#yes even the tiny pebbles

[nightfurycyare]

The start of a new journey

[tonyglowheart]

next batch of dudes I ordered are here!! and only mostly shook up lol, but I suppose that is to be expected. I have, though, once again fallen prey to the "but what is scale, exactly" lol

the black echeveria is beautiful, yes, but. oh my god so much bigger than I was expecting.....

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. Smut with a tiny plot, breeding kink, alcohol mention, rough unprotected sex, manhandling, somnophilia (tiny bit) etc.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @anitalenia ✨

It was supposed to be fun. Your new friendship with Logan. he was your neighbour after all. Always polite, quiet and observing. He was a grumpy oldman who never liked too much noise or lots of people around. Always wanting to be left alone but tonight pages turned. He’d drive you somewhere when needed because that was his occupation anyways— his bones ached when he walked. Tiredness clearly visible on his face when he opened the door to your house, yes you gave him a key in case of an emergency. He just had needs…needs like any other man would have. Usually he’d drink his needs and feelings away but tonight he wanted his prize. Your cunt. God he smelled it every time you were around him, he loved the smell of your arousal.

Upon entering your bedroom, he found you sleeping peacefully on your bed. One leg draped out of the covers revealing your smooth naked legs and your butt. You wore a thong, a pink one to be exact. Logan has never been to your room before and he found it quite cosy. Your bed looked so comfy with you in it. Opening his tie, he sighed softly. Cock resting heavily in his pants, wanting out and wanting you even dribbling with some pre cum. God you made him so hard. Your little tank top was the cutest— he could see your pebbled nipples underneath were you dreaming something nice? A little whimper left your lips as you turned on your belly practically giving him an invitation to pull you to edge of the bed and pound you silly. Nostrils parting your pussy smelled so good, just by seeing it his body surged with more need for you.

Leaving the door partly open, Logan watched you sleep. Swallowing thickly the way you rubbed your little cunt against the sheets he could see those folds making that thong wet. You dreamed something nice weren’t you? He couldn’t contain himself anymore, so he pulled you to the edge of the bed by your ankle. You whined, resting your cheek on the sheets. His large calloused palm covered your ass giving you a little squeeze before pulling your thong to the side checking your entrance and you were soaked. You whimpered a little louder pleasure travelling deeply to your core. You willingly pushed against his hand as if you wanted to rub your tiny cunt on his fingers that had his breath hitch. “little slut aren’t you bub?” your response was another whine and he couldn’t deny it.

His cock was so painfully hard, the red mushroom tip swollen pre cum decorating the slit once he freed himself out fisting his angry cock. “Fuck..” he breathed pulling your ass up your knees ended up being on the edge of the bed. Your eyes fluttered open the moment you felt him breach your drooling cunt open “mr-mr howlett” you let out a broken whimper clenching your fists in the sheets “can’t help it princess.. need to fucking ruin this cunt” he let out a shaky breath sinking to the depths of your wet mound. “oh my goshh” You cried out in the sheets. Feeling him grab your waist holding you sliding out living the tip in and pushing back in you. your eyes rolled back and your only response was a loud mewl. “lookatcha bub archin your back like a needy kitten” praising you his lips parted as you clenched your pussy around his cock. The warmth in your belly getting stronger with every thrusts and his pace quickened, your slick making a mess on your inner thighs and his balls the way they clapped your clit god they were heavy “daddy” you were too fucked out to care “yeah? callin this old man daddy?” his thrusts became stronger and harder holding your ass on his hands pounding your quicker tipping his head back slightly to breathe out his pleasure snapping his hips against your jiggly ass. “Yes yes! you’re my daddy” you cried into the sheets legs trembling but logan hovered above you. Hands flat on the bed nose buried in your hair as he pounded into you. His chest making a contact with your back you arched your ass even more for him making his cock slide deeper in you nestling against your sweet spot trembling harder. Your moans undeniably loud, Logan’s breath was so raged as he continued to pound you harder, faster until you creamed his cock cumming hard with tears pooling in your eyes. His lips parted following his orgasm chasing it until shoving his length in you and cumming violently. It felt so good to flood your cunt with his cum, a broken whimper followed out of your lips. You have never been pounded this way— exhaustion washed over you. “best cunt I’ve ever fucked, princess” he kissed the top of your head breathlessly.

“Mmm..” you smiled.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 | 𝐂.𝐒 ♡

Day Twenty - Priest/Demon Au

【Synopsis】 : There was a demon on the loose. Wreaking havoc in the small village that San was a priest in. And little did Father San know is that the creature was a lot closer than he would think.

『Word count』 :  4.03k

-> Genre: 18+ Supernatural. Angst. Gore. Suggestive.

Pairing: Priest!San x Female!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Blood. Gore. Mentions of assult. Weapons. Demons and angels. Religion. Death. Making out. Sinning. Dirty thoughts. Thick flirtatious tension. Listen, I was deep in my feelings when i wrote this argh.

Note: Thank you to my dearest @skteezcursed for the help in this fic. Our late night brainstorms are always my favourite thing to do, hehe. ♡♡♡

Networks: @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober list | Tip Jar ♡

San paced around his office, feeling himself grow more and more frustrated as the minutes progressed. He had been in this tiny, god-forsaken town for the past three months, searching far and wide, under every rock and pebble, and still, he was not any closer to finding this wandering demon. His agency had put him undercover as the new priest in the local church since sadly the old one had passed away from sudden circumstances, which San later found to be the said demon’s doing. He had hopes to find the creature and kill it before it hurt anyone else, but sadly, the challenge seemed bigger than he anticipated.

Placing his hands on the large spruce table, he takes in all his notes for the millionth time. The demon had a distinctive pattern, killing only men, twenty-five and over, locally born, ranging from all classes and backgrounds. But what did they all have in common? Why did the creature choose these men in particular? What was the trigger? San felt like he was about to rip his hair out if he couldn’t figure it out by the end of the fourth month. He slammed his hand down onto the table in a fit of rage. Feeling the heat shift into his spine at the thought, the demon could be anyone. That he had passed by it without knowing. It could stand right in front of him, and he had already probably missed it.

“Father…” Your sweet velvet tone snapped him from his thoughts. You were tightly holding onto your bible with one hand against your chest, prayer beads lacing through your fingers while your other hand held the large door open. Your expression was filled with innocence and worry. “I heard noises. I… Are you okay?” 

His heart skips at you, the sweet church girl, his face tainting a dusty pink ever so slightly. “Uh.. Yes. I'm just…working.” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. He wouldn't admit it, but through these past months, he had fallen quite infatuated with you. Your smile began an addiction he sought out every day. 

Every early morning, you came into the church alone to pray before skipping to his office to ask if he needed any help. You were so kind and caring in welcoming him into the community. Making sure he had everything he could ever need shortly after he arrived. You were the only good thing to seemingly come out of this dull, mopey town. 

Looking at you cautiously step into the room, your eyes wandering to the decoration on the shelf that you had no doubt memorised already, an idea came flooding into his head. You were locally born, as far as he was aware. And you know of everyone, so maybe he needed to gather some intel from an inside source and who then, you, the sweet sunshine that cascaded over the grey hills of this village. “Actually… I would like to ask you a question.”

You stopped in your tracks to glance over at the man, showing no sign of any emotion. You were still, pondering even. Your eyes wide and curious but your lips held in a thin firm line. “Ask away, father.”

He almost lost the question from his shuttered tongue as he watched your mouth creep up into a loving smile. But alas, he cleared his throat, quickly looking down to graze over his notes. “I must confess something…”

Your body tingled in inquisitiveness, taking a step closer. “Yes…” you bit your lip slightly, fiddling with the beads in your tight grasp.

“I am not just a priest. I am a hunter of sorts.” He lifted up a piece of paper for you to take in your free hand, letting you look it over. The paper was old, aged marking the edges and face. It was information about demonology. Words that seemed to pop out the most on the page were ‘dangerous’, ‘demon’, ‘sinful’. This thing... This demonic creature was in your home, killing the men of your village. One by one.

“...So it’s true. There is devil work lurking in the town.” You gulped your hands, shaking slightly, handing the piece of parchment back to San. “Is anyone else aware of this?”

“No. You are the first and only person I’ll tell. This town doesn’t need to start going on witch hunts to try and find the creatures themselves.” San pinched his nose, just imagining it gave him a headache. He let out a sigh, picking up a few more sheets to place in front of you, "This is all I know. I was sent here to capture and eradicate the beast that has been luring men into the outwest woods. But for the life of me, I can't find the connection to all of the victims other than them being male."

You looked over all the names, reading each autopsy report carefully. Your mind to a thought, no, it couldn't be.. could it? Looking up at San, you gulped. "Umm, F-father."

"Please just call me San." He grunted, tugging on his white band around his neck, feeling himself grow hot being frustrated and also being near you.

"I think I know the connection..." You picked up another piece of paper scanning while San stared at you intensely, waiting for you to proceed. "The first five victims. They had been accused of misconduct prior to their deaths."

You pointed to one of the names showing San, "For example, John Hart, he was reported for beating his wife." You pointed to another name further down the list, "Edward Smith's wife called assault on his husband, saying he raped his daughter, but there wasn't any evidence."

You turned the paper back to yourself, raking your hand through your hair, "All of these men have either beaten, assaulted, and raped women or have been accused of it."

San slumped down on his seat in defeat. A conflict shadowing in his view. All these men were pigs. That was the connection. "Great, so I have a demon playing god and smiting men for misdeeds...perfect." he placed his palm on his face, groaning in annoyance.

"What are you going to do now, fath—I mean San?" You took a seat on one of the chairs opposite the deck, resting your bible down on your lap as you sat up straight.

San clicked his tongue, glancing at you for a moment. He wasn't going to lie to himself. The way you said his name was music to his ears. A tone he would never get tired of. But he shook his thoughts to look at the papers littering his desk. "We're gonna catch a demon.”

Following the next few days, every evening you and San would meet up to discuss the case while also slowly gathering materials for the trap. You had told San any more information you’ve heard or if you heard of any more allegations about any of the town's men. Luckily no one had spread any new rumours about anyone which was good, leaving you both to focus on the task at hand. Capturing and then eradicating the demon. One particularly cold evening, you and San had spent a little bit too long searching through town books, not taking any notice of the sun lying to rest. It was only when you started to feel the chill on your exposed arms that you gazed out the window, seeing nothing but pitch night.

“When did it become so late?” Your voice barely above a whisper. San, who was only a few feet beside you, looked up from the book in his lap, suddenly feeling the coldness creep down his spine. 

"We should call it a night." San slammed the book a little too harshly, making you jump. He caught your reaction but decided it was best to bite his tongue. Instead, he stood up, holding his hand out for you to take, "I'll walk you out."

You took his hand gently, your soft skin making him gulp. The touch of you was electrifying, like a thousand little fireworks going off at once in his chest. His fingers wrapped tightly around yours, tugging you up off the library floor, but his tug was a little bit forceful, causing you to be pulled flushed against his chest. Your free hand coming up to brace yourself on his chest. "F-father."

"I told you to call me San. Please. I'm just San." He whispered his breath, pooling against your cheek. He watched the blush taint your cute features, your eyes widening as he inched closer. You smelt firewood, vanilla, and a beautiful mixture of floral scents. You were intoxicating.

"San...We are still in the church." You murmured, eyes slowly fluttering as you let him creep closer until his lips were a brush away. Your hand that landed on his chest lowered, feeling his strong muscles underneath his robes.

"I know..." He grunted through his nose. He snaked his hand from your wrist to your upper arm before taking place on the back of your neck while his other found place on your hip. "We aren't doing anything sinful."

"Hmm, but your thoughts would say otherwise." You smiled.

"You have no idea what I'm thinking about." He chuckled, his lips brushing against yours.

"I could take a guess.” You closed your eyes, sealing your lips on his, feeling an overwhelment of sparks crackling down your spine. San grunted through his nose as the kiss became rougher. His fingers tangled into strands of hair on the nape of our neck, while he swallowed every whimper and moan from you. It was like you were a deliciously wicked sweet treat. 

Forbidden fruit he was not allowed to taste.

He couldn’t explain it but it was like you were the only thing that mattered the minute he met you. Like you were the puzzle piece he had been missing “S-san” You tried to pull away from him but his grip was firm on you, “We are going to…” You felt his tongue against your mouth, “Get..c-caught.” You couldn’t help but smile beneath the desperate kiss.

He finally pulled away, groaning in disappointment. “I know…” He sighed letting his grip loosen. Your hands snaked up his body gently before you pulled away entirely.

“Walk me out?” You suggested what he had asked moments prior. San couldn’t help but feel himself grow in his slacks as he gazed upon your swollen lips and dishevelled hair. You were stunning in every possible way. He walked with you to the front of the church, his hand grazing your own every time your arms swung a little too close to one another. San felt like a schoolboy all over again, walking next to the girl he had a crush on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” San smiled bittersweetly, turning to face you completely. You faced him also, shyly looking up at him with your cheeks tainted red.

"Tomorrow, San." You gave him a soft smile. Your fingers tangle with themselves as you patiently wait for him to say goodbye first. 

"Well, sleep well. I'll see you tomorrow..." The way your name fell from his lips made your heart thump as you nodded, leaning up to kiss his cheek gently. He swore he felt a tingle dance from where you place your lips on his cheek. Walking off into the village towards your home, san never took his eyes off you until you were out of sight. 

"Lord..." He sighed, feeling himself breathing properly for the first time all day. He felt a twinge in his body at the loss of your scent, but alas, he had work to do if he wanted to catch this creature. But a part of him began to second guess himself. Yes, demons are bad, killing anything they want. But this demon. It had a reason. And a stupidly good one for that matter.

It annoyed him at the confliction. All demons are bad. Right? They lust for blood and chaos. Nothing more, nothing less. As he stepped back into the large church entrance, his mind spun from all the thoughts. Something was wrong with this whole thing. Something he had missed, maybe? Pinching his nose, he felt lightheaded. His fingers danced around his nostrils, suddenly gasping. "Blood?"

Looking up to the aisle in the middle of the church, he saw the moon start to pool into the room through the round window by the altar. And then, as he took another step, his mind snapped. His eyes clouded over with black, and he fell towards the floor.

He was out like a light.

When San awoke, he could feel the stiffness in his neck. He must have been out a while. Groaning, he held his head as he slowly sat up. But what caught him off guard was he wasn't sitting where he fell. He had moved? Looking around his fuzzy eyes, he noticed he was right on the altar, leaning against the lectern.

Looking around, he tries to get his bearings. Noticing the moon has reached its peak, shining through the top window, indicating it was almost midnight. He had been passed out for almost two or three hours give or take. But what caught his attention was the overwhelming smell of iron. He touched the top of his lip, feeling the blood from his nose had dried. But this blood smelt fresh like it was right behind him...

In horror, he turned his head to see the gruesome sight that anchored his mind in dread—a lifeless man strung up on the cross behind him, the body pallid and still. A choked gasp escaped him, slamming his hand over his mouth as the image in front of him flooded his conscience. He went to move, but that was when he noticed his legs were bound. He struggled against him, confusion spiralling into terror. What was going on?

Just then, the church doors creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped inside. It was you, but the tender girl he had come to love now had an aura that chilled him to the bone. Her once bright eyes were shadowed, and your skin was tainted in a light shade of pink. "San!!"

You ran over to him. This is when he could finally see you properly in the moonlight. Little horns poked from the top of your head. "San. I thought... You're okay." You sighed, your voice sounding different. It was smoother, seductive almost, lacing with an otherworldly quality.

"What is this? What’s happened?” he stammered, heart pounding painfully in his chest. You were a demon. A lust demon to be exact. He'd never met a succubus in real life before, but he knew what they looked like through details in his demonology. 

"I don't know. I got a letter saying you were hurt and needed my help." Your voice cracked as you reached for his bonds, but when your skin touched them, it stung, burning your skin. They were cursed? "W-who did this?"

"I could ask you that." San's bitterness caught you off guard. 

"W-what do..." You looked down and saw your hands were shaded in pink, and in a flash, you ran for the silverware on the table seeing your distorted reflection. "Y-you can see me..."

"Yes.." San replied coldly and conflicted. How could you, of all people be a creature of the damned. 

"San, listen, please. I'm not the demon you've been trying to catch, I swear." You kneeled back down to him, but he shuffled away, making your heart flinch. "I've watched you since the moment you came into this town. Your love, your promises, and your weakness. You want to save things. Not kill them. You are caring. That is how I fell in love with you.”

"Love? Demons can not do such things." San's voice felt like venom on your skin, making tears pool in your eyes.

"They...I can. I did. You changed that for me." 

“No, I—I thought you were human,” he gasped, memories of laughter and warmth filling his mind, only to be replaced by dread. He missed so many signs. From the smell of you to the way you had with words. You were using him.

"San, I wasn't, I swear to you. I might be a monster, but I've never hurt anyone." You interrupted his thoughts, shuffling closer, your presence both magnetic and terrifying to San. "Please, San, you have to believe me."

San wrestled with his emotions as the reality of your true nature engulfed him. Were the demon he had been searching for, cleverly disguised and lurking in the heart of the town, feeding on the very compassion and affection he thought in no way could lead to sin? Or were you telling the truth? Were you just an innocent creature caught in the crossfire?

Looking at you, he can see the swirls of pink and crimson mixing with your human eye colour. The sweetness he fell for was still there. "I believe you."

You jumped into his arms, tears spilling down your hit cheeks as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

As the church pulsed with an otherworldly energy, San realised he had known he made a daring choice—not to fight or falter but to embrace the truth of who he was, who you were. Life wasn't all black and white. There were beautiful shades of grey that he never took the moment to gaze at before. He took a deep breath, taking in your sweet familiar scent before pulling you up by your chin to stare into the eyes of the creature he thought he had fallen in love with.

"I was wrong about you. I'm sorry." He declared, a newfound resolve gripping his heart as he smiled at you. But before you could say anything, a new voice. A deeper one echoed in the cold eerie church.

“No, Father. You are wrong. But not for what you think.” The man's voice was a cruel tone, dark and chilling. Both of you snapped your gaze to him, seeing he was not alone. Two other men were trailing close behind him. "And here I thought you wouldn't succumb to her charms..." His face was finally revealed in the light. "My best hunter."

"Winlock?" San's voice was laced with confusion. His mentor? "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, San. For an expert hunter, you never really got the wit down, did you?" The man chuckled, making the other two follow suit like some perfect chimed robots. Winlocks gaze glances at the hanging corpse, still hammered into the cross. He couldn't help but click his tongue.

"You know it almost pained me to kill these men. But desperate times called for desperate measures." The older man cracked his knuckles as he paced slightly. You shuffled closer to San, cuddling desperately next to him. For the first time in all your life, you felt fear.

With all San's strength, he pushed against the ropes, his spirit igniting in defiance. In this moment of battle between light and dark, he defied the very nature of the demon that he loves and found the depths of the confrontation. He felt a flicker of the love he had for you, now intertwined with anger and betrayal from his mentor, another he had loved in a way. Whatever you were, he no longer cared. No, all he wanted was you safe. Little did you know, you could hear San's thoughts loud and clear, pooling into your brain like a tidal.

"We've been looking for her for years. Laying traps, but no matter what we did, she wouldn't take the bait. That was until we found out she wasn't like other demons..." 

Without dropping your eyes from the man, you placed your hand just over the bounds on San. You began to focus on the ropes, whispering an incantation in your head over and over. 

"She's also a witch." Winlock snarked, snapping his fingers. One of the men quickly made his way over to you while the other seemingly grabbed out a book from the satchel that hung over his shoulder.

"S-san. SAN!!" The man grabbed you by the horns, yanking you backwards before dragging you towards Winlock. You cried out, trashing against his hold. San went to stand, but the bounds were still tight, and no matter how many times he tried to grab the rope, it burnt him.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" San barked.

"Awe, San. You really are a stupid little boy." Winlock grabbed the book from his henchman, flicking through the pages with a cynical smile. "Out of everything you could have done. Falling for a beast was not what I thought you'd do."

"She's not a beast!!" San could feel a tear break in his eyes as he watched you weep in pain as the grip on your sensitive horns tightened. Your claws scratch at the man's hands, but he doesn't move as if he wasn't affected by his flesh being ripped by your sharp nails.

"Well, this was all fun and all. But I think we should call it a night. I gotta thank you, though, San. Without you, we would have never caught her." Winlock began reading a page from the book aloud, the enchantment caught your attention, making you do as much as you possibly could to look over at San.

Covered in blood, tears staining his sharp features. Your heart broke as you hiccuped, "I'm sorry, San. I...I love you." It might have been too early to say it, but you didn't know when you'd ever be able to say it again.

"No no no no. Please. I love you." He grabbed his bounds, his hand sizzling against the cursed rope, "Winlock, don't do this. She's not a monster... you can't."

Winlock did stop his incantation as the floor began to shake, and the night started to stir. That's when the man behind Winlock stepped forward with a thick leather band in his hand. The man that held you tilted your head to the side, giving access for the man to click the collar in place. That was when San knew what Winlock was doing to you. He was bounding you.

"I'll find you..." Your name rang in the air as San cried, "I'll find you and break you free."

It was your turn to cry, hearing his thoughts. There was no doubt in his mind, nothing but determination and honesty in his words. "I'll wait for you."

The sound of the book being slammed closed reverberated against the walls. Yours and Sans's eyes snapped back to Winlock seeing him pull out a gun, "You should have said that San." His voice was cold, with his eyes empty.

Silence fell as the fire from the gunshot rang in your ears. Blood spilled out of San’s mouth as he choked it all over the altar. You screamed, a noise so loud it would shatter the hearts in a mile radius. The floor beneath you shook, cracking before opening. The last thing you could see before the floor swallowed you whole was your lover, dying on the doorstep of the religion he so desperately trusted.

San laid on his back, the wound in his chest spluttering the crimson liquid into the carpet. He could see the moon above him. Feeling the light raze on his skin. His eyes closed for a moment, taking in the tingling feeling. There was no more pain. Sadness washed away with every drop of blood that fell onto the stairs, and then he whispered out a stutter before taking his last breath.

"Forgive me, lord... I have sinned.”

[drgnflyteabox]

lament [1]

part one -> honey || part two -> tbd

series masterlist

pairing: john price x fem reader summary: as you recover from prolonged illness, you meet a man on a hike in the woods just as strange things begin happening around you. tags/warnings: creepy / horror vibes, slowburn, phone sex, masturbation, injuries, mention of hospitals, pneumonia, mobility aids, softdom!price (for now), dubcon due to intoxication, tags will update as the story does w.c: 5.9k

The woods are a peaceful, meditative thing. You’ve been spending your mornings there walking with Diva, meandering through the local trails and venturing off for pictures of red mushrooms or Diva in her little yellow raincoat, sniffing something or other.

The trails were scarcely used and took a couple of hours to finish, a longer trek in taller trees that closed off the sunlight and created peace through insulation, like an echo chamber of wet pitter patter from rain the night before and the gentle calls of birds, broken only by the sounds of your hiking shoes crunching gently through pebbles and leaves.

Quiet. It’s just what you need, slowly erasing memories of bright fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptics. The trail isn’t elevated, it’s long, but not elevated. That’s important for your recovery, two months spent in a hospital bed attached to breathing apparatus.

Relief, freedom, as slow as your steps are and as beleaguered is your breathing, it’s pure relief. You’re no longer breathing through a straw, building strength walk by walk, spending time with Diva and watching her little tail wiggle under her coat. This time is good for her, too. You could sink to your knees and praise a higher being for the time off and sick pay policies your job has - so could Diva.

The shaking continues, your limbs still weak, muscles unused to standing and walking. You often find yourself sitting, on a log or a rock, and taking time to breathe and recover. Sometimes a granola bar makes its way into the mix, sometimes a handful of trail mix.

The last few times, there’s been a man. Tall, imposing, walking much quicker than you even with a brace around his knee. His posture tells you he takes himself pretty seriously, or he’s military, if there’s any difference.

Mutton chops, mustache, cargo pants. He’s been coming up behind you with sure steps, barely a limp even with his knee, and going by you so fast there's a breeze, makes you a little nervous to get mowed down.

Diva is weary of him. Her hackles raise, though she doesn’t bark, and she tucks close to you when he goes by. You don't feel unsafe, just a little surprised at the break in monotony no matter how tiny it is.

Doesn’t help that it’s pretty nice watching him go, that broad back and tight shirt, those well sculpted legs. Hey, you’re still sick and weak, still recovering. Sue me, you think, leaning on a tree when your lungs start burning again a little too much.

He stops, a few feet in front of you.

“You broken?” His voice is just as you imagined, rough maybe from smoking, maybe from overuse.

“What?” Broken?

“You alright?” He repeats, turning then. The quiet is a little oppressive now, with your struggle. You’re wheezing.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine-” you cough, dryly. “Just asthmatic.” It’s an easy explanation, you’re trying to get him to move on. You’ve never felt in danger, but it’s still the middle of the woods and he’s still a strange man.

“Need a hand?” He has to look down at you, even from a distance. His head is tilted down, arms folding across his chest, biceps calling to you like sirens.

You shake your head, squatting down as best you can, taking the breaths learned from your doctor and pulling out your steroid inhaler. One puff, two puff.

The man looks at you skeptically, eyes small and narrowed, flitting once to Diva who would fail as a service dog, but tries her best at guarding you despite being so small. Her gaze is pinpointed to him, as stiff as he is.

”Right, then,” is all he says before he’s back to his soldiers march.

You imagine him with horse blinders on and pulling a sled behind him, wheezing a laugh into the empty air.

Recovery is not linear. That’s what your doctor tells you, what you were told before you left the ICU, before you were discharged all together. There’ll be ups and downs, moments where you feel you’ve backslid to the point of having to start all over.

You get it, really. It’s a mantra. Recovery is not linear.

What they don't warn you is that it’s different when you’re actually feeling it, waking up weaker than ever and coughing, burning in your chest. It’s jarring, every cell in your body crying for oxygen and yet you aren’t low enough that you need to go back to the ER, just sit up in bed and stare out the window to the fortress of green that surrounds your house.

Recovery is not linear. You watch comfort shows - animated Halloween specials, a couple months too early. They fit the cooling temperatures, the slow yellowing of the trees.

Food is hard when you can’t stand for long periods of time, so you order in. Soup, and an extra chicken crunch treat for Diva on her dinner.

It’s only when you turn Charlie Brown off that you hear it.

Tap tap tap. Deliberate, timed taps, like a mini hammer on a mini nail. Quiet enough that your ears strain, and yet you can just barely catch the sound. It’s coming from the side of your house, opposite to your bedroom and closest to the living room you were just in.

Tap tap tap. Maybe it’s the vibe you put yourself in, but you shiver with apprehension. Could be an animal, you do live fairly far out, and by the woods. Your driveway is long, separated from the highway just outside of town.

Diva is usually a false alarm - she raises her hackles at the stove, she’s not trustworthy when it comes to alerting you. And yet you look, and find her standing straight up and staring at the wall the sound is coming from, lips peeling back.

Only there's nothing you can do. You aren’t gonna go check, not with your weak limbs and thin breath. Theres a landline in the kitchen with a long cord, and your cellphone. The best you can do is lock the windows and doors, which you do, shuffling so as to make the least amount of noise possible.

Next the lights and curtains, drawn and shut. You tuck a knife under your mattress, more for reassurance than anything, and close your bedroom door behind Diva.

The only reason you’re able to sleep is the bedroom door locks. The handle has one, and there’s a chain above that. You tuck into bed under the covers like a child hiding from their closet, straining to hear the tap tap tap. Sometime between you locking all the entries and exits, it stopped, but you’re still unmoored.

Your lungs fare better the next morning, eased by rest. You’re back in the woods by late morning, driving up to the trailhead through the canopy of trees. It really is beautiful, part of the reason you moved here, other than peace and quiet.

There's another car as you pull up, a reliable model in a dark colour, a surprise since you’re usually the first one there. 

You park away from it in an effort to not be creepy, but still sneak a peak while Diva does her post-car ride shakeout and pee.

It’s the man from before, sitting in the front seat, talking on a phone. He looks serious, frowning, talking in a measured way but you can still hear the volume as you pass by.

He waves, and you wave back, giving him a little smile.

Diva leads the way, prancing into the woods without fear even as the leaves start blocking out the sun. She inspires you - a little dog, brave, braver than you were last night.

God, it was probably a rabbit or a possum stuck somewhere. Maybe a mouse, and though you hope it isn’t it is the season for them. Cooler temperatures means creatures trying to enter your house. Means you have yet to drive down to town and pick up insulation supplies for your windows before fall really hits and you’re freezing.

Making a mental note of that, you lean heavily on your walking stick and pause. It’s one of those days, needing more aid than usual after yesterday and more breaks.

Crunch.

“Sorry, honey,” the army man holds his arms up, seeming sheepish as you flip around to face him. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “Just jumpy today.”

“That’s alright,” his eyes crinkle at the corners, softening at the edges. He’s approachable today, not speed walking through the woods like there's a pot of gold at the end. “Mind if I join you?”

Unexpected, but with your eyes at pec-height it’s an easy yes. You deserve a handsome escort for the second half of the trail, and your emergency alarm is tucked in your front sweater pocket if you need it.

“Sure,” you nod. “I’m pretty slow, though, just to warn you. Recovering.”

“That’s fine, I should be taking it easier anyway. Make my physio happy for once,” he gestures to his knee with a chuckle. “John.”

You tell him your name. John. It suits him, the masculinity of it, the simpleness too. He gives the impression that he’s careful about how he presents himself, that outside of this sudden friendliness he’s very closed off - the way he was when you’d come across him before. Now he calls you honey, and touches his fingertips to your back as you navigate a patch of rough terrain warped by roots.

“I’m off until my knee is battle-ready, again,” he says it like it’s a joke, but there’s a steel edge beneath his words. You ask about his job: contract work, he says, not self-employed but with pockets of free time.

“Did you move here recently?” The wind shivers the trees, chillier than last week, as you meander.

“Ah, didn’t move here,” he scratches his thumb with his nose. “Staying with a friend. Needed the fresh air.”

“I get it,” your shoulder brushes his arm. “That’s why I moved here too.”

“Helps your asthma?”

You pause for a moment, confused. And then.

“Oh!” You’re a little embarrassed. “I don’t have asthma, actually. I mean I could have it, or develop it. But really I had pneumonia for a while, really wiped me out.”

“Ah, I see,” his voice says surprised, but his face stays the same. You wonder if he notices. “Terrible, that. My mum had a bad bout of it a couple years back, gave us a scare.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” you aren’t sure how old John is, but you can assume it was dangerous for his mother to have caught such a bad infection. “How’s she doing now?”

“Much better. Healthy as a goat.”

“A goat?” You’re laughing, then. A giggle that has him smiling back at you. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

John hums when he doesn’t reply verbally, and nods like you’re giving a university lecture. The attentiveness is nice, but it makes you self conscious, unused to having so much attention so focused on you. And he is so focused, like you’re discussing nuclear launch codes or what a quark is or something important. Honestly, it makes you hide your face in an embarrassingly shy way, avoiding eye contact.

He walks with you slowly, patiently down the path, arms crossed behind his back. Every once in a while either or the two of you laugh, which seems to bother Diva, whose been looking back at John suspiciously or trying to get between you the whole time.

“So sorry about that,” you really don’t know what’s gotten into her. Sure, she’s a pro at finding innocuous things suspicious, but you’ve been walking for a while now and she usually warms up when she realizes you’re okay with the offensive person or item.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” honey again. He sure knows how to make a lady flustered. “She’s just looking out for her mama, right?”

If your pussy reacts to that, it’s no one’s business but your own.

The air chills, day by day. John has begun joining you on your walks every other day, and sometimes you catch him jogging to the trailhead from the road instead of driving it. It makes you wonder where he’s, whether it’s close or he’s really pushing his knee, and whether or not he’s flirting with you when he shows up all sweaty in a tight shirt.

Another anomaly is that the tapping has returned, nearly every night. You’re scared every time, won’t even let Diva out for a final pee and have stuck to walking up at the buttcrack of dawn to make sure she’s taken care of.

Tedious, is what it is. Ridiculous. And yet when those little taps come, in different places around the house now, different walls, you hide under the covers with Diva growling her little growl at the bedroom door and try to sleep.

When cabin fever starts to set in, anxiety and insane thoughts like, what if someone is trying to break into my house? You decide it’s past time for a visit to town.

The trip serves many purposes, anyways. Diva needs treats, kibble, and a new ball. You need groceries, tampons, new socks. Overall worth it outside of the fresh air and human interaction with more than just one person.

“Hey! Hey you!”

You’re in the bakery, weighing with your hands two loaves of artisanal bread. Just the one will do, since your freezer is small, but you want both. Pumpernickel or dark rye? Which will go better with the honey ham sandwich slices?

“Hello? Earth to-”

Your deliberation is interrupted by a waving in your face. You realize Jo, your only real friend in town, has run across the street to catch your attention.

“Oh gosh, my bad,” you look down at your shoes, then reach for a hug. She squeezes you.

“That’s okay, babe, off in your own world?” She’s dazzling, too cute for such a small town. Her ringlets bounce on her shoulders and her mouth, which is always smiling, is stretched wide with mirth. Makes you feel warm inside that she cares for you.

“Trying to make a hard decision. You know, end world hunger or stop all wars.” Stupid, but she laughs. You love making her laugh, and if you were lesbian you’d have made a move on her. Maybe you were, just a little.

“Why not both?” Her hands find your shoulders and squeeze. It’s then that you notice someone behind her, a much taller someone. At first the muscled chest and thick neck make you think it’s John, and a small squeeze of jealousy grips your stomach.

Then you see the mohawk, the difference in height. This man is looking at you with a similar intensity, though, all piercing blue eyes, thick furrowed brows, pin-straight posture.

“You’re right,” your laugh is more awkward, then, motioning with your eyes to the man.

“Oh, I’m so rude,” she turns to him. “This is Johnny, we met a few weeks ago.”

A wink. Ah, they met a few weeks ago. You picture them in the only bar in town, low lighting and Jo looking like Botticelli’s Venus, plump cheeks and red lips. And yeah, Johnny’s pretty good looking. You’d laugh about the mixup and the names if it wasn’t rude.

“Nice tae meet ya,” his accent is thick, palm warm and rough against yours. “Shall we, lass?”

He’s talking to Jo. They exchange glances, him looking at you once so fast you almost miss it. There’s something uncomfortably familiar about the look he gives you, but you shake it off. Nerves, you think. From the taps.

“Right,” Jo looks a little sheepish, then. “We’re off to the movies, but nice to see you!”

You raise a brow. You can’t help it, it’s 10am. Jo laughs and they leave.

You bake, sometimes. It’s a good hobby for someone on a leave of absence with nothing much else to do but read, walk and play with her dog.

The oven sometimes scares Diva, and she curls up in your room indignantly until you’re done using it. You’ve always wondered why, since she came to you as a puppy and hasn’t got a single reason to be upset with the appliance. 

Oh well.

You decide to bring brown butter chocolate chip cookies on your hike, hoping to see John and give him one. Your interactions haven’t progressed past leisurely chatting and walking together, but he’s a handsome man and you're still a little stir-crazy. At least with work, it wasn’t just hours on hours of uninterrupted alone time.

Funny how that works, isn’t it? You spend every day at work wishing not to be at work, and once you have the opportunity you have no idea what to do with yourself.

John loves the cookies. He takes two right out of the Tupperware, flattering you by groaning as he eats. The recipe is that good, but you think he might be putting it on a bit anyway.

It’s sweet.

“Fantastic,” he says, licking his fingers. You try not to look. “You bake often?”

“Just something to do, keeps me busy.” Diva has growled at John again, her second offense. She’s being a real heel today, rude and fussy. You elect to schedule a vet visit for a checkup soon.

“No one to keep you company in that house?” He stops when you need to stop, takes the opportunity to stretch his bad leg.

“What?” You take a puff of the inhaler, frowning a little.

“Are you lonely?” A weird question, but you chalk it up to small town weirdness.

“A little, but that one over there keeps me company,” as if she knows, she turns and yips. “What do you mean, that house?”

“You mentioned you live in your grandfather's house, no? Inherited it.” He chuckles at Diva.

“Did I? I don’t think…” you fully frown, thinking back to your conversations. Did you mention that? You haven’t even thought of it yourself for a while, not wanting to revisit painful memories. Your grandpa did pass you his house, but you’re usually more private than offering more than surface-level information to strangers.

“I believe so,” he looks deep in thought himself, squinting up at the umbrella of trees above you. That comforts you, the fact that he’s trying to recall. You’ve been so anxious lately.

“I must have forgotten, sorry. I’ve just been so scrambled lately.” John perks up at that, turning towards you as you finally continue walking.

“Scrambled?” His palm finds the back of your arm, the meat of it. He squeezes you, and it fills you with warmth. “How so?”

“Ah, well, just some animals around my house. I think,” you meet eyes, and he gets the best of you, so you elect to stare between his brows.

“Want me to take a look?” His tone is very serious. You shiver.

“I don’t think it’s necessary… I think there’s just some mice making a home for winter. I gotta call an expert,” He slides his hand down to your elbow, holding it gently. You’re nearing the end of the trail, the woods getting brighter around you. Diva marks her territory here more than anywhere else and yips at John again. 

“I could do it for free though, honey,” the air drops where you are, a gust of wind creating a symphony of sound all around you. A little romantic, you think. Ridiculous.

“Well,” far be it from you to pass up free help. “Only if you let me pay you back somehow.” 

“You have already,” he holds up the cookie Tupperware, shaking it gently. 

“Then let me make you dinner. Whatever you want!” The enthusiasm in which you say it has you cringing at yourself, but mentally you justify it; it’s completely normal to invite a friend over, especially to pay back a favour. You’re not being obvious that you’re attracted to him at all, no sir. Definitely not scared and in need of comfort, Mr John sir. 

“Sounds like a plan. I’m free after 7 o’clock.”

You elect to be cliche and make British food. Good British food, a proper roast. Something you’d had a few times with friends in pubs or that time you’d visited London as an exchange student. Hot, smothered in gravy, salty and perfect with a mug of beer British food. You really hope he likes it, that he doesn't think you’re weird or making fun of him for his accent.

John is a proper gentleman, so punctual that he knocks on your door the very second it turns to 7:30 on your oven timer.

Diva has to battle her hatred of the stove with her need to announce a guest, staying in hallway purgatory barking at both.

The smell of garlicky roast beef, rosemary and thyme, salt and boiling potatoes is rife in the air, no doubt spilling into the woods through your badly insulated windows.

The moment it hits John, you can see it. Your door opens, creaking, and his eyes fix to you so quickly it’s almost physical.

“Hey! Thanks for coming,” you open it, motioning for him to come in. “Don’t mind Diva, she’s not a fan of the oven being on.”

He toes his boots off, still staring, like you’re a prize heifer and he’s set on buying you at the farm auction. A little sexy, mostly nerve wracking. Diva peeks around the corner at him and the sound of her little nails on the hardwood breaks the tension.

“Smells like home,” he leans closer to you to put his coat up on the rack. “You really went through all this trouble?”

“It’s the least I can do for your help.” At that moment, he seems to remember.

“Right, the mice. Want to show me where you heard them, or can I not steal you away from the stove?” His voice deepens as he talks, intensifying, grating hot coals and growling like a bear. Blue, focused eyes find the half-apron you’re wearing. You swear his pupils dilate, but he shakes his head before you’re sure.

“I can show you, there’s still a few minutes left for everything.”

The air is biting outside, cold with the evening breeze and dark already. So dark you equip your biggest, brightest flashlight and walk around the house with him, explaining the taps all around.

“I figure it’s them trying to dig holes so they can get in,” you hand the flashlight to him, feeling your fingers brush, and shivering in response. “I’ve been too chicken to check, to be honest. I keep thinking it’s a person walking around, not some animal.”

John nods as you speak, squatting by your little tool shed, looking diligently and moving items as he needs to. Then, he looks up, smiling a little.

“Why don’t you head inside, darling? Let me take care of this.”

“Sure,” you squeak. Squeak. Your stomach makes a knot and you scurry like one of the mice he’s looking for back into the house to mash the potatoes and make the gravy.

You are quite proud of this meal, not a proper cook by a long shot but it looks and smells pretty good. The Yorkshire puddings are alright, too, and that was the hardest part. Plus, you think, it’s free food. He’s gotta be happy with the effort, even if he winds up not liking it, right? That’s something your mother always told you. Someone’s put in a lot of effort for this meal, she’d say, pointing at you with a long nail. Better eat it.

“Think I found the little buggers,” John startles you just a little as he comes in, toeing his boots off again. You’re plating his plate, huge portions of mash potato and roast carrot and brussel sprouts nestled to the beef. His eyes look at the plate, then to you, then down to your apron, and you pretend you can’t see him adjusting his pants.

This isn’t what you think it is, you remind yourself. Two friends, one lending a hand and the other paying them back. You don’t even know his last name.

“Oh god, how bad was it?” You ladle gravy over his portion, then yours, pretending to be unaffected when he walks into your kitchen and takes a huge sniff.

“Not too bad. I’ll have to come back with some traps, if that’s alright.” You want to say John, you can come back anytime, but you don’t.

“Glad to know it was mice at least,” that’s the truth. A feeling you didn’t totally realize you had turns from paranoia into relief. “I was really scared it was some creep walking around my house, trying to get in.”

“Here,” John takes his plate when you hand it to him, but puts his phone into your hands before you can get yours. “Put your number in there, honey. Call me if anything like that happens.”

Honey. You fucking love that, so much it renders you temporarily mute as you punch in your number. He doesn't let you bring your own plate to the table, picks it up while you’re busy and comes back to shepherd you there with a palm on your lower back.

“Thank you,” you say, struck timid by his casual and yet firm guidance of you.

Diva makes an appearance for supper, summoned by the smell of beef and the oven being turned off. Her little claws tip tap against the hardwood as she circles your chair, tucks herself under the table looking for scraps, and whines at John while he’s trying to eat.

You nudge her away from him with a socked foot, stuttering that she isn’t usually like this, honest, only for him to brush it off kindly.

After supper, when you’re full and you can’t handle him looking at you with those half-lidded, well-fed bear eyes anymore, you move to pick up the dishes and bring them to the kitchen.

“Ah ah,” John cuts in front of you, stealing the plates and cutlery. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

Useless to argue - he’s built like a brick shithouse. You’re forced to pack up the leftovers, one container for you and one for him to take home. For no reason other than you’re feeling especially soft and gooey, you wrap up a few homemade fig and date granola bars for him to take too.

“Thank you,” he gruffs, rolling his sleeves to his elbows, flexing his forearm muscles, making you hot again.

“It’s really the least I can-”

Snap. Fuck, the day that creepy noises don’t happen near your house is the day you convert to whatever religion that’ll make it happen. Both your heads turn to the living room window, where the sound came from, a crack in the otherwise quiet night air.

Anxiety curls in your stomach, sharp and dreadful. You try to remind yourself that you live in the woods for gods sake, there’s gonna be sounds, but that awful sense of danger is back and if you were Diva your hackles would be raised.

John frowns, wiping his hands on a towel. He doesn't seem as phased as you are, probably because he’s not worried over boogeymen haunting the forest like you are, but when he looks back at you and sees your fright he leans in and murmurs that he’ll go take a look.

“It’s okay, it’s probably one of my furry friends,” you try, but he shakes his head, putting a palm on your hip for a brief moment as reassurance and then he’s out the door.

God, you’re so nervous you whip out a bottle of wine, desperate for a little courage. The feeling is so strange, you’re used to feeling safe and cushioned by your home, by the forest. Even your little dog whimpers, tapping her way into the kitchen, rubbing her face on your leg like a cat. She’s a comfort still, something about there being a more nervous person (or animal) that inspires bravery. Still, you won't peek out the window.

The wine is good. A little too dry, but still good. A housewarming gift from your mother, even though she knew you didn’t drink unless it was social.

Or unless you were nervously waiting for some man to come back, having dealt with your problems for you. She’d weep to see you, aproned and wringing your hands and sipping red wine too quickly. Whatever, you think. There’s nothing wrong with letting him help.

John comes back in, maybe a few minutes later or maybe a half hour, you can’t tell. Your wine is half empty, and you feel awkward about it so you pour him one without asking.

“Think you’ve got more than one furry friend,” John says, laughter in his voice. In his fingers he’s got tufts of light brown hair, which he holds up. “Dinner, if you hunt.”

“Ah, I don’t,” and you wouldn’t. You’re fine eating meat or even purchasing it from a local hunter to eat, but there’s something in you that’s deeply uncomfortable with the idea. Maybe it’s cowardice, unable to do the dirty work and yet enjoying the fruits of someone else’s labour. Maybe you’re putting stock in something that really isn’t worth stressing over. Either way, you’re overthinking, and only stop when John steps into your space.

“Hey- you alright, darling?” You like darling too, just as much as honey.

“Yeah, sorry,” your hands find the wine glass you poured for him, and you hand it over. One thing about abstaining is that it hits you quickly, even with the big meal. “Want to sit? I’ve got a fireplace.”

You cringe at yourself, not meaning to sound so suggestive. Oh well, he doesn’t seem to mind, just nods and takes you by the elbow again to your living room.

“This all the heading you’ve got?” John asks.

“Er, no. I have to get my windows insulated for winter, then I can turn the heating on without it all going to waste. For now, I make do with the fireplace,” when you sit, Diva runs to you both and demands to be swaddled in her blanket. It’s an old knitted one, a college project finished between essay assignments and readings. There’s sentimental value there, especially with your pup who doesn’t even let the presence of a strange man come between her and her cozying up.

“I can help with that,” John says. Briefly, Westley pops into your head shouting As you wish! and it makes you smile.

“That’s okay,” you sip, tasting spice. Would’ve been good with dinner. “I owe you double now for helping me again.”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” Oh, he’s full of names - and getting bolder. 

The conversation ebbs and flows naturally. Sometimes you both sit in silence, sipping, refilling glasses, staring at the fire. He’s easy to talk to, soothing, his confidence and sureness leaving you relaxed.

“I better get going,” he grunts as he stands, extending a palm to you.

“Are you okay to drive?” You’re half worried, half disappointed. There’s been a steadily building sense of heat between your legs the entire evening, brought on by his touches and his pet names and his taking care of you

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I live close-by.” That’s one mystery solved.

“Well, okay. But will you call when you get home?” If you weren’t three glasses in, you might be embarrassed. John crinkles his eyes at you while he puts his boots on.

“John?” You’re in your pajamas, face hastily cleaned with a makeup wipe. Your door is double locked again, anxiety beaten down by the wine.

“I’m home,” he sounds distant. You can’t really hear anything, just his breathing, the sounds of him taking off his coat and his boots. “You tucked in bed, sweetheart?”

“I am,” you breathe, eyes slipping, drunker than you thought you were. “Did you drive okay?”

“I did,” he laughs. His keys jingle and make a clamor as he tosses them. You imagine him in a house that fits him, a log cabin or a house built by hand, before remembering he’s talking with someone. Disappointment dampens you a little.

“I guess I should let you get to bed then,” you try to keep it out of your voice, but you’re curled on your side with a hand pressed against your clothed pussy and it’s hard not to be sad at the fact that you have no idea if he’s actually been flirting with you, or just being friendly.

“You sound disappointed,” either he’s perceptive, or you’re more obvious than you’re trying to be. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you without saying goodnight.”

A pulse, between your legs. You rub with all four fingers, moving the phone away from your mouth.

“That’s okay, I don’t want to keep you,” you scrunch your eyes shut, trying to stop, not being able to. You’re starved, really, haven’t been touched or talked to like you’re desirable in quite some time and he makes you feel safe. Taken care of.

“You touching that wet little cunt, sweetheart?” A shockwave, from your nipples tightening to your toes tingling, curling. You stop hiding, breathing whines into the phone.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble, biting your lips. It feels like permission, and maybe it is or maybe it isn’t, but you stuff your hand into your pants and start focusing on your needy clit. “I’m so-”

“Shh, sh, sh,” you hear a mattress creak, a grunt, and imagine him laying back. Maybe palming his cock. “That’s okay, baby, I could tell how needy you were.”

Panting, you stuff two fingers in your soft hole, grinding your palm into your clit. You hear him making sounds, quieter than you, but you’re straining to hear them.

He starts talking you through it, murmuring into your ear, calling you sweetheart and honey and baby, telling you to put three fingers in and to play with your tits.

“Go ahead and touch your nipples, sweetheart, go on,” his breath is growing laboured. “Needed to come so she could sleep, did she?”

For a moment, you think he’s talking about you.

“Poor little pussy needed some attention,” his voice gets rougher again, like when he walked in and saw that you had made him a roast. “Give it to her then, baby, go on, let her come.”

That’s all you need. You squeeze your nipples one last time, letting your tits out of your shirt and turning over to hump your hand unashamedly. Your clit drags against your palm still, hips desperately moving, listening to him grunting and groaning on the other side of the call, waiting to hear him come before you let go.

You shake, shiver, curl into yourself as your core tightens and explodes like an elastic band snapping. It’s great, just what you needed, and you’re half asleep by the end of it

“John..” you mumble into your pillow, just enough consciousness left to pull your hand out of your pajama pants.

“It’s alright, it’s time to sleep now, alright? Close your eyes.”

“Alright, John.”

“Good girl,” his voice is distant, sleep taking you, muscles more relaxed than they’ve been in so long.

You’ll deal with the rest in the morning.

[gretavanlace]

Sleeping Beauty

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual contact, language, somnophilia (nothing drastic), subby jake, etc.

In response to this ask. I loved it so much and I’m terribly sorry for your wait, lovely anon. I hope you’ll forgive me ❤️

Jake should leave you in peace, and he knows it.

He’s melted into you twice already tonight, gently working you into a quiet euphoria…nails stinging into his back, soft moans and delicate sighs a song against the shell of his ear.

Yes, he knows he ought to let you rest - and don’t you sound so pretty resting? With your rhythmic breaths and gentle hint of a snore?

He should, but he won’t. Can’t.

You’re too warm, skin like satin bared to his hungry, wandering touch. Your hair, freshly washed and smelling of perfumed fruit. Your shoulder, of the loveliness that is so innately you.

If he could render it down, that intoxicating scent, he would inject it into his veins like an addict…let you swim inside him until he was buried under and lost. Comfortably numb.

Your thigh twitches. Just a blip of a movement, but it makes him smile. What is his girl dreaming about?

His grip has pulled you nearer now, tucked in close - a little spoon cradled safely in his love. His fingers, tender, yet insistent, kneading at the swell of your breasts, sweeping across your nipples, feather-light, until they begin to respond to him.

He wants them in his mouth, under his tongue, but he doesn’t want to disturb you any further than he already has, so this will do just fine.

A slight arch in your back tugs a tiny grin to life upon his lips, he wonders if his touch has made its way into whatever dreamworld you happen to be floating through. Do you search for him even while stumbling through strange and unfamiliar terrains?

He would like to think you do. He dreams of you more often than not.

Your nipples are drawn up tightly now, pebbled and peaked, as you press forward again, almost imperceptibly.

But on you slumber. His very own sleeping beauty.

With a slow pinch, he allows himself a bit more boldness. Perhaps, as he gives way to his need, he cares a little less about your rest.

All hope is lost when an airy sigh slips off your pretty tongue, and his hands begin traveling in languid earnest. Squeezing and tugging and pressing as his hips rock into you just barely.

He whispers your name as his mouth travels along your neck, and then groans into the crook of it when your hand reaches back, searching to bury into his tangled waves.

You hum a breathy, “Hi, baby,” into the night, eyes still closed.

”Hello, sleeping beauty,” he answers with a dreamy simper coloring his tone. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You sure about that?” Even with your toes still dipped into the ocean of drowsiness you can’t help but quietly tease him.

”You just feel so good,” he sounds like he is positively aching for you, and that’s because he is. He always is.

His tongue laps lightly over your shoulder just before his teeth find purchase, sinking in with a slow suck that brings a blushing bruise to life.

Admiring it in the moonlight, a lazy, satisfied warmth fills his chest, “Looks pretty on you, my love.”

Nose nuzzling into your tousled locks, he draws in a lungful of you, pressing your breasts together and running the pad of his thumb down the seam they create.

He’s imagining that perfect place, slick with sweat, and his cock - hard and desperate, sliding back and forth, pillowed and snug. How soft you would feel, how warm, how fucking perfect, how you might lick at the tip each time it slipped upwards to say hello.

”I really did want to let you sleep,” His words ghost over the shell of your ear and you long for him to whisper to you this way forever. “You snore, you know?”

The quietest giggle, hardly a sound at all, escapes you, “I don’t snore, Jacob Thomas, stop making things up.”

”Yes, you do,” it’s a sing-song argument, still but a whisper. “It’s adorable. And endearing. I like it.”

Confession too innocent for the way he’s making love to your breasts with his talented hands, you roll to face him…his arms wrapped around you all the while.

“Hi, liar,” you smile once you’re nose to nose.

“M’not a liar,” his voice is gravelly, and he’s a little thirsty with sleep, but not enough to leave your side in search of a glass of water. “You do snore. But it sounds dainty, and sweet. Everything you do is pretty.”

Your cheeks warm, ever the shy one under the spotlight of a compliment. Instead of enduring more - no matter how you secretly treasure them, you guide his mouth downward with a gentle grip fisted in his hair.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he nuzzles against you like a sleek and stunning house cat, and then curls the tip of his tongue over your nipple…sucking the bead of it into his kiss for just a moment. “Is this what you want?”

”I think this is what you want.” The challenge you’d hoped for in your tone drifts off into a shivering sigh when he nips at you.

“I do.” He nods, licking and lapping his tongue over them, suckling and biting. “My pretty girls…my exquisite, pretty girls.”

“Exquisite?” You smile, eyes drifting closed. He responds with a soft sound of confirmation, but can’t be bothered to stop.

A particularly nice flick of his tongue drags a shaky moan from your lungs and he hums right along with you, blissfully. “Feel good?”

”Really good,” your fist tightens in his hair, but your touch remains gentle in this languid and lazy moment. “Do it again?”

You offer it up as a question, which seems absurd to him…as if he would ever deny you. As if you don’t own him completely. As if you hadn’t stolen his heart the moment he laid eyes on you.

He does it again for you, because of course he does, and then again and again, until you’re pressing closer into him and whining so timidly it makes his heart ache and his cock throb.

It twitches against your thigh, hard and flushed hot, sweeping against your skin like velvet. You close your eyes and picture it resting between your bodies, so thick, and thrumming with his frantic pulse, cashmere skin stretched taught with his want, and all for you.

You suddenly need it more than you could ever put into words. Great scholars and poets alike couldn’t begin to describe your ache for him.

You burn and your stomach twists, somersaulting over itself for Jake. For everything he is. For everything he ever will or won’t be.

”Can I touch it?” You whisper, peppering kisses into his bed head as he contentedly licks and sucks away at you, kneading at the soft swell of your breasts carefully. Babying them as though he is tragically in love…and he is. God, how he loves them.

In lieu of tearing his mouth away to respond, he backs his hips away from you just far enough to allow your hand to slip down and wrap around the root of his cock.

You find him fiery to the touch and so hard as a breath huffs out of his nose with a palpable fever.

Thumbing over his head, you find it soaked and swollen as you press into the slit gingerly, just the way he likes. “Your cock is so wet, baby…” you’re trying to tease him, but the words tremble, sounding as needy as you feel, “So hard.”

Thick and pulsing, he strains and flexes in your grip, and then there are those beautiful words. Words no more than a whimper that is bordering upon shy, “Make me cum…”

”Yeah?” Your hand, slick with his need, begins a slow journey up and down the length of him, twisting off at the head before sliding back down. “Does Jakey need it with my tits in his mouth?”

A muffled ‘fuck’ is buried against you as he sucks harder with a nod.

“Are you sore?” He knows he’s already fucked you blind tonight, and he’d rather die than hurt you.

And maybe you are sore, but not enough to not want this, so you offer a soft ‘no’ and then there are his fingers, nudging between your thighs, slipping inside of you, curling and beckoning like a beacon into your favorite spot.

”Goddamn,” he groans, teeth clenched into the tip of your breast, “You’re so warm inside…pretty little pussy opens right up for me. Faster, sweetheart.”

He goes right back to making love to your tits with his gorgeous mouth as your tightened fist flies rapidly over his cock. Squeezing at the head, thumb paying close attention to his favorite spot.

Rolling into his touch, your clit, swollen and soaked, presses flush against the heel of his palm, and it earns a groan of lust-drenched gratitude from somewhere deep in his chest, “That’s my girl, fucking use me.”

Jerking wildly into your palm, he finally gives up and rests his cheek against your chest, panting into your glistening skin.

“Just like that,” he’s thrusting in time with you now, hunting down his release fervently “Fuck, please, just like that.”

”Come on, baby,” you coax quietly, kissing over the crown of his head, gentle demand falling hushed into his tangles, “Cum for me.”

Further into your breasts his face presses as his fingers fuck you closer and closer to the edge, “You, too, sweetheart. Give it to me… I need you to— fuck, please, please…”

The soft pads of his fingers are circling inside you like he sculpted your body with his very own hands. He knows every inch of you. Where to touch, Where to press and tease. Where to pinch and smack and bite when you ask for it to hurt a little.

But when he leans into a touch of submission, as he is now? That lights you up with a frenzied, crazed fire that only he can extinguish.

He feels you tightening, strangling his fingers so forcefully he absently wonders how he ever fits his cock inside the heaven that lives between your thighs, “That’s it…” his face is shoved between your breasts, rendering his praise muffled, “That’s my fucking girl. C’mon, you just relax and let me make you cum. Let me, sweetheart,” he’s babbling now, repeating himself, whining, betraying how close he is, “just wanna make you feel good, let me get you off, just— let me, come on, baby, please…”

Like some sort of twisted, subby bully, he’s shoving you closer and closer, until, with a wild sob of his name, you let go, spilling into his palm as he, in turn, spills over your fist.

A wandering stream of expletives tumbles off of his warm, pink tongue as he sucks and mouths at your overheated skin…fingers tucked up into that lovely place inside you until you can stand it no longer.

“It’s too much, Jake…” your voice is a mirage of itself, “too much.”

With a sound that says he’s sad to leave, he slips out of your fluttering grip, and then shudders with a gentle, sleepy laugh when you squeeze and tug at his softening, sensitive cock. “You’re an evil woman.”

”But I’m your evil woman.” You counter, pulling away, if only to lick at the milky white pearl of him that is rolling down your wrist.

”Yes,” he nods, watching in the darkness with rapt attention, “You’re mine.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @sarakay-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @theweightofjake @joshsmama @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove @josh-iamyour-mama @alwaysonthemend @moralmorbid @welllauragvf

[thesassypadawan]

Perfect Pet (Burnt Darth Vader X FemPetReader)

Summary: You’re such a perfect pet, letting him do to you like he pleases…whenever…wherever. Even if it’s on his throne, before an unwilling audience.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut. Public sex, some manhandling…and Vader’s big, scarred dick.

- ‘Look at you, taking my cock so well in this tiny cunt. So wet, so tight. Such a perfect pet, letting me do to you like I please…whenever…wherever. Is that not correct?’

- A whine is your only response. As your lord pounds into you…as he bounces you on his lap. All the while sitting upon his throne…all before the eyes of two of his ‘most trusted’ generals.

- In the beginning you attempt to maintain the small amount of dignity you possess… To not tip your hand at how much you enjoy this…

- However it's difficult to do so when you've been stripped of your clothes. Thick length driving into you over and over. Scar tissue rubbing your gummy walls deliciously. Slick trickling down your thighs, his glistening in the ominous red light.

- The sound of slapping is nearly deafening to your ears. Echoing off the marble walls. Mingling with your desperate cries, begging for him to… “Touch me. Please, my lord. Please.”

- Dark laughter rings throughout your mind. ‘Filthy thing.’ And a gloved hand finds your neglected nub; circling, teasing it with the grainy texture. ‘Close…already?’

- Fluttering and clenching, the heat inside you becoming overwhelming. You mewl softly, hanging your head. Trying to conceal the flush of embarrassment…not wanting to meet their gazes.

- Grabbing your chin, he pulls your head back up roughly. ‘No, let them see. See how I make you feel…how beautiful that face is when I make you cum.’

- “Y-yes…yes, m-my lord.” Pinching your clit hard, a feral moan flies from your mouth. Fingers grip his strong legs tightly, nails dig in. Clutching onto him, seeking to anchor yourself. Pussy spasming around him, drenching his cock.

- Hips stutter then stop, hands glide up your sides. Rubbing them surprisingly gently, soothingly as you slowly come down from your high…ridding out the last pleasurable waves of your orgasm.

- This seemingly kind treatment does not last long. You barely catch your breath when he begins to rock back and forth. ‘Love it… You love being a personal cocksleeve… Being kriffed stupid, until you can no longer walk…’ Before bucking wildly; driving, pounding into you brutally.

- Grasping at your chest, he tugs and rolls your nipples between his fingers. You're so sensitive, so overstimulated that your head falls back onto his shoulder. Lips parting, a weak whimper escaping you. Peak quickly building, release rapidly approaching. “I… I…”

- Slapping your breast harshly, you cry out. Whole body tensing up, clenching. The faint sound of growling in the back of your mind. ‘Of course you do… Now be a good whore…let go… I know you can easily give me another…’

- Tweaking your pebbled buds with one hand, squeezing your hip with the other. Phantom fingers play with, invisible teeth nip at your clit. While he thrusts into you unbridled, deeply. Bruising your poor cervix repeatedly.

- Eyes go cross, vision blurs. Tears that have been held at bay, stream freely down your face. Unraveling completely, totally. Incoherent babbles falling from your lips, head slumping forward.

- His hips slow and stutter again. ‘What did I say?’ Fingers hook underneath your chin, tilting your face back up. ‘Let them see…’

- Forcing you to stare your unwilling audience in the eye. As he drags his length against your spent walls, the ridges sending sparks of ecstasy down your spine. ‘I want them to see my little slut…my perfect pet… When she comes undone once more… When I finally fill her up…to the very brim.’

- “Y-yes, my lord…” You mewl pathetically, tremble uncontrollably. Allowing him to do to you like he pleases…whenever…wherever… “Th-thank you��”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @loverforoldermen

[cornyforjk]

Drive you crazy | Day 7 | jjk

⤷ SUMMARY In which you are stuck living with an arrogant rookie racer who thinks of you as an obstacle, ready to ruin your glory, but things get heated when he has a pervy smile hidden under that pretentious attitude. Emotions that are complicated. You could never fall for your enemy! He's sabotaging you.

Pairing: racer!jk × racer!oc

Genre: angst and pure filth smut

Warnings: NONE OML

taglist: @tatamicc @jwnghyuns @nono13bnd @hagridshaircare @tatzzz-25 @suashifts @kyuupii @bananaminn @rispwr @spideyjimin

A/Note: POSTING THIS EXACTLY AT 11:11 CAUSE ITS 11/11😺 anw yall this was just a filling chapter nothing special nyeahhh. Ik mot very professional and ethical but I'll try to be more mindful, thoughtful and demure.💅🏻

___________________♡____________________

Jungkook's pov

Y/n looks at me with a cryptic smile, walking towards the lake with pebbles in her hand.

"I don't think we can be friends or anything...but I'm there for you...if you need someone to talk to." She faces me with a small crooked smile.

"We can't?" I cock up an eyebrow with a wrinkled forehead, anticipating an answer.

"Well," she starts, my eyes follow her automatically. The control she has over me is overlooked. "I was a bit miserable after you broke my heart by being mean to me." Y/n dramatically lays a hand on her head with a high-pitched voice of vain. "You lost this friendship! So make up for it and retrieve it back, Jungkook!"

Y/n motivated me at this silly fuss she created. It was funny seeing her act like a damsel in distress, someone Y/n is totally opposite off.

"You come back little punk! I thought you were serious!" I yelled, trying to catch her as she ran away, leaping into puddles I circle arms around her, carrying towards the lake while she kicks her legs in the air. With a splash of water I threw her in the lake, he flushed face soaked wet.

"Don't make that cute pout- you look like an angry sea otter." I chuckled, my orbs dancing round her figure. Wet clothes clasped to her body, the glistening water dripping down her collar bones.

Gosh.

I unconsciously lick my lips.

"Let me make up for the so-called- ruined friendship." I scowl jumping into the lake with a splash. Y/n squeaks lightly, her pissed-off face glowing in the moonlight.

"I'm this close to ripping your head off," she sarcastically smiled, trying to tower over me. Fisting my shirt. I react suddenly by tripping over her and both of us fall into the water again, drenched from head to toe.

Y/n starts hitting my chest lightly,her body close to me with her legs wrapped around my waist. "Something is touching my leg!" she whined, splashing water everywhere as she threw a fit, squealing lightly and murmuring curses with a quivering voice.

"Fine..."

I quickly picked her up, throwing her over my shoulder, her body dangling freely.

"What are you doing!" she shrieked. "Picking you up." I responded.

"No- pick me up the proper way! Or else I will bite your ass." I could feel her cheekily smiling, her face hitting my back constantly as I swung her on my shoulder.

"Bite me and I'll drop you in the water again." I shot her an irritated look that she cannot see anyways. My response turns out to keep her porthole shut for the next five minutes to return to my car. Peaceful eerie wind that interlocked itself in my bangs.

I place her down finally, rummagingthrough the bag I bought along the trip.

"What am I supposed to wear now?" Y/ n questioned with hands on her hips and a tone that was sassy enough to be portrayed by Regina George.

Y/n lifts a little bit of her shirt, wringing off the water allowing me to trace her perfect body with my orbs.

Ugh- I just checked her out.

Feeling a rock of reality hit the back of my head and brought me back to my senses. I bury my face even deeper into the backpack.

"Answer me-" I throw a shirt and trouser her way, chuckling at her tiny shivering figure.

"You want me to change here?" Y/n squeaks like a duckling.

"Yes."

"No, I won't."

"Then you are going home like that." I smirk, leaning against my car watching her shut her mouth instantly.

"Go behind that tree and change. Iwon't look." I hold her hand, yanking her towards the tree.

"Promise?" she holds out her pinky finger, pausing for me to hook mine with it.

"Promise." I connect my finger with hers.

___________________♡____________________

Y/N's pov

I walked out from the spot, wearing the new clothes that were quite large and barely clung onto me. They had a soft vanilla like scent mixed with hints of coconut tha blessed my nose, as if I couldn't stop sniffing it. They definitely belonged to Jungkook.

I walk back into the car, setting the heater when suddenly Jungkook closes the door behind him ready to start the car, but there was something wrong.

He was shirtless. I instantly look away, facing the window, my whole body heating up and cheeks flushed red.

"W-where is your shirt?" I bite my tongue and curse under my breath for stuttering in front of him.

Shutting my eyes immediately when he leans closer, whispering in my ear, I hold in a breath waiting for him to speak.

"I gave it to you." His husky voice sends shivers down my spine, the rich deep voice that swells the pit of my stomach. Maybe because I haven't been in a relationship for 7 years, or maybe because my hormones are going wild, because not even in 100 years will I ever find Jeon Jungkook desireful.

"I bet you didn't notice that I licked your earlobe." He perked up. "WHAT-"

"I'm kidding."

Jungkook leans back with a satisfied smirk while I sink into my seat, flustered.

"My clothes look cute on you" he remarks.

"Shut up."

"No."

"You are, without a doubt, the most annoying person I crossed paths with and don't even get me started on your voice." I start to babble without paying attention to him.

"My voice is hot then?"

"Yes." I responded. Jerking my body and clasping a hand to my mouth.

I wanted the car seat to fold and swallow me, maybe I was going haywire by telling the truth that I wasn't supposed to. Panic rose from my stomach to throat and I throw my hands, yelping.

"No!" I say, "your voice is annoying." I retrieve back, his smile dropping as soon I cross my hands over my chest, huffing out the lump in my throat.

My eyes thoughtlessly wander down his body, I notice an intricate tattoo on his ribs of a dragon appearing from between flames of fire. His muscular abdomen and slightly damn abs "So you heard about our race in France...?" Jungkook raises his eyebrow in question but his voice fades to the back of my head. My eyes focused on his body.

The urge to run my hand across his abs and feel them grows vigorous.

"Mhm-" I hum, licking my lips.

He is so well built in every way, like an ethereal Greek God. Even prostitutes would be jealous of that body. The woman who gets to feel that warm luscious muscular body would call herself lucky. An image of him sweaty and shirtless working out before a race pops into my mind, every other important thought blurring out. I want to erase that image as much as I want to enhance it.

My body heats up, aroused as I shame myself for bringing up such thoughts.

"My eyes are up here sweetheart." Jungkook softly says, biting his lower lip containing a laugh.

I stop gazing like a pervert, blushing with embarrassment."S-sorry." I cleared my throat, looking out the window, earning a soft laugh as he drove away.

"Try not to gape, sweetheart."

___________________♡____________________

Day6 | Day8

DM me or just send me an ask if you wanna be added to the taglist.

[f4nrir]

I've saw that you had written something for Miguel o hara and I've been simping hard for him ever since the trailers came out. And I've been needing some male reader so if you dont think it's to much to write about Miguel being really desperate for reader and needing reader inside of him which leads to Miguel tearing his suit open for reader to use and finally use him. If this is alot then am sorry for taking up space it just that I've never seen someone write for male reader for 2099.

desperation

一 pairing; miguel o'hara x male reader

note: no worries, i'm currently hyperfixated on miguel. this was fun to write, hope you like it! [ slightly proofread ] .

cw: bottom!miguel, breeding, sexual tension, rough & outdoor sex.

word count: 1.4k

“fuck– it’s too hot in this suit,” you murmured as you grabbed hold of your mask, taking it off swiftly. you and miguel had been patrolling for the night on the outskirts of your city after being alerted by your officials. 

the way you said “fuck” made miguel’s head spin, the tension only building up even further. this whole time miguel has been fighting his own urges to make a move but was far too embarrassed in an environment like this. even if the location was miles away from the headquarters, he did not want to risk being caught by anybody. everything about you from your touseled hair to your suit hugging tightly around your shape made him flustered and tried to stay out of your gaze. 

you noticed him turn away and raised a brow, wondering if he had seen something in the distance or was simply feeling unwell. “you alright, mig?” you asked, slightly teasing him with the nickname you loved using. he let out a small huff through his mask and saw the misty cloud escape through it, as the temperature outside was a bit colder than usual but you didn’t mind. 

“yeah, don’t worry. just a bit cold,” he replied and you shrugged your shoulders, taking a seat on a nearby rock. miguel glanced over at you as you rested your elbows on your thighs, causing your suit to stretch around your arms. from all of the training you’ve had over the years, it definitely paid off, and staring at you simply made miguel’s stomach feel warm.

“y’know, this is so useless..” you grunted and he raised a brow, humming a small “hm?” under his breath. “there’s no threat. is everyone just on edge? because personally, i’d rather be home under the covers.” annoyed, you kicked a tiny pebble off to the side and slightly leaned your head back out of frustration. 

miguel’s breathing changed as he continued to watch you, not paying attention to any of the words you just said. he was focused on your breathing and how your neck flexed against your suit, your adam’s apple becoming prominent. he sat down across from you, causing you to look up at him and he seemed more tense than usual. you furrowed your eyebrows together, afraid that there was something on his mind, and refused to tell you about it.

“are you sure you’re alright?” you asked and there was a pause before he answered, “of course, what makes you think i’m not?” he spoke as if he was reading off of a script and you rolled your eyes.

“you aren’t talking much and you sound like you’re so miserable, is it that difficult to be around me?” you playfully joked and yes, it was difficult. miguel was sitting there fantasizing about you and he couldn’t do anything about his thoughts as he was trying to get ahold of himself. until it got too much and he felt a familiar tightness on the lower half of his suit, covering his lap in embarrassment. 

“no, i’m not miserable and it is not difficult to be around you. i’m just thinking about the project we’ve been working on is all,” he mumbled as he began fidgeting with his hands, causing his knuckles to brush against his boner. miguel let out a hiss, trying to cover it with a lame cough but you never thought anything of it. you got up, pacing around in front of him, trying to think of what to do for the next hour. miguel continued to watch you, his eyes examining each move you made. he felt like a pervert but couldn’t help his thoughts as you were standing right in front of him, his desperation for you only growing stronger by the minute. when you turned around, miguel got up from his seat and stood right behind you, pressing his body against your back. 

“hey, do you–” you felt something poke against you, knowing that familiar feeling. “i can’t do this anymore,” he grunted in your ear, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. you licked the top row of your teeth, watching his hand slowly trail down to your own bulge. 

“miguel..” you warned as you leaned into his touch, bucking your hips up against his hand. you moved out of his grasp and turned around to face him. 

you took off his mask for him, revealing his lustful eyes. his fangs poked through his lips and you found it adorable, grabbing a hold of his face to make him watch what you were going to do. he looked down, his eyes trailing to your hand as you rubbed your hand against his cock. miguel let out a gasp, causing him to bite down on his lip and poked himself with his own fangs. he winced but was too focused on the pleasure you were giving him. 

“so this is what got you all hot ‘n bothered, hm?” you teased, and he whined as he tried to press himself against you even further. miguel got tired of the teasing and took matters into his own hands as he pressed his lips against yours, hungrily kissing you. it caught you by surprise and you placed your hands on his shoulders, gripping tightly onto his suit. 

“please.” he whined into the kiss, his hands tampering with his own suit. you pressed on the emblem on your chest, causing your suit to disenthrall from your figure. without thinking about the consequences of his actions, miguel tore open his suit for easier access as his suit was more complicated to get out of. the sound of the fabric tearing made your eyes widen, knowing it took him so long to perfect every aspect of it. 

“¿tan desesperado estás?” you whispered against his mouth as you signaled for him to jump, pinning him against a nearby wall. 

“cállate.” he hissed, connecting your lips together once again. you took your cock in your hand, noticing the precum that was spilling out. miguel bit down on your shoulder, feeling his sharp teeth pierce through your skin, causing you to let out a loud moan. 

“fuck me already. please, stop making me wait. i’m so des– fuck!” he whined in your ear, feeling his hot breath against it. you thrust into him without any warning, forcing your cock to go in. you felt him stretch around you, a string of curses slipping out of your mouth. “you’re so tight miguel…” you grunted through your gritted teeth, finally putting all of it inside of him. 

you used one arm to stabilize yourself and the other to hold miguel, keeping him close to your body. miguel dug his claws into your back as you pounded into him, not giving him any time to adjust to you. he threw his head back against the wall and you looked at him, thinking it was such a pretty sight to see him so desperate for you. 

you quickened your pace, each thrust began to be harder and rougher. miguel’s moans filled the air as he did not care to be loud, noticing him stare off into nothing as if he was so cock drunk. you took this as encouragement, slamming into him as you felt your orgasm reaching its peak. 

miguel seemed to notice too, mumbling in your ear, “breed me… please” as that was all that he could let out. you smiled, pressing a kiss against his temple, “good boys get what they want”. you buried your face into his neck as you came, moaning his name out loud as you made sure to pin his ass against your cock. miguel followed shortly after, gasping for air as he moaned your name over and over again. you stood there, still inside him as you wanted to make sure you filled him up. 

“you alright?” you asked with concern, looking up at him. he pressed his forehead against yours, a smirk plastered across his face. 

“of course. getting fucked by you is always the best thing… and don’t you dare move.” he sternly ordered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to keep himself steady. 

“i wasn’t planning to just yet. but what about your suit?” you asked and he pointed at his wrist cuff, not noticing it before.

“i made a new prototype. thought i’d test it out tonight…” he mumbled, closing up the space between you two to kiss you once again. he began to move his hips, earning a groan from you.

“you fuckin’ whore… you do realize that there are cameras right?” you pointed up at one and he placed his hand behind your nape, pulling you closer to him.

“then let them watch.”

[changisworld]

Feminisation with Changbin

Changbin x afab!reader

word count:1,791

18+, MDNI!! smut below the cut

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

third part of my 8 part masterlist of the extension of this & this headcanon of the members!!;3

Kinks & pleasures masterlist heremain masterlist here

->SMUT WARNINGS:Subby binnie, dom reader, mommy kink, teasing, ball fondling, tit worship, BINNIE IN LINGERIE!!, use of bullet vibrator, subspace, reader calls binnie 'pretty girl' & 'baby', praise, overstimulation, use of lube, binnies cock is called a pussy, multiple orgasms

Ever since you first laid eyes on Changbin, you genuinely thought he would be a dom through in & throughout but oh how wrong you were!

There's nothing little Binnie likes more than to dress up in pretty lace bralettes & thigh high socks, but he was too scared to tell you at first, scared you would judge him, so poor baby hid it instead & he would only do it when you're not home.

He loves to buy you pretty sets of lingerie, you not knowing he partly bought them for himself too. He goes through your top drawer & likes to take them out & trying them on around his bigger frame, liking to admire himself in the mirror, sometimes going as far as to spray a tiny tiny tiny bit of your perfume on him & putting some of his favourite of your choices of blush, enhancing his already slightly tinged cheeks.

He has done this ever since he got access to your closet, not wanting to ever buy his own in case he ever got caught, but it could only go on for so long, before you did catch him you did.

Since you caught him in one of your black lacey thongs & fishnets, you had an actual conversation with him & you find out all the details of his new & biggest kink, & that's how you've both ended up in this situation.

You're sitting on the back of your legs beside Changbin on the bed, him wearing a pretty, mesh nightgown with a fluffy hem around the bottom & along the cups, his dark nipples visible through the see through fabric, pebbled.

You're rubbing on his thick cock, your hand & his cock along with his balls, coated with lube for extra sensitivity & the squelching noises are probably loud enough for the entire street row of houses to hear & Changbin's whines & whimpers are almost just as loud.

"S-so much, so much" he babbles, looking up at you with watery eyes, his thighs tensing non stop & his fingers curling into the bedsheets, not daring to reach out & touch you since you haven't told him he can.

"Aww, my sweet Binnie, so good f'me aren'cha?" you ask, your hand going at a rapid pace, twisting up & down on his cock, putting the tiniest bit of extra pressure around his tip, leaning down to blow on it, making his hips buck.

"Yes! So good for y-you" he wips back, trying his best to keep his eyes open so he can look at you & you just chuckle at his words, struggling to get them out.

You reach to the side of you & pick up the small purple bullet vibrator & you remove your hand from his throbbing dick, which makes him let out a small whine but he quickly relaxes a small bit, getting a break from the overstimulation, but of course, you are quick to get back at it.

"Spread your legs for me sweetie" you tell him as you put your hand on his thighs to help him open them anyway, not as if you needed to since he would listen to anything you say in a heart beat.

Changbin takes it upon himself to hold his legs back enough, letting you get a view of his pretty hole & you let out a hum in approval, making Changbin even more flustered.

"Is it pretty mommy?" he asks, his voice having nerves laced in throughout it. "Don't ask silly questions, my Binnie, it's thee prettiest, you ready?" you respond, using the lube that is still coated on your hand to slick up the small vibrator before aligning it up with his fluttering hole.

"Yes mama, go slow, please" he pleads & you take pity on him, the poor baby is still a bit nervous & you can tell by the resistance as you push the small vibrator inside of him, turning it on as you put it in the full way & the cry that leaves his chest is unlike anything you've ever heard come from him before, it honestly catches you by surprise & he leaks even more onto his tummy.

You stop him from jerking his hips so much by moving up to straddle him, your legs caging him in & you set your cunt, covered by your own.. your shared panties as you grind over his hard cock, the cum from a previous orgasm you pulled from him still sprayed on him.

"You're so beautiful for me, pretty girl, all dressed up for me, hmm?" you tease as you lean down & kiss him, smudging the thin layer of lip gloss you painted over his puffy lips, not that he is in any mind to care anyway, far too distracted by the strong vibrations shooting up his spine, his hips jerking into you as much as he can, whining into your lips & his hands come up to rest on your hips, but you decide to cut him the slack & let him do so.

You let your fingers reach up to pull down his little night gown's boob cups & you let them attach to his little nipples & you twist them & flick them playfully, making Changbin cry onto the tongue that's now exploring his mouth, tasting him.

"Your tits are to die for baby, wanna touch them forever" you purr as you slide down the tiniest amount & let a glob of spit land right on his nipple, teasing him the extra amount by rolling your tongue out to let it fall before curling your tongue as you let it sit back in your mouth & Changbin is in his own little world, little purrs & whines being all he is saying but his eyes are not leaving yours, trying his best to not let them roll to the back of his head because he would be stupid to let himself miss the sight in front of him.

"Mommy, fuck me, please! want you so bad" he whimpers, his teary boba eyes looking up at you, nothing but neediness in them. "You want me to play with your little pussy? Do you think my baby deserves it?" you question, pinching his now spit covered nipples as you keep grinding on his cock, your own juices coating it along with the lube from earlier.

"I've been good! Wanna c-cum with y-in you! too g-good y/nnie" he cries, his toes curling behind you & you giggle as you reach behind him to start fondling his heavy, swollen balls & he lets out a screach at the feeling & he throws his head back into the pillows as much as he can, the feeling getting too much for the poor baby.

You flip yourself around so you're facing his legs in a reverse cowgirl position as you keep grinding on hi, your panties completely soaked through & have been for a long time by this point but the fabric is still slightly scatching against binnies cock & he cannot keep still for the life of him.

You keep playing with his balls & you reach down enough to feel the very edge of the vibrator & you use your fingers to pull just enough out so you can grip it with two fingers before you start to push it in & out the best you can, watching the way his hole swallows it gladly, barely even clenching anymore, the man you're sitting on so beyond the point of being grounded, his mind blank, & you notice this.

"C-cuming, mama, Cum-ming!" he squeaks as his legs shake & his balls pulsate in your hand & his shaft jumps off his tummy, cumming all over himself. You slow down grinding on his cock after realising his body language has changed & he has gone really quiet apart from the small whimpers of overstimulation & his orgasm fading off.

"You still there binnie? You with me?" you question, pulling out the vibrator & he just responds with a whimper at the loss of contact.

"Cmon sweetie, you floating?" you half tease as you turn around again, robbing Changbin of an already second orgasm, the friction from your panties driving his cock crazy again instantly, his chubby cock not even having time to soften, he is just enjoying it so much! which you didn't even mean to do & he just lets out a small, quiet whine at the feeling.

He nods, not even opening his eyes to respond to you, he is leaking precum all over himself, the tip of his cock a darker, more red shade than you think you've ever seen it & you are honestly buzzing at the sight of him like this, you feel so proud for making him crumble for you like this.

"Wanna keep going pretty?" you ask, leaning forward to stroke & move his dampened, curly poodle hair out of his red face, the little bit of mascara you helped him apply completely smudged on his under eyes & a few streaks dried into the top parts of his cheeks.

Changbin doesn't give a verbal response again, but he nods his head again as his big arms wrap around you & pull you forward so your face is buried in his neck & he strokes your hair with one hand as he breaths heavily, his clotheless chest against yours, the contact of your skin against his nipples making his cock jump.

"I won't keep going since you're too far gone & we've not spoken about it much mkay? I'll go clean you up n cuddle with you" you say in a soft voice as you move off of him & you run to the bathroom before coming back with a damp, luke warm tea towel & you wipe the sweat off his face before cleaning all of the slightly dried lube, his orgasms & your own juices that's soaked through your underwear before giving him the cup of water you also brought through & feeding him it.

"You are so good for me, you're adorable." you say as you kiss his full cheeks before nuzzling onto his chest, not wanting to overwhelm him, despite you not being able to see him with the way you're lying, he can't help but blush even more & lightly smile at your words & affection.

->Taglist is open!->Anon list is open!

Remi posting more than once a week?? SINCE WHEN??

[fruitcoops]

Please, Please, Please

Cubs beach day in Nice and prompt C4: "Sunscreen" for day 2 of @oknutzy-week-2024! Characters belong to @lumosinlove (except Colette)!

“You,” Logan began, rubbing his hand faster until an aggressive thwap-thwap-thwap punctuated his words. “Are not going to be embarrassing me here, ouais?”

“Okay—Jesus, Lo—yes, alright, I got it.”

Logan pulled back and examined his handiwork. Functional. For now. Down the beach, Leo already looked half-asleep in the sun, and Finn’s longing glances toward him were not even slightly hidden. The breeze ushered a cloud further along; the sudden sunburst made Finn squint.

Logan huffed and squirted another dollop of sunscreen onto his palm, aiming for Finn’s shoulder this time.

“Oh my god, Tremz.”

“You’re going to burn!” he insisted. Finn squirmed away, but he had never been able to shake Logan. Not on the ice, and certainly not on a pebbled beach he’d been traversing since literal infancy. He smoothed out a stray arc of white over Finn’s spine and watched goosebumps flare on his arm. “What would you do without me, eh? Crisp? Like toast?”

“You sound like your grandmother.”

“If I bring back a lobster boyfriend, she’ll think I don’t know how to take care of you!” Logan wiped the excess on Finn’s waist and nodded, satisfied. “Bon.”

Finn quirked a grin at him. “Am I free to go?”

He was so sweet in the sun. So sparkly, copper and amber and caramel catching in his hair where the salt air had starched soft waves. Logan came close and pressed a kiss to each of his summer-warm cheeks. “I love your freckles too much to let them roast.”

“Hmm.” Finn turned his head slightly to the side, pushing his smile into Logan’s cheek. “Just my freckles?”

“And maybe you, a little,” he conceded.

Finn’s hands were pleasantly cool when he ran them along Logan’s sides in a long up-and-down. “A little?”

“Maybe a little more.”

“Enough to bring me home.”

Logan scrunched his nose at him. “I had to bring you, or the hot blond wouldn’t come.”

Finn slapped the sunscreen bottle from his hands with Logan’s favorite wordless sound of affronted disapproval—nearly a squawk, mostly a whine, almost his name. He snatched the bottle just before it hit the coarse sand and took off at a jog, dodging driftwood and clumps of drying seaweed.

Nice was beautiful in the summer. There was a reason he had brought Finn here, years ago. Finn hadn’t known a lick of French and Logan had hardly known what to do with himself watching the autumn reds of Harvard against a backdrop of blue and purple, but it was perfect. Still was. He knew just where to step to make the dock silent as he slowed and made his way to the far end, matching the steady rock of the current as it broke on the sand below.

“Bonjour.”

“ ‘Jour.”

A lazy smile spread over Leo’s lips when Logan knelt to straddle him, knees sinking into the soft towel they had brought down from his grandmother’s house. She utterly adored Leo, with his cherub curls and his good manners and (most delightfully) the ability to speak French. They hadn’t stopped chatting in nearly a week. Logan could listen to it forever.

Leo stretched, torso arching, arms overhead, ankles popping behind Logan—and relaxed, one wildflower-blue eye peering up. “You’ve got a halo,” he murmured. “Mon ange.”

Logan sighed through his nose and let his weight rest heavy across Leo’s waist. His breaths were measured with the comfort of a beach day. The sun had been kissing him golden since the first hot day in June; a week lounging on the coast of France practically made him glow.

“Le mien.” He drew a line down the center of Leo’s chest, where tiny freckles peeked through if you knew where to look. Mine.

Leo’s smile widened until his eyes crinkled. “You sound different here.”

“Mm?”

“C’est, um…” He raised a hand with great effort, tapping his fingers together like a crab claw. “Taffy. Smoother. Fancy.”

“You don’t sound like anybody here,” Logan laughed, relishing the judder of Leo’s belly beneath him. “But, my grandmère loves you anyway.”

“Yeah, she does,” Leo said, prodding him in the chest. “We talk all day long and she doesn’t say I sound funny once. You, on the other hand…”

“Ah! Un petit caneton! Ouais-ouais-ouais, coin-coin-coin-coin,” Logan mimicked.

Leo’s laughter nearly unseated him; he had hardly caught his breath when a shadow cooled Logan’s shoulder, and he leaned blindly into Finn’s thigh. “Are you being bullied into proper skincare, too?” Finn asked.

Leo tilted his head back with a hum. “We’re discussing how Madame Colette likes me better, thinks my French sounds exotique, and calls her only grandson a duck because he speaks like un canadien.”

Finn tapped the bill of Logan’s hat, knocking it off his head. “So you’re Frenching without me and not manhandling Leo into sunscreen? Preferential treatment, much?”

Logan blinked up at him with all the emptyheaded innocence he could muster. “C’est quoi? Je ne parle pas l’anglais, j’regrette.”

Finn’s lips pursed—his ears reddened. “He’s so sorry,” Leo translated before Finn could open his mouth. His hands slid up Logan’s thighs, high enough to edge on indecent but steady enough that Logan really didn’t care. “He just came here to swim and hang out with his hot boyfriend. Doesn’t know a thing about sunscreen, do you, baby?”

A gentle flick to the forehead was a small price to pay for propping his chin on Finn’s knee. “Here in France,” he said, laying on a thick false accent. “We don’t…’ow do you say…burn? I have never ‘eard of zees sun-screen you speak of.”

Finn looked at him for a long moment, then down at Leo. Chocolate-brown eyes fell on Logan again and he batted his lashes. It drove Finn fucking crazy when he did that, less in the sexy way and more in the don’t you give me those eyes you menace way. Logan employed it often for petty crimes like leaving one chip in the bag and putting it back in the pantry, just to watch Finn’s head explode for his own amusement.

Finally, Finn clucked his tongue. “I’m getting on the plane home without you. Good luck finding a redhead in France.”

Logan caught him around the calf with both arms when he began stepping back. Finn pulled, but he stood no chance when a featherlight kiss found the base of his thigh. “You’ll love me in the morning,” Logan countered. “When you aren’t stuck inside with aloe all over.”

“I happen to like staying inside and doing puzzles with Madame Colette.”

“Grandmère will keep trying to teach you French,” he threatened.

Finn narrowed his eyes, though he had long since stopped trying to free his leg. “Maybe this time I’ll learn, and then we can make fun of you together.”

“You won’t get to see the surprise,” Leo singsonged.

Logan frowned down at him, confused. “What surprise?”

Leo took his lower lip between his teeth and looked up at Finn, plucking at the hem of Logan’s swim trunks. “Remember when Lo and I went into town for bread yesterday?”

“…yes,” Finn said slowly.

“He got a really tiny swimsuit.” Logan watched Finn’s eyes widen. “And if you burn, you won’t get to see it.”

“It’s green,” Logan offered helpfully.

The corner of Finn’s jaw worked. “That’s a hard bargain,” he said at last. He beckoned Logan up with one finger and took the sunscreen back from him, setting it down by Leo. There was a curious, analytical look in his eye that made Logan want to know everything and nothing all at once. “I’ll think on it.”

“Can I help you make up your mind?” he teased.

“Yeah, actually,” Finn said, brightening. “You can.”

Logan’s pulse kicked. One week here with them had left him feeling like he’d been soaked in honey, and it only seemed to get better. He had barely been nineteen when he first brought Finn along. This future had not even been in his best daydreams. “Quoi, rouge?”

“You can cool off.”

The sudden shove to his chest caught him by surprise—the clash of the ocean around him silenced Leo’s bark of laughter in a blur of bubbles and blue. He could see Finn’s wobbly outline sketched out by the sun. Where the water drew him down to smooth gray pebbles, they drew him up, and he kicked off the bottom with the world waiting above.

[wolven91]

It's Cold Outside

Space isn't as cold as one expects.

Oh sure, in the shadow of something; it's freezing, but exposed to a star and no way to naturally dissipate the heat? It gets hot quickly. Having a robust method of cooling one's ship is vital, otherwise the crew would cook within hours. One's ability to cool one's systems is the deciding factor of how much a ship can do in most situations. Problem arise though when that system goes on the fritz and doesn't stop cooling.

On its own, Neil wouldn't have really had an issue. Maybe put on an extra jacket or hoodie? Sure, it was cool, but it wasn't cold. Unfortunately, Yil'ro was a ssypno and cold blooded.

She wasn't cruel, evil, or mean. She was not cold blooded in that sense, but more literally; she made very little of her own heat and without enough heat, she would slow down, become sluggish and eventually fall into a coma. The ship wasn't huge, it was enough for a grand total of eleven crew members. Yil'ro was missed when she didn't appear at breakfast.

When the human had gone to check on her in her, comparatively to her size, tiny quarters, he'd keyed the door open to find her trying desperately to warm up. Blankets covered her and several instant hot food snacks resting against her gently steaming into the air-conditioned room.

"It's... Not... not enough..." She explained haltingly. Coiling herself into a tight knot, causing the hot-pots to wobble. 

Neils, unafraid of the blue Titanoboa, stepped up and placed a hand on the nearest loop of her tail in a show of care and solidarity.

"Is there anything I can do? I can bring more blankets?" The man suggested, genuinely concerned for his friend of the last three months. However, she reacted to his touch, pushing into his palm.

"By the storm snake's blessing, your hands are like a fire..." She murmured, seemingly not hearing him.

Emboldened, the man rubbed his palms together quickly and placed both back onto the coil, which surged up again and into his hands. Neil had always delighted in the deep blue scales of Yil'ro, they were so dark that without light they looked almost black. Currently they shimmered and moulded under his touch. 

"Is this helping?"

"Yes!"

"Should I get everyone else?"

"It doesn't work like this with t-them. Too much fur. Feels cold."

The skin. Humans were alone in the universe with regards to how little they had to cover them. A bit of hair, here and there, but nothing even close to the full head to tail covering of pelt that most of the other races had. Skin on scale transferred heat with such efficiency, that it had been reported that humans who touched the draconians, geckins or the ssypno; felt heavenly.

Neils frowned as he tried to think of a solution, before his mind offered him one.

There was a second of debate, but all it took was to see Yil'ro's miserable face, pulled tight against her coils to make the decision for him.

The man put his weight onto the coil in front of him and vaulted it, swinging a leg up and over it. The size of a ssypno can not be understated. They regularly reached forty to forty-five feet in length with the potential to get much, much bigger. Even with his leg thrown over one of her smaller coils, his toes barely touched the floor.

"Ooh.. What-? Neil?!" Yil'ro started, apparently opening her eyes to see what had just briefly provided two legs' worth of heat across one section of her tail. "What are you... you doing?" She asked, flinching as she shivered with the cold.

"It's an old human trick, sharing body heat."

"But-"

"In life and death situations, skin on skin contact can save your life. I'm not offering, I'm instructing you-" Neil removed his top, the frigid air making his skin pebble. "-To coil me. Shut up! Just do it." Neil ordered with a firm tone, silencing Yil'ro before she could say another word.

Despite her cooled state, the speed at which a ssypno could move shocked the human as her torso appeared from the depths of her coils and embraced him with all four arms. Then, thick, muscular coils wrapped and coiled around the pair of them, sandwiching them together before the outside world was lost and all the remained was the sound of the ssypno and the human's breathing.

She was cool to the touch and Neils could feel the heat sap from him, before the air in the confined space began to warm notably.

"Oooh..." the chest Neil was pressed to rumbled. "Oh my..." Yil'ro murmured.

"I had always wondered... what it was like to hold you- I mean a human..." She corrected hastily. Neil just grinned.

"Enjoy what you like, I just want y-" Neil's words were cut off as he squeaked. One of the broad hands that were clasped down his back had twitched sidesways and given his rump a hard squeeze having him jerk forwards into her.

"You said 'enjoy'..." Yil'ro giggled, already seeming much closer to her old self. "Can we... do this every morning? It would definitely help me get moving..."

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[namelessdumbass]

Meliora/Popestar Ghouls guide

I noticed some people still have trouble telling the Ghouls apart. Specifically Meliora era Ghouls. So i'll try to make things easier for all of you :)

WARNING: lots of text, my silly comments

Happy reading 😏

Learning which symbol/alchemic element (which was Martin Persner's/Omega's idea btw!) belongs to a certain Ghoul is essential:

🜂- Fire, 🜄- Water, 🜁 - Air, 🜃 - Earth, 🜀 - Quintessence. The first Fire Ghoul was also called Alpha and the first Quintessence Ghoul - Omega. Why such names? Because Quintessence/Ether Ghoul had Ω sticker on his guitar and fans started calling him Omega and his counterpart - Alpha. These names just fit them perfectly. Meliora era was unique because neither of previous Papas, nor Cardinal/Papa 4 called Ghouls by their names/elements. Only Papa III did that.

There were few changes of lineups during Era 3 and some Ghouls were given different names by fans. Simply because naming their elements wasn't enough. Examples will be seen below.

Ways to tell them apart when they are on stage:

Their instruments and stickers.

They are placed in certain areas of the stage: Quintessence and Earth on Papa's right, Water in the middle, Air and Fire on Papa's left.

Different body types, eyes, rings, bracelets and tattoos.

The way they behave.

When they are off stage, on promo photos etc just take a look at their chests.

Even though every Ghoul has 5 elements embroidered on their suits, their respective element is highlighted.

HQ pictures are pretty helpful if y'all wanna find your favorite Ghoul.

(from left to right: Air, Earth, Omega/Quintessence, Water and Alpha/Fire)

Also check this video of Papa III introducing Ghouls.

2015 lineup:

Air Ghoul #1. Simply Air. Joined Ghost in 2011. No tattoos, no rings. Usually quite calm on stage, favorite gesture is🤘 . Was the tallest Ghoul till 2017. Had cool keytar solo. Didn't move much.

Pebble aka Earth Ghoul #2. Joined Ghost in June 2015. Smol (yes, smaller than Papa). Has intense stare. Literal beast when it comes to playing drums. Had a special way of throwing sticks to fans (literally footballed them into the crowd lol). Funny one.

Quintessence Ghoul #1 aka Omega. Terzo's favorite Ghoul. His butt was smacked and grabbed by Papa countless times during Year Zero solo. Known for his stomping, graceful guitar playing style, has big silver rings on both hands and pretty eyes. Has the cutest laugh. Did lots of interviews when Special Ghoul wasn't around. Loves Abba. Has been in the band from 2010 till july 2016.

Water Ghoul #4 aka Delta. Slightly shorter than Papa III. Joined in 2015. Sometimes kicks air (literal air, not his fellow Ghoul) on stage, also filled in for Alpha (when he injured his shoulder) and Omega for a few shows. Played rhythm guitar after Omega left. Has no rings, no visible tattoos, but has mad skills. Allegedly he's the one who tried to kick the dude who got on stage and kissed Terzo lol

His regular bass Omega's guitar

Fire Ghoul #1 aka Alpha. Popular among fans. Hangs out with every Ghoul on stage, especially with Water and Pebble. Loves cameras, does✌ a lot, humps his guitar sometimes. Enjoys attention, a bit horny:) Also did a few interviews (mostly with Omega), has strong accent, also speaks Italian. Has rings and tattoos on both hands (had none during era 1 and 2!). Taller than Papa. Joined in 2010, left in november 2016.

2016

Omega left in july, so Water took over rhythm guitar and the first Ghoulette of the Ghost, Mist, was introduced. This lineup toured till the end of the year and nobody returned for Popestar tour in 2017.

Quintessence Ghoul #2. Basically just Water, but with different guitar and highlighted QE symbol on his uniform.

Mist Ghoulette aka Water#5. Tiny💜, unlike Copia's Ghoulettes she wore the same outfit and mask (that looked a bit too big for her) just like other Ghouls. Badass bass player, has a ring, a tattoo on her finger and painted nails. Veeeeery calm. Cute as hell. Alpha liked her a lot.

Fire, Earth and Air Ghouls were same as in 2015:

(from left to right on this picture: Mist, Quintessence #2 (aka Delta/Water Ghoul#4), Alpha/Fire, Earth/Pebble, Air)

2017

All of the previous Ghouls left and the new pack replaced them. If you see Ghouls who are +- same height as Papa, that's them!

(Dewdrop/Water #7, Aether/Quintessence #3, Zephyr/Air #2, Ifrit/Fire #2, Ivy/Earth #3)

Ifrit aka Fire Ghoul #2. Chaotic, hyperactive, Papa's hype man. Same height as Terzo, sweet bean, has wiiiide chest dorito shaped No tattoos, no rings. Spins, dances, jumps a lot. Gets "shot" during Ghuleh/Zombie Queen. No 🜂 sticker on his guitar. Only toured till 2018.

Aether aka Quintessence Ghoul #3. Beefy, jumps a lot, has rings and a bracelet. Always looks friendly. Plain black guitar with no QE symbol. Also pretty active, especially with his pal Ifrit. A bit taller than Papa III. Ran after Terzo when he got gragged off the stage by Papa Nihil's people. Joined in 2017, left in 2022.

P.S. since he's not Omega, his butt was safe during Year Zero solo 🙃

Dewdrop aka Water Ghoul #6 aka Sodo. Smaller than Terzo. Has an aggressive guitar playing style. A bit horny (it got worse). No visible tattoos. Proudly played bass with someone's panties. Syncs with Ifrit and Aether during Ghuleh/Zombie Queen outro. Became Fire Ghoul #3 in 2018. He's still in the Ghost (as of february 2024).

Zephyr aka chAir Ghoul #2. Sits on chair, a lot :) Charming, more active than previous Air ghoul. Loses it during Monstrance Clock, Per Aspera Ad Inferi and Cirice. Could be a great DJ. Almost the same height as Papa. Has a ring. His Mummy Dust keytar solo -[X]. Only toured till 2018.

Ivy aka Earth Ghoul #3. Underrated, many don't know much about him. Was present only during European leg of the Popestar tour (from march till july). Has brown eyes, a tattoo and bracelets. Same height as Ifrit. Wasn't around much, but still did a great job. Was later replaced by Mountain.

Mountain aka Earth Ghoul #4. Joined Ghost in july 2017. The tallest Ghoul. Hates shoes. Has a tattoo on the finger of his right hand, but you won't see shit on photos from this era because he wasn't photographed much and drummers usually get less attention than others in general:/ Quite calm comparing to Pebble. He's still in the band (as of february 2024).

Honorable mentions:

Special Ghoul aka Phil. Has green eyes, speaks Swedish. Did lots of interviews, showed up to grab a few awards for Ghost, worships cats and loves Abba. Literally Papa in disguise (aka Fire Ghoul's uniform and mask). Has been in the shadows since 2017.

Cowbell Ghoul. The myth, the legend. Played cowbell during "Ritual" and "If You Have Ghosts" a few times at the end of the Popestar tour in 2016. Tall, has a posture of a shrimp, always got shooed by Papa. Many want him back.

Aaaand that's it. I hope it was helpful. Thanks for reading :)

🌈👻

[whumblr]

Shattering

Crossed out - Continued from ch.9 - Prologue

-

“Nothing to clean this time, sir?” Lucas bit when he was dismissed from Nero’s office after a relatively quiet evening. Yeah. He was still sour about having to clean up his own blood that Nero punched out of him last time.

Nero, unfortunately, was always sour.

He didn’t even deign to give him an answer. A hint of exasperation crossed his expression and he replied in his own way. He reached for the glass of water on his desk and threw it with all his force at Lucas.

It flew just past his face and Lucas flinched back hard. “Whoa!”

He turned just in time, throwing his arms in front of his face to avoid a second assail of splintered glass as it shattered against the door.

Dumbfounded, he looked at Nero, to the thousand pieces on the floor and back, mouth slightly agape, shock pumping through his veins.

“There is, actually,” Nero merely said, calm as if that outburst never happened.

Lucas reared up for an ‘are you out of your fucking mind?!’ but before he could even open his mouth, Nero glared up at him, instantly shutting down any back talk.

“Clean that up,” he said, maintaining eye contact. “Before I’ll make you kneel on the shards for the rest of the evening.”

His fight left him in a laboured exhale, his shoulders relaxing. “I’ll… be right back. Sir,” he said haltingly. He carefully stepped around the glass, splinters crackling under his feet. Moments later – now knowing where to collect cleaning materials – he returned and sank to the ground, scraping glass into a dustpan.

Nero watched him over his folded hands. “If I hear so much as a crunch under my boot later…”

Yeah, yeah, Lucas forced back, you’d smash my face in the remains, yeah I know. “Yes, sir,” he replied instead, dutifully, only the barest hint of resentment in his voice. He crept over the floor, reaching with the brush to the far corners catching every splinter of glass that skittered away, careful not to place a knee or rest a hand on the floor.

As he stood the glass jingled against the plastic dustpan and he shot Nero a glance that spelled, ‘satisfied?!’.

Nero merely replied with a curt nod up. Dismissed.

The next evening he didn’t bother with niceties as he entered the office. “What’s on the agenda for this ev—"

Nero barely pointed a finger to his lips and Lucas instantly fell silent.

He watched as Nero languidly pushed himself from his chair. Heard the leather creak, the tires squeak against the floor, the groan of wood when Nero leaned on the desk as he walked around it. Slow footsteps, heavy thumps, a squeal of rubber against the floor, and as he approached, he took a final step almost as in slow motion. And Lucas heard a very feint crushing sound under his boot.

He froze up. Swallowed.

Nero noticed. “That means I don’t have to explain. Good.” He stepped back, pressed a finger to the floor and straightened up again, brushing his finger almost right under Lucas nose. A tiny glass crystal perched on his fingertip.

The tension in the room was palpable. In fact, Lucas was sure it radiated from his rigid frame. Not a word was spoken and he was sure the thundering of his heart could be heard loud and clear. He knew what this meant. But hope still had a tight grasp on him and he didn’t dare shatter the tension, because speaking out didn’t have the most amazing results lately.

Nero moved slowly, eyes on Lucas’, and reached out and picked up the empty vase on the filing cabinet next to them. Probably prepared this afternoon because Lucas had no memory of any decorations brightening this gloomy room.

He let the glass fall. Lucas closed his eyes in resignation at the following crash.

The shards pooled under him, larger than the ones from yesterday where the force behind Nero’s throw had pretty much obliterated everything larger than a pebble. Now, sharp pieces poked up, ready to dig into the skin of anyone careless enough to slice a finger along the edges.

“Get on your knees.” Nero rested his hand on his belt, near the baton.

“You can’t—” Lucas started in a feeble voice but fell silent when the hand casually slid over to rest on the handle of the baton. This was going to happen. And if Nero were to strike him, he’d crash down right into the glass. Maybe, if he was cautious and lowered slowly, his trousers would take the brunt.

“You seem very sure about what I can and can’t do.”

“Yeah, I have this little reference guide. It’s called the law.”

The bit of fire flared up but instantly quashed out again as he looked at the pointy spikes under him.

He took a step back, attempting to do as he was told and sink to his knees, just not, you know, right there. But Nero grabbed him by the collar, held him firmly where he was and simply said, “No.”

Lucas swallowed again. Then bent his knees and slowly, right under Nero’s expectant gaze, lowered himself down. Very carefully he rested his knees on the pieces and gradually let more weight shift forward. He winced, but luckily the glass didn’t fully pierce skin. All he felt was an uncomfortable pressure – that would probably turn worse and worse if Nero kept him here until ten again – and light pricks against his skin as the glass dug through the heavy cotton of his trousers.

Larger shards snapped under the weight, smaller pieces merely crunched uncomfortably under bone, and luckily the splinters couldn’t get through the rough cotton to nestle into sensitive skin. His shoulders firmly lodged high up into his neck, as if he would somehow weigh more and put more pressure on the glass if he were to lower them. But he slowly started to relax. There was no blood, merely a few tiny pinpricks in his trousers and while it hurt, it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.

He could do this. As long as he stayed still and was careful.

The challenge in his eyes must’ve been visible as he glared up.

All of a sudden, Nero took a firm step towards Lucas and in one swift movement pulled his baton from his belt, aimed a backhanded strike straight at his face and—

Lucas recoiled hard. “No!” He threw his hands up, scooted back on his knees. Cried out as the glass dug harder into his knees as he braced himself. A brush of air that signaled the force of Nero’s blow swiped at his cheekbone. But the blow didn’t land.

His eyes squeezed shut in anticipation, in pain, and he slowly peeked out when he wasn’t blasted away. The baton hovered right in front of his face. A shivery exhale of relief hesitantly brushed over his lips. But the relief was a short one as a sharp pain stabbed into his knees.

Nero merely put the baton back on his belt, walked back to his seat, and slid the piece of paper to the front of his desk. “You know the drill.”

Lucas bared his teeth in a grimace. His eyes watered and he slowly pulled himself back upright on his knees. This time he did feel a wetness seep into his trouser leg and a sharp pressure that didn’t let up. With each micro movement he felt the shards stab deeper into his skin. Every wince only made things worse. And if that wasn’t enough, he could already feel the familiar numbness creep up.

His previous strategy of shifting his legs as much as possible was no option this time. He was sitting in a pool of glass and he could already see long shards precariously close waiting to snap under his weight and bury into his legs. Leaning forward on hands and knees was definitely out of the question. Keep his hands off the floor at all times.

The static in his legs mingled with dull throbbing pressure of dozens of unyielding crystals poking against unyielding bone.

“Pick up the pieces around you—no. Stay like that. When you’re done, then you can get up,” Nero said after half an hour in an unexpected display of mercy.

Or, well, was it?

In his eagerness Lucas bent forward and not only stabbed his knees even further, but also sliced his finger open when he picked up a shard and winced at the same time. It jingled back against the hard floor and he took a deep breath. His legs were already so numb, if he wasn’t careful he’d fall right into the broken pieces. Easy does it, slowly does it.

He carefully picked up the larger pieces first, gathered them into the unbroken base, and looked at Nero when all that remained were the pieces smaller than the tip of his finger. Nero shook his head.

A frustrated growl seeped into his exhale. He wiped the blood away, before he’d have to clean that off the floor too, and pressed his fingers into the tiny shards, picking them up one by one.

It still took him half an hour. Only his muffled grunts and small clinking noises of the crystals falling on glass broke the silence. He skidded across the floor, the pieces under his knees following right along or finding fresh undented patches of skin to bruise as he inched back and forth to reach the pieces further away from him.

Only when mere splinters remained, Nero nodded and allowed him to get up. To get the dustpan again.

Straightening his knees felt like all muscles snapped like those crackle sticks and he couldn’t help a hiss. His trousers weren’t soaked but there were distinctive red stains welling up from the inside out.

He resisted the urge to rest his hands on his thighs and bent forward, stretching his muscles. There were probably still sharp pieces stuck in the fabric. At least he didn’t have to do this on bare feet in his boxers. So to make sure Nero didn’t have a reason to make him walk on fresh glass tomorrow, he swiped the entire floor extra well.

He didn’t look to Nero for approvement, just kept working in silence, prolonging his own torture with squats and strains. And when he was finally done, the word of mercy was delivered in an unimpressed baritone:

“Dismissed.”

-

Tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop @andithewhumper @tippytappytyping

@suspicious-whumping-egg @cherrychupachup @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @withdrawingramen

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[debb987]

feral babies upon ye

Rad looks up when he hears a hissy screech coming from the ceiling. He doesn't have more than a second to process what's falling before something small and very angry falls.

Right at his face.

He closes his eyes on reflex, more startled than hurt by tiny claws and little sharp teeth. His scales are too thick for skin to be pierced.

He feels a pebble? A chirping pebble? Land somewhere in the space between neck and shell, right behind his head. Another tiny on a shoulder, even if it doesn't stay put for long, little clawed feet running from one shoulder to the next before it takes refuge along with the chirping pebble, right in the pocket shell.

A larger weight is on his shell, he hears the sound of a scratched shell as the creature tries to escale up his scutes to reach the others.

Churring to reassure the tots (because the sounds are definitely turtle) he slowly raises an arm to carefully pry the hissy one away from his face— PFFF THE EYES!

Raph chuckles and craddles the angry tot to his chest, hoping that being close to the sound will call him down. The larger tot has reached his neck now, a tiny arm reaching forward as if to ask for the hissy one to be handed over.

Rad lays down on the floor, letting the tots decide what they want to do as he continues to churr reassuringly.

[sweetracha]

No thoughts only building snowmen with felix and then him getting grumpy bc yours looks cuter

Do you Wanna Build a Snowman?

"Lixie come on! You're going to catch a cold" you said as you rounded the corner in your new home.

"It'll all melt away! Hurry" Felix sounded like a little child worried about his double chocolate cookie crunch extreme scoop of ice cream.

Who could blame him though? Felix couldn't remember the last time he had seen snow. You mentioned how badly the streets would thick over with ice and be packed with white as far as the eye could see. To Felix, this could never be a bad thing. How could it be?

You ran through a mental checklist, ensuring you were both ready for the cold about to hit you. Sure, you were used to it by now but somedays the winter bites back. Felix on the other hand was ready to run out blind to his death, the Aussie would never survive without you.

Thick socks? Check.

Warm boots? Check.

Pants with leggings underneath? Double-check

Long sleeves? Check

Coats? Check and a matching check as Felix insisted you two had to have a matching set.

Gloves? Check much to Felix's complaining 

And finally, a hat to keep your head warm? Check!

When you opened the front door, Felix dashed out with excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the pure joy on his face. He found the thickest pile of snow in the middle of your yard, where your garden used to be, and fell to his knees. You should have guessed the gloves would have been long forgotten by now as he feels the snow melt on his bare skin. There was no way to sneak up beside him as the unmistaken crunch of packed snow sounded from under your feet. You crouched next to him and took in all his beauty. It was his first life, wasn’t it?

“Lixie baby?” You asked softly, not wanting to disturb his fun. All you got back was a simple hum to acknowledge he was listening. “Do you want to build a snowman?” You thought he was about to die from how quickly he lit up.

“Yes! We could make a cute snow couple!” His mind went running with ideas.

“Pixie, have you ever built a snowman?”

“No but how hard could it be? Animal crossing taught me everything I need to know.”

Oh how wrong he was. Felix quickly realized he had put too much confidence in his ability to build a snow person. It wasn’t meant to be a competition but he decided himself to make it one. Then he looked over at yours, almost finished while he was barely started. 

Yours was perfectly round and white.

His was lumpy and had random mud stains all over.

Yours was perfectly proportional.

His head always ended up being bigger than the middle.

Yours had arms specifically grown by Mother Nature herself.

His looked as if a dog dragged them in.

Even the face on your snowman looked perfect! Brown buttons you stole out of the craft drawer, a little carrot nose from the fridge, little pebbles curved up into the biggest smile. You even broke off tiny flakes of bark to make the freckles on your snowman! 

Wait…freckles…on a snowman? Brown buttons, a big smile, a blue scarf, a matching hat, Felix’s missing gloves, and freckles.

“Y/n!” He didn’t know what to say so he decided to scream your name to get your attention. However, that backfired miserably as you fell straight on your butt onto the cold ground.

“Felix!” You yelled back. He ran as fast as he could to save you.

“I’m sorry…I just..your snowman…he is…” 

“He is you!” Felix swore the smile you shared could have cleared the skies. “Do you like him?”

“I LOVE HIM!!!” He got up close and personal to inspect every little detail. “How?”

“I’ve had some practice” He fell for your giggle every time.

“Mine looks so…sad” Just then the oversized head rolled off and smashed into pieces.

“Maybe I can help you? I bet we could make him a real find!” Felix liked this idea much more than the competition he was participating in.

“Gotta make Snowlix the perfect man!” Felix stated as if it was an indisputable fact.

“So snowbin, got it”

The Sweetest Batch: @goblinracha @kaciidubs @channieandhisgoonsquad @comet-falls @ddyskz @jiminskies @j-onedrabbles @lixiesweetbrownie @marrivmel @caitlyn98s