stable.

“Aye. I’m here tae protect ya.”

You scoff and turn your eyes away from him, his words hitting too close to the mark, making you uncomfortable. You don’t need guards and you definitely don’t need Eustass Kid as your guard. 

“You’re the last person I would trust.”

Kid removes his hands from your shoulders and takes a step back. His jaw ticks and clenches as he nods. 

“Understandable. I’ll be around, anyway, lass.”

He turns to leave and your body suddenly feels cold, though it’s still tingling from the earlier blaze. His words hang heavy in the air around you. Trust. How can you trust somebody other than yourself if you’ve been doing that your whole life?

-*-

Weeks pass and you’re getting more used to Kid being your shadow. You fight like cats and dogs. He’s insufferable and you’re, in his words, a brat. No accidents have happened while you deliver food and money to the surrounding towns, but you know that’s because nobody dares to attack you while Kid is around. His imposing figure is threat enough for any brigand who wishes to rob you. 

You train a few more times with him watching but he doesn’t give you any more pointers and you start to think that maybe it was your trust comment that got him angry at you. 

Like I care.

You try to fool yourself, but you do care. He’s not the best company but he’s not the worst. If you take away the amused snickers, the mocking undertones in his words, or his gruffness, he’s perfectly tolerable. Though he gets under your skin like no one else.

That, and the tingling sensation that doesn’t seem to go away. To add to it, there’s also a throbbing of need in your core that nights alone, pleasuring yourself, cannot push away. You hate the fact that you loathe your guard almost as much as you desire him, and that alone drives you insane. You're hyper-aware of the way his muscles flex as he moves, the grunts he releases when he exerts himself and his strong scent of steel, sweat and leather. Even worse, all you can think about is how those muscles would flex as he handles your body, or how his grunts would sound as he sinks deep into you and how you'd be smelling him on yourself afterwards. It's overwhelming. 

There's the heat and throbbing again, at your core, in your nipples, everywhere! Fuck. 

“Lass?” His voice near your ear almost releases an unbridled moan from you, since you were lost in thought, so you groan and get up from the dining table where you were reading some letters, stomping your foot. 

“I’m going to bed!”

You don’t even look back at him. 

-*-

You retired early but sleep doesn't come easily. You overheard your father's meeting today and learned that there's been unrest at the borders and another clan abandoned your cause to join the opposing army. 

You're concocting a plan to gather information from the warfront that could tip the scales of the war, and if all goes well, you'll have it by the end of the week. 

You toss again in your bed, kicking the covers off with a loud groan. It's unusually hot for the middle of the night. The window is open but there's hardly any breeze, making it difficult to sleep. It doesn't help that your mind keeps drifting to an insufferable redhead –and how there's just a wall separating you. 

Eventually sleep claims you, and you drift into a dreamless slumber. 

You're jolted awake by a calloused hand clamped over your mouth, as another rips the front of your nightgown. You try to scream as you open your eyes, meeting the lecherous gaze of a scrawny, dark-haired man. He’s trying to grope you as his filthy fingers press against your lips with such force, you're sure they will leave bruises. 

If you survive. 

“Aye, bonnie lass, keep thrashing. I don't like it when lasses lose their fight.” He's untying his breeches with one hand, pinning your arms beneath his legs, his weight pressing down on your torso, and panic floods you. You need to make noise. It's the only way to alert Kid. “I was gonna just rob ya, but ye looked so pretty with yer legs bare. I had to touch ya.” 

His hand leaves his pants to grope your bare thigh and you whimper. Then you remember that you can fight back and bite down hard on the hand that's covering your mouth. He yanks his hand back with a yelp, and – gagging at the lingering taste– you take advantage of the distraction and unbalance him. Grabbing the oil lamp from the bedside table, you smash it against his head, scattering scalding oil over his head, your hand, and legs.

The pained groan that escapes your lips brings tears to your eyes as your skin begins to burn and blister. The bastard is in worse shape, but you don’t look too long. Swinging your aching legs to the side, you try to get up and away from him, but he pins you again, spittle flying from his mouth as he leans closer, the angry red welts from the oil are already forming blisters across his face. 

“Burn me ya bitch? Ye’ll pay for this!” 

But before he can act, the door crashes open, nearly flying off its hinges, and Kid enters, his eyes burning with rage as soon as he sets eyes on the scene unfolding in front of him. He’s shirtless and you can’t help but gasp at the enormous scars covering his torso and left arm –a continuation of the ones trailing down his face and neck, scars you hadn’t yet seen. 

“Get the fuck away from her.” His growl vibrates low and deadly and you sense the man shiver for a second. He yanks you up, his filthy hand clawing at your exposed chest, forcing your back against him as he cowers behind you. A small dagger presses against your throat, and you immediately feel a trickle of hot blood running down your neck.

Kid growls again, a feral sound that bristles the hairs in your body and you smell urine as the man behind you leaks his bladder with fear. “Don’t come any closer!” He squeaks, pressing the dagger harder and you whimper softly at the sting of the blade.

Kid hesitates, then stops. One hand grabs his Lochaber axe, the other, a small dagger. You lock eyes with him and then you lower them to the dagger he’s holding, a steely determination purses your lips and you hope he understands you. “Kid, I trust you.” 

He exhales a breath, flips the dagger in his hand, catching it by the tip, and throws it in your direction. It takes a blink of an eye for you to hear the sickening thud as the blade pierces the man’s skull through the forehead, killing him instantly. Then it takes you another blink of an eye to waver forward and away from the man’s crumpling, smelly body, but in less than that time, Kid is by your side, holding you, pulling you against him with another one of his wordless grunts that, somehow, tells you much more about his relief than his words ever would. 

“Lass, yer alright?” His clipped tone masks the slight quiver in his voice, but it’s there, barely noticeable. You nod, still too shocked with what happened to do much more and Kid sits you on the bed, settling beside you. The man must’ve entered through the open window, you think, as Kid fumbles with your bedcovers, pulling a blanket loose and draping it over you. It dawns on you that your breasts were exposed and you should care, but you don’t. 

As the fabric brushes the blisters on your hands and legs, you hiss, jerking slightly. Kid’s eyes trace the red welts marking your skin. Each new one he finds just deepens his scowl. “Fucker.”

“It’s fine.” You say. “I’ll put some honey and knitbone poultice on it. It will heal.” 

“Lass…” His tone softens as his rough hands gently touch your cheeks on the area near your mouth, clearly seeing the beginnings of the bruise the man’s fingers left there. He tips your chin up to inspect the small cut the man’s dagger left on your throat. “Ye did well, but ye’ve been through hell. Let’s get ya cleaned up.” He tries to move you but you shake your head, your breath coming in gasps as the shock sets in. Kid grips your shoulders, trying to ground you. “Oi, oi, it’s over, look at me lass. Look at me.”

Tears stream down your face, blurring your vision, but you focus on his fiery eyes, your lifeline in the midst of a violent storm. “Ye did well. Ye defended yerself. But I’m here for ye, I told ye.” His hand moves up, the caress lingering softly against your cheek, a gentle contrast to his usual harshness. “Dinnae try tae do everythin’ yer own. Ask for help. I’m here for ye.”

A ragged sob makes your lips tremble and you shake your head, swatting his hand away with more force than necessary. “Stop pretending that you care! We both know you don't. You're just a hired sword and I’m a spoiled brat. So stop trying to make me feel better!”

Your breathing quickens as your heart hammers in your chest. The tears don’t stop, everything hurts and you feel so alone. You decided to trust him and he didn’t fail you so why do you feel like this? 

Because he’s paid to protect you. He’s paid to take care of you. He doesn’t really care.

Suddenly Kid leans forward, pulling you against his chest, his hand cradling your head as his lips brush the crown of your head. You cry, releasing hot tears against his bare skin. 

It’s comforting.

“I care.” He says softly, barely a whisper against your hair. “Yer mine tae protect.” A few moments pass in silence and comfort, only broken by your sobs and sniffs. The keep is quiet. You thought you’d screamed loud enough to wake the townspeople, let alone the whole house. But you must’ve been quiet, for only Kid heard you.

Kid cares. 

He cares for you.

To Be Continued...

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia

|Part 2|

[hitching-hyacinth]

Hey all, who wants me to draw your blorbos sneezing? Or tied up, or both, or something not horny, whatever your heart desires?

In addition to the above prices!

+ 50% for each additional character after the first

+ $15 for a background beyond a gradient

+ $5 - $50 for tricky bits and bobs (difficult poses, heavy detail, etc)

Won't/don't know how to draw:

fanart (sorry)

furries, mechs, other very not-human blorbos (light anthro like ears, horns, tails, etc. is doable!)

genitals (bush is fine, as is waist-up nudity) or, like, full-on sex. think of the example pic with the blue background as the upper limit for nsfw-ness

heavy gore (some blood and bruising is fine)

kinks/fetishes other than snz/illness (no emeto), bondage, and/or D/s (no judgement, I just don't feel comfortable personally!)

DM me if you're interested!

Reblogs very much appreciated to spread the word (but only to snz/kink blogs please)! I hope to draw many beautiful blorbos Suffering and/or being comforted <3 You can see more of my art under the #blep tag on this blog!

[scuttling]

I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 3

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 4,323 Tags: 18+, NSFW in later chapters, it's gonna get real nasty, Canon blood and gore Summary: Sookie's cousin returns to Bon Temps, and Eric wants her... to work for him.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

A week later, she gets her first call from Fangtasia—but it’s Eric's colleague Pam, not Eric, who makes the call. She says it’s urgent, but that she can’t give any details, so Cam throws on a pair of jeans and boots, a black high-neck tank, and drives to the bar. When she gets out of her car, Eric is standing there, waiting in the parking lot. 

“Camila. Come with me,” he murmurs, taking her arm; instead of guiding her toward the front door, his long legs head for the sidewalk, and he walks her down the block—away from the bar and, she guesses, prying vampire ears.

“What’s going on?” she whispers, curious, and he moves his hand to her back casually, like he’s hoping they’ll look more like any couple walking down the street and less like he’s abducted her or something. He leans in so she can hear him better.

“There is a group of nomads visiting from Florida, and they passed through another area on the way here. The sheriff of that area has reason to believe they’re holding a human against his will.”

Cam nods. Kidnapping a human is not a mortal offense in most areas, but it is frowned upon by those who wish to assimilate, live semi-normal lives. It’s certainly punishable here, if they can prove it.

“And if they are—what will you do?” Her eyes flick up to his face, and he appears bored by her question, maybe even a little irritated.

“We will glamour the human and send him home, then arrange for the sheriff to come and collect his prisoners. You can drive the human personally, if that would make you feel better,” he says, looking down at her; his tone borders on condescending, and she rolls her eyes.

“I just wanted to make sure justice will be served for the crime. You’ll have to get used to my inquisitive nature, if you plan to utilize my gift,” she reminds him, and he exhales slowly. He turns them around and they head down the street, back toward the bar. 

“In time, you’ll find I’m a very effective sheriff. You don’t have to be worried about whether or not I punish those who deserve it.”

Despite her previous question, she has no doubts about that—but she remembers from experience that vampires tend to leave humans in the dark by default, and she needs to know what she’s getting into if she’s going to be such a powerful sheriff’s pawn.

“Who will I be listening to?” she asks, because he already knows vampires are pretty much a no-go, but he clearly thinks she’s going to be up to this challenge.

“There is an entourage made up of vampires and human companions alike. I’m hoping the humans will give it away.”

“And how will I let you know if I discover something? We haven’t discussed that part, and I like to be prepared,” she tells him, trying to keep up with his steps. It feels like they’re on The West Wing, or something dramatic like that. “Code word? Text message?”

“Let’s say text message, for now,” he decides. She can see the neon lights of the club as they approach the parking lot, and Eric removes his hand from her back and looks down at her. “I’m going to be walking around, so if you sense danger…” 

“I’ll let you know. Telepath’s honor,” she says with a satirical tip of her head, and he opens the door, his expression unchanging. She walks a few feet inside the club, past bouncers who already know her as some kind of employee, and when she turns back to thank him for the briefing, Eric is gone.

Unconcerned by his swift and mysterious disappearance, she makes her way to the bar and orders a drink, perching on a stool as she waits for it. After the bartender slides it toward her, she makes a show of sipping it, tipping her head back so her throat is exposed, and a vampire beside her growls low. He’s got a shaved head and soft, pillowy lips, and if she were here for pleasure, she’d seriously consider it.  

Since she’s not, she stands and heads toward the back of the bar, where Pam is playing hostess to the group of nomads. She takes stock of them—three men, two women, all supernaturally gorgeous—and infers from the way they’re watching over a group of half-naked, dancing humans that those are the companions she’s expected to listen to. She weaves her way into the crowd and sidles up to a young man with soft looking brown hair and clear green eyes, then hip-checks him. It’s not hard, but it gets him to look back, and she smiles apologetically. 

“Sorry, hon!” she says, and he mouths no problem and reaches a hand out to her. She takes it, letting him spin her around, and when he releases his hold she leans in, her voice slightly raised so he can hear her over the music. “Hey, I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new in town?” He smiles and shakes his head. 

“Not from here, just passing through. I’m Shane.” 

“Cam,” she replies, and she glances around at the others, raises her eyebrows. “These your friends?”

“More like family,” he says, and his smile grows wide, fond. “We travel together, you know? We’re the family we chose.” 

“That sounds awesome, actually,” she replies, adding a bit of wistfulness to her voice. “I’ve always been jealous of people like you—people who are brave enough to lay their own path, make their own choices.” Shane ducks his head like he’s embarrassed about what he plans to share next. 

“It wasn’t easy. I had to completely cut ties with my homophobic parents, work two, sometimes three shit jobs to make enough money just to live. I was exhausted, depressed… and then I met Clive, and everything just kind of fell into place.” His gaze drifts to one of the vampires, a short, blond man with warm brown eyes, and the devotion he has for him is clear. And real, no glamouring or threatening or fear poisoning Shane’s thoughts. 

“I can tell you really love him,” she says aloud. She scans the minds of the other humans surrounding him, and none of them are glamoured, either. They think a lot about blood and sex, but they’re here of their own free will, hedonism aside. More than that, they’re happy, well taken care of. Content.

“Yeah,” Shane says, something like yearning in his voice, and then he looks back at her, his eyes soft. “Do you want to come with us? We’re heading to Tennessee next. There’s always room for one more, and you seem really nice.” Surprised, she looks away from the group and tilts her head, shows him a gentle smile. 

“No, I don’t think so, but it’s kind of you to offer. There might be more for me here than I think.” Cam reaches out to take his hand and squeezes it, just to be sure—and everything he’s said is true, from the pain to the pleasure. As she sifts through his memories more carefully, she’s hit with a warm rush of pride for this man she barely even knows. “Take care of yourself, Shane.”

“You too, Cam—good luck!” he calls out as she walks away.

She makes it to the bar, orders another drink, but she doesn't have a chance to pull out her phone to text Eric: he just shows up, arms folded in front of him, leaning against the stool beside her.

“You think the human wants to be here? That he’s… in love?” he asks, looking out over the crowd, at the visiting clan. Cam turns toward him, nods softly.

“Yeah, seems like it. I didn’t talk to that one directly, but from what I gathered, it’s his ex who's causing trouble with the sheriff. She wasn’t being kind to him, and the vampire in the red dress?” She takes a sip of her drink and gestures to a statuesque brunette, standing with a dark haired man she knows to be the human in question. “She convinced him to leave, to join them. It’s been six months, and he’s never been happier.”

“Interesting,” Eric murmurs, almost under his breath. “Humans never cease to surprise me, even after all this time.”

“What do you mean?” He looks over at her for the first time, and she raises her eyebrow, puzzled. “You didn’t think humans were capable of loving vampires?” He clears his throat.

“I knew they claimed it, but I assumed it had more to do with the high, the pleasure, than anything else. The way you describe it, their feelings seem deeper. Genuine.” 

She’s not sure what he’s getting at—does he think humans are inferior, incapable of such emotion, or that vampires are simply unworthy of receiving it? Rather than start that kind of debate, with her employer, in a packed nightclub, she takes a deep breath and exhales long.

“That’s what I felt when I read their minds, and I’ve read love before. I know when it’s genuine.” She takes another sip of her martini, and slowly, like he’s carefully considering her words, Eric nods. 

“Have you ever been in love?” he asks, and again, not really a topic she wants to discuss with anyone, but especially not him… 

So she’s not quite sure why she answers. “In hindsight, I’d have to say no. It’s not that I haven’t had relationships—I have, and I’ve been… infatuated, lustful, frenzied… but I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” He looks into her eyes, almost through them, like he’s trying to determine if she’s being honest with him—and she is, she really is. “Have you ever been in love?” she asks in return, but Eric straightens then, rests his hand on the bar, and looks back at the crowd.

“You did very well tonight. Thank you,” he says with just a glance in her direction before he strides over to the group of nomads. Because she can take a hint, she finishes her drink, pays her tab, and goes home. 

When she checks her banking app the next morning, there is a $500 transfer from the Fangtasia account. 

Not too bad for an hour of her time.

Cam goes to see Tara at work later in the week, sidling up to the bar in a leather jacket and jeans, a contented smile on her face. Even though Merlotte’s wasn’t around the last time she lived in Bon Temps, it still provides nostalgic, homey comfort somewhere in her mind. Sam nods at her and smiles.

“Well hey there, Cam. What can I get ya?” he asks, tossing a bar towel over his flannel-clad shoulder. Tara doesn’t turn at his greeting, because she’s concentrating on pouring a line of even shots, so Cam slides onto a stool and sets her phone down on the bar.

“Hi, Sam. I’ll take a Stella, please, and that hot bartender’s phone number.” 

Her teasing tone finally gets Tara to look at her over her shoulder, her answering grin bright. 

��I hear you over there, you little creature of the night,” Tara jokes back, “and if Sam would take these over to table four for me, I can get that beer for one of my best friends in the world, who I missed very much.” 

She lays it on thick, clearly trying to guilt trip him, and Sam doesn’t need to be asked twice, just chuckles and takes the tray of shots from her hands. There’s a little bit of lingering eye contact there that Cam doesn’t think she’s imagining—and she’s definitely not imagining the way Tara checks out his ass as he goes. 

Cam clears her throat.

“So, Cami Reyes, as I live and breathe,” Tara says when that moment is broken and her gaze returns to Cam’s. If she noticed Cam watching her, she doesn’t say. “You finally get a break from all that vampire business?”

“This week has been pretty light, actually. I took care of some daytime administrative stuff for the club, listened to a few minds, the usual,” she says with a smile. Tara grabs a glass and pours her a golden lager from the tap, capped off with a thick, white head of foam. Cam takes the glass appreciatively and sips it long and slow. “Mmm. Thank you. Have you been busy here?” she asks, looking around at the booming bar. 

“Busier than I’d like to be, some nights,” Tara says with a sigh of exasperation. “We’re still lookin' for another bartender to cover Thursdays and Fridays—I’ve been workin' overtime as a favor to Sam.” Tara looks over at her boss, her eyes tracking him as he wipes his hands on a towel and walks back into the office area. Cam hums.

“That’s good of you. He seems like a great guy,” she says lightly, leading, and takes another sip of her beer. Tara purses her lips like she’s trying to hold back a smirk. 

“Yeah, he’s real nice. Good guy to work for,” she responds; Cam narrows her eyes at her, and after a moment, Tara narrows hers back. “What, are you readin’ my mind or somethin’?” Cam’s palms go up instinctively.

“You know I would never… but asking me that question means there’s something in your mind to read.” She lowers her hands and raises her eyebrows, takes another drink. “Just saying.”

“Just sayin’ nothin’, Cami. I’m allowed to have secrets too; I mean, I’m not the one who up and left Louisiana and didn’t come back for ten whole years,” she says, hands moving to her hips. Her tone is wounded, and a little accusatory, and Cam sighs, guilt climbing up her throat.

“I know, and I’m sorry, Tara. I missed it here, I really did—but work got crazy, and I got sucked into some shit, and I’m finally out of it. I’m here now,” she reminds her, tone lightening, and she reaches out her hands to take one of Tara’s. Thankfully, her friend doesn’t pull away. “And I’m not leaving Louisiana any time soon, I promise.” 

It hurts Cam to say it, even though she has no intentions of leaving the area again—enough people have failed Tara, disappointed her, and the last thing she wants is to be added to that list. She couldn’t bear it. 

Tara nods slowly, then puts her other hand on top of Cam’s and squeezes. 

“I’m not mad, I’m just glad you’re back, is all. It wasn’t the same without you. Charlie’s Angels with only two just isn’t right,” she adds, calling back to the old nickname Gran used for the three of them. Cam fondly remembers the summers when they’d get up at dawn and run around town all day together, eating penny candy and popsicles from the ice cream truck until their teeth were sore and their tongues were blue. 

Tara squeezes her hands again, then releases them and grabs a bowl of potato chips, places it next to Cam’s glass.

“So… vampire rights attorney,” Tara drawls as Cam plucks a couple of chips from the bowl, crunching on them. Cam raises her brow, chews, and Tara shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, I think Bill’s okay and all, but do you really think they need our help? They can snap anyone’s neck they feel like; maybe you should be lookin’ out for the little guy.” 

“Oh, I do that too,” Cam assures her, washing the salt down with another sip of beer. “But you might be surprised at how often vampires are falsely accused of crimes—then again, maybe you wouldn’t be,” she says pointedly, and Tara sighs, nodding like she gets it. Cam continues on. “They’re people too, and they need someone looking out for them. Not many of us are willing to stick out our necks—no pun intended,” she adds with a grin. Tara rolls her eyes, but it’s all in good fun, and then Cam’s phone buzzes on the table beside her. 

“I know you don’t have a boyfriend, or I’d be hearin’ about him, so… vampire business?” Tara asks as Cam reaches for the phone. Her eyes flick over the screen.

“Vampire business,” she confirms as she reads over the text—it’s a set of coordinates, and clicking the link automatically opens her Maps app, its pin located in what appears to be the middle of the woods not far from Sam’s bar. She finishes the last glug of her beer and stands up, pulls a $20 bill from her pocket and lays it on the counter. Tara opens her mouth to protest, but Cam just raises a finger. “You’re the best bartender in the world, you deserve it—and you can use it to take me to dinner next week, somewhere you don’t work.” 

“Alright, alright, it’s a date. But you better get goin',” Tara replies, waving a hand in her friend’s direction. “I’ll text you my schedule. Don’t get yourself eaten!” 

Cam waves back and slips out the front door, holding her phone up in front of her so she can follow the app’s projected path. Her eyes quickly adjust to the dark, the soles of her boots making soft sounds against damp earth and foliage, but she stops in surprise about a mile in, when she sees a bright white beam of light, and then the repetitive flashing of police blue-and-reds. 

Eric appears next to her, like always, and she grabs the sleeve of his jacket. “What are we doing here?” she hisses under her breath as she scans the area, clocks at least 10 officials who actually belong at what is clearly an active crime scene. Eric places his palm against the middle of her back and slowly guides her toward a plain-clothes cop. 

“Detective Graham and I have an agreement. When he comes across an unusual death, he calls me.” As they approach the detective, a man in his fifties with sandy hair and late-night stubble, Cam notices a white sheet draped over an oddly shaped mound—a vaguely human-shaped mound, which leaves bright red splotches that soak and bleed into the sheet near the bottom hem. “Camila,” Eric says suddenly, which causes her to look up from the unknown mass like a spell broken, “I have to warn you: the victim here has been cut in half, and the police have only located the top half of her body. If you think you can’t handle it–”

“I can handle it,” she responds, her voice soft but sure, and he nods and reaches out his hand when he’s close enough to shake the detective’s. 

“Mr. Northman, pleasure,” Detective Graham greets roughly, though he doesn’t sound as if he means it. His eyes move from Eric’s to Cam’s, and he scrutinizes her face. “This your psychic?” 

“She is,” Eric replies coolly. “Her name is Camila Reyes… And, unfortunately, with the victim in this state, I’m afraid she’s going to need to touch the body.”

The detective heaves a deep, unhappy breath. 

“You gotta know how this looks to the rest of the guys already, me bringin' in a vampire and a psychic,” Graham says, shaking his head. “But sure, why not. Let’s tamper with evidence while we’re at it.” 

“I don’t intend to alter the scene in any way, Detective,” Cam assures, stepping forward and letting her eyes roam over the clearing, “and I assume your techs have already taken fingerprints, trace samples, if they found any.” Her gaze flicks over to a small group of tired looking officers wearing Crime Scene jackets and sipping coffee from a thermos; they clearly have nothing better to do at the moment, which means all that can be done has been completed already. “You can take mine to rule me out, if you’d like.”

“You a cop?” Graham asks gruffly, watching her as she appraises the scene, the unsettled earth around the body, the trail of blood that tells them she was cut in half elsewhere and dragged to this spot. Cam shakes her head, then crouches down and lifts a corner of the sheet to look at their victim’s face.

“Lawyer,” she answers, and she does her best to school her expression; the dead woman looks to be in her forties, white, with jet black hair and a set of golden eyes that are wide and unmoving. She’s naked, and her body is shredded at the torso—not a clean incision like she’d expect from a serial killer, someone with practice severing limbs. There are no marks on her face or arms, just ragged cuts along her weeping, empty midsection. “Imprecise, savage bisection, teeth marks, organs have been removed,” she notes, and she looks up at Eric, wondering if he’ll attribute this to the same killer she’s picturing. 

“Werewolf,” he answers seriously, and she nods once, glad they’re on the same page. Graham splutters. 

“I’m sorry, werewolf?” he asks, incredulous. “Don’t tell me those things are real too.” Cam just shrugs—she’s been on this end of many a supernatural revelation before, nothing you can say really helps—and presses her hand to the cold skin of the victim’s arm. 

Memories flash through her mind, some older, though the more recent ones are what she’s looking for. A man frequents those, someone tall and tan with copper-colored hair and a sweet smile, but he dissolves quickly into feelings of rage and sadness, loss, heartbreak. There is vindication, elation, and then abruptly, nothing. Cam pulls her hand away, covers the woman’s face, and stands. 

“Her mate was killed, and she went after the pack for revenge. It seems like she killed one of theirs and they returned the favor. You’re going to want to rule this an accident,” she tells the detective as she walks toward them, and he crosses his arms in front of him, his expression closed off and irritated.

“Like hell—we have trace evidence.”

“And I can tell you exactly what your lab will find when they process it: no fingerprints, no fibers,” she lists, ticking off her fingers as she goes. “Saliva will be canine, hair will be canine. You won’t be able to match a weapon to the wounds, and either the DA will drop your case right there, or,” she adds, pausing for effect, “if you flip a coin and decide to go the dental impression route, the teeth will be canine, too. The ME will consult the Department of Wildlife and determine that your attacker is something larger than the local coyote population, but slightly smaller than a black bear.”

“We could interview her known acquaintances, find someone with a motive,” Graham counters, and though Eric looks like he’s about to step in, Cam continues, her tone more sympathetic.

“No offense, Detective, but you didn’t know werewolves existed five minutes ago. How do you plan to locate a pack, infiltrate it, and arrest whoever is responsible? And even if you did find the pack, any good defense attorney would destroy you in court if all you have is evidence of an animal attack.” She doesn’t need to use her ability to know that his resolve is waning, so she does decide to pull Eric in for backup, and she gestures to him. “Eric has power here, as sheriff. He can appeal to the werewolf council, provide them with the evidence. If they determine a crime has been committed, they’ll punish the offending parties themselves.”

“If they determine a crime has been committed?” the detective asks, pointing to the half a body. “I think it’s pretty goddamn clear that’s what happened here.”

“Werewolf law is more eye-for-an-eye than human justice,” Eric explains. “If they can defend the killing because she eliminated one of their own, everyone involved just moves on.”

“And as for getting answers for her family,” Cam adds, stepping back in, “believe me, they already know. I’d guess they already found the other half of her body, and they’ll take it up with the council too.”

Graham exhales, raises his eyes to the sky, and then drops them back to Cam’s face.

“You know a lot about werewolves for a big-city lawyer,” he says eventually, and then he looks to Eric and back to the victim. “I’m going to run those samples, and if you’re right, we’ll rule it an animal attack. I’ll keep you updated, Mr. Northman,” he says, reaching out a hand, and the two of them shake before parting. “And I appreciate your expertise, Ms. Reyes, even if I’m not too fond of the outcome.” He reaches a hand out for her as well, and she shakes it before watching him walk back to the bank of squad cars across the clearing. 

Eric reaches out to touch Cam’s shoulder, and they turn, start walking back the way she came. 

“Well done,” he tells her as they traipse through the underbrush. She looks up at him through the corner of her eye. 

“Thanks… although, I know you were testing me,” she says. Eric hums, a thoughtful noise, and nods his head. 

“I figured you’d catch on to that. I need to know I can count on you,” he admits, reaching out to lift a low-hanging branch so it doesn’t smack her in the face. “And because it seems that this area is in the middle of some kind of lycanthropic territory dispute, I wanted to see what you knew about creatures other than vampires.”

“That’s fair, I guess,” she acquiesces, taking the path in front of them. “For the record, I’ve dealt with vampires, werewolves, witches, shifters, druids, fairies… anything else we run across, you’ll have to give me the CliffsNotes version.” 

Eric pauses and looks over at her, and she stops too, nearly holding in her breath; having his full attention on her, even in the dark, makes her head buzz and her stomach flip. She wets her lips.

“I’m not familiar with Cliff,” he says after a moment of scrutinizing her face, “but I am happy to give you anything you need.”

[stanley-the-coolest]

Triggering things I will talk about on this blog include: Self harm, suicidal thoughts, gore, and trauma!

HIIIII <3

I’m Stanley or whatever the fuck, I’m Genderfuild trans masc :]

Chance is when I change my name again this won’t change to match :3

I am most likey autistic or have adhd or both or whatever. People keep asking me why I’m not diagnosed when I tell them I’m not autistic but never been checked so to get em to stfu I’m putting this here

I am a MINOR

(15)

I am okay with interacting with people over the age of 18 though, and I do sometimes make NSFW jokes.

Just because I am a child doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes make inappropriate content or comments.

I like a lot of stuff :3! I also occasionally draw and will doodle basically whatever you want as long as I have the time and energy! Just send in an ask!

I am a darkshipper, which means I ship toxic or abusive ships. I am NOT a proshipper. They are different. Please do NOT follow me if your account is primarily about Incest or Minor/Adult ships. I am NOT okay with them.

v keep reading for other basic info about me and my blog :D

Current interests

- Sanders sides

- Cookie Run Kingdom (CRK)

- Lego Monkie Kid (LMK)

- Simon Snow Triliogy

- D/QSMP

My blog is safe to;

Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, aces, aros, aroaces, omni, pan, etc etc

Non binary folks, binary folks, transgenders, genderfuilds, creatures

Therians, furries, alterhumans (?)

Age regressors, caregivers

People with mental illnesses

People with mental disorders

Darkshippers! People who ship toxic or abusive ships, not to be confused with proshippers.

And more, if you’re not safe here, trust me you’ll know :] (/srs)

My blog is NOT safe to:

Pedos

Therians/Furries/Alterhumans who engage in fucking animals. JUST. No.

Anyone who fucks animals

TERFS. Gtfo :3

Anyone who insists talking about politics.

People who don’t like billford (/j)

Anyone who excludes others because of their religion/gender/sexuality/age/race/etc to be discriminatory reasons.

Racists, homophobes, transphobes, facists, bigots, etc

Feminists who advocate for equal rights but continually put men down and are just terrible to men and act like women deserve everything and men deserve nothing. (Thats not equal rights hunny, thats just the majority of society but in reverse. You’re just as bad as people who advocate for the opposite)

Pro-life people… uherm…

People who use slurs, uhh yucky, no thanks

Pst, if you’re here after seeing an rp request post of mine send me a ❤️ to tell me you actually looked at this :]

Whoo, now that thats done

I do occasionally use tone tags, though not all the time! If you’re having trouble understanding my tone JUST ASK. Do not assume. I am very light hearted and I’m always messing around, typically after some time most people tend to pick up on my tone, I totally understand if you need a tag to help out and I’m more than willing to give it to you :D.

Do not assume I will use tone tags every sentence though, I will not.

Sorry this is a mess, but I’m a mess :D