#would love to make a follow up to that last blood god drawing i did but the thought of that is also exhausting

[risingsunresistance]

you can tell i enjoy what i create bc i make art less than once a month now 😎

#it's not about numbers it is about patience kjdfghg #i make one piece. i gather new followers. i do everything in my power to chase them away instantly #rinse and repeat until only the strongest remain #would like to draw more but My God I Am Tired #just like in general. all the time kjdfgh #art is EXHAUSTING. i only power through it if it's something i reeeeeeeeeally wanna make #would love to make a follow up to that last blood god drawing i did but the thought of that is also exhausting #bc i have this idea but it's gonna require a lot more planning than the first one did #the first one was actually RELAXING. but there was no sketch i just started drawing #this one would need to be sketched n stuff #and then i'll get too hung up on details aaaaaugh #that reminds me i did have a doodle idea but my ipad nearly killed itself earlier drawing the ancient pig #IT WAS ON FOR LIKE 5 MINUTES WHY DID IT LOSE 30% #it might happen who knows #chat

[atyourmerci]

Dom!abby cockwarming you during a scary movie ☽

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, sub!reader, cockwarming obv, hair pulling, little degradation, spit??, sleeping with fingers inside, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: is this me procrastinating a full fic or me missing Halloween you pick your fighter!

☽ ☽

She knew you hated scary movies, she knew you’d get so freaked you’d jump into her lap and shove your face in her neck to avoid any jumpscares.

What you didn’t know was that the entire time she was strapped underneath her baggy grey sweatpants. Her clit throbbing in anticipation as you inch closer to her slowly.

She just wanted to make you feel safe, and how much safer could you get with her six inches deep into your cunt?

You were practically already on top of her, legs splayed over her muscly thighs, head nudged into crease of her neck, and eyes barely peering at the screen, hidden by the golden pieces of hair that framed her face.

She was so close to picking you up and moving you there herself, she couldn’t even focus on the movie, gawking at your bare thighs. She couldn’t wait to have you whining on top of her cock.

One last jump scare and you were done, crawling up onto her lap in search of comfort, little did you know you it would only get worse.

She giggles as you realize the destiny she set out for you. Widening your mouth at the realization and staring at her shit eating grin.

“Abs you- are you-“ before you can even finish she’s gripping the back of your neck to pull you into her open mouth, using her free hand to shift you into a straddle.

You can’t help but to grind onto the bulge over her sweats, moaning into her mouth. She takes the opportunity in stride to watch how pathetic you already are, “let’s make a deal-“ she says shoving her hand down your pajama shorts to drag agonizingly slow circles at your clit, “you’re gonna wrap this needy little cunt around my cock for the rest of the movie, and if you can finish it, I’ll let you cum.”

You whine at her proposal, just wanting to throw out the movie completely and let her split you open already. “B-but what if I can’t,” you pout.

She removes her hand to shimmy down her sweats just enough that the plastic cock springs out. Gripping into your thighs she turns you around to face the screen. She pulls the thin cloth of your pajama shorts to the side and guides you onto the strap, following a guttural plea pulled from your throat.

She pulls you gently by the hair so your back is flesh with her chest, “then I’ll sleep inside of you tonight,” she finishes her deal.

You whine at the sensation, the threat, and the desire to bounce on her cock without her permission. She loved doing this to you- seeing how needy you’d get for her to move.

But you knew your consequences, if you moved without her permission she’d just edge you over and over again, ruining every orgasm she was nice enough to bring you close to, but mean enough to never let you finish.

You were being so good, now that you were focused on her cock stuffing you full you, the movie wasn’t bothering you. You tried not making any noises knowing she’s get bored and thrust into you for her own amusement.

Your teeth were breaking the skin of your lip as she gripped into your hips and pulled you back harshly onto the plastic once. Almost drawing blood into the palms of your hands from your fingernails you try not to break. Thank god it wasn’t a real dick because you could feel yourself pulsing around the plastic.

She leans back into the shell of your ear, “you can play cool all you want, you’re soaking my fucking cock,” she says driving another thrust into you.

This time you can’t help but let out the whine pent up inside you, “awh there’s my slut, tell me how bad you need it,” abby coos.

“Please abs- please, I need you,” you beg as she lets out pleased sighs. This is exactly what she wanted, breaking you into a desperate mess on her cock, begging for friction.

“Be a good girl and suck on my fingers,” abby says, placing her two fingers at the entrance of your mouth, waiting for you to take the initiation.

Which you do, rolling and lapping your tongue around her thick fingers, knowing exactly what I’d get you in return.

Once she was pleased she removed them, taking them back to her own mouth, shooting her own spit on them and wrapping her forearm around your hip to rub circles on your swollen clit.

“Now show me how badly you need it,” a relieved sigh leaves your mouth at her approval. This is her way of showing you can finally use her cock to please yourself.

Bouncing up and down onto the soaking plastic as she shows no remorse on your clit. Even after you come, until the movie is over you have to keep her inside of you. She gives you a moment to regroup after an orgasm since you were good, but when she’s ready for another one she thrusts back in to signal you to start again.

She was nice this time, letting you sleep with her two fingers nuzzled into your cunt instead of the strap. 

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby angst #abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #dom abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou x reader #abby x you #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson fanfic #abigail anderson

[intoanotherworld23]

Good Girl For Oliver

Pairing: Reader x Oliver Quick

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, there is smut in this loads of it, there is lots of oral female receiving, minor fingering, smidge of choking, bondage, and unprotected sex

Word count: 1407 words

Summary: Oliver Quick has got you right where he wants you

Long time no read everyone!! I know I’ve been absent for a hot minute but I am back and ready to write again! Thanks everyone so much for kind words and being supportive to me all this time, I appreciate all my followers I really do. So I recently watched Saltburn and like every thirsty horny person out there I had to write something for it! I hope you guys enjoy this one and let me know if you’d like to read more! Love you all so much! Don’t forget to reblog cause reblogging saves writers lives! XOXO

"Oh god."

The heat between your legs was becoming almost unbearable at this moment. It was like an ache you couldn't get rid of, and it was starting to get to you.

Fingers gripping onto the hand rails behind your head as the silk fabric started to cut into your skin.

Back arching off the bed as your toes became entangled in the cold sheets. It was like you were being tortured, and you loved every minute of it.

Your legs were numb to feeling as they were constantly shaking, and thick hands were gripping your soft flesh.

A wet tongue lapping relentlessly at your raw core. Running circles around your dripping opening like you were his last meal. The sounds of your slickness like music to his ears. He could keep you like this all day, and you knew he would too.

“Mhhhm. More Ollie.” Whispering just enough for him to hear.

“You want more?” Tongue sucking onto your clit making your cry out.

Diving his tongue right in as his fingers spread your lips apart getting easier access. Nuzzling his face so close his nose was brushing against your clit. His tongue massaging your inner walls as his hands rubbed soothing circles on your outer knees.

Rotating your hips against his face wanting more, but unable to open your mouth and say the words. His tongue literally had you speechless right now.

“Something wrong sweetheart?” His tone condescending as he smirked up at you. “Did you need something?”

Pushing two fingers inside of you admiring how tight you were. Biting your bottom lip so harshly you thought you might draw blood. His fingers felt so delicious inside of you.

Your limbs felt so heavy but relaxed at the same time. Whining down at Oliver to go faster, and he responded with a light chuckle.

“Can’t wait to fuck that little cunt of yours.” He says biting his bottom lip.

His thick fingers continued to slowly thrust and curl inside of you. Waiting for your response as you gasped when he sharply pushed his digits all the way up into your cervix. He was in complete control over you, and had you right where he wanted you.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased when you weren’t responding.

Watching intensely as your mouth hung open, and only little squeaks came out. Kissing up your stomach as he nuzzled your hot skin loving how vulnerable you were for him. Really pulling against your restraints hoping he would untie you.

“Such a poor little thing aren’t you.” Oliver coos into your ear. “So desperate to cum.”

“Ollie.” Mewling desperate to grip onto his locks or just something.

Instead of responding he just pulls apart your thighs even more. The slight burn radiating all the way down to your calves. Meanwhile he just stared between your legs licking his lips noticing just how wet and raw you looked.

“Fuck just look at you.” Shaking his head in almost disbelief you were all his. “Look so fucking beautiful.”

Watching as he lowers one of his hands to grip onto his very erect cock. Stroking himself groaning in pain from how sensitive he was. All he wanted right now was to bury himself deep inside of you.

Even though it was a very simple motion it was still the hottest thing you had ever seen. Grinding your hips into the air wanting him to touch you or something. Of course Oliver saw what you were doing and grinned down at you.

“What do you want darling?” Reaching out to grip softly onto your neck with the same hand that gripped his cock just seconds ago.

“Oliver.” Whining up at him just hoping he would give it to you.

“No no.” He shakes his head at you. “My sweet girl I want to hear you say it.”

His hand tightening around your neck just slightly. Feeling the pressure of his fingers against your throat. Smoothly running his hand down past your collarbone, and in between your breasts. Feeling just how heavily your were breathing.

Oliver was known for pushing you past your comfort zone. He wanted you to always give in to what he wanted when it came to sex. He wanted you and nobody else.

Just to tease you even more he places the tip of his cock at your entrance. Gathering your juices and rubbing it up and down. Twisting your hips to get more, but he just grabbed your hips to keep you still.

“Tell me like the good little girl you are.” His tip barely just entering you.

“Please fuck me Oliver.” Finally able to say the words. “Just fuck me so hard I want your cock so badly.”

Smiling down at you as he leaned forward to attach his lips to yours. His mouth moving along yours in such a sensual manner you felt so many sparks of fireworks. Feeling the outline of his cock pressed against your cunt.

Pushing his tongue inside your mouth at the same time he pushed his length inside of you. Swallowing your moans as his hips were pressed into your pelvis. Staying there for just a few seconds so you could adjust. Savoring the moment your walls enclosed around him like little suckers.

“Such a tight delicious cunt for me.” He groaned as he pulled out and pushing back in. “Gonna have to fuck you more often sweetheart.”

He begins to pound into your cunt with no mercy. The sounds of his hips slapping against yours. Moving the bed and slamming the headboard into the wall. His little grunts echoing in your ear and he moved relentlessly inside of you.

Feeling the fabric rubbing against your skin even harder creating a burning sensation. Typically the pain would have brought tears to your eyes, but right now it was only heightening the pleasure even more intensely.

“Look at me sweet girl.” Commanding you noticing your shut eyes. “Look into my eyes as you cum around my cock.”

Noticing how his jaw clenched as he grit his teeth staring deep into your eyes. Feeling your cheeks begin to become hot with such an intimate interaction. It was just you and him in this moment, and he wanted you to become lost in each other.

“That’s my good girl.” He praised you. “Always such a good sweet girl for me.”

Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as you began to feel that intense feeling building inside your stomach. Breasts bouncing back and forth with the motion of his rocking. His eyes looking down at them with lust. Unable to bear it anymore as he attached your left breast into his mouth.

“Oh my god.” Crying out throwing your head back.

Oliver could tell you were right there with each squeeze around his cock. He wanted to cum at the same time that you did. Holding himself back from spilling his seed inside of you too soon. Sweating so heavily he felt like he would almost pass out.

Lifting his head to look down at where you two are connected. Noticing as each time his cock pulls out a white creamy like substance strings along his length. The image drives him absolutely feral. Moving in and out of you so harshly your afraid he might actually break your body.

Your pathetic whimpers and moans are what keep him motivated. His eyes staying concentrated on your completely blissed out face. Your pupils are so dilated from being high off of each other.

“Cum for me sweetheart.” He begs you unable to hold back any longer. “I’m right there.”

One of his hands reached down between you two to rub circles against your bundle of nerves. That was enough to send you spiraling. Your toes curling as your whole body shook with such an intense orgasm. Legs trembling against Oliver’s hips as he held onto you.

Spilling his own seed inside of you his cock twitching a couple of times as he drained the last of his fluid. Laying against you feeling absolutely tired but relaxed.

“Was that okay?” He asked timidly as he reached up to untie your sore wrists. Your limbs falling straight down. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No.” Responding out of breath eyes fluttering. “No Ollie it was perfect.”

“Good.” He smiled up at you snuggling against your sweaty body his head on your chest. “Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

#oliver quick smut #Oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagines #barry keoghan #Barry keoghan smut #Barry keoghan x reader #Saltburn #Saltburn smut

[frogzzai]

Upper moon anon back lol, and this time let's go spicier~ (and add Muzan if you'd like, up to you!) Kissing, but downstairs 😉 (I loved the last post btw! 🥰)

Welcome back hun 🫶 Sorry it took me so long to get to this request, I kept forgetting :').

Time for spice ig 😍

Send in requests I have no motivation :'( (I write for MHA, Creepypasta, Slashers, Demon Slayer, JJK, Harry Potter, Rick and Morty, Fantastic Beasts, Winx)

Characters included: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Hantengu, Sekido, Urogi, Karaku, Aizetsu, Gyokko, Gyutaro, Muzan

Warning: NSFW

Reader is AFAB but no pronouns mentioned.

Uppermoon 1- Kokushibo

Let's just be honest with ourselves, this man's a pussy eating GOD.

Not only did he used to have a wife, mf has 6 eyes. He definitely notices what your body reacts to more.

We all know he's pretty skilled, I'm not talking just about combat.

Could eat you out for AGES. He'll go to the point you have to try and drag him away by his hair while babbling incoherently.

It doesn't matter whether you're demon or human, your taste intoxicates him.

Overstimulation is 100% his specialty. Like I said earlier, he doesn't know when to stop. Do you really want him to stop though?

He'll use both his fingers and tongue, wants you to feel as best as possible.

Sit on his face. Please. He'd quite happily suffocate underneath you, if he could die like that he would.

Not a teaser, just wants as many orgasms out of you as possible.

Definitely the type to leave little lingering butterfly kisses all over your clit, he's a body worshipper.

Uppermoon 2- Douma

Loves to tease you.

Enjoys making you get off on his tongue by yourself, no guidance from him.

Occasionally he'll take the reins and overstimulate you till you can't remember your own name, only his.

He doesn't like giving you want you want (pleasure-wise), so he'll make you beg for it.

He doesn't care if his followers hear it, let them think what they want. He won't let them see though, no one else can see you like that. If anybody bothers you about it, well, they won't be around to bother you much longer.

Douma enjoys hearing you whine while edging you but also loves hearing you uncontrollably sob from overstimulation so he'd probably do a bit of both.

Will 100% leave bite marks on your thighs.

Will also playfully bite at your clit but not too hard, just enough to draw blood.

Uppermoon 3- Akaza

Similarly to Kokushibo, this man is a body worshipper.

Would stay in between your legs forever if you'd let him.

Please whimper his name and praise him, it'll make him happy.

Not a fan of teasing, wants to give you as much pleasure as (humanly?) possible.

This man cannot get enough.

Grips your thighs to make you stay in place... do with that what you will

Another fan of face sitting because it gives him better access.

Please suffocate him, unless you're hiding a nichirine sword up your pussy it won't kill him. Even if you somehow were I don't think he'd mind.

He'd definitely just show up out of no where and try to eat you out. It's almost like he teleports he's so quiet.

Will squeeze as many orgasms out of you as he possibly can.

Will incorporate his fingers somehow.

Hantengu

Wouldn't. Just wouldn't.

How'd you even get within 2 feet of him without him spontaneously combusting on the spot, let alone get in a relationship with him.

He is literally fear. I mean, it says it on his tongue...

He is going no where near there.

He can barely make eye contact with you!

He just can't.

Sekido

Aggressive pussy eater.

No mercy, literally won't let you go till you either squirt multiple times onto his tongue or you pass out from the overwhelming overstimulation.

I mean, sort of obvious isn't it?

Will sometimes add toys if he's feeling extra mean (that's pretty common).

I feel like the marking on his tongue (along with the other clones) would have a slightly different texture than the rest of it so it'd add to the whole experience if yk what I mean...

Bites. Take that however you wish.

Will hold your thighs apart so harshly you'll have bruises the size of his fingers appearing on you in the next hour.

Urogi

I feel like he can give out vibrations from his mouth. Just saying..

Will leave scratches down your thighs, I mean, look at his talons. Hands? Claws? Talons.

Surprisingly skilled with his tongue.

This man definitely loves hair pulling. Fight me.

Just grab a handful of his luscious locks and you've got him almost cumming in his pants.

He's vocal, he's moaning and grunting at the taste of you, 'course you can barely hear him over your own sounds though.

I feel like he'd trace patterns gently over your clit with his tongue if he felt like teasing you.

Will spell his own name if he does this.

He'll eat you out whilst in the air at least once, either that or he'll fly to high places to do it.

I guess you've technically joined the mile high club? I know he's not a plane but.. it sort of counts.

Karaku

He is literally pleasure.

There's no saying whether he has experience or not, but, does it really matter? He makes you go dumb on his tongue every time so are you going to complain either way? No.

Another one that's into hair pulling, he has long hair, why not put it to use?

Out of all the brothers he's the most skilled.

He doesn't have a favourite position or speed, he just takes note of what you seem to prefer at that giving time and goes by that.

He has his massive leaf thing on handy to throw people halfway across the city if they walk in.

Is in to face sitting.

He's one of those that likes to make you chase your own pleasure on his tongue but will take control halfway.

Uses toys. Do with that what you will.

Aizetsu

He prefers slow and sensual to fast and rough.

He gets sad if he feels like he went too rough, he feels like he's hurt you no matter how much you reassure him that it didn't hurt and you actually liked it. Overtime he'll grow more confident in being rough, just give him a chance.

He holds your thighs but gently, he's a thigh man.

He leaves soft little love bites up them.

Leaves fleeting kisses on your clit.

Subconsciously runs his hands from your waist down to your thigs and then up again while eating you out.

Don't mention it, he'll get embarrassed..

His brothers prefer tongue-fucking, he prefers softer clit sucking.

He quite likes fact sitting so you can't see him flushed red.

Gyokko

How?

He barely has a body, he's built like a genie if you ignore the face.

Back to the face... It would be difficult, it'd get in his eye, look at the placement. He doesn't even have eyelids.

I think he'd use his many little hands.

If he went into his final form then it might be easier but still, the eye placement.

I don't really see it working.

Gyutaro

No experience.

Obviously.

You'll have to teach him, but it's ok, we all know he's a quick learner.

He'll use his fingers with it because he's nervous his mouth isn't doing enough.

Trust me, it is.

Another biter, thighs, clit, anywhere he can get to.

Not into hair pulling that much, prefers it when you gentle stroke his hair.

Please praise him, he needs to know if he's doing ok.

Mutters sweet nothings into your clit, you're one of the most beautiful beings he has ever set eyes on, after Daki of course.

Muzan

He's somewhat of a gentleman. Occasionally.

Either slow and sensual like Aizestu or fast and rough like Sekido. No in-between.

Not into face sitting, it makes him feel vulnerable.

In his final form however, sit on his thigh whilst one of his mouths eats you out.

He's skilled. He's had past partners so he knows what he's doing.

You're the only one he does it with some sort of meaning behind it.

Very skilled with his hands to, just going to leave that there.

Female Muzan is better, but they're almost on par.

#anime #demon #demon slayer #anime and manga #female muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan smut #kny muzan #muzan headcanons #kokushibo #upper moons #kny hantengu #hantengu #hantengu clones #12 kizuki #kny kokushibo #lord douma #kny douma #demon slayer akaza #kny akaza #akaza #x reader #afab reader #aizetsu #sekido #kny urogi #urogi x reader #urogi x you #urogi smut #urogi x y/n

[leonw4nter]

Give Me A Star In The Sky and Promise To Be By My Side

Knight!RE4R!Leon x Mermaid!F!Reader

fluff, medieval setting, no use of super flowery words, mentions of death/dying (once or thrice i think)

SUMMARY : Leon's a knight in shining armor but he begs to differ because he swears God sent him an angel with a voice that outshines all that comes along with an even shinier mermaid tail.

Fighting. Killing. Coming back alive when men you considered your brothers are dead. This is all something Leon is used to ever since the royal family has taken him in as their knight; no compensation, no amount of pay could ever repair the damage that fighting mutant horrors beyond human comprehension has done to him. He has lost it all– friends, family, and the will to live. He has considered ending this torment with a rope around his neck but he never could bring himself to do so; someone has to do the job because if he doesn’t, then who will? He takes a swig of the strongest whiskey he can get his bloodied hands on, hoping to drown his sorrows and dissolve the faint image of his comrade’s mangled body that lingered in his mind like a taunt that he will never rebuild his life again and one day, he too will die like this and there will be no loved one to grieve his death; no one to lay flowers on his grave, no grave to be paying respects to but as if there was ever anyone in his life to visit him in the first place. He did not think that he would be deserving of praise or recognition; no matter how many times he scrubs his hands clean, there would always be blood on them. He zones out, dead blue eyes focused on nothing in particular as the voices that taunt him grow louder and sound as if they’re doubling in number. The grip on his glass falters, fingers trembling as tears flood the waterline of his eyes. Forcing himself to get a grip, he refills the glass and takes another long swig as he lets the drink burn his throat.

God must certainly exist because it’s as if He saw Leon struggling to keep the voices at bay and decided to send down an angel to sing solely to overpower the demons with her powerful voice; Leon thinks that maybe God still has some compassion to spare for a rabid stray like him. Leon keeps his head down, trying to keep himself grounded as a euphonious voice begins to sway his soul and move him gently. He finally looks up and sees a singer on stage, clad in a beautiful red dress; the color red never fails to make Leon feel a twinge of betrayal and hurt but this red is a shade he will always associate with silencing the raging screams in his troubled mind.

The peace is interrupted when a group of drunken men stumble to the front of the stage, filthy hands reaching out to touch her legs. Her voice weakens and trembles slightly, eyes widened and darting to and fro from the audience and towards the men. Leon decides that this is enough and gets up from his seat, walking over to the front of the stage and grips the wrist of one man tightly but the man does not give up easily; punches thrown, glass shattered, and noses bloody, guests pour out of the club, leaving you and him alone. He tells you his name and you offer yours, both of you knowing full well this is not the last time you two will see each other again. With a small nod, he turns around and heads out the door to retire back to his quarters. Swiftly, you grab a cloak and run outside to follow him. He hasn’t wandered too far off from the club so manage to catch up to him, placing a hand on his back. As a small token of your thanks, you give him a mermaid scale. Drawing him a little nearer, you place the iridescent golden scale on the pocket of his gambeson and give it a safe little pat before pulling away.

“What was that for?” he asks, gaze falling to his pocket.

“It’s a thank-you from me. I feel the need to repay you for defending me so I decided to give you my scale.” you respond, a small smile on your lips.

“A fish scale?”

“Mermaid scale.”

“I’ve seen large, rare fish sold to merchants with scales like these but thank you, I guess. I just did what’s right.”

All the singer does is laugh and look up at him with sparkly eyes.

Leon tries not to hide the bewildered look in his face. Mermaids are not real, they’re simply manatees that explorers have misidentified but she seemed a little too kind and eager to express her thankfulness so he takes it, not saying another word. It wouldn’t hurt to keep around a rare fish’s scale so he decides against giving it back or throwing it away on his way to his quarters.

“I’ll see you around, Leon.” you respond before giving him a small bow and heading back in. He looks back at you once but you look back three times, incredibly grateful for such a man to have stepped in and done something about the harassment.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Even after a few days of the charming singer giving him the scale, he still keeps it around and carries it with him everywhere. He doesn’t know why he does so but he just does, perhaps out of respect for the singer; maybe it’s in her culture to give a kind stranger something like that and he’s just respecting whatever customs she may have. Sometimes, he pulls the scale out and holds it up to the sun or whatever source of light there is to admire the scale. The scale is a lot thicker and bigger than the usual fish scale so he figures that it must have come from a bigger kind unknown to the region. He has also decided to frequent that club more, staying around not for alcohol alone but also the music; the club had two or three singers but out of all, he most preferred to hear you sing. You always looked radiant, making the room seem brighter than it is but whenever you spot him in the sea of spectators, he swears you seem to look a lot brighter. You two don’t talk, him being a man of few words and you being an introverted person but occasionally exchange glances that said enough. It is easy to admit that the man is attractive but she didn’t feel anything more than just the mere urge to offer the man some company and same goes with him yet there were times where he felt his heart thrum whenever he recalled the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled whenever you smiled, how your eyes squint first before a bright grin graces your red lips; the way your glossy hair would softly sway along to the song as if there were waves causing your hair to dance along to the melody. He found himself subconsciously looking around for any threat looming around to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere you have effortlessly created and to keep you safe, of course. He also began to cut back on the whiskey he always got, making sure he only limited himself to a number of glasses in order to stay sober so he could rush in and protect you fast if the situation arose.

This night, being in the club would stay in his imagination as he is sent to roam the forests for threats of those crazy cultists running around and planting parasite eggs around; news of livestock and villages from more rural portions of the kingdom reached the town, causing the king to raise alert levels within the kingdom’s line of defenses. The evening sky is dark, littered with shimmery dots of white and silver moonlight that beamed through tall and dark trees. The gale is cold, a refreshing contrast to the hot afternoon; the wind gently blows, as if caressing Leon’s body like he’s made of thin glass and gently ruffling his slightly unkempt blond hair. He’s not wearing his usual bulk of armor tonight, opting for white long sleeves and a black leather doublet over it; a belt to contain his sword and daggers hang on his waist, causing a faint clanking noise with each stride. Despite being tall and muscular, his footfalls were trained to be as light and noiseless as possible to keep him undetected when he was on duty. However, light footfalls are nothing when you fail to keep yourself guarded and fall prey to who you are supposed to be preying on. An assassin sneaks up from behind him and renders him immobile, a handkerchief damp with a sedative substance clamped over his mouth which causes him to lose his consciousness. The assassin holds his heavy body, pulling it to some place else to effectively keep him immobile. Blade belt removed, hands and ankles tied, a black cloth covering his eyes, the assassin lugs him to a cart used for the transport of the dead and takes on, disguising themselves as someone assigned to pick up bodies and send them to a burial ground in order to properly execute their mission.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Leon! Leon!,” Chris calls out. The man walks and looks around, his booming voice reverberating through the woods.

“Where in the hell is he,” he mumbles softly. Leon is someone who always knows the way and would always come back; he could be set to drift out at sea with a blindfold to his eyes and his arms constricted but he would always get back, no matter what.

“No sign of Leon anywhere,” Luis responds. Luis, one of the palace’s scholars, had been called over by Chris to ask him about Leon’s whereabouts. When Leon was not hanging around the barracks, he could be seen in Luis’ laboratory flipping through books or observing Luis’ notes.

“Ran off with a certain lady friend of his, perhaps?” he jokes, a failed attempt at making the situation lighter. Chris’ forehead creases with worry, fumbling around his pockets for a cigarette only to remember that he left it at his chambers. “So much for trying to quit.” he thinks to himself. They continue discussing where Leon could be, occasionally calling out his name every now and then, wading deeper into the forest. Suddenly, they hear a child’s helpless screaming. The screaming sounded a little more reverb, as if he was trapped somewhere.

“You hear that?” Luis asks, to which Chris nods.

“We’ll help you kid! Hold on!,” Luis exclaims as he and the other brunette set off to find the source of the noise.

“Help us! We’re in a well!” the kid exclaims. Luis raises an eyebrow at Chris; We? What did he mean by “we”? Could it be that Leon is with the kid too?

The pair rushes to the source of the sound, the child’s voice growing clearer and clearer with each speedy stride. Finally, a well comes into their view and they sprint towards the well. They peer down and see Leon, finally conscious but his head is tipped up for if not, he would sink below the water and drown. On his shoulder is the child, legs untied but hands bound together. His clothes are wet, cheeks deeply flushed from all the crying he’s done. The way they are positioned looks odd; the kid, despite being much much smaller than Leon, is standing with the water up until his ankles whilst Leon looks like he’s struggling to keep his head up and it occurs to them that he’s letting the kid stand on his shoulders to call out for help despite his weakened state.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you chico!” Luis exclaims before scrambling off to find a rope, a vine– whatever they can use to get the kid and Leon out. Luckily, a portion of the rope was stuck on a stone that jutted out from the inside of the well and if Chris took a stick and brought a portion of the rope up, he could get them both out. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a stick sturdy enough to support the weight of a child but Luis piped up with an idea.

“Chico, can you jump for me?” Luis calls out. He smiles half-heartedly, trying to stir up some feelings of confidence in the kid.

“I’m going to need you to jump as high as you can and grab on to that stone,” he adds with a slender finger pointing to the stone that juts out.

“Think you can do that for me?”

The kid hesitates for a moment, looking down at Leon and back up. His bottom lip quivers and a look of fear flashes in his bright green eyes before shaking his head and breaking out into a new set of tears. A grunt could be heard coming from Leon, all his energy going into keeping his body up for the kid; he hasn’t even broken out of the ropes, more focused on getting the child out before himself.

Luis mutters something in Spanish and Chris considers shedding his armor to climb down and somehow try to get the kid and Leon himself, even if the odds are stacked up against everyone. Without warning, a yelp from the kid could be heard as he took a leap without warning, one tiny tied hand holding onto the rock.

“Help me!” the kid cried in a shaky voice and nasal tone. Chris bent down as deep as he could, his hand stretched and trying to get the kid’s wrist and lift him up.

“This might hurt a little but it’ll be fast, I promise!” he says before finally getting the kid’s wrist. Luis holds on to his waist to keep him from dipping into the well too much. With a few grunts, Chris finally manages to lift the kid out. Luis sheds his coats, wrapping it around the shivering kid as he tells the child to sit beside the well and try to stay warm. Leon, however, stays trapped and has gone beneath the water due to the downward thrust when the kid lept. The two men above the water consider shedding whatever clothing and dividing down, spotting a golden glow beneath the water. Golden? But the moon appears silver this evening; the faint light appears as if it’s beneath the waters. Interesting.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

She is backstage, gently patting powder into her face as she gets ready for tonight’s performance. She has her best pink dress on, silk embroidery casting a peachy sheen whenever golden candle-light struck the threads; long locks of her hair is kept away from her delicate face using starfish hair clips, strands defining the plumpness of cheeks the shade of tropical corals and framing her soft jaw. She spreads her lips into a wide smile, trying to get more of the product into her cheeks when she feels a sharp pain in the left side of her chest. She hastily returns the powder puff into the pot, a dainty hand flying to her chest and clutching it as she tries to catch her breath. The pain persists for a few more seconds until she realizes that someone may be in dire trouble. Hurriedly, she grabs her coat and runs out of the club. The ache in her chest could only mean one thing: a recipient of her scale needs her help right away, that recipient being Leon. Leon is the only person she’s ever offered her scale to, that tiny iridescent thing connecting the both of them in a way she didn’t quite expect. She has heard of what offering a scale could entail but she didn’t expect it to be like a map; she doesn’t know where he is but a connection to an item of hers just leads her there. She speeds through the thickness of the forest, legs pumping fast to get her to him as fast as possible. Not too long after, she spots a well and she feels the ache grow stronger. A hand flies up to unclasp her coat, hurriedly moving over to the clips in her hair to let it drop down to the floor. She spots two men and a child right by the well, the men shedding their shirts and vests. One of the men, the tanned and lean one between the pair, reaches out to her but she doesn’t pay them any mind. Stretching her arms in front of her and keeping them together, a shimmery flash of pink plunges into the well and hits the water with a loud splash. Immediately, her eyes adjust to the darkness and her legs shift into an opalescent gold tail. With a strong kick, she sets off to find Leon whose eyes are closed. She spots a muted gold glow in his chest pocket, her scale and sees his hands below his back. Hastily, she swims up to him and takes his arms; a broken piece of rope is attached to wrist and the same goes for his ankles. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she swims them both to the surface of the water but his eyes are still closed. Offering him some of her strength, she unwraps her arms from his wrist and places her tender hands on his face, she lets her lids drape over her eyes and brings her face near his. Tilting her head, her soft lips meet his lightly chapped ones; a surging tide of warmth and some miraculous strength courses through Leon’s formerly limp body, eyes slowly flying open only to be met by a blur of dark blue and a stinging sensation which causes him to shut them again. He could not see but he is certain that it’s her; an odd yet not uninvited swimming giddiness overrides his ability to reason logically and before he knows it, he finds himself pressing his lips back only for her to finally pull back and reach the surface of the well. Leon had always been the savior, the knight in the armor dirtied from war and he does not mind it– not at all but it is at that moment of nearly stepping into night’s Plutonian shore does he realize that maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t hurt to have someone save him for a change. As a man who has seen the face of war and smelt the stench of death, he has learned to raise strong walls to protect his heart from abandonment but through this moment, he comes to the realization that you’re slowly taking those walls apart but he doesn’t resent it– not one bit.

He wakes with a painful cough, sitting up and spitting out all the water from his lungs. With each jerk of his body, tears spring in his eyes from the sheer pressure he’s exerting just to get everything out. He feels a satiny touch fall on his back and he turns around; the singer from the club he frequents holds him in her lap and strokes his back from all those forceful coughing fits.

“You alright?” she asks in the most silvery voice he’s ever had the high grace of hearing.

“Yeah,” he responds with a hoarse voice. His throat feels weird and scratchy, a hand coming up to feel for his Adam's apple. He looks back at her and notices that they’re both drenched, her shimmery sleeveless dress clinging to her body and her long hair still dripping with water. His gaze falls on her cheekbones and drifts down to her arms and spots subtle opaline scales, similar to the ones on her legs. Her hands and feet look a lot more webbed, eyes appearing a little more bright than the average person’s.

“Thanks. For what you did. I mean it,” he softly says.

She smiles, still patting his back.

“It’s nothing. It’s sort of like me returning the favor for when you defended me back in the club.”

She coaxes him closer to her and he lets himself rest against her body, the weariness of the ordeal setting deep in his bones.

“How’d you find me?” he asks.

“The scale. My chest hurt while I was getting ready and I figured that you’d be in some form of trouble. I had this weird intuition on where you are and I ended up saving you.” she responds.

“Didn’t know you had a ladylove, sancho.” Luis chimes in, which causes the both of you to look avert each other’s gazes and attempt to conceal the deepening glow of pink in your cheeks. Chris finally finishes putting his garments back on, a smile on his lips. Urging Luis and the child up, they go to move somewhere else but not too distant from the both of you. Leon lifts his right hand up, gesturing it to you and shows you a gold radiance wrapped around his ring finger like a thread. You tilt your head, bringing his hand closer to you until you notice that the luminescent thread connects to your own ring finger, which also resembles thread.

“Am I going to be a mermaid too?” Leon speaks up.

“N-no… I don’t think so. This is my first time seeing something like this.” you quietly say. The threads disappear, fading into shimmery moonlight that lingered on you two for a swift moment.

“You’re a mermaid.” Leon mumbles faintly.

“Yeah, I am.” you say.

“That explains the voice.”

“And not the scale, which you thought belongs to some kind of rare fish?”

“You aren’t entirely fish but you’re quite the catch if I do say so myself.”

“Oh?”

You turn your head to a side not facing Leon, shutting your eyes and biting your lip in a moment of pure glee as waves of excitement crash over your body, a coral tint adding more color to your face.

“Let’s get back. It’s getting colder.” you finally say as you try to fight back a smile.

“Sounds like a plan.” he says as he flashes that swoon-worthy grin.

NOTE - THANK GOD I'M FINALLY DONE WITH EXAMS OH MY LORD. Fun fact: I started this fic when I was supposed to be studying for one of my tests and I finished this when I'm currently supposed to be practicing for a music class requirement :3 Making the fic look a lot more cuter took more time than I initially thought but I don't mind tbh. I'll be inactive from January 25 to 26th because I'll be on a day-long school trip. Hopefully I'm passing all my tests because I will be CREMATED if I don't. Also ordered my Leon photocards and they haven't arrived yet (baby come home) That's all and I'm really thankful that you've read my fics and enjoyed them :) I love you <///3

The animated pink divider and chain dividers are from @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy #resident evil #fluff #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil x reader #biohazard #resident evil 4 remake #re4make #re4 remake #re4r

[sister-lucifer]

Bro, my friend, ima need a masky x reader where masky is a farel animal, ima need this man to absolutely batshit and I need him to ruin me in every way, love your favorite mutal <333333 😋

Let Off Steam

Masky x Gender neutral reader 

Genre: Smut 

Summary: A drabble about Masky going feral and taking it out on you 

Content/Warnings: Angry and mean Masky, porn with no real plot, hair pulling, spanking, a hint of possessiveness/degrading 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio! 

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

There was no telling what had set Masky off today. All you knew was that he was pissed, and his favorite way to let off steam was to pound you until you passed out. 

“Fuuuck, you have no idea how much I missed this tight hole—!” He growled into your ear as he leaned over you. He didn’t have to say it, it was obvious. You couldn’t even remember the moments leading up to this point, but nothing else mattered when he was taking you from the back so good, just how you both liked it. 

“God, you feel so good…No one, not any body else ever gets to use you like this, do you hear me?!” 

A slap rang out in your ears, followed by a stinging pain where Masky’s hand had come down on your ass. 

“Yes, yes!” You yelped in reply, “Only you, Masky! I-I’m all yours!” 

He yanked hard on your hair, making you arch your back. Your nails tore at the sheets, leaving long rips that would surely have to be patched up later. 

“All mine…All fuckin’ mine! A-Ah, God I needed this…I’ve missed my little fuck toy all day.”

Another slap, even harder than the last, forcing a broken call of Masky’s name from your throat. 

He nuzzled into your neck, leaving a trail of aggressive kisses that quickly transformed into bites. You could tell the marks were deep, enough to draw blood, but the pain was quickly washed away by the pleasure. You could practically feel the bruises forming, ones that would earn you a sly comment from Toby in the morning. 

The bed rocked and swayed with each thrust, and there were even a few moments where you wondered if it would break beneath you. He was using all his strength, maybe even more, slamming into you over and over again and hitting deeper than you had ever thought possible. When Masky was mad, he fucked you like his life depended on making sure you couldn’t walk the next day. 

You hadn’t realized how close you were until it was almost too late. You barely managed a warning before all of a sudden you had came, tightening around Masky’s length and making him shudder. The pathetic noise that fell from your lips and echoed off the walls nearly had him cumming himself. You expected him to keep going until he found his own release as usual, but instead he abruptly slowed to a stop. 

You didn’t even have time to ask what was wrong before he was pulling out just long enough to flip you over onto your back, making you bounce against the mattress. 

“M…Masky…?” You said meekly, eyes growing wide as one of his hands found the back of your knee, pushing it up against your chest. 

“Aw, what’s the matter hun?” He cooed down at you in a condescending tone. His free hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing terribly hard but enough to be a threat. 

“You didn’t think we’d be done so soon, did you?” 

You merely stared up at him as he rutted against you, preparing to enter once more. 

“No, no…we’re not done until I say so, and something tells me we’re going to be here for a very, very long time.” 

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta smut #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets smut #marble hornets #masky x reader #masky smut #masky x reader smut #tim wright #tim wright x reader

[verus-animus]

Finally Home

"Uuuggh.... fuuuck... that's gonna hurt for at least a few hours..." A deep groan escaped from my mouth as I rubbed the pain in the back of my head. Having him fly across the room and slam his head on the hard concrete floor was definitely not in the plan, but at least everything else had been successful.

You see, for years and years I had been lusting over this one handsome hunk that frequented the gym I went to. Damien, as I later managed to find out his name, wasn't just any normal gymgoer. No, he was beyond that and more. The way he easily lifted those weights with his huge biceps, the tension of his massive quads as he ran on the treadmill, and the short breaks he took between each set to give everyone around him a prideful flex show... He was a god among gods... at least in my eyes.

Some might have called me obssessed, but I just found myself mesmerized by everything he did, everything he said, and everything he was. I loved the way his tall muscular body moved, I loved the way his deep accented voice sounded, and I even loved the way his pungent after workout musk smelled (Yes, I might have broken into his locker a few times just to bask in that wonderful scent of his...).

At first I really thought I was just in love with him, but I quickly realized it was something more than that, something more possessive. I didn't want to be with him. No, I wanted to be him. I wanted... no yearned to parade around with that wonderfully fit body, to watch myself flex with those massively thick biceps, and to simply own all that he possessed and had worked hard for. The very thoughts would make me quickly chub up and I'd often be forced to release a big load in the gym toilets while imagining running my hands across that chiseled flesh of Damien.

That's why I've spent the last seven months browsing through every book in the library, every website on the net, and every tattered research paper I could get my hands upon to find some way to actually make my desire come true. It took countless sleepless nights and an almost empty bank account, until I finally found what I was looking for. All that was required was the right place, right time, and right person...

I wasn't going to risk anything, so after finding out where he lived, what time he usually went to the gym, and when he would most likely come back home, I immediately put my plan into action. Yes, I broke into his apartment. Yes, I smeared chicken blood all over his living room floor to draw a glyph and lit incense sticks everywhere. And yes, I sat in the middle of it all naked and drenched in chicken blood, while clutching a piece of dry wood with runes carved on it in my hand.

You would think I had gone mad at this point, but you have no idea the dedication and yearning I had felt to actually make this go through. Patiently I sat there and waited for him, minutes and hours went by, but I was just as ready for the moment he would be back.

And when I could finally hear the entrance door to his apartment unlock, and saw the shocked expression on his handsome face as he found a complete stranger sitting in the middle of his living room floor, I immediately brought the unusual dry wood high up in the air and split it into two. Almost instantaneous an intense burning pain washed all over me, followed by the horrific sight of my physical body being engulfed in sweltering purple fire. A pile of ashes and flesh pieces was all that was left, as I now found myself hovering above the glyph in some sort of hazy non-physical state.

Not letting the opportunity pass me by, I immediately focused my form towards Damien's body and flung myself against him. A look of absolute terror was plastered on his face, as the words "Oh fuck" left his mouth. A wide gaping mouth that turned out to be the perfect entrance for me to slam myself straight into. The very force of my invasion however caused him to suddenly be flung backwards and across the living room.

I was rapidly forcing myself down into his gagging throat, and quickly filling him up with all of my essence. I could feel him starting to fight back, but I had no intention of giving him that chance. Immediately I pushed down even deeper and found his core. It was warm, livid, and pulsating... and I wasted no time completely enveloping it and absorbing it into myself. I could feel all his memories, dreams, and desires wash over me. If I wanted to become Damien, I had to go all the way.

One the outside, Damien's face was red and exhausted, as his expressions went from ones of pain and anguish to pleasure and joy. For a few brief minutes he closed his eyes and just laid there on the floor in eerie tranquil.

Until they finally opened again with me in complete control.

I tried to push myself back up, only to fall back down on the floor with a heavy thud. As much power and strength that flowed through my new bigger body now, I found myself beyond exhausted. Not only that, but my broad muscular back was now drenched in sweat, as were my armpits with my new wonderfully pungent musk.

Accepting that I wasn't getting up from this floor anytime soon, especially with this pounding headache in the back of my head, I decided to enjoy my new self right there and then. With one rugged hand shoved deep down in my gym shorts and squeezing my new engorged manhood, the other massive arm was busily being kissed, flexed, and having its wet armpit being worshipped.

Basking in my new perfect body and identity, I spent the rest of the evening filling the apartment with groans of my deep accented voice, and my stomach with pounds after pounds of my sticky white Damien cream...

I was finally who and where I had always meant to be, with the perfect body, life, and identity.

Finally I was home.

#possession #merge #smell #magic

[barrenclan]

unsure if this has been said before but please let me get what i want (the deftones vers specifically) feels very fitting for pinepaw or maybe even rainhaze. the family guys who are almost foils to each other when they're both going through a messy rough time 🤝

I really like this suggestion, because Morrissey is my current voiceclaim for Pinepaw so he's very Smiths-coded in my mind.

Haven't had a dream in a long time See, the life I've had Could make a good man bad

So for once in my life Let me get what I want Lord knows it would be the last time Lord knows it would be the first time

Oh my friend, British men screeching is just about my favorite musical styling.

Want land in the valley There's pieces of you breaking off (Pieces of you breaking off)

Big money's in the basin, you don't come back without it He's killing with abandon to get over the mountain Got darkest rum from Mama, seething in the liver Blood disease from Papi, poisoning the river

Friends on the Other Side works pretty well for Ranger, at the very least his attitude. Rainhaze's deal came from desperation rather than greed, but I do like things that speak to his thoughtless self-centeredness and hero complex.

That's a Rainhaze song if I ever heard one!

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of Flesh and bones and they're all scared of A lost little boy who has lost his heart Fear's not enough, they have to Tear him apart

Follow the scent of iron sinking Deeper into corpses rotting But they can't hear you talk, talk, talk About every little thing

And the Hound Is humming you A lie, a lullaby

Ohh, yeah... I can see it.

I wonder who I'd be If all these bad things Didn't happen to me

I must be The Virgin Mary To create a son Who will suffer so much <- the sloug.......

The tone of the song is pretty light, but I can see the lyrics working! Especially drawing parallels between the original great destruction and the current onslaught.

Oh god, come quickly The execution of all things Let's start with the bears and the air And mountains, rivers and streams Then we'll murder what matters to you And move on to your neighbors and kids Crush all hopes of happiness with disease 'Cause of what you did

And lastly, you're all alone with nothing left but sleep But sleep never comes to you It's the guilt and forever wakefulness of the weak It's just you and me

Ah, that musical is on my watchlist but I haven't gotten around to it yet. I've heard pretty good things, though!

I roar! And you cry! I'm the reason You run and hide!

You better leave your hopes behind No one's gonna stop him You better hope he's out of sight Or you're doomed to be a victim

Objectively wild pull, but I do love Johnny Cash, and his voice reminds me a lot of what Mallowstar's would be like. I like this song a lot with him. :,]

Well, I won't back down, no I won't back down You can stand me up at the gates of Hell But I won't back down

Well, I know what's right, I got just one life In a world that keeps on pushin' me around But I stand my ground and I won't back down <- wahh mallowstar...

I'd definitely this has big Slugpelt energy.

Dear, I fear we're facing a problem You love me no longer, I know And maybe there is nothing That I can do to make you do Mama tells me I shouldn't bother

Lately I have desperately pondered, Spent my nights awake and I wonder What I could have done in another way To make you stay

It's a pretty good song!

YAY Queen song! This is interesting; I can see it very well with characters that are still a spoiler to talk about.

So much ado, my lover So many games we played Through every fleeted summer Through every precious day

All dead, all dead All the dreams we had And I wonder why I still live on All dead, all dead And alone, I'm spared My sweeter half instead All dead and gone

Damn I ran out of video links

#ask #anon #music #pinepaw #rainhaze #slugpelt #deepdark #ranger #mallowstar

[leupagus]

Am I writing the Meereen scenes as essentially "1776" with less singing and more threats of burning each other alive? Look,

x

Just then a group entered the library, arguing at and over each other. They were the most unlikely hodgepodge collection of people Tyrion had ever seen in his life: a young man in the rough spun smock favored by Meereen's freedmen, a tall bearded fellow wearing ornate robes that identified him as a member of one of the "great families," a woman dressed in the silk sleeveless tunic of a prostitute, and a half-dozen others, each more surprising than the last.

"All I am saying, my lord Hizdahr," said one woman, wearing a flowing dress and the choker that signaled her status as a Red Priestess, "is that your ridiculous notion of religious 'persecution' is so broad as to render any religious judgement meaningless!"

The tall bearded one slammed the door shut behind them and followed the group as it meandered its way over to a large oval table near a window, piled high with scrolls and books and half-written sheets of paper. "And all I am saying, my lady Kinvara, is that reducing the population via pyrotechnics is directly contradictory to achieving peace and stability, as well as freedom for all Meereenese!"

"Both of you shut up," sighed the man in the smock as they all settled into what seemed to be their usual seats. Thus far none of them had taken notice of either their queen or of him. One of the group, an old man with a white beard and a limp, got up almost immediately to totter over to one of the bookshelves, pulling out an alarming number of tomes with a thoughtful expression on his face. "And stop calling each other 'my lord' and 'my lady' when you're irritated, it makes my hands itch and I just want to wrap them around your throats."

"And you would be free to do so, were we followers of the Drowned God," snapped the one called Hizdahr as he rose to his feet, striding over to the old man and taking the pile of books. This evidently didn't put much of a damper on his ability to argue, however, as he twisted round to glare at the Red Priestess. "Any blood shed by a faith is fine, so long as it's your own devout you're killing? That seems to be your definition of 'religious freedom.'"

"Does the Drowned God punish its criminals by strangling them?" asked a young person surrounded by papers, fingers blue from ink and scribbling madly. "I thought it would be. Well. Drowning."

This seemed to side-track the conversation for a bit, and Daenerys moved away toward the door at the opposite end of the library.

"Who in the hells are they?" asked Tyrion as he followed her, before remembering his audience and wincing.

"Meereen's new Governance Charter Council," replied Daenerys, looking torn between annoyance and amusement. "They're drawing up a new system of laws and regulations for the city, as well as a system to choose their leaders."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. It still does," she added, somewhat reluctantly. "But tyranny has its advantages."

"For the tyrant, certainly," he agreed, and winced again.

Fortunately, she laughed. "Certainly. But I mean for everyone. A just form of government will still fail its people, after all. And then who do they blame? Themselves, for choosing their own leaders? At least with me, Meereen has someone to hate."

"Do they hate you?" asked Tyrion, somewhat surprised. Granted, he'd not had much chance to mingle among the hoi polloi, but the crowd at the fighting pits had seemed quite approving of their new queen.

"They don't love me."

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Well, love. That always fades in the end, doesn't it?"

"Does it?" Daenerys looked thoughtful. They had arrived at the other door and a librarian opened it for them. She did not bow, he noted; simply nodded and closed the door behind them. Daenerys seemed not even to notice, mulling over his question as though it had been a serious one.

#it's very important to me that Daenerys both supports Meereen's adolescent democracy and is totally annoyed by it #like the politics of the books and show are terrible and I'm not gonna be able to magically fix them all #but lbr Daenerys has really good intentions and really terrible execution (so to speak) #and it would be far more interesting if characters loved her for reasons other than 'the plot requires it' #which means that people sometimes *don't* love her and it doesn't send her into a bizarre tailspin #anyway tyrion and daenerys are going to have lots of fun rolling their eyes at this whole democracy thing #joke's on them when they get to westeros #and are like 'actually hmmmmmm' #game of thrones motherfuckers #got: bitches get stuff done

[fuckmymunson]

congrats on 500 🤭🤭🤭❤️❤️

🔮 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭: Send me a character + a kink, and I'll write a drabble about i

remus w a (i forgot what it’s called) kink watching sirius and his gf have 👌👈and pretending it’s him 👌👈 with her

qtweyuioueeqkdjjshjkasbhcdsaqewq, I'm...... Hi. HI. I LOVE YOU, PLEASE. Please never stop sending asks because this right here... had me... I know this isn't exactly like you asked, but I really liked this one.... i love you...

18+, smut, voyeurism, mild stalking, male masturbation, borderline Perv!Remus <3.

Remus groaned against his pillow, furiously fisting his cock around the soft fabric of your panties, that unfortunately for you, were laid on top of Sirius’ laundry basket. He needed to be quiet because he didn’t want to miss a single second of it.

It was basically listening to your restless moans and Sirius' bed shaking in the adjacent room.

He felt sick, depraved and like a total creep, but goddamned your needy whines were enough to rile him up. The way you cried for more, how you begged to cum, desperate and crying. It was all music for his ears. The soft bangs against the wall followed by a sharp slap and a moan, worked in a chain reaction, making him speed up his movements against his hard, leaking cock in a futile attempt to match Sirius’ thrusts against your wet, tight pussy.

God, he was so jealous. 

Remus wanted more, he needed more. Unlocking the drawer on his nightstand, he opened his wallet, fumbling with a few tickets, coins and pounds, until he found his hidden treasure. 

The little polaroid he accidentally stole from Sirius’ wallet was now in between his fingers, as his hand wrapped his cock again with your dirty panties, using it as a pathetic fleshlight. His eyes traced your body, and he imagined he was the one who took that pic. Your legs spread for him, your lips parted sucking his thumb, his cock buried deep into your slick cunt. His eyes drifted to the little note you left on the polaroid, with your favourite pink marker.

“Siri’s little slut.”

And Remus couldn’t help but smirk as his thumb traced the big X on your boyfriend’s nickname, which was replaced by his messy handwriting (he was jacking off while writing it<3), with his favourite, permanent, black marker.

“Rem’s little slut.”

Much better.

Your loud moan dragged his attention from the polaroid, and he recognized those sounds immediately, you were about to cum, to make a mess, a mess he wanted on his cock, on his face, on his fingers. He wanted you. Remus was about to cum too, and he arched his back and buckled his hips against his hands, the fabric of your panties starting to burn his aching cock, it was too much, it wasn’t as soft as your precious cunt would be.

“Please!” You cried, dragging the last letter, and he imagined your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. “Siri p—please let me cum.” Ugh, why, why. 

“Go on, whore.” Sirius growled, and a sharp slap was followed by his words. “Make a mess on my cock, princess.” 

Remus did a number on his hand, as he coated your cute pink panties with long, thick squirts of his cum. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he exhaled shakily, panting. His honey locks were glued to his face thanks to the thin layer of sweat that made his body glisten, in the weak light of his desk lamp. He felt so embarrassed, so dirty, but… a part of him was thrilled with this danger, this unrequired passion and lust, for you.

The next morning, Remus woke up to your voice, but this time, it was far from pleased, you sounded pissed.

“What the fuck do you mean by «I lost it», dude?” You yelled at your boyfriend. “It must be in that mess you call a room!”

“First of all, is not a mess, idiot.” Sirius snarled back. “Second, I really have no idea where it is! You know no one touches my wallet. And, did you just call me «dude»?

“Oh sure.” You scoffed, sarcastically. “It just magically disappeared! A fucking polaroid of your dick buried in me just goes missing. Sure.” 

Remus had a sleepy smile on his face, as his hand reached under his pillow, where the polaroid was. 

“Yeah, do that, take that tone!— Ouch, that hurt!” Sirius complained.

“Stop yelling! Remus is asleep, I don’t want him to wake up to this… disaster.” Remus couldn’t help but smile wider, feeling his heart swelling at your worry. 

“Yeah, must be bad to wake up to your annoying bickering.”

“You fucking piece of shit, bickering my ass!”

The fight continued, and Remus heard every argument, insult and apology.

“Hey, where are my pink panties?”

His face hurt from all the smiling.

#omenhel's 500 flowers! #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader smut #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus by omel! #tw vouyerism #sirius black smut #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black x you #sirius black #sirius by omel! #omel's asks<3 #omenhel's love letters

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Life of the Party

Steve meets the love of his life in a way only he could.

Steve-O X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, Angst)

1.2k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, heavy drug use, alcohol, crude language, bimbo y/n, makeouts, minimal plot, blood

An: This fic was inspired in large part by this song! Besides liking Nu-Metal, I have a passion for 90s rave tracks and accidentally stumbled upon this song one day. I had wanted to write a fic about Steve and a fun, party girl who could match his energy for a while, but this one took a bit of a dark turn while I was writing it! I’m on a Steve kick what can I say XD Nonetheless, thank you for requesting fics and please keep the requests coming! :)

“Yo, yo- dude.” Out of the blue, one of Steve’s buddies pulled him aside in the midst of some house party with a hand on his shoulder, “I got this chick you gotta meet.” Normally he would be pretty annoyed at this- there was a whole crowd of people around him waiting for him to down the thing of bong water he was holding, but he was feeling nice and had enough booze in his system to make him chill but not enough yet to make him an asshole. Fuck it, why not? So he followed him, squeezing past dense crowds while wondering why this dude seemed so damn excited to introduce him to this lady.

That’s when Steve saw you, leaning against a wall with a bottle of something dark in your hand. Looking you up and down, he felt compelled to make himself presentable by dusting off the little bits of burnt hair on his scalp from the backflip moneyball he did when he jumped off the roof earlier. Big hair, shiny red high heels, leopard print mini dress- this girl was classy, the splitting image of the kind of girls that usually go for him. Your gaze flitted over to him as he approached you and whatever conversation you were having was immediately halted. “Oh my god- are you Steve-O?” Chuckling, he nodded, your excitement doing wonders for his ego, “Yeah, baby! You a fan?” Splaying out your glittery manicure on his chest, your dark, mascaraed eyelashes flared out around your saucer-big eyes as you leaned in, “Of course! I love you!” Christ. Well it’s not like he could say no to that. Steve grinned, “You wanna go have some fun?”

“I would love to!” You giggled, lifting up the bottle in your hand, the amber liquid sloshing as you held it out to him, “Can I buy you a drink?” Raising his eyebrows, Steve took the bottle from you, bringing it to his lips and taking a huge swig before throwing his arm around you, sighing. He dragged you over to the couch, flashing that sweet, boyish smile of his as he plopped down andfished around in the pocket of his camo shorts, wordlessly pulling out a ziploc baggie full of blow. Fuck yeah. There was something in the way your face lit up when he took that shit out that made Steve think that maybe this chick could keep up with him. “Whats’ur name?” As you sat down, he started drawing up a line with a credit card, licking the plastic edge clean once he got it how he wanted, and you were nearly drooling. Sure, booze was all nice, but after you had tried just about everything under the sun, you always thought coke was a classic and a necessity at parties like this. You spoke over the loud party music, “Y/N.”

A few hours later and shit started getting really fun. Steve couldn’t keep his hands off of you and you didn’t care, finding it really sweet when he asked to hold your hair back when you did your next line. “Don’t worry ‘bout it- I gotcha, baby…” His fingers tangled in your hair as he wiped the remnants of his last one from the bottom of his nose. You leaned down, inhaling deeply and feeling that telltale burn deep in the back of your throat. Pulling yourself up, you sniffed a couple times, your eyes watering as you felt something warm on your upper lip. A grin spread across Steve’s face as he reached out, gently grasping your chin to tilt your face towards his, smearing the blood that began to trickle from your nose, “Atta girl.” He thought it was cute, how blown out your pupils looked as you stared back at him with glassy eyes.

The sting all melted away both by the aid of the bottle the two of you passed back and forth until it ended up sitting empty on the coffee table and the rough kiss Steve then pulled you into, his tongue sloppily intermingling with yours. His mouth tasted like Jack Danniel’s and Newports, but you didn’t care. Your hands ran up and down his torso, hurriedly trying to find somewhere to stay. Steve smirked against your lips, pulling you closer as his hands slid down to your lower back. Your heartbeat picked up as he started to place open mouth kisses down your neck, not a single person at the party batted an eye at the obscene display the two of you were putting on. “Fuck…” He murmured against your chest, looking up at you with half lidded eyes, “Can I do one, like- off your boobs?” Giggling, you wrapped your arms around the back of Steve’s head. This guy was just too sweet.

He must’ve really hit the jackpot for this one. Never before in all of his years of being a guy on tv who liked to party sometimes had he met a girl so giddy for him to do blow off her tits. You laid back on the shitty couch someone probably found on a curb and Steve tugged down the top of your dress a little to get better access to your cleavage. It was weirdly sexy, watching how focused he looked as he lined it all up with that credit card from before, not even bothering with the rolled up dollar the two of you had been using. Sternum to collarbone, Steve did the massive line in one go before quickly capturing your lips in another fervent kiss, snaking a hand up the back of your neck to tangle into your hair and pull you closer. As he pulled away after what felt like forever, your breath came out in little pants against his skin.

Pulling Steve up to his feet, you wobbled a little, leaning against him to stabilize yourself as you murmured into his ear, “Y’wanna fuck?” His eyes went wide as he chuckled a little at the gall of this woman. Of course he did. Without hesitation, you two ducked down some hallway, running off to a secluded bedroom that belonged to whoever to continue what you were doing in private. The sounds of the party still filtered in after you closed the door, somewhat muted through the thin walls as you tumbled on the bed. Steve didn’t even bother to turn the lights on before he was on top of you, slotting himself between your legs as his hand found its way to the black lace hem of your skirt. You were clawing at his shirt and you had gotten it about halfway off by the time your dress was hiked up around your waist, the air swimming with hormones and human heat.

Suddenly, Steve felt you freeze before going limp underneath him. Confused at your reaction in contrast to your previous eagerness, he stopped for a second, trying to listen for any repose or signs of life. You were breathing, but pretty softly- did she…? Oh shit. This girl just fell asleep after doing three lines. Steve would be impressed if you hadn’t passed out right before you were going to fuck him. Groaning, he rolled over to lay next to you, wiping away the red lipstick that was smeared across his face and thinking about how he bet this kind of shit doesn’t happen to Chris as he slowly drifted off to sleep himself.

#jackass #steve o #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #angst #jackass x reader #steve o x reader #all of my Steve fics are actually inspired by music now that I think about it #huh!

[minnophee-writes]

My Little Crybaby~ Pt. 2

A/N: Here's part two to the multi-part Johnny fic uwu the drawing inspired this chapter and I also love inserting myself into fandoms, hehehe this isn't beta read so any errors are on me!

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Pairing: Johnny x Reader

Series Warnings: Character death, blood, violence, knives, brief knife play, implied blood kink, kidnapping, death, non-consensual touching, slight dub-con, smaller person / taller man, size difference, abuse, physical, emotional and verbal abuse, mentions of female anatomy, smut, oral sex

Chapter Warnings: Character death, blood, mentions of corpses, description of corpses, descriptions of death, knives, verbal abuse, non-consensual touching, rough touching / handling, violence, brief knife play, slight blood kink

Summary: When you wake up bound back in the basement you almost feel helpless until help arrives. You attempt to escape while witnessing your friends' lives come to an end but a certain someone wants you all to themselves.

Word Count: 2,713 words

The last thing you remember was a handsome face with a pair of icy eyes staring intensely back at you before everything went black. Now you were in a dark, damp room - possibly in the basement if you had to guess, and your wrists were bound again. You tugged on your restraints but the rope was tightly knotted and connected to the leg of a table that was bolted into the ground. You were feeling helpless and worried about your friends but you knew that wouldn't get you out of your predicament.

'I hope Leland found the others... I need to get out of here...' you thought to yourself.

You scanned the space around you and noticed a small, blue object laying not far from your right leg. It looked like an old switch-blade, slightly dull but it would have to do.

Luckily your legs and feet weren't tied up so you began to maneuverer your leg over to the small blade, slowly dragging it toward yourself before being able to get it within arms reach. As soon as it was close enough you grasped it firmly in your hand before quickly trying to slice through the thick material. Your guess about the sharpness of the switch-blade was correct but you continued regardless, concentrating on cutting your bindings and hopefully find help or an exit.

"C'mon... c'mon, damn it."

Sweat was beginning to roll down your temples, the invisible weight of making sure you survive this hell was hanging heavy over you - but you prayed you weren't the sole survivor and that you'd see your friends again soon.

Distant noises could be heard from the other side of the door which caused you to pause your movements. You debated whether to hide the blade or attempt to cut through the rope faster but the silence that then followed was deafening. You weren't sure if your mind was playing tricks on you or not, however, you shook your head and continued your previous task. When your head was down and your concentration was on your restraints you didn't notice the door silently opening or the figure stepping into the room.

Your bindings finally released you and you massaged your tender skin around your wrists all while the figure crept toward you, your back facing them and completely oblivious to any danger. A large hand covered your mouth while the other wrapped around your torso and pinned your arms to your sides. Your shouts were muffled but your legs were still mobile so you thrashed as hard as you could, attempting to kick your attacker in the knees but then a familiar voice tried to shush you.

"Hey, hey! Y/N, it's me - it's Leland!" A male voice whispered into your ear and your head swivelled around to look at him.

"Oh my God! You nearly gave me a heart-attack," was your response, "but I'm glad to see you."

"Same here."

"Did you find the others?" You meekly asked.

Leland's face fell at the mention of your other friends and he let out an exhausted sigh. He couldn't blame your naivety of the obvious, possible outcome it but he also knew you had no clue of the horrors he encountered while you were unconscious. Leland witnessed Connie's stomach being shredded and torn open by the sharp blades of the chainsaw carried by the man in the mask, her blood and intestines falling onto the floor with a wet slap as her body then collapsed on top of her own gore. Sonny was brutally stabbed multiple times in the abdomen before the moist sheathing sound of a knife ripped through skin and embedded itself into his neck. Blood flowed down his dark skin and soaking his shirt as the man in the torn shirt and denim jeans tossed Sonny face first into the dirt below. Leland can still see Sonny's lifeless eyes peering directly at him from behind the cover of the old, wooden shed. He had also heard the pained cries of Ana echoing around him at one point then nothing. The basement had been silent ever since.

The only reason Leland knew where to find you was when he was attempting to lock-pick the side gate, and turning off the car battery electrifying the fence, he had seen the same man who had killed Sonny carrying your limp body toward a makeshift shack and carefully climbing down the ladder with you perched on his shoulders. Leland had followed after him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sneak into the room and rescue you.

"I'm getting you out of here." Leland stated with determination, "Come on, follow me."

~~~~~~~

Leland had guided you to where the ladder was and told you the side gate is nearly prepped, he just needed a little more time picking the pad-lock. You began to climb up the ladder first while Leland watched your back, you tried to be cautious of making noise but you couldn't help your starving need to escape this nightmare. When you reached the top you didn't notice a well-crafted bone trap near the back of the shack, directly in the path to the gate.

As Leland ascended after you, you had the urge to venture toward your last obstacle to freedom when the sudden pain of sharp, needle-like claws snapped shut around your ankle and dug into your skin. You yelped in agony and fell to the ground in a heap, the pain too much to bare as tears gathered in your eyes while you tried to pry the trap off but your blood smeared across your hands making it slippery and difficult to get a firm grip on the object.

"Shit - I'm coming, Y/N!"

Leland was able to grab a bit of the twine that was holding a part of the trap together and yanked on it while also using a sharpened bone to wedge the trap open. You felt the trap's jagged, barbed spikes tear your flesh more when Leland pulled it away from your skin, all the small puncture wounds and your blood trickling down your ankle and into your sock and shoe. You whimpered in discomfort but you were grateful to have Leland's assistance and support at that current moment in time.

Leland tossed the destroyed trap to the side and extended a friendly hand toward you to help you up off the dirt. You grasped onto his hand as he steadied you to your feet, your ankle pulsing and flaring up at the pressure you were putting on it but you needed to keep moving.

You parted your lips to give Leland your thanks when suddenly the wet sound of something ripping through fabric was heard and Leland gave a grunt followed by a long, pained whine. His brows pinched aggressively and his mouth twisted into a weak snarl as he lifted an arm up and behind his back - as if to reach something, while you held onto his other hand. Your confused gaze met his terrified ones, Leland's grip on your hand began to slacken and his body descended onto his knees exposing the figure behind him.

The man that had taken you hostage stood menacingly over Leland, his hand grasping onto the leather handle of his large hunting knife and yanked it out of your friend's back. The person then pulled Leland's head back by his hair before aggressively slicing the blade across Leland's throat. Blood spurted out onto the ground below, some droplets splattered across your legs and clothes, while a large drizzle of blood landed on your cheek. Leland attempted to cry out only for him to gargle on his own blood filling his lungs and mouth, his outstretched hands grabbing onto you with what little strength he had left for support before Leland finally collapsed into the dirt with a solid 'thump'. His lifeless corpse lay motionless before you, your eyes nearly bursting out of your head and tears slowly blurring your vision as adrenaline shook your entire body.

"L-Leland?"

You were in shock, your brain was trying to process what had just happened and if it was actually reality or some mess up, fever dream but the cooling sensation your friend's blood staining your body told you it was real. It actually happened.

The man's eyes were pinned on you, laser focused and a smug smile settling on his handsome face. He crept toward you while you were in your frozen state, attempting to approach you like you were some sort of rabbit.

"Hey now, it don't have to be like this." The man cooed as he slowly began to circle around you like prey. "My name's Johnny, and you are...?"

You stayed silent, fearful that anything you say might be your last, and you didn't want it to be something stupid either. You just watched him and jerked your body out of arms reach when he got too close for comfort.

"Listen here, Rabbit, you do as I tell you and everything will be fine..."

Your body and mind were screaming at you to run, run as fast as you could but a small part of you knew your stamina would be your downfall. You be that 'Johnny' would catch up to you in no time if he tired you out. That reasoning flew out the window as soon as Johnny took another step closer toward you again and you took off like a tightly wound spring being released. Your mind chose flight over fight and your legs dashed you through the small, wooden shack and straight for the side gate.

"Hey! Get your ass back here!" Johnny shouted after you as he took chase, "I ain't done with you yet, sweet-cheeks."

Your legs propelled you forward but muscular arms encased around your stomach and pulled you into the rough embrace of Johnny, his grip like a python's and unwilling to let you go. You screamed in terror and thrashed your entire body in hopes to stun your assailant with a head-butt to the face, or a sharp strike in the thigh or knee.

Johnny chuckled at your weak attempts and dragged you back to the ladder while you tried to cling onto any stable object or grooves in the walls to prevent him from dragging you down into the basement again. Everything slipped through your fingers like sand before you had a chance to properly grasp anything and your legs kicked the air as Johnny held you firmly in his arms. A rough, callused hand slapped itself over your parted lips as you went to shout again, silencing you as to not have Johnny's family hear that he kept one alive.

"Now, now, rabbit - you need to calm down and shut the hell up or I'm gonna have to make you..." Johnny's eyes glared at you as you stopped jerking in his arms. "Good. Keep your mouth shut, do as I say and maybe I'll give you a reward."

You didn't want to be mutilated like the others so you followed, mainly dragged, back into the dark room again but this time Johnny pulled a pair of cuffs from his jean's back pocket. Johnny slapped one end of the cuff to your bruised wrist and attached the other end to a rusted pipe next to the table you were previously restrained to. You tried to give Johnny the nastiest glare you could but he only seemed to chuckle at you, your scowl looking more of a pout through his eyes.

"No need to sulk, little rabbit." Johnny slowly strutted over to the other side of the table and examining something on its surface, "I promise we're gonna have so much fun."

He lifted a small knife off the table, another switch-blade but a black one. Your entire body tensed in anticipation and you pressed even closer against the wall, you weren't keen on what Johnny planned for you and you didn't plan on finding out. A gasp left your lips as you slightly rattled the cuff, you let out a low whine as Johnny crept closer to you with the knife in his hand.

"No, no, no - please! Please don't hurt me!" Your voice cracked as fear took over your mind making you panicked like a startled deer.

A sharp sting could be felt across your left cheek, a small trickle of blood appeared soon after. Johnny then quickly flicked the blade over your right collar bone causing you to cry out in pain from the sudden cuts. You lifted your free arm to protect yourself but Johnny just laughed at your misery, he then slashed your forearm - the cut going a bit deeper than he intended and you cradled your arm into your chest.

Tears flowed down your face as your face, chest and arm left like they were on fire, your body curling into itself for protection as your distressed mind attempted to process cherished memories of family and friends flashing in your head. Johnny gave a little sigh before he made his way to a rotten cabinet and grabbed some sort of medicine bottle, with faded labelling, and a frayed rag.

Johnny paused in front of the table again where he placed the switch-blade before grasping it in his hand and leisurely flicked his tongue across the blade, cleaning your blood from it while staring down at you intensely with a hidden emotion behind them. Johnny then focused on cleaning your wounds while you made an effort to distance yourself from him.

"Calm down rabbit, making sure your weak body heals." He soaked the rag in the mysterious liquid from the bottle and began to wipe your cuts and blood.

You squirmed a bit from the slight pain as Johnny cleaned your injuries. Your body trembled from the close proximity between you both, his intimidating figure hovered over your much smaller one and you could smell his natural musky scent of blood, dirt, and leather. You also noticed that Johnny had a faded scar on his face that runs from his hairline, down his left eye and curves onto his cheek. You only realised it was were because your subconscious mind relaxed at Johnny's tranquil motions as he softly caressed the rag over your skin and murmured praises into your ear.

Once he was done cleaning your injuries Johnny stood up and threw away the bloody rag and stroked your hair briefly, he squatted down to your level with a deadpan stare - his eyes expressing grave seriousness when he spoke to you next.

"Now listen here, little rabbit, you alert anyone that you're down here my family will gut you like your friends. So if you want to live you do as I say when I say - got it?"

Johnny grasped your face and made sure you looked into his eyes, he wanted to know that you understood what he was saying. He wanted to keep a victim for once, his sexual urges have plagued him for months and finally he has a little toy to play with but need to make sure his family was oblivious. He found the perfect pet, you, and he didn't plan on letting you go any time soon.

"You're mine. I'll take care of you as long as you listen to me." He lastly stated, his blue eyes connecting with yours.

You're lips quivered as you attempted to blink the tears from your vision. Johnny gave your cheek a pat and his chapped lips pressed against your forehead before he got up, left the room, and locked the door - leaving you alone again.

You struggled to muffle your cries but you finally released your bottled up emotions and sobbed into your hands. You were trapped underground with a very unstable man as your keeper and his family had brutally murdered your friends without reason.

You leaned against the corroding wall and closed your eyes, you tried to believe this was all just a nightmare but no matter how many times you made an effort to wake up back in your own room you would open your eyes again only to see the same decaying room. The next time you closed your eyes your mind then decided to drift off into a restless slumber.

#minnophee writes #fandom #fandom things #fanfic #x reader #johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre game #johnny sawyer x reader #texas chainsaw game johnny x reader #johnny slaughter #tcm #tcm game #tcm johnny #tcm fanart #johnny tcm #fanfic writing #fanfiction

[inlocusmads]

"I beg you, pass me by." ~ Trystan x Nora (crimes of passion)

WC: 700+ | Teen and up

Summary: Trystan, Nora & their love languages.

A/N: This was inspired by the differences in Medea's characterization in Euripedes's work versus Seneca's work. Also has some 'Soldier, Poet, King' by The Oh Hellos references to it. Tagging @choicesmaychallenge24 - Prompt from The Love of The Nightingale.

Banner cred: Hand Study, Nicolaas Pieneman (1809-1960)

How many different ways can you narrate a story? How many revisions would it go through in order to fit inside a book until everybody is happy with it?

If given a chance, how would Nora write it down? There was this certain callous attitude she possessed which warranted this horrible rot to take over her that maybe she wasn't devoted enough. How did she know that there were a million other ways to pledge her loyalty without it drawing a bit of her blood like it was some kind of an oath? Leaving a piece of her behind - a phone, a watch, a purse behind - to get money to pay back for her meal at a restaurant. How would she have had an opportunity to learn that tearing things down and ensuring the cycle kept going on, isn’t going to prove she was somehow any more devoted? After all, it still left her with more hatred anyway.

Love is how you heal. Healing is how you can say thank you. Set to the font of ‘live, laugh, love’ was a banner that was hung up outside a hospital room. God knows how many sleepless nights Nora had spent there only to receive bad news. You rip things apart to show your love. You skinned the tops of your knees until you lead your soccer team to a victory. Even at the face of betrayal - at the face of rage, scorn and a deep desire to vanquish everything, you don’t blame them. You blame yourself, cutting off the heads of the people you used to be, because that’s just the way it was.

This is how it was supposed to go. Nora can only narrate her story. It’s the anger that prompts her to love and makes her afraid, which leaves behind too many bruises to count. It’s the most devastating part, given Nora knew she wouldn’t have given Trystan a chance hadn’t he taken a stabbing to his stomach. She wouldn’t have looked back to pull him up from the ground and go after the masked assailant because it was the only thing she knew to do. This composed rage is the closest thing she would experience to love.

_

Trystan’s devotion was the one thing he could not veer it back to his principles. With shaky hands and a still hum in his ribs, the only thing that reminded him that he was somewhat human were the things he pledged loyalty to. An anomaly - an heir who wanted to do good, but cannot; following up with the promises his words had given but giving out at the last minute. Taking helpless breaths of air so he doesn’t take up space. Loud enough to feel alive but a pawn of the throne at the end of it. How would he have the faintest idea to show his devotion in a way that it didn’t require pledging his soul a little bit? Who could have taught him?

“I love my country and I love you. I love my job and I love you. I love my family and I love you. I love the world around me and I love you.” - a little hand clap game they’d made up as kids. Trystan would often fall out of sync with the person he played with the moment his wrists begin to ache after holding his palms up for so long. But he would still try. He would keep going on and on until he couldn’t hold a pencil anymore.This is how it was supposed to go — you held yourself like you were holding the world. It’s difficult for Trystan to remember if he was doing it out of love or for love.

Trystan long knew that he loved best only when all was taken away from him, when he was reduced to mere ashes did he love wholeheartedly. Only when he had no other roles to play, did he wish to show the love back. Perhaps hadn’t it been for Nora reminding him he was a mere fish out of the water in the few amounts of kindness she could spare, he would have been prompted to go back and fight against being affected by a fateful accusation. It was easier to blame in grieving, just as it was easy to love with all your heart when you grieved.

-

Tagging:

It’s difficult. Nobody’s happy with the book. This is how it was supposed to go.

___

perma: @stars-are-within-me @dutifullynuttywitch @thosehallowedhalls @tessa-liam @quixoticdreamer16

crimes only: @trappedinfanfiction @moominofthevalley

A/N: The differences between Medea's story through Seneca's writing and Euripedes's writing is vastly different. Euripedes writes Medea with great sympathy, as a human being and her unfortunate circumstances came with the kind of fate the gods chose for her. With Seneca's, her vengeance overpowers her. She doesn't need fate to do the choosing, she's happy to defy it and has no hesitation to do so.

Which of course reminded me of the Soldier and the King from 'Soldier, Poet, King', with words as a middle ground and miscommunication at the forefront. And hence this fic lol.

Thanks for reading <3

___

#trystan x nora #w:inlocusmads #trystan thorne x mc #playchoices #crimes of passion #crimes of passion fics

[daemondaes]

name: che

height: 5'3-ish. close enough to average. i can reach the top shelf, and at the end of the day, that's what matters.

nickname / s: chebureki, chechival, cheeble, chevalier, jam.

nationality: californian. 😎

favourite fruit: peach. 🥹🙏 strawberry is second. grape is third.

favourite season: spring? the benefits of summer hours with less of the summer heat. fall is nicer for layering tho

favourite scents: gasoline, bread, vanilla, citrus, books.

favourite animals: baby hippos (only baby), small dogs (esp chihuahuas), cows.

tea, coffee, hot cocoa: green tea, or else coffee with milk and, if i've been good, a sprinkle of cocoa powder.

average hours of sleep: uh. probably like 4-5 if i have to be somewhere in the morning, 8-10 if i don't.

when my blog was created: this incarnation? my earliest post was apparently 23 may 2020, so we're coming up on that 4 year anniversary 😏 but the first standalone cherry blog was from 2016? the oldest muse on here to originate on tumblr (ciel) emerged in late 2011. the oldest oldest muse on here originated off-tumblr in like 2008/9 on gaiaonline (talking abt u, naux).

# of followers: i normally wouldn't answer this, but i will tell u now that it is 365 just because that's such a satisfying number? got a buddy here for every day of the year 😎 that's a lie tho bc the number is broken and doesn't really fluctuate no matter how many people i gain or lose LOL i'm pretty sure like 4/5 people on the list are inactive tho, so please help me make more friends

random fact: my bedroom is ridiculously girly, soft pinks and pale greys and whites with gold accents, loads of pillows and plushes and decorative doodads, but i myself dress almost entirely in black. it's a little like putting wednesday in enid's room. not quite sure what that says about me.

favourite food: the humble tuna sandwich. i'm counting lemonade as a food here, just so i can add it in. i like lemonade even more than i like tuna.

favourite t.v. shows: flcl, dead boy detectives, good omens, i love lucy, king of the hill, the simpsons, lupin iii.

favourite movie: my letterboxd top 4 are some like it hot (1959), ghostbusters (1984), mad max: fury road (2015), and back to the future (1985)...but if i could have a fifth, it would be austin powers (1997).

sexuality: i like girls a lot more than i like guys, but i'm too busy and too broke to even think about that 😤

pronouns : she/they/any? idc abt labels and boxes, but it's weird that u're talking about me when i'm not there /:

favourite book series: howard the duck 😏 did you think i'd really make it to the end of this without mentioning him? this is also my chance to plug fly by night by frances hardinge, and its sequel, fly trap (or twilight robbery in the UK). there's also the monster blood tattoo trilogy by d.m. cornish that i desperately wish i'd held on to because it's apparently out of print now! my blood boils every time i remember. it would be remiss if i didn't mention a series of unfortunate events, just because i do think it was very influential for me. i'm about to reread the saga of darren shan/cirque du freak for the first time since middle school, so wish me luck 😤

favourite video game/s: god, fuckin...idk, tetris? roblox??? i'm not a gamer at all. i can't play anything unless i'm playing with a friend. that's a lie, i played baldgate3. the only thing i play is the sims 4. i'm trash

favourite subject: [scuttles around on all fours, twitching and foaming at the mouth] school bad! school BAD! (my three passions are history and fashion and film, but i don't love the academic system. Cs get degrees, etc. my own degree was in creative writing, and now i'm trapped in retail hell, so be smarter than me, kids! except also i hear even stem is useless these days? society is crumbling so bad, i—)

guys or girls: i prefer drawing guy faces and girl bodies. idk what u're getting at here

last time I cried: last night, conveniently

what I should be doing: taking out the trash, cooking up curry, cleaning the bathroom, polishing my spanish and diving into mandarin, writing, drawing, job hunting. continuing my goal of watching 365 movies this year. sweeping up the feathers of my cockatiel, galileo, because it's Moltin' Time. the usual 🤷‍♀️

favourite fandoms: i actually don't participate in fandom LOL i just lurk. chat about stuff in discord—DMs, not servers. i have so much art and music in my head, but i don't have the mobile dexterity and stamina for it anymore. maybe one day...

tagged by: @hatchetsfield (thanks, pidge!) tagging: anyone who learned a thing about me from this

#french robodog — che9:ooc. #i told myself i would do this for munday and by jove i actually did it

[fareehaandspaniards]

Damian's little brother Jiri

Jiri appeared in my head completely by accident, when I was trying to analyze why Damian is so loyal to Micolash. I had a variant of the idea - that Damian and Micolash share a common thoughts, ideas, philosophy, but to me it would not be enough, because then they are connected purely by business connection, and according to my headcanons - these two are intertwined by secrets, long-lasting friendship, love and faith in Kos. But how did Damian decide for himself that he would follow Micolash anywhere all his life, give him his best years of life and sacrifice everything just for him?

According to my headcanons Damian was a librarian in Byrgenwerth. He graduated from college, but he couldn't become a doctor, and he didn't want to go back to his home estate. When he met young student Micolash, he saved him from the rector's wrath out of the goodness of his heart (a little accident because of Micolash's curiosity). And so their friendship began. But there was something about the black-haired slightly unstable and very intelligent young man that tugged at Damian's heartstrings.

Thus came Jiri, Damian's late younger brother, whose image he holds deep in his heart and loves, even twenty and fourty years on from his death. He was supposed to be just a boy mentioned a few times in the fanfic, but the more I built up the image of Jiri and the circumstances of his death, the more attached I became to him. In the end, I decided to make a separate post for him. I doubt it will resonate strongly with those who subscribe to me - after all, Jiri is just my OC, albeit one that directly influenced who Damian became in the end.

And yet, the boy is too important not to write a post about him, at least for myself. Because when I write fanfic, I forget little details about him and it would be nice to have a peek somewhere. Well since there is also drawing, why not post xd

Jiri is a very ambiguous child. At first I wanted him to be 4, but after working with his image I came to the conclusion that 4 is too young for him to be the way I see him. So he is 6 (almost 7) at the time of his death. This is very important, because at 6 years old he already has his own views on life, his own opinions, the "whys and wherefores" period is over and now the attempts to interact with the world around him begin - in Jiri's case it is a rebellion against the world around him. Damian was 7 at the time of his death.

Jiri contracted consumption when he was very small, almost a newborn. Medicine in Yharnam at that time was quite terrible - the discovery of the properties of blood had not yet happened, and people were treated with herbs, a kind word and prayers to the old gods (And I believe they were. I'm pretty sure the Grand Cathedral, the Cathedral Ward -are all just remodeled cathedrals of the old Yharnam faith. It's just that Laurence and Willem were perfectly able to sweep away the former faith thanks to blood magic and the furor it caused). The doctors diagnosed that Jiri was going to die, sooner or later. Euthanasia was suggested. But the parents refused. I see Damian's mother as a cold and pious woman, living by rules and obligations, and his father as a strict but gruff man. But whatever they were, they were humans. And they did not want their youngest son to die, and at that time they still believed that he could survive.

The years passed, and Jiri grew up. He was very weak, sometimes the disease receded and sometimes it worsened. While he was very young, he was even mobile - he played at age 4 with the neighborhood children and Damian, listened to his mother's stories. He was an imaginative boy - in games he liked to build and break most of all, finding the most inventive ways to destroy. And despite the fact that Damian was a year older than him, Damian was an absolute crybaby as a child. He was very afraid of people, afraid of contact, and so all conversations with other children were taken over by Jiri, who was very responsible about meeting new people. He always introduced Damian first and then himself, and Damian would hide behind him or his mother.

Jiri always wore dark clothes. And slept on dark linens. So the stains from his bloody cough were less noticeable, and it saved his parents money (there was really a lack of money) for laundry and new underwear (by the way, white underwear and clothing is a very expensive thing, which historical fantasy authors often forget :/// It's a symbol of wealth, because white gets dirty very easily. And if you wear white clothes, you can afford to replace them. And when I see a "poor" character wearing white shirts, I just…. …. ……………….)

Jiri was a very perky boy, open, friendly. And his parents had mixed feelings about him. On the one hand - they were happy to have him. But they knew he wouldn't live long. And both were very afraid of the pain of losing him, to which they had condemned themselves. Damian and Jiri also had many older brothers and sisters. Besides the two of them, there were six other children in the family, two of whom died before Jiri.

When Jiri's disease began to worsen around the age of 5, his mom started telling him stories about angels. That one day he would fall asleep and be visited by angels. They would play with him for ages and he would be fine. She told him that only the best people go to heaven, so he should behave well. But she couldn't explain to her son why his older brother Damian (whom he called "Dami") wouldn't follow him. Jiri began to be afraid of angels. Afraid of the frescoes in the cathedrals. He began to wonder what death was. And through the efforts of his mother, who merely wanted to ease his waning life, he began to think that death was a good thing. Jiri even became cruel. He didn't hurt any other child, but he was cold in heart when someone died… And sometimes he tried to kill himself. He watched insects, animals die. He believed what his mom said and convinced himself that everyone would be okay in heaven. This scared Damian and his older brothers and sisters a little (a little, yeah).

Jiri had a rabbit. He was given it when his illness worsened, because Jiri loved rabbits very much and in all the games with other children he was always a bunny. Jiri believed that his rabbit was a miracle. The best there is. But his father often joked that rabbits were better served for dinner. He wasn't a bad man or heartless, he was just of a simpler disposition, to him a rabbit was food, and dogs or cats were pets. Jiri took great offense. And one day his rabbit, which had accidentally escaped from the house, was mauled by the yard dogs. And Jiri saw it. Another little trauma on his heart.

Jiri saw death. Jiri knew he was going to die. Jiri feared it to the point of tears. But in all this his sunshine and light was always little Damian. Damian was never rude as a child, on the contrary - he was very shy and very fond of reading. So he often told Jiri stories from books. After all, Jiri had never been taught to read - no one saw the point in it. The small circles under Jiri's eyes, his thinness, curls and intelligent eyes, his unusual thinking, though sometimes cruel - all this imprinted in Damian's heart an image that would later burn brightly when he saw Micolash.

Damian loved Jiri with all his heart. All his life he remembered how as a little boy he could not help him or realize that Jiri was dying lying in his bed. Damian played toys for him and told him stories. And then, as an adult, he dreamed of turning back the clock and saving him, even though he knew that Jiri would have died anyway.

They were bound together by true brotherly love. And Damian visits Jiri's grave even as an adult scholar at the Mensis School. He left his family, hiding from them in Byrgenwerth, and never wanted to see to his relatives, tho occasionally visiting them. They all died when the curse of the beast began, when the horrors started in Yharnam. But it is Jiri that Damian cannot forget and let go. And his little tombstone stands out very much among the others which are abandoned in the cemetery near Hemwick.

If Jiri had grown up, he probably would have joined the Powder kegs. I see the grown up version of him looking like the painter Karl Brullov,

I don't know why. He would be a very interesting person! Open-minded, bright, perhaps one of the inventors like Archibald… And of course, a heretic. With his mind - he wouldn't like the idea of contacting Great Ones, but still would try to do it himself.

But these are all idle thoughts, for if Jiri had stayed alive - Damian's life would have turned out very differently in my vision. He wouldn't have gotten a wound on his heart, wouldn't have tried to forget his family by hiding behind his work in Byrgenwerth, wouldn't have suffered so much and wouldn't have followed Micolash with SUCH a passion, seeing him not only as a brilliant scientist, but also as his angel and little brother.

My little rabbit king Jiri :'(

#my art #my OC Jiri #mensis scholar damian #I think I may use his hashtag for this?? #anyway #not a longpost at all #My first Bloodborne OC! But it seems that I have another one - Ludwig's wife lmao but story there is much more funny albeit tragic #Jiri Q_Q #He made me cry at work because I got carried away in thoughts again #I want to draw adult Damian holding him #bloodborne OC #bloodborne #sort of damicolash stuff? maybe

[annot8]

Top 20 RotE Moments

(Would love to know what everyone else’s favourite moments are! 20 is probs a little bit overkill but there are so many!)

Spoilers for all of RotE under the cut

20. Chade tells Fitz to go after the Servants - Fool's Quest

- Chade infuriates me to no end. But I can’t bring myself to hate him. This moment, where he only has sparing of lucidity, he subtly tells Fitz to go after Bee, even if the King doesn’t allow it. It’s a really lovely moment of two old assassins planning to deceive everyone one last time :)

19. The Quarrel - Golden Fool

- What a scene. This was crazy. Fitz’s rampant denial and homophobia was building up the whole book, and everything came to a boil here. Fitz was ready to give the Fool a piece of his mind, and the Fool completely destroyed him. Deserved. The bit that breaks my heart tho is that the Fool thought the flowers were from Fitz - I can’t with these two.

17. The night in Aslevjal - Fool's Fate

- I was dreading Fitz and the Fool’s reunion after Fitz left him behind, but I was pleasantly surprised by how warmly they greeted each other. After the Golden Fool Divorce, I was so relieved to see them get along. And who doesn’t love a ‘stay with me’ moment?

16. Alise and Cedric reject Hest together in Kelsingra - Blood of Dragons

- Hest kinda went through it in this book and I was worried we were heading down a redemption route. Thank god we got this instead. This was such a satisfying moment.

18. Fitz and Ketrricken mourn Nighteyes - Golden fool

What a lovely moment. I had been waiting for Fitz to fall apart from Nighteyes’ death, and this was probably the healthiest way to deal with it. God, I love Kettricken. I always loved her friendship with Nighteyes and I’m glad she was allowed to mourn as well.

15. The Traders come together to clean the concourse - Ship of Destiny

- Such a small but impactful moment. The traders had really rejected the Vestrits (mostly due to Davad Restart bulldozing their reputation along with his own). And in this moment, they returned to their ruined hall, and they see a lone old woman - whose family is missing and maybe dead - sweeping and continuing their traditions. And slowly, one by one, they all join in and help. No matter what else divides them, they are all Traders.

14. Fitz 'steals' Shrewd's knife and stabs it into Chade’s fireplace - Assassin's Apprentice

- My baby’s first proper act of defiance. I was very proud of my boy. And while Chade can be quite a cold character (the events that led up to this moment are proof of that),, the fact that he never moved the knife also says something about his feeling for Fitz. God, Chade makes me feel so many things.

13. Molly gives birth to Nettle - Assassin's Quest

- “and as prefect as she is, what would she have to cry about?” Why don’t you shoot in the face? This scene broke me. Molly being pregnant was admittedly the most obvious plot twist of all time but the payoff was beautiful. Burrich acted exactly the way I thought he would. And what can I say, I love Molly.

12. Fitz shows Patience his drawing of the dog - Assassin's Apprentice

- I think (it was over a year ago) but I think this was maybe the first time I cried at this series. Fitz is so desperate to do something Patience will be proud of, then he suddenly feels foolish, holding his little piece of paper with a dog on it. And then Patience sees it, asks who drew it, and is so proud of him when he says he did. You should have been mind! Ahh, kill me!

11. Fitz and the Fool reunite - Fool's Errand + Fitz and the fool reunite in Jhaampe - Assassin's Quest

- I had to put these together. They’re both so good, and both are followed by these warm times of relative peace. In AQ, the Fool doesn’t realise it’s Fitz, and in FE, Fitz doesn’t realise it’s the Fool. These bits parallel each other so beautifully and in both, their peaceful time together is broken by a calling from the Farseer crown.

10. Malta negotiates independence for Bingtown - Ship of destiny

- SHE IS THAT GIRL. Malta’s arc was so unbelievably satisfying and I was proud of her here. She had released Tintaglia, saved the satrap and his companion, learned from Kekki, held her own on that ship, and stood up for Bingtown before Kennit and the Satrap. Love Love Love.

9. Bee burns down the scroll library of clerres - Assassin’s Fate

- Ahhhhh!!!!! That’s my baby!!!!! My destroyer!!!! Bee goes through so much for someone so young, and she’s the only one wise enough to know that they must let go of the past. She begins the dragon’s vengeance and brings about the destruction of Clerres. Good for her.

8. You're not dead son - Royal Assassin

- Shut up, shut up, shut up!!!! I cannot do this!!!! The days as the wolf were so well written and this was such an emotional conclusion. Burrich, the man that you are. To see him momentarily set aside his absolute hatred of the Wit to save his boy just showed how much he loved Fitz. It’s the devastating culmination of Burrich’s parenting skills and it broke me in a way that no other scene in this entire series has broken me!

7. Burrich and Swift defeat the stone dragon - Fool's Fate

- if Burrich is gonna do one thing, it’s accept the Wit in order to save a son. This display of strength and love was so beautiful! And I was happy to see Swift have his moment!

6. Kettricken's Speech before the Forge Hunt - Royal Assassin

- Such an underrated scene. Kettricken really comes into her own here. She really becomes the Queen-in-Waiting of the Six Duchies in this moment. She impresses everyone - even Chade. I think this is where Verity falls in love with her, and of course, we get to see Verity slap Regal.

5. Prince FitzChivalry Farseer is welcomed home - Fool's quest

- I WEPT. I could not believe what I was reading. We get Starling’s song - which was such a brilliant moment of payoff for her character. And then, of all people, it’s Chade to walk over to Fitz. A man who is obsessed with secrets is the one to tell Fitz it’s time to do away with disguises and secrets. Oh my godddddd.

4. Nighteyes' last hunt - fool's errand

- I had to reread this scene because I had not at all processed what had happened. I was in public! I was on a train, sat next to a stranger, and there were silent tears running down my face. I love Nighteyes and I knew it was coming eventually, but I was not expecting it in this book. His ‘I was sure you would want to come with me,’ is one of the saddest lines in the whole thing.

3. Fitz, Beloved, and Nighteyes become go into the stone wolf and become one being - Assassin’s Fate

- what am I supposed to do with this? This was perfect and devastating. It was where they were always heading towards. Love without limits.

2. Fitz brings the fool back from the dead - Fool's Fate

- Imagine merging souls and calling him by your own name and calling him your dream, believing you can’t go on without him, and uprooting fate with love and passion and bringing him back to life. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

1. The Stone Dragons awake / Fitzloved kiss - Assassin's Quest

- The moment the first trilogy built up to. This moment seared these books onto my heart. From Verity’s sacrifice, Kettle’s redemption, Starling getting the story for her song, Kettricken fully becoming Sacrifice and getting pregnant, the Fool seeing his prophecy become fulfilled and kissing Fitz, and Fitz using the Wit to awake the stone dragons and saving the Six Duchies from the Red Ship Raiders!!!!!!! A perfect ending!

#rote spoilers #rote #realm of the elderlings #fantasy #farseer trilogy #Liveship traders #tawny man #rain wild chronicles #fitz and the fool