#you are not allowed to say anything about my taste

[mayfly-maycry]

The devil sighed. “Unfortunately for you, they are named as such because of my liking for them, not my ability to make them. Fortunately for you, I have just begun to crave one and I do know whose is the best.”

They then instructed you in how to make another summoning circle — rather similar to the one that had summoned them, but slightly different — and repeating the ritual with the new circle summoned another demon. Or at least, you assumed by circumstances it was another demon — he just looked like a French man.

Upon his summoning, the devil walked up behind you. “Yes, François, good of you to come. I need two of the usual, stat.”

The French demon gave a bow. “Right away, sir,” before striding out of the room. You and the devil followed him as he made his way to your kitchen, informed you that he would have to borrow it, and set to work. You sat on one of the stools at the counter and watched, fascinated, as he drew small sigils in the air to summon ingredients — top-tier if the fancy labels were anything to go off of — and mixed them in your banged-up metal mixing bowls. The devil sat beside you.

“You’ve never tasted devil food cake until you’ve tasted François’s. I believe the turn of phrase in English is ‘so good it should be a sin,’ but usually Heaven gets all the good bakers; lucky for me this one made his way down to my end of the afterlife.”

You had no idea how one was supposed to have a conversation with the devil, from the Bible, but you figured you could give it your best shot. “What exactly did he do to… ‘make his way down to your end of the afterlife,’ as you put it? Or is that rude to ask?”

The devil chuckled. “Hardly; the man grew up with a love of baking but none of the supplies, so he’d sneak into the bakery at night to borrow their ovens, plus their ingredients. Trespassing and theft. They did end up hiring him eventually, though, so it was all forgiven in the end.”

“Well, a sin is a sin I guess, even under such innocent circumstances...” The Christian afterlife was notoriously unfair in the old books, but you had held some kind of hope that it had maybe… caught up with the times.

“Oh, he also murdered his wife. I’m no judge, but I think that’s what pushed him down the stairs to my door.”

“Huh. You don’t say…” you said, reeling a bit. Yep, that would do it. Maybe there was still hope for the afterlife.

You and the devil continued your chatter, François joining you after the cakes went in the oven, speaking mostly in short responses to his lord’s jibes, but occasionally tossing out baking advice that had you itching for somewhere to write it down.

Eventually the oven timer went off. Except, it wasn’t your usual timer. As François opened the oven and pulled out the cakes, you noticed the oven wasn’t actually on; instead, two small portals floated near the top and bottom, presumably leading to the fires of Hell itself based on what you could see. You waited in anticipation as the cakes settled, the smell almost making you drool.

Finally, Françoise got out a knife and cut a single large slice out of one of the cakes, placed it on a single plate, and placed that in front of the devil with a single fork. The devil licked their lips with what, despite the cliche you could only call a devilish grin, and picked up the fork. They cut out a bite with a careful yet practiced motion, then placed it in their mouth. Th devil held the fork there for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the flavor before slowly chewing and finally allowing the moment to end when they swallowed.

The look of sheer bliss on their face was almost enough to actually make you drool. But as the devil continued to eat, François simply stood watching, making no move to get a second or even third plate. You looked almost desperately between the cakes on the stove and the piece on the devil’s plate. Just when you couldn’t take it anymore and were about to get up and serve yourself, the devil set down their fork and spoke.

“Ahh, that was delicious. The best one yet, I think. Did you change something in the recipe, François?”

“Hardly, sir. Perhaps it was the oven. Or maybe, as they say, good company makes the food taste better.”

The devil nodded. “Right you are, François. And I am a generous devil; this deserves a reward. The second cake is for our generous host. François, prepare it appropriately. And another slice for me as well.”

“Right away, sir,” François said with a smile, taking the devil’s plate and cutting a slice from each cake. He placed one in front of the devil and one in front of you. Finally. Finally you could taste it.

Reverently, you picked up your fork and took a bite. It was just as the devil had said: so good it should be a sin.

"What made you summon me, mortal?" "I want you to make me one of your cakes" "…you summoned the devil so he could make you chocolate cake?" "It's named after you, isn't it? Yours should be the best"

[freakyformula]

Have my baby - Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+, breeding kink obviously, creampie, unprotected sex

Word count: 1,4k

I feel like you’d realise that Max has a raging breeding kink right in the middle of a heated makeout session one ordinary Tuesday night.

"Damn, schat, you're so beautiful… Wanna put a baby in you so bad."

His comment freezes both of you. He must have realised what he just said and stopped in his tracks, scanning you for a reaction. But your face is blank, free of any emotion.

You're in shock, Max had never even mentioned having kids of your own before. Sure, you both knew that you wanted kids someday but you had not discussed it further until now. Besides, Max was good with children, and the biggest dream you had was to have a baby with him. But his admission came as a surprise.

You huff, "Baby, huh?" Gazing up at his icy blue eyes. They were filled with shame, and his head sunk into the crook of your neck with a sigh. Your hands sink into his thick hair, and you can't help but pull on it slightly, encouraging him to look up again.

"Max, look at me." You tell him, and he does, still with that adorable frown on his face.

"Say it again." You order.

"I'm not doing that, Y/N." Max quickly replies.

You sigh. "I didn't know you had a breeding kink, Max." You wink at him.

You're really into the idea. "Baby…" You whisper while playing with his hair and brushing over your stomach, imagining feeling a baby bump under your hand.

"Liefje, I didn't mean to-" He starts, his tone slightly panicked, but you stop him before he can explain himself.

"I like that, Max." You admit. As you say that, his eyes widen in surprise.

"Really?" He coos while peppering your face with kisses.

"Yeah…" You giggle. "I mean, I wasn't exactly ready to hear that from you but I like it."

Max lets out a laugh, "I wasn't thinking, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything."

You shush him, "You didn't, trust me."

He offers you a faint smile as he traces his hand against your cheek.

"Can I remove these?" Max asks rather desperately, pointing to your jeans, making you nod and assisting him in dragging them off.

When the sweet smell of you hits him, he inhales and lets out a small whimper. "God, smell heavenly…"

His words make you blush, and while he's busy taking your underwear off, you look down at his bulge.

"Need you so bad, Maxie." You whine while palming his jeans.

He answers with a couple of thrusts against your hand, feeling desperate to have you and to get out of the tightening lock-up of his pants.

Something in him switches when he sees your pussy, and he manhandles your tiny figure onto your hands and knees.

"Please Max, need you." You beg. Your hand slides down to your heat, and you're already soaked. As you're playing with your clit, you slide two fingers in, stretching yourself for him.

You hear the clinking of his belt behind you, and you look back at him, arching your back further, allowing him to see you even better.

"Such a tease…" He chuckles, and you feel something slide along your slit. Something wet and familiar. You recognize it as his tongue almost instantly, and you can't help letting out a moan.

"Hmmm, taste even better." He whispers against your core. As he's licking and sucking on your clit, his nose brushes against your seeping hole, wetting his face.

You feel yourself getting closer by the second as you feel two of his fingers penetrate you and curl up against your G-spot.

Max feels the way you're clenching around his fingers, almost cutting off blood supply to his poor digits.

Before you even had the chance to react, you came. The feeling of him on you is overwhelming and you're frantically trying to get away, but he's holding himself and you in place, still sucking on your clit and fingering you frantically.

When you've come down, Max pulls his fingers out and collapses beside you, stroking your flushed cheek with his fingers.

"So what do you say, schat?" He asks, his eyes filled with adoration.

"About what?"

He pauses before he speaks, "Let's have a baby." He says, still looking at you.

"Max…" You try to sound serious but the thought of having his baby is tempting. "You're away all the time for work. It wouldn't work."

"I'll quit if you want me to. Just have a baby with me."

Silence. You try to come up with a good excuse, but the post-orgasm haze makes it hard. The only reason you're waiting is because of his career. And if he quits, there's no reason for you to wait. "You can't stop racing just because you want a baby, Max."

"Watch me, Y/N… Besides, if we make a baby now, it'll be born in the off-season, it's perfect!" He tries to resonate.

"You've planned this really well, haven't you?" You giggle.

"Mhm… You would make the most beautiful mama. You and pregnancy would complement each other." He coos while rolling you over onto your back, kissing you all over your face, making you burst out in laughter.

"Okay, okay, I give up!" You laugh, allowing Max to hover over you.

"Let's make a baby." You whisper, not sure if he heard you.

"Oh… Love." He sighs contently while pulling your hoodie off and freeing himself from his jeans and underwear. "I love you." He leans in and catches your mouth in a searing kiss, his cheeks flushing with each word.

The thought of making love to you without any barriers, feeling you for real, sends Max reeling.

His knees push your legs apart, placing himself between them. Max can't help capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, tasting your lips with his tongue. Excitement runs through him as you run your fingers down his body to his pulsating member, you grab it and give it a few pumps before brushing it against your cunt, collecting the slick from your previous orgasm on his tip.

"Are you really sure about this?" He asks for confirmation one last time.

"I'm sure of it, Max." You reply, giving his nose a gentle kiss.

Max is beaming at you when he hears the words, and slowly slides into you, connecting two bodies into one. When the tip is in, you stop him with a hand on his stomach. You would never get used to his size. "It's okay, schat, take a moment." He tries to comfort you.

Once you've adjusted to him, you nod to indicate your readiness to continue. He slowly burrows into you, ensuring you feel okay and as comfortable as possible while showering you with praise and encouragement.

"Doing so well for me, liefje."

"Looking so good like this."

"Our babies will be just as beautiful as you."

"I'm so lucky to have you."

When he bottoms out, you moan out brokenly, as does he. The feeling of him sheathed in you almost sends you into a raging orgasm instantly, in any case, you're close.

"Look at me, Y/N." He asks as he pumps into you. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you are desperately trying to keep yourself together. When you hear his words though, you open your eyes, only to find him close, looking at your contorted face. The sight of him aids your impending orgasm, and you're pushed over the edge with the help of his thrusts.

As you moan out your second orgasm, you suck Max' delicious lower lip into your mouth, while rocking your hips to get some kind of relief. Max doesn't let you come down this time and continues pumping into you, increasing his pace.

You are both a moaning mess; kissing, sucking, licking each other wherever your mouths happen to land.

"Can't wait to see your stomach swell with my child, lieve." Max stills, out of breath, drops of sweat decorating his forehead. He stills in you, pulling your legs up on his shoulders, folding you in half. The change of angle, his tip against your G-spot, drives you into a frenzy. You're hyper-aware of everything happening, his hands on your body leaving goosebumps wherever he touches, his eyes on you, feeling like fire, his thrusts, god, you're going to cum again.

You clench around him, "My god, I'm close." Max announces, "Please, cum with me." He begs while he picks up the pace, slamming into your cervix again and again until you both yell in ecstasy. You feel streaks of his seed painting your insides while you milk his member dry.

Max collapses on top of you, spent and tired. "Jesus, Y/N."

You giggle into his shoulder, you too feeling tired, but happy.

"What if it actually sticks on the first try?" You ask.

"Might as well go for another round to up our chances." Max winks at you.

[merakiui]

there is a knock at your door.

yandere!jade leech x (gender neutral) reader x yandere!floyd leech cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, fear/paranoia, kidnapping note - will you open it? // a birthday gift for the lovely and amazing @fish-brain-go-brrrr!!!!!!! may your special day be filled with eels, tako, and boundless happiness. (´▽`ʃƪ)♡ thank you for being a wonderful friend!! have the best birthday and enjoy this little gift hehe!!!! 🎉

Knock, knock. 

The door opens to reveal your friend since forever: Azul Ashengrotto.

And, more importantly, his Alaskan Malamute, who bounds over in quick clicks to greet you. You laugh as she all but pushes past Azul’s legs in an effort to reach your outstretched arms.

“Well, excuse you!” Azul laughs. She slobbers all over your face in her form of affectionate greeting before pulling away to sniff curiously at your suitcase. “Someone’s excited to see you.”

“I haven’t even gotten through the door,” you remark in between giggles.

“Okay, Pepper, that’s enough.” Azul clicks his tongue and she parts from you (not before delivering one final lick to your cheek. He smiles and pats her affectionately. “Good girl.”

Despite Pepper’s impressive size, she’s nothing but a softie. A gentle giant, some would describe her. You remember when she was just a puppy, small enough to be cradled in Azul’s arms like a human baby. How she’s grown!

“If you’d come this way, you can put your stuff down.” Azul shuffles aside to allow you to step fully into the foyer of his smartly-furnished home. “I’m sure you’re already familiar with everything, but it won’t hurt to reiterate.”

“Please do. It’s been a while since I’ve been at your place. Doesn’t seem like anything’s changed, though.”

He hums and shuts the door behind you. It locks smoothly. You trail after Azul, wheeling your suitcase down the hall and into the sitting room. Pepper bounds after the both of you and makes herself comfortable on a fluffy dog bed.

“Pepper’s feeding schedule hasn’t changed. Although I did switch to a different brand of dry food. This one is much better. Vet’s orders and all that. And every month I have a chef come in to prepare her a special, nutritionally balanced meal with only the freshest ingredients.”

“Wow! Isn’t she spoiled?” you tease in an exaggerated baby voice.

“I take care of my things,” he replies simply, shrugging your playful remark off, “and Pepper deserves only the finest.”

“I’m sure she appreciates it.”

As if having realized she’s the subject of conversation, Pepper barks.

Azul leads you through the house into the kitchen. It looks different from the last time you saw it and you realize he must have had it redone. Every appliance is brand-new, winking back at you when you peek into each gleaming surface.

Sleek, you think, admiring the wall oven. 

“Pepper gets one cup of dry food twice every day. Once in the morning and once at night. On Fridays, I give her a can of wet food as a treat. She can have that whenever you think is best. I usually do it around late morning, early afternoon.”

“Dry food twice each day. Wet food Friday. Got it.”

He opens a small door to a cupboard packed neatly with cans and containers. “This is where I keep her food. This bigger door is for human food. The wonderful pantry.” He knocks on it playfully.

Knock, knock.

You attempt a poor joke. “So it’s not just all dog food?”

“I have to feed myself,” he says, dramatically aghast. “I’m not a dog.”

“You sure about that?”

Azul barks out a chuckle. His mouth quirks up in an amused half-grin. “I’m sorry to disappoint. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve stocked this one full of everything indicated in the preferences you sent me.”

“So that’s why you asked me for that list! I just thought you wanted food recs.”

“That, too. You have unique tastes.”

“Microwave and canned meals are always there for me in my darkest hours.”

He hums. “Well, I’ve made sure to get each of your human favorites, so you needn’t feen for those too much.”

There’s a razored edge to his remark that makes you shrivel inside. As if your appetite is cheap in some way, more like a dog’s than a person’s.

But this is his house and it’s his money. You wouldn’t put it past him to factor in the pay cut for unnecessary sass. So you simply bare your teeth in a smile and take the punch, whether it was intended for you or not. Sometimes you forget he’s supposed to be your friend. 

“You’re welcome to use the kitchen. The whole house is your oyster, really,” he continues, guiding you towards the back door. It’s then when you notice the little black camera positioned in the corner of the room, its red eye peering soundlessly back at you. You wonder if that’s a new addition—the dog cameras. You can’t remember if they were there the last summer you were here. “Pepper has a tendency to stay out longer than she needs to after she’s done her business. She’ll come to the door once she’s had her fill, so there’s no need to fret. Although I’m sure she’ll listen to you. She’s quite obvious in her favoritism…”

You laugh but not because it’s funny. Because it’ll hopefully land you within his good graces, which is patently absurd if he’s meant to be your friend. You’re not even sure you can call these favors friendship when they’re transactional. If anything, you’re friendlier with Pepper than you are with Azul.

Am I really closer with a dog than a human? you think as he opens the door for you to view the fenced-in yard. You watch Azul gesture, his lips moving with his words. Actually, maybe Azul’s the dog.

Doubtful, but that doesn’t make the imagery any less comedic.

“I’ll be back next Monday. If you need anything or have any questions, you have my number. Oh, but just in case I’ve written the schedule for you and pasted it on the fridge should you forget.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

At that, he smiles sincerely. “Thank you. I really do appreciate this, considering everything was such short notice.”

“Nah, don’t worry. We’re friends. Plus, Pepper loves me.”

He chuckles. “I suppose that’s more than enough of a bonus. Speaking of which, how much would you like to be paid?”

“However much you’d like to give me,” you blurt and immediately regret it.

“I researched the average pay for dog-sitters, but there were just so many conflicting opinions and variables. So what do you think would be best? Please don’t sell yourself short on account of my asking. I’m always willing to give you more for your services.”

Taking a pause, you contemplate his words. If you factor in the grocery trip he made on your behalf and his letting you stay for the week alongside the tasks you’ll be completing for Pepper…

You open your mouth to suggest four-hundred madol, but he beats you to it—and with a completely different amount.

“Does three-hundred suffice?”

“Sure. No, yes. Yeah, that works.” You smile, but you aren’t very pleased.

“Wonderful! If you ever find yourself thinking you might need more, please do tell me. I want to make sure you’re paid accordingly. Good work deserves equally good acknowledgement, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod. If you know anything about Azul, it’s that he’s always willing to work with you when it comes to finances. He’s a businessman, so of course he’d know how to flawlessly navigate these types of situations. And having built himself a career and life on hard work, he has the confidence to throw numbers around and see which one sticks.

Briefly, as you follow him to the front door, you try to imagine yourself in his shoes—a businessperson who dresses smart every day, who never has to worry about money, who doesn’t have to be silently amazed by shiny appliances and refurbished kitchens.

And then you wonder if Azul is in the market for a spouse, but that idea is swiftly stamped out when you realize how silly it sounds.

He props his suitcase against the wall and bends down to welcome Pepper, who can easily match his height, into his arms. She licks at his face, sniffing the cologne spritzed on his suit, and he doesn’t seem to fuss over the hair.

“I’ll see you in a week. Be good to (Name) while I’m gone.”

Upon hearing your name, she whips her head up to look at you.

“She’s always good no matter what,” you vouch, reaching to scratch behind her ears. Her tail wags wildly. “The best girl.”

“I’m glad.” Azul pulls away. He plucks a lint roller from the side pouch in his backpack and casually brushes down his front. “I trust you’ll be fine in my absence? Do feel free to sleep wherever—whether on the sofa or in the guest bedroom upstairs. The sheets were just washed and the room is clean. Mine is as well, but I suppose it may be awkward to offer it.” He coughs into his fist. “Regardless, whichever space you find most comfortable, consider it yours for the duration of your stay.”

“Thank you for everything, Azul.” You hold the door for him as he drags his suitcase over the threshold, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. “Have a safe flight.”

Pepper joins you at the door to watch. You wave to him while he lifts his belongings into the trunk of his car, and then within mere minutes he’s pulling away and driving out of sight.

“And that’s that,” you announce, ducking back inside with Pepper. You shut the door and lock it. Surveying the sitting room, your hands situated on your hips, you wonder what you should do now. She peers up at you, just as expectant. 

The first thing you decide to do is peruse the pantry and the fridge. All of your favorites are arranged within. It’s actually too much, you realize, now unable to settle on a single option for dinner.

So instead you swipe the money Azul’s left for you on the counter—in case of emergencies, the note reads—and decide that this predicament is dire enough for pizza.

Knock, knock.

You pop up from the sofa and trot over to open the front door. Pepper gets there before you, barking loudly at the person on the other side. Gently, you shush her and peek out through the small crack to greet the driver. They smile and hand over your food. Rushing through the process, you give them the amount owed.

The door shuts and locks with a click.

“You’re babysitting for the same rich guy? You’d think he’d give you a raise or something since you do it so often,” Ace mutters into the phone.

“Yeah, well, it’s only a week.”

“Still a week’s worth of work. Why do you even feel bad? Ask for more. He said he’d give it to you, didn’t he?”

“I dunno… I mean, we already agreed on an amount and I don’t wanna seem like a greedy asshole—”

“(Name), he’s rich. They’re all greedy assholes. If he has the money to spoil his dog with monthly fancy feasts,” he says, putting on a posh accent, “then he has the money to pay you what you deserve. If you want, I could always say something. J-Just because you’re too chicken and all, I mean! Sometimes you need superstar Ace to step in. No need to thank me. I know I’m great.”

Propping your feet on the armrest at the end of the loveseat, you roll your eyes at the ceiling. “Whatever would I do without you?”

“Case in point! So you should totally ask him for more. Wring him out like a money rag.”

“We’ll see… He did buy a bunch of food for me and he’s letting me stay. He even left money for emergencies.”

“You used it, right?”

“Of course I did! I’m not stupid.”

Ace laughs. “So you’re alone then?”

“The dog’s here, too. You wanna say hi?” You tap your phone. “Okay, you’re on speaker. Pepper, you wanna meet my friend?”

“What’s up, Pepper!”

She lifts her head from where she’s resting on her cushion, her ears raised curiously. Her only response is a soft huff.

“She says hi.”

“You sure you’re not putting words in her mouth?”

“Surprised you couldn’t understand her, you dog.”

“Hey!”

Grinning, you pick at a loose string on your sweater. Azul’s house is always so cold. “But, yes, it’s just the dog and me. Why?”

Ace is quiet for an uncharacteristic beat. Eventually, he clears his throat. “Dunno. Just figured you might want some company. I could come over.”

You understand the implication coyly woven into his words. “I’d say yeah—”

“Really?!”

“But he’s got cameras. For the dog, I think.”

“So just cover them up?”

“Wow, great suggestion. How long did it take you to think of that one, brainiac?”

“I’m just saying… He’s away on a business thing, right? How much time is he gonna have to watch the cameras?”

“If he’s neurotic enough, he’ll find time.”

“He shouldn’t be if he trusts you to look after the house.”

“He also trusts how easy it’ll be to connect the dots if something goes missing from his house.”

“It’s not criminal to have a guest over! Geez. You make it sound so illegal…”

“Tough luck. If you really wanna hang out, we can just get lunch next time I’m—”

Knock, knock.

You sit up slightly on the sofa, brows furrowed. Is someone at the door? At this hour? You’re certain Azul isn’t expecting anyone, and the mail isn’t due to come until tomorrow morning. You glance at Pepper. Her eyes are closed, but her ears are raised, listening.

“Hey, Ace?”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Hold that thought. I think someone’s at the door.”

You manage to catch the very end of Ace’s don’t-get-murdered warning just before you set your phone down. Azul’s door has a panel of frosted glass, so even if you wanted to discern the person’s features on the other end you’d have to open it for confirmation. All you can go off of are shadows.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open and poke your head outside. The crisp air hits you like a slap.

No one’s there.

You check around in case someone dropped something off, but there’s nothing in sight. Nothing on the stoop. No mail to collect.

Did someone have the wrong house? you think, trying to picture the scenario in your mind. Or maybe some dumb kids are pranking me. 

Now irritated, you shut the door in a huff.

It’s summer. Don’t they have anything better to do?

Maybe it’s precisely because it’s summer that they don’t.

You choose to brush this annoyance aside in favor of picking up your phone to return to the conversation.

“Sorry about that. I’m back.”

“Everything good?”

“Yeah. No, yeah. All good here. Just some kids thinking they’re funny.”

“Yeaaah, no surprises there.”

“You’d think they’d stay away. Azul’s probably got enough money to sue them for disturbing the peace or some other stuffy nonsense and win.”

“They’re kids. They’re not gonna know any better.”

“Says the public menace.”

“I’m not that bad! Cut me some slack. I’ll have you know, I’ve matured significantly since my school days and I am very much a changed man.”

“Yeah, oookay.”

“I’m serious!”

“Sure, Mr. Mature. Anyway, it’s late. I should let Pepper out and get to bed.”

“You sure you don’t want me to sing you to sleep?” he teases.

“I actually value my sense of hearing, so no. Thanks, though.”

Before he can retort, you bid him sweet dreams and hang up. Gazing at the camera positioned in the corner, you rise to your feet.

The cameras are definitely new.

“Pepper, sweetheart, you wanna go outside?”

She seems to have understood that last part, for she scrambles out of her bed and pads over to the back door with a swaying tail. You open the door for her, and she rushes past you in a blur of fur.

Good. She’ll get one last run and bathroom break in before bed and hopefully we’ll be fine until morning.

Like a wine stain on a white shirt, your eyes are drawn to the camera once more. You can understand having cameras outside the property, but inside the house feels…unusual. But then you’ve never had a dog of your own and you’ve always lived in apartments on the highest floor, so maybe this is what most dog owners do when they need to monitor an overactive animal.

Maybe they’re those cameras that you can speak through! If that’s the case, then I can totally see him talking to Pepper or scolding her if she’s up to no good. Okay, that makes a little more sense now.

Another reason hits you, and you feel foolish for not realizing it first: For safety and security’s sake, too. Of course.

Your phone buzzes then and you pull it from your pocket to read the message. Ace has sent you something stupid on Magicam, no doubt. You’re about to open it and confirm when—

Knock, knock.

An admonishment on the tip of your tongue, you storm through the hall towards the front door. You throw it open this time, and like before you find empty space.

“Not funny,” you seethe, stepping out into the cold night to peer through the neat hedges and flower bushes. Surely those kids are hiding somewhere… “It’s late. Go home already!”

You don’t receive a reply. For a moment, you wait in anticipation. Wherever they’re hiding, they’ll have to get up and retreat eventually. It’s oddly quiet. You strain to listen for any giggles or whispers.

Nothing but suffocating silence.

And then Pepper barks, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You shut the door slowly, watching the outside slim down until eventually all you see is your warped reflection in the frosted glass.

Weird…

Again, Pepper barks.

“I’m coming! Wait just a moment, Pepper!”

You lock the door and scurry to let her in. 

Come tomorrow, those kids won’t be able to hide in the daylight, you tell yourself as you brush your teeth. And when I catch them, I’ll make sure to give them a talk on why it’s not nice to bother other people, especially at night when it’s dark out. It’s just unsafe for kids to be out late anyway!

When you settle into bed, you realize the house is perfectly still and silent. Pepper is snoozing comfortably on Azul’s bed. You never realized it, but Azul’s house seems bigger at night. More rooms. More space. Lots of shadows. A creak every now and then as everything settles. It’s in between sleep that you begin to wonder if you locked the door.

It’s fine. I’ve got Pepper to keep me safe.

Comforted with this knowledge, you fall asleep.

Knock, knock.

There is a knock at your door.

You jerk awake and, rather clumsily, feel around in the bed for your phone. It flashes the time back at you. The rest of the world comes trickling in through dull, still-sleepy senses. You finally register Pepper’s bark, which is beginning to sound more like an alarm with how relentless it is.

“Shit. It’s already afternoon?” And then you sit up. “Shit! It’s already afternoon!”

You rush down the stairs, apologizing profusely to Pepper with each step. She’s waiting for you at the very bottom, pacing in circles and barking at you.

“I know, I know! I’m sorry. I completely slept in. You must have to go really bad.”

She races you to the door and you yank it open in your haste, heaving a relieved breath when she bursts outside. You lean against the doorframe for support and bask in the sunshine that spills in.

The weather’s beautiful today. I can’t believe they were saying it might rain.

While Pepper runs laps outside, you busy yourself with filling Pepper’s bowls with the recommended amount of dry food and then fresh water. Her shadow appears against the door a few minutes later and so you let her in.

“Just in time,” you praise, watching as she trots eagerly over to her bowl.

With that out of the way, you begin preparing a very late breakfast for yourself. You can’t remember when the dishes from before were cleaned. Did you do them last night before bed?

“Doesn’t really matter,” you murmur, slicing fruit for a salad. “One less thing I have to do. Thank you, (Name) from the past.”

You skim through the notes Azul’s pasted to the bulletin board. Instructions for Pepper’s feeding schedule, reminders, times and dates. But then there are also things he’s left for himself. A calendar with important events marked. Various notes for miscellaneous things: Bring suit in for cleaning. Meet with dietician at the end of the month. Celebrate colleague’s birthday. These tiny slivers of his life remind you that Azul is a busy person like you. When you look at the stars he’s doodled around dates of particular importance, you feel yourself smiling. He’s not such an intimidating figure when you look at him through his calendar.

A text from Ace coaxes you out of your thoughts: u still on for tonight?

Tonight? But then you remember. Oh, fuck! Deuce’s birthday! I forgot we planned the surprise for today.

hell yeah!!! is your enthusiastic reply.

Later, while you’re getting ready for the evening, you think you hear someone knocking. But the running water drowns out all sounds from downstairs. If Pepper isn’t barking, it’s likely nothing.

You leave the house somewhat frazzled, hoping to shake off the strange suspicion that something isn’t right.

The biggest surprise, aside from jumping out to shock Deuce when he walked into the restaurant on account of thinking it a date—yes, you and Ace catfished him for this very cruel, irreverent birthday joke—is perhaps the text you receive from Azul.

Is it raining? Did Pepper track mud in the house?

You read it three more times and then you peek outside the window. It’s been raining ever since you arrived. So much for perfect weather… But Pepper couldn’t have gotten into any mud because the ground was dry earlier today.

No?? you write back, confusion bubbling in your chest. I haven’t sent her out since this morning when it was sunny. It’s raining now, but she hasn’t been out at all.

Horrified, you begin to wonder if you somehow spilled something during breakfast. Or did Pepper have an accident in the house? Did she get into something? A million questions headline your thoughts, overwhelming in their intensity. Thankfully, it’s Ace and Deuce who bring you back to the present.

“Ace told me you’re doing that house-sitting gig for that guy again.”

“Oh, yeah! I am. Dog-sitting, too.” You stuff your phone away.

Best not to think about it.

“Didja catch those kids?”

Deuce looks between you and Ace, a brow raised. “What kids?”

“You totally missed it! I guess some kids were knocking on (Name)’s door all night long.”

“They’re still doing it. I think…”

“No way!”

“Sooner or later, it becomes less annoying and more like harassment.” Deuce cringes. “And you haven’t caught them yet?”

“No. Or… Well, I thought I heard some knocking this morning. But I was still asleep and the dog was barking.”

“This guy has cameras, doesn’t he?” Ace looks to you for confirmation.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I have access to them.”

“Maybe that’ll drive whoever’s bothering you away. If they see the cameras, they’ll realize they’re being recorded and hopefully leave you alone.”

“Hopefully.”

“I offered to come over.”

“It’s not that serious.”

Ace and Deuce share a look of doubt.

“Really! It’s not, guys. All they’re doing is knocking on the door. Irritating as hell? Yes. But it’s all harmless. They’re outside. I’m inside. Plus, I’ve got Azul’s dog. She’s huge.”

“Just…keep yourself safe. Call one of us if you need to. We’ll come over,” Deuce says, poking around at the food on his plate.

“I will. Thank you. But let’s not worry about any of that. It’s your birthday! It’s supposed to be all about you.”

Somehow the unsettling atmosphere ebbs away, replaced with the joyous delusions of short-lived celebration.

You return to Azul’s house to find muddy pawprints on the floor. It takes you thirty minutes to scrub the floors clean, and for the entire time you’re racking your brain trying to understand how this happened. Was there mud in the backyard that you just weren’t aware of? Or did Pepper truly go outside when it was raining? Did you leave the door unlocked?

Surely Azul must have seen what happened on the cameras.

Something isn’t adding up. You spend your entire shower constructing the scene and its many possibilities, but none of them make a lick of sense.

It’s just you and Pepper, right?

As you toss and turn in bed, struggling to relax under a duvet that feels too itchy and hot, you think you hear someone knocking on the door.

Or maybe it’s the window. Maybe it’s right below you, tapping at the ceiling, pacing around in the kitchen, reaching to pet Pepper.

Maybe you’re just dreaming.

Azul calls you on the seventh day to check in. You consider telling him about the knocking, the dishes, that rainy day when Pepper tracked in mud, but you can’t seem to form the words without sounding utterly insane. So you smile and lie.

“No issues here. Pepper’s been wonderful.”

Azul hums, pleased. “Aah, I miss her something fierce. Oh, can you tell her I said that?”

You repeat his words to Pepper. “I dunno… I think she’s starting to like me more than you.”

“Well, isn’t that a problem? How else will she get her fix of you once you’re gone?”

“I’ll be back next time you need me.” And then you hesitate. “You…will need me again, right?”

“Of course. I always need you, (Name).”

There’s an awkward pause on his end. He clears his throat, but you don’t add anything to break the tension.

“Um, right. Yeah… Enjoy the rest of your business trip. I hope all is well with…that.”

“It is, yes. Thank you.”

“Then I won’t keep you.”

You end the call before he can say anything else. Pepper, who had been resting beside you on the sofa, tilts her head at you.

“Don’t tell him I said this,” you whisper, “but your owner is really bad at words sometimes.”

She leans in and licks your cheek.

Someone knocks on the door and lies in wait. You watch with bated breath, repeating the same phrase over and over: “Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door.”

Knock, knock.

She reaches for the knob.

“No… Come on. Don’t do it. It’s so clearly a trap!” You almost don’t want to watch. You know she’s as good as dead as soon as she opens the door, for the killer will descend and drag her back inside her own house.

Knock, knock.

She’s already opened the door. As expected, the killer pounces like the Grim Reaper and she shrieks like a banshee.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

Remote in hand, you lower the volume and focus on the silence that creeps in shortly after. You wait for a creak or another knock—a disturbance of some sort.

Slowly, you turn to glance at the door and then at the windows nearby with the curtains drawn. As quietly as you can manage, you set the remote down and slither off of the sofa. Pepper doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds, but you can tell she’s listening, her body tense.

No one’s out there. It’s nothing. 

You peel the curtains back ever so slightly and peek out at the darkness. There’s no one on the stoop. No one at the window. No one.

So then where was the knocking coming from? Was it really just the movie?

Or… No, certainly not. You refuse to entertain that thought.

But, if not the movie and not from outside, where else could the sound be coming from? Where else if not from within these very walls?

You shut the curtains and return to the sofa. Horror is swapped for a cheesy rom-com. You need the laughter and the cringe and every fluffy thing in between to calm the electricity in your nerves.

And it works. You fall asleep by the third rom-com, listening to cheesy one-liners and bad jokes with terribly written punchlines.

Knock, knock.

And then a noisy clatter.

You’re shaken from your slumber in a daze. You’re not sure what time it is or where you even are, and it takes a moment for clarity to filter in through the grogginess. You’re wrapped up in blankets on the bed in the guest room in Azul’s house and there’s someone standing at the foot of the bed, watching you in the gloom, and—

Wait.

How did you get to bed? Most importantly, what’s that blinking back at you? It can’t be Pepper. Pepper doesn’t have two-toned eyes. Pepper can’t stand on two legs. You squint through the shadows to pick out the shape of them, and your blood freezes when you realize it’s a person.  

A person. A person.

Someone’s inside the house and they’re looking right at you.

Do they know I’m awake? you think, your thoughts racing wildly. You lie there, rigid as a board and stiff as a corpse, and hope that they can’t tell. Calm down. Relax. Pepper will scare them off.

But then you notice she hasn’t barked a single time since you opened your eyes. Is she sleeping?

Terror pierces your heart. Did this person hurt her? Is she—

Don’t think about that.

Your eyes slide over towards the doorway, and you just about scream when you see another figure. The breath sticks in your throat. You know it’s another person because the way they lean so casually against the doorframe suggests a certain nonchalance with this situation. A nonchalance that can only belong to a person.

“Knock, knock. Aww. Did we wake you up?” It’s a man’s whispery drawl that combs through the room, raking through your scalp with sharp fingers, prodding at your ears like a hornet. “You looked so peaceful, too. Sorry about that.”

You’re not sure what you should do. Should you even try to run or escape when you’re already so cornered? Is there enough time to call for help? Will Pepper hear you if you shout? Should you play dead or feign sleep? What should you do?

What can you do?

You glance at the other figure. Unlike the other one, who sways and fidgets like he’s caught in a perpetual, invisible breeze, this person is perfectly, eerily still. Almost like a doll.

But then the man in the doorway laughs. “Layin’ it on thick there, ain’tcha? They’re already shakin’ like a leaf. No need to overdo it.”

A razored smile cuts through the gloom. Your eyesight adjusts enough to catch sight of a J-shaped strand of hair and the glint of an earring.

“No need to look so scared,” he continues, but you can’t pry your eyes from the other’s smile. It’s a smile of grotesque pleasure—one that feasts on fear so palpable it might as well be a three-course meal for him. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Then will you do something much worse? you want to ask, but all you can do is blink.

“Just gonna take you somewhere nice and cozy. Nothin’ scary about that. Ain’t that right, Jade?”

“Indeed, Floyd.” A voice as smooth and soft as melted caramel. Maybe it would’ve been soothing in a different situation. 

Before you can scream or lunge out of bed, arms are reaching out to restrain you. A hand slaps over your mouth. Fingers curl into your arms. A sickly sweet rag is stuffed against your nose.

Your feet kick against the wall, a steady knock-knock-knocking like a heartbeat, until your muscles still and the fight is drained from you. Unconsciousness blankets your body and mind within minutes.

There is nothing more unnerving than returning to an empty house, especially when it was once filled with human presence. No one knows anything, but they could’ve if there was evidence. Incriminating footage is no good.

Azul certainly thinks so while he dons his finest suit and practices a few expressions in the mirror. Pepper watches him from where she lays curled on his bed.

“A hero must look exceptional when he rescues his dearest one. Most of all, he must be innocent and trustworthy. Wouldn’t you say so, Pepper?”

At that, she can only offer a halfhearted whimper. He smiles.

“Let’s go visit my (Name).”

[coffeeghoulie]

"youre gonna get lipstick all over me" with lus & dew mayyybeee??

I had a lot of thoughts about this one and it could have gone a million different ways, but I'm very happy with how it turned out.

prompt from this list.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

Dew's tucked into the corner of one of the loveseats in the den commons, eyes half lidded as he watches some movie he's seen a hundred times but couldn't care to name. Better than silence, and it feels like every one of his packmates have disappeared.

He's okay with silence, but the loneliness he can't stand. Dew knows in the very core of his heart that he's just being dramatic, half of his packmates are doing their assigned duties around the Abbey on the off season from touring. The other half are still asleep even though it's well past noon, and Dew's not going to barge into anyone's room and demand they pay attention to him like a particularly stubborn orange cat.

So he snuggles into the corner of the couch, a throw pillow held in his arms as he half-watches the tv. The autumn chill is starting to creep into the halls of the Abbey, but it's still too early for the central heating to be turned on. Dew sighs, reaching into his infernal magick to crank up his body temperature a few degrees, shifting until he's a little more comfortable.

The moment he's settled, a floorboard creaks in the hallway, and Dew perks up, turning to face the doorway. "Morning, lamb."

Cumulus chirps happily as she sees him, cheeks dimpling when she smiles wide. "Hi, junebug!" she trills, eyeing the empty seat next to him. "You doing anything important?"

He shrugs, patting the couch cushion with the tip of his tail. Cumulus is quick to settle next to him, resting her head on his shoulder with a soft coo. He wraps an arm around her side, pulling her a little closer, and she happily nuzzles into his warmth. "Didn't know you liked this movie," she hums.

"Wouldn't say liked," Dew shrugs, careful not to disturb her. "More like I don't mind it," he admits, turning to nose at her hair, breathing in her coconut-sweet shampoo. "I wouldn't mind doing something else. Just killing time."

"You wanna gimme a kiss?" Cumulus asks teasingly. She cranes her neck to peer up at him, cocking her head. Dew turns to meet her icy blue gaze, lips quirking up with a soft smile. His brow furrows as his eyes drop to her lips.

It isn't strange to see Cumulus wearing makeup, but the brick red lipstick she's put on isn't one she typically wears. She wears reds, but more often than not she prefers mauvy colors, things a little on the cooler side than the lipstick she's got on. It's not like the new color looks bad on her though, quite the opposite.

Dew raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I see," Dew laughs with a huff of breath. "You don't want a kiss, you want a smudge tester."

Cumulus arches an elegant brow. "Two things can be true at once, junebug," she says, a particularly wicked grin spreading across her face as she bats her lashes. "Am I not allowed to want to kiss my favorite fire ghoul?"

"Mmm, you're gonna get lipstick all over me," Dew shakes his head playfully, hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Fine, lamb. Gimme a kiss."

Her eyes flash, and she surges up to kiss him. Dew feels the almost waxy slide of the lipstick against his own lips, even as he melts into the kiss. It's not an unpleasant sensation despite the way the taste of the makeup covers her own taste.

Dew melts into it, fingers sliding into her curls just to hold as their lips move together. Cumulus hums, licking at the seam of his mouth, and he eagerly gives her access. There it is, the taste of her mouth, and Dew groans into her kiss.

Her arms loop around his neck, shifting on the loveseat until they're facing each other, Cumulus straddling his thigh. Getting more comfortable as one kiss turns to two, three, too many to count. They pull apart to breathe, or more really, for Dew to breathe, their foreheads pressed together as they share air. The movie still plays on the tv, all but forgotten.

"Hi, junie," Cumulus giggles, cheeks dimpled, as she presses another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Hi, Cue," Dew says, shivering as she trails kisses from his mouth to his jaw, nipping little things that worry at his pale gray skin. His eyes flutter shut, head tipping back to give her more access.

She eagerly takes advantage of it, trailing soft, sucking kisses from his jaw to the sensitive spot just under his ear. Dew's tail curls around one of her thighs, groaning low in his throat as she sucks and nips at the spot. Spindly fingers tighten in her hair, not pulling or pushing, just desperate for something to hold. His other hand finds her waist, curls into the soft fabric of her shirt.

"Shit, yeah, there," he whispers, eyes shut. He sinks a fang into his bottom lip, the faintest taste of iron mixing with the lipstick she's left on him.

Eventually, Cumulus pulls back, her tail flicking behind her and grinning like the cat that got the cream. Dew stares at her, because how couldn't he? Deep red lipstick smeared and smudged over plump lips, cheeks rosy and flushed, eyes bright.

Dew trills, unable to help himself from darting forward and pressing a kiss to the apple of her cheek. It leaves a distinct mark of his lips in that same dark shade as he pulls back.

He can only imagine what he looks like. Dew presses his lips together, feels the slide of the lipstick on them, the smears of it across his face and down his throat.

Cumulus licks her lips as she appraises him, eyes glancing over his face and throat. "Hmm. This one's definitely more your color."

[dlatl98]

The ending is always awkward.

"Maedhros. I will be king." "Yes." "I will choose men."

Maedhros looked at his adopted son, who usually called him father. He fiercely refused to be called father, but unlike Elrond, who had considered Maedhros's suffering, Elros stubbornly insisted on being father, and surprisingly, he had Maedhros give up, and finally allowed Elrond to call Maedhros as he wished. So he called him Maedhros instead of father… "You speak as if they were the same." "They are the same."

Elros looked at him, frighteningly. Unlike Elrond, he loved his adoptive fathers, but did not pity them. But he understood them terribly. “I will do things I cannot bear and I will not look back. I will be terribly determined and terrible. I will burn the world with all my might and act as if there is no tomorrow, making plans for a thousand years that I will not see. I will make plans that will collapse. I will do things I dare not do. I will live with all my might and pay the price with my death.”

“As expected of you,” Maedhros smiled bitterly. “Noldor.”

“A men. And the elf who dared choose mortality was a Sinda.” Elros was silent, and then continued. “But you should never have gone there in the first place.”

"We had to go. I've changed my mind a bit now. The world is made up of several layers, so sometimes wrong things lead to right things, and sometimes doing things that you were told not to do leads to things that should have been done. In this labyrinthine world, who can easily gauge right and wrong, limits, and boundaries? In a world where good leads to evil, and evil decides to the end. But it seems like you chose to be men, which is the right thing for you."

"I don't care about what's right for me. I just make my own choices."

Elros said and handed him the sword. Maedros shook his head. "Fine. It doesn't have to be a good sword. This is the end. If durability isn't important, the difference between a good sword and a defective one isn't that big."

"Yes. But that's because you're Maedhros of the left hand."

Elros accepted the sword and put it back on his waist. Even so, he hesitated for a moment, which was unusual for him. Maedhros asked. "But I'm curious. Even if you were Gil-galad side, there probably weren't many men around you. Since there weren't any men around you, I thought you'd think about it and decide when you were older."

Maedhros was a little surprised. Elros looked at him as if he found it absurd and laughed in vain, and his expression gradually became desolate as he looked at him. He whispered. "I've thought about it a lot. Really a lot. I wish you were a men. You could have just kept your oath and lived, and thought, let's hold out until we die anyway. You wouldn't have had to endure all this. You could have said that life and death are one to me, so there's nothing to fear. You could have swung your sword and laughed that even the Void couldn't catch me. You could have burned me completely without looking back.

And at some point, I knew it. I, too, will eventually commit it. So I have to pay up front."

"men probably think about the future too." "The price was paid up front, so it's not as much as the elves. It's light because there's nothing to carry forever."

It was funny to see him already talking like a men, when he wasn't yet. Well, his mind was set, so it was only a matter of time. And that time depended on when he told Elrond. Maedhros opened his mouth slightly, considering apologizing but deciding not to. It wasn't Elros's taste. Elros awkwardly squeezed and released his hand. Now that it was over, he didn't really need anything, and since he didn't need anything, he had nothing to give. There was nothing to say. Maedhros waved his hand.

"Well then, I'll go now."

"Good Bye. see…."

Elros awkwardly closed his mouth. Maedhros shook his head to keep himself from laughing and left the tent gate.

[jeckilon]

long ass rant about that one show and fandom experience and some other stuff feel free to read or skip or whatever

everyone that follows me here probably already knows my feelings about andor since I don’t even hide it lol but let me tell you that I wasn’t always a hater bitch

I literally had a news account on twitter (that it’s still there btw but it’s run by someone else since I quit), I was super excited for it that I read everything you can imagine about this show, I knew every new thing, every interview, anything. I woke up every week 4am to watch the new episodes and mind you I worked all day and studied at night. I literally ruined my sleep schedule for this so I guess I have the right to be a bitch if I want okay

so why such sudden change you ask. first of all I started doing therapy and finally realized that hypertixations like that are harmful as fuck and ruin your mental health. it was a good point to start and get away from it. it wasn’t easy at all lol if it was easy people would be suck on that stuff but it was making me sick and I’m glad I left that hole lol

second thing, the fandom experience after this show aired started to be SHIT in ways it waned before. I know star wars fans are definitely not know for being civil or decent people or whatever but our corner was safe. until it wasn’t. people started to get over here and try to dictate how we should feel or make fun of us for liking rogue one or shipping rebelcaptain and it really started to ruin things for me. don’t even let me get started on the fucking asks lol wtf was that. unfortunately I was not in a good mental state so I answered those and wanted to pick fights but don’t worry I now realize it’s stupid and we should let these people choke alone

and well, those two things combined kinda woke me up from this obsession and the result of seeing all this left a super sour taste in my mouth. that you can see from all my salty posts from my alt account lol I apologize for that also

after 2 years in, I just decided want to ignore all this the best I can and honestly pretend this show doesn’t exist if it’s possible. I love and respect everyone here that I consider a friend and I hope y’all have a blast with season 2 but I’ll do my best to pretend it’s not even there. maybe I’ll find other interests to keep me busy, maybe I’ll take a break from here or whatever but it’s not worth it

I’m really NOT looking forward for all the dumb takes and posts taking shit about rogue one and jyn and rebelcaptain shippers or whatever lol this is beyond pathetic please these people need to get a life. I know I’m guilty of finding these horrible shit and I apologize, I promise I’ll definitely not look for them anymore

I love rogue one with all my heart, rebelcaptain is literally the most important ship for me and I’m so grateful for everyone I met here but if I need to just leave for a while then I will

and if I’m allowing myself to be a massive bitch for the last time while we’re here… no I’m not doing this. whatever. it’s not worth it. jk im gonna say it these annoying people are super jealous about rebelcaptain because their “canon” ship is boring as fuck and will never have 10% of rebelcaptain’s relevancy lmaooo keep being pressed and irrelevant mwah

[idontevenremember5minutesago]

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have a big google doc thing where I keep track of media and stuff (putting everything in loosely ranked categories), which is mostly just for my own reference so I know what tv shows I've already seen before, etc. and I never really look back through it, typically just a quick "okay, watched two movie in the past 8 months, need to quickly slap them somewhere in the lists. okay. done. save document. exit". But today I was actually reading through some of the old notes and there are like... MULTIPLE places where my comment is basically "It would have been good if it were about elves" or "I wish there was a fantasy show made in this same style" or "It's well made, but I just keep thinking about how I would like it more if everyone was an elf or was in old 1700s costumes" or etc like...... lol.... Most biased media ranking system on earth blatantly made by someone with an extremely hyperspecific range of narrow interests. It'd be like if a food reviewer only had 5 foods they actually liked, so they'd just go to a pizza place and be like "eh, the pizza was okay, but I just think it would be better if it was cereal instead. :/ ...2 out of 10"

[toytulini]

it is baffling to me that ppl keep insisting "if its not sprite then what IS it tho?" and seemingly do not...retain the recipes that are being shared. like you dont have to memorize them its just repeatedly "is lemonade not sprite though? how is it not sprite?"

"its lemon juice, water, and sugar"

"is it not the same as sprite?" no we just told u. does that sound like sprite to you. does sprite give you the vibe of juicing some lemons on a hot summer day? the lemonade version closest to Sprite over here, in terms of Being Lemonade, is still Notably Different from sprite, or any other soda, is probably Minute Maid, a highly processed branded lemonade that you can occasionally get from soda fountains (DESPITE! NOT BEING CARBONATED! similar to how they somehow dispense iced or sweet tea from soda fountains) it sometimes comes in a can or 2L bottle similar to soda, in the soda isle. and its Not Soda. its not Carbonated. its Trying To Pretend So Hard To Be Real Lemonade. it tastes like lemonade thats a bit sad. it is far more lemonade than SPRITE will ever be. if yall were simply insisting that lemonade is carbonated, that it was like, fizzy minute maid, that would be less offensive than calling sprite lemonade. which is Insane. good god.

[astralmarionette]

im currently writing an atsugawa (I hate the name shin soukoku or whatever I'm sorry but I'm actually not. also I cannot pronounce soukoku {this is the real reason I don't use soukoku}) and I don't even ship it lmaoo

[redemption-lies-plainly-in-truth]

I read the post on your sorcerous blog. I've tried typing a lot of things, but always back peddled. I know you're scared. I know you're worried and there's a lot going on. The most I can do is type this out.

You're a good person. You're a fun person and an interesting one. You've provided many things on this site for people who have taken an interest in your work. You've also made friends with some of those interested in your work.

You let them see a portion of yourself and some welcomed it. Some engaged with you. Learning a bit about you and invited you into their hearts. They've shared a piece of themselves with you and you grew.

Trying to type this out, I want you to be safe. I want your family to be safe. I want you to have more time with your family and go on with what you love to do. What you like to eat. What you want to try. What you want to drink, read, watch, listen to. So much more.

Some have left comments on your post. Each one hoping for the best for you. I presume some more familiar with you have typed in your dms to convey more personal conversations. How they cherish meeting you. Reading your work and talking with you.

Often, in our conversations you try to thank me for talking to you. I wish to thank you for responding to them and feeling comfortable to continue them and confide in me at times. Thank you for being you. Thank you for taking chances with writing and reading. I thank your parents and siblings for helping you become the person you are today. I thank the kids of your siblings for helping you.

Sol, I hope for things to go well for you. I hope for things to allow you and your family to remain safe. I hope I get to talk to you again.

i love you too

[echoofadream]

Thinking about big strong men who could easily overpower me, who could easily harm me or use me however they want. But who start trembling once I raise my voice at them. Falling to their knees, desperately clinging to my clothes, begging to be told what they did wrong so that they could make it up to me.

They take up more than half the bed yet they wanna be babied, taken care of. Tell them how pathetic they look begging for affection, begging to suck on your tits and have their hair played with while their pants get tighter before you even get to take your bra off. Aren't they so cute when they struggle to sit on your lap? "Mommy please I know I'm heavy but I need it please please please"

Completely and utterly at your mercy. And unbelievably shameless. "Mhm please...stuff my mouth! I need to suck on something! Anything please!"

They don't leave your side. Scary dog privilege my ass. No one messes with you when they see him walking behind you on the streets but what they don't see is the way his legs are shaking, the way his ass is clenching around that vibrating butt plug. And that's not even a punishment, he begged for it! Begging to be used at all times. Can you even refuse him when he's so fucking polite? Make him beg even harder for the small pathetic ounce of stimulation he wants when he's already on the floor sobbing like it's the end of the world just because it hurts how hard he is for you at all times. He craves it. Relief, a brief touch, anything to make the tantalizing ache go away. But his mind is so messy he doesn't even know if he wants to cum till nothing comes out of his abused cock or if he wants to be edged to the point he starts speaking unintelligible nonsense.

"Mhm~ don't know! Do something pleaseee! You know I...ahh I need something please..."

"What is it, sweet thing? Use your words. How can mommy help her puppy hm?"

"Nhg~ don't knoowww mommy...need you...lots...want yes want...mommy!"

And you laugh at him. The whole situation is just so fucking funny, yet it melts your heart at the same time. Seeing how reliant he is on you. Seeing how vulnerable he allows himself to become in front of you. The level of trust that takes.

And you wipe away his tears and kiss his lips gently, taking care of your pretty boy to the best of your abilities. Making him feel so good.

And he thanks you over and over again. "Mommy thank you! I love you! Love you love you love you soo much! What can I do for you, mommy? Wanna make mommy feel good, please!"

He'd gladly do whatever you say. "You want me to eat you out? Yes yes yes! Mommy tastes so good! Hold my face and fuck it! Fuck my mouth please! Please...." Even better if you want his fingers inside you since his cock is already too sensitive for your soft and warm walls to wrap around. He'll worship your pussy as well as he can. Long thick fingers curling just right inside you, his soft skin intensifying the pleasure he was giving you. "Am I doing it right, mommy? Am I a good boy? Mhm~ mommy does it feel good here?" And it does. He's a good boy and his yours. Your good boy.

[dumbbitchgalore]

Old Man!Price has a thing for pretty little things.

He'd be the type of soldier to randomly pick up a dandelion or random weed flowers, inspecting it closely before crushing it in his calloused palm as if he was not admiring it a moment ago.

And you're no exception.

Pretty and perfect. An invitation for corruption as if you're begging to be ruined, shown no mercy and totally under his control. You're perfect for it, almost too perfect as if reality is playing a cruel trick on him by putting you into his arms. It was too easy, very easy but John doesn’t complain. He knows better than to fuck up a good thing by overthinking. 

John holds your nose closed, stopping you from breathing for a moment. He tsks you at your feeble attempt to take his whole length and currently you are paying the price. Eyes glaciated with struggle, slobbering down his length, your drool dripping onto your tits- a perfect display of submission, compliance. 

“I told you you couldn’t take me all the way but you just had to argue with me, didn’t you?” John says, his voice dark and glazed with authority. 

You let out a pathetic, muffled whimper, your gaze filled with apology and regret. He lets go of your nose allowing you to get a breath of air as you pull away from his cock breathing heavily and babbling a series of ‘I’m sorry’s’. 

John sighs as tears roll down your flushed cheeks.

“I’ll give you one more chance, dollface. Open wide.” 

You part your lips hesitantly, scared of disappointing him. John pushes his leaking cock past your lips, your tongue instinctively darting out to lick the tip, gathering his pre-cum as you savour the taste of his salty goodness. A soft moan of satisfaction leaves your mouth as you try your best to take him fully. 

John shudders, groaning, his eyes screwed shut. Damn it, he didn’t want you to do that, he was gonna end up cumming and at his age, there was no way he could be ready for another around straight after. 

He grips the armrest trying to think of anything else other than his pretty babe sucking his cock so bloody well. 

Ponies… Beer… Shit- No, beer makes me horny… the SAS… military life… my birdie sending me a boudoir album on our first anniversary when I was away- Lake… Lake house… Holiday… Birdie in lingerie… pretty boobs, soft, warm… Wait, no- Ah, fuck…

He gives up as he feels the impending coil about to snap. Grabbing the back of your head, he shoves his whole length in not caring about your comfort. Your nose nuzzles against his dark bush, musky scent engulfing you. John cums, cums so hard that it makes you gag and spill out of your mouth. 

You pull away panting, swallowing what remains of him. Looking up at him, you raise an eyebrow at the sudden loss of John’s control. He laid back, spent and heaving with his arm covering his eyes. 

“Let's go to a lake house, Birdie.”

[thesacrificialdove]

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 1.6k words rich yandere x gn!reader — ko-fi | patreon | masterlist | inbox | taglist | home | req. & comms

tags sugar daddy, rich yandere, low-key obsessive behaviour, first meetings, college student reader, age gap, brief mention of a rapist (no description or anything more)

—📜" Being a broke college student, you decide to try your hand at getting a sugar daddy. You find someone who is... quite eager to know everything about you. It's weird because he doesn't seem to be the same person he was online.

They say to spend your youth on nightclubs and partying with friends. But really, they don’t know the true beauty of being in a jazz club and drinking all by yourself. There’s no ill intentions, there’s no partying until the sun goes down—just some nice music and good drinks.

People find it odd, sure. But nothing can beat this feeling for you. As you lay in a couch that’s worth double your college tuition, you drink champagne that's triple your college tuition. 

How you ended up here is another embarrassing story. Hunting for a sugar daddy online is a clear plan for destruction. It could end well with a decent allowance every now and then, of course. Yet, fear gets the most of you. The thought that you end up with a fat well and alive man who asks for sex with his small dick looms over you like a gloomy cloud. That fear is there because your sugar daddy is anonymous.

Sighing, you drink another sip of the champagne as you fix your posture. Again. The seat in front of you is still empty. You’d think he wasn’t really being honest with you but he did have a reservation ready for the both of you.

It’s not bad to wait. Even if you do look dumb getting stood up, at least you’re enjoying yourself.

“You lonely there?” someone asks behind you.

Turning your head behind you, you see a towering man with a smile so bright you think you could be blinded by it. He looks elegant—the way he’s holding a glass like a connoisseur and his long black hair pulled into a slick ponytail. Fuck, is he your sugar daddy? He looks the age for it and honestly, he aged really good.

You tell him, “Maybe. Are you lonely?”

He chuckles and takes the seat opposite. Finally. “No,” he says, “not anymore, at least. All thanks to…?” he gestures to you.

When you tell him his name, he parrots it like he’s tasting it. “Beautiful. Your mother picked it out?”

“I’m sure so,” you don’t know, who the hell would know that? “It’s a generational name, really. In our family we keep reusing names.”

“So are you the second? The third?”

The third was your great grandfather but he ended up being a rapist. Eugh. “The fourth,” you answer. “But I never tell anyone that, actually. Bit embarrassing if they call me the fourth, so.”

He laughs, somehow finding you amusing. “Nicolas,” he says, “very nice to meet you.”

Was… his name Nicolas? You’re not so sure about that. From the site he only revealed his last name so that you could get the reservation. Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Nicolas.” The little twitch in his lips is unavoidable to your eyes, “You look very nice tonight,” maybe that’s why he took almost an hour to arrive here. “Do you live near here or?”

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head, “I come from Bolzano. But I came here from Portofino, where my heart currently is.���

You nod like you know where those places really are. Italy, you assume. “Very nice. I heard it’s a beautiful place.”

“Beatiful even more with company,” he puts his drink down. “How about you? What makes you come here?”

You, actually. You wanted to go here. “I was raised by my grandfather and jazz was his favourite. Every corner of the house Hank Mobley would be playing. I have his old records that he passed down to me and whenever I play it, I can see the way he dances.”

“So, come down here for a little trip to memory lane?”

Before you could answer, you think about it even more. The man you were talking was definitely not Italian, right? No, his name sounded British, at most. And Nicolas sounds like he has little to no knowledge about the fact that you two are supposedly on a date.

Fuck, did you get him wrong? I mean, he is interested, you think.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you hum. You put your glass down too, clasping your hands. “I think I do need to go now. It was nice to have your company—”

“Going so soon? A bit rude especially if you came here to be mine for a price, no?”

You pause. Though you’re ready to leave this embarrassing meeting, you’re caught. You turn to him in confusion. So you were… wrong? Right? 

“Sit back down, this champagne is a bit too new to me.” He raises a hand and someone immediately finds their footing beside him. Nicolas speaks in his own tongue, requesting something you don’t understand.

You’re promptly back on your seat with a small wave of his hand. “Come on, I think we have a lot to learn about each other. But I know you.”

Did he send in a private investigator or what? Fuck, man. You didn’t think that those things were real in real life. “How much do you know?”

He doesn’t answer. His legs are crossed as he watches the busboy leave to prepare your drinks. “How are your classes?” he asks, making idle conversation of things you’re a bit worried to talk to him about. “Hope you’re dealing well.”

“Yeah,” you say, unsure of this now. “It’s all fine, yes. Just a few projects and classes.” You wonder for a moment how rude it would be to ask for a price on your body right now. “Nothing interesting, really.”

“I’m sure anything you say is of interest,” he says, all too fond of you. “Tell me, love, you mentioned having difficulties with some of your professors.”

He wasn’t interested in all that before when you were talking. “It’s fine. Well, not like I can say no. It’s a bit hard when you’re paying for an education and you’re not being taught,” you laugh, “Self-taught learning, he excuses.”

“That’s simply lazy,” he excuses. “Fine arts is such a nice career path. No reason to be dismissive of students who want to learn it.”

Did you tell him what you’re studying?

The busboy returns and brings a drink to the both of you. The song changes and it sounds familiar. You could almost see your grandfather dance behind Nicolas.

“I’m going to guess that’s your doing,” you say, “Thank you. It sounds lovely.”

He smiles, “I’m not one for jazz myself.” He reaches for his glass and swirls in, taking a whiff of its scent afterward. “But I’m curious as to who you are. How you grew up is one of those things”

When the both of you talked online, you expected him to be more lustful than this. Maybe it’s the repeating innuendo in his messages. All of that persona is gone now as if it never existed. It’s concerning.

Both of you make small conversation. Mostly it’s about you. He asks every little detail about you, asking for things that not even your friends would care about. It’s the little things.

‘Do you like soft cotton or silk?’ You don’t really know the difference but cotton is nice.

‘How often do you see your family?’ Every or so month, you’d wager. But you make sure to keep in contact.

‘What’s your thoughts on caged animals?’ A bit cruel, but you can see where it can stem from. Still, it’s cruel. You’d never do it.

The night come to a close when you start to feel a bit light-headed with the drinks you’ve ingested. Nicolas puts aside your glass as he stands to go on your side of the table. “Maybe it’s time to take a break tonight, love?”

You groan. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine now. I’m really thankful for tonight.”

“I’m glad,” he says, pulling you up and helping you walk. You don’t need it but it’s nice anyways. “I can take you back to your dorm, yes? You don’t need to worry about anything else when you’re with me.”

In your pocket, your phone buzzes. You don’t get to check it when Nicolas wraps both of his arms around your waist. He pulls you to the exit and you swear you hear ‘Signore Giordano’ come out when the men bid him goodnight.

Which is weird, because his surname is Abbot.

The ride was a blur, literally. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink. The next thing you know is that both of you are in front of your dorm. It’s too dark outside. The streets are dead silent. The low rumble of his car is the only thing you can really hear.

He calls your name. “It’s time to go home. You can’t stay with me yet, love.”

You stretch in the seat. A car seat has never been more comfortable. “Been nice, really. Thank you.”

As you unbuckle your seat, he leans forward. His arm drapes over your shoulders as his hand comes to your face. “Then can I get a little reward? Just a little?” He turns his cheek, a grin on his face.

It’s stupid but oh well, he would pay you. You press a kiss on his cheek and he looks like the happiest man alive. He laughs, looking at you with stupid heart eyes. “Thank you. Call me with this number—” he places a card in your hands—”and delete that damn app. I’ll come find you after your classes tomorrow for your contract. You don’t need to find anyone else now.”

He leaves shortly after you get inside your dorm. You hear the revving of his car go in the quiet night. It’s relieving. You’re tired on your feet, unable to really process what happened tonight.

It’s whatever. It’s all done now.

You delete the app on your phone, swiping away a message you got from it. You’re pretty sure it’s from another match you had last time but again, you don’t need it anymore.

do not redistrubute this work as yours/without permission or feed to AI 📷 art by @ L0tus_Ren_ & @ Ivan Belikov

[kunazz]

YUUJI ITADORI — virgin thoughts. aged up au.

“m’gonna cum- oh fuck-” yuuji groaned, his eyes watering desperately as his hands claw at your wrist, blunt nails leaving little marks in their wake as he tries, and fails, to push your hand away from his leaking pussy. he’s so wet, the loud squelching sound causing his ears to go red, a constant reminder of just how horny you can make him — it’s a bit embarrassing really.

yuuji has never had anyone finger him before, he’s barely even done it himself, only indulging in his carnal desires when he really needed it — when his pussy was practically screaming for his touch. however, despite that, he’s never had his fingers inside him before, only choosing to toy around with his clit because that’s what felt the best, but now he’s feeling your thick digits invade his tight hole, he can’t help but need more, until his body is wrecked from it all.

“please— [name], I can’t- fuck” yuuji blabbers on, his eyes rolling back as his thighs quiver, pussy clenching around your fingers. he’s close, he’s so fucking close and he’s sure you’re about to make him cum for the fifth time that night. five times he came already and your cock isn’t even inside him yet — you truly were something else.

however, just as he was about to finish, your fingers pull out, leaving yuuji’s hole to desperately clench around nothing, the sudden emptiness feeling less pleasant and more disheartening than anything — yuuji wanted to be stuffed full, stretched and filled until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“c’mon baby, can’t have you cumming this much without my cock hm?” you say, finally pulling down your shorts, allowing yuuji to see what was to come, to finally give him a taste of what he’s been missing.

to finally take his virginity.

all rights reserved © 2024 kunazz. please don’t steal any works I make and if you do want to make something based of my work, please give credits! all creds go to cafekitsune for the dividers.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

He can't be that animalistic...can he?

This is inspired by @grapejollyrancher post I hope I did it justice <3 request are open and if you'd like to be added to my taglist just lmk!!! if you do enjoy my work please like, comment, and reblog! It really helps me want to continue posting on here

Logan's thoughts are italicized. Kinda smutty

Summary: reader can hear animals thoughts but all of the sudden she can hear Logan's thoughts too.

You developed your powers when you were young. It was scary at first. Hearing random voices in your head would scare anyone, but the things you heard were so weird usually. You would hear a voice asking for a treat, to be scratched behind the ear, or to be let inside. When you met Charles, he helped you learn how to talk back, this was a big advantage when it came to missions in places like the woods or a jungle but for the most part you never needed to demand the animals to do anything for you they just seemed to like you and wanted to keep you safe.

It had been a while since you got scared by what you heard. You were walking to your room one night from the kitchen when a deep voice echoed through your head. You jumped slightly and tried to listen to what was being asked, 'fuck who drank my last beer?' confusion filled you. What kind of animal would be around the mansion...and looking for beer? You continued to your room and tried to get some sleep while thinking of what just happened.

The next incident happened a few days later. You had just finished your shower after working out, and it was currently only you and Logan in the living room discussing what you should do for dinner when everyone else got back. During your discussion, that deep voice echoed through your head again. 'fuck she smells so good, smells fucking sweet, bet she fucking taste just as sweet too...fuck wait what did she say?' You could see the moment Logan snapped back into the conversation.

"You could make that lasagna in the freezer. it should be big enough for everyone." 'Know something else big enough for you, princess'

You can't respond. You just completely freeze. How did you get access to Logan's thoughts? He can't be that much of an animal.... can he?

Logan was completely confused as to why you were blushing so brightly. His eyebrows furrowed, and his head tilted slightly. You were talking about dinner, which made you so flustered?

You quickly left to start making dinner to try and forget about this new discovery, but you can't get it out of your head. When did this start? Why did it start? Why is it only with him and not also with Scott or Charles? Is it because Logan is so animalistic? Why are you so damn flustered?!

Logan followed you into the kitchen to check on you. "Bub? Is everything okay?" He innocently placed his hand on your waist, and under his fingertips, he could feel you shiver gently. "fuck" you both whispered under your breath. Logan hears you clearly and his eyes widen.

How did he not notice? He was so concerned, thinking something was wrong, but nothing was truly wrong. "Princess...are you wet for me?" He asked with a smirk, already knowing the answer to the question. He pulled you closer to him and felt a sense of pride when you followed his lead so easily. Logan pressed himself against you, allowing you to feel the effect you have on him.

As he is pressed against you, he nuzzled his nose into your neck, taking your scent in even more than before. "Fuck you really do smell so goddamn sweet princess, i need to taste you...need to taste your sweetness" he growled into your ear as he nipped at your lobe. "Can I? Will you let me have a taste, baby?" He begged as his voice deepened in desire.

The room has gotten so much hotter than before and it's not because the oven is preheating. "Logan" you whimper "I-your thoughts, I just-" as you try to stutter out a response Logan lets a raspy chuckle out that shake your entire body since it was pressed so closed to his chest, "Oh princess, been hearing me? hearing what I've been wanting to do to this pretty pussy?" He asked as he left wet kisses along your neck. You nod against him, "Logan please" you whined louder making him pull away. "Let's take this to my room" he turned around and turned off the oven before picking you up and carrying you to his bed.

He dropped you onto his mattress and as he started to undress you were able to take in your surroundings. The bed was more like a nest with how he had his blankets and pillows piled up, his scent surrounded you completely and you knew that once you walked out of this room you would be completely marked in more way than one. Maybe Logan is more animalistic than you originally thought.

Taglist:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z