#(and it's not a guarantee or anything but knowing that's an option has helped me calm down a little)

[ooklet]

I saw your post about "real life Pazooka" struggles. Just wanted to say I hope things will turn around. I know that doesn't help but I just wanted to express the sentiment anyway. 😘

thank you anon. <3 it really does mean a lot to know that there are people who are wishing us the best. it's easy for me to fall into despair and think that no one gives a shit what happens to you when you're disabled and poor and not an asset to end stage capitalism and like. that's definitely true of the politicians actively lobbying to keep us in poverty, and the ones just not doing anything to stop them. i got that cockroach determination not to let them kill me, but that doesn't allow for a lot of vulnerability. so when i am vulnerable and someone responds with kindness, it matters. it matters a lot.

#anonymous #(i privated the other post cuz i was bumming myself out) #(there's literally nothing we can do right now until we find out what's going on with the appeals process) #(my caseworker is on the warpath and i just gotta let her handle it) #(my therapist found a service that does temporary emergency pet fostering for people experiencing homelessness) #(and it's not a guarantee or anything but knowing that's an option has helped me calm down a little) #(i'm scared as shit but if i dwell i will spiral) #(so instead i'm just gonna make dumb skyrim memes and play the sims)

[notmyneighbor]

Special Delivery - Doppelganger Francis Mosses x Female Reader

Word Count - 3.3k

Rating - Explicit

CW - masturbation, oral sex

Also available on AO3

You’re being followed.

You’re out later than you’d intended, but there had been a lot of requests that day. Word was spreading. You were getting quite the reputation among the doppelgängers.

Imagine, a human who was betraying her own kind, making forged documents to help the invaders into DDD restricted areas.

You don’t even feel guilty about it, either, because what has any human ever done for you? You’ve been on your own since as far back as you can remember, dealt a bad hand early in life. This scheme you’ve concocted pays well. Better than any of the other less savory things you’ve had to do to supplement your income, and it came with an added bonus: you knew how to write in the alien’s language as well, the symbols you inscribe on the frame of your apartment door and workspaces guaranteeing you’ll be exempt from harm.

Maybe you could’ve done something with your artistic and linguist skills if you’d had the opportunity, but alas, this was your lot in life. Making the best of a less than ideal situation.

You deviate your course a few times, just to make certain you’re still being pursued. Yes, he’s still trailing you. You’re certain it’s male but you’re not pausing long enough to discern more than that. Well, fuck.

You take another detour. Perhaps not the best decision in hindsight. You’re further away from home now. You don’t recognize the street you’re on. There’s a delivery truck parked on the side of the road. Dairy. Should you try to hide inside? The door was open. Where was the driver? You consider your options. No one would admit you into their house at this hour, and why should they, when you’ve been selling out all your neighbors? The truck, then. Your stalker’s footsteps still sounded a fair distance away. It was your only chance at this point. Maybe you could find something to mark the symbols. If there was still time.

The step to enter the truck is high. You have to ungraciously hoist yourself inside, clinging desperately to the sides to balance your weight. Made it. Your nose wrinkles. There’s a faintly sour smell. Spoiled products. The keys are in the ignition. A feeling of foreboding washes over you. The street lamp nearby barely illuminates the interior of the vehicle. You’re afraid to go into the back. You can’t see anything you can use to write the protection phrase. Your breath saws in and out. Too loud. You’re making too much noise.

A foot on the steel step makes you whirl around. It’s your pursuer. Dressed as a milkman, but you know instantly it’s not. Replicant. Deceiver. The clone of whatever human he’s copying. He’d chosen a handsome one, though you doubt it had anything to do with appearances, more a matter of convenience. Broad shouldered. Narrow waisted. He lifts himself into the truck with practiced ease. You’re so fucked.

Dark eyes and hair. Pale skin. He blocks the light from outside as he crowds you further inside. Well, you couldn’t say you’d had a good run, but you’d done your best. You close your eyes. You don’t want to see the teeth emerge before he devours you.

“What are you doing in here?”

Your eyes fly open again. He hasn’t advanced any further. He wanted to talk? Play with his food before he ate it? Maybe he wasn’t hungry. Mabe you could talk your way out of this.

“I…I got lost on the way home.”

“You’re lying.” No malice behind those words, just an observation.

“I heard you following me. I know what you are,” you admit, then instantly regret it. Stupid girl.

“I know who you are, too. You’re the one who makes the ID’s and entry requests.”

“Business hours are Monday through Friday, 8am to 5pm.” Were you seriously being flippant with a doppelgänger? You give a little chuckle to show you’re joking around, but the noise sounds more like a dying hyena, slightly panicked and hysterical.

“Those hours don’t work for me.”

“Oh.” So he was a prospective customer then? “Cash up front, half in advance, the rest on delivery. Currently working this week behind the abandoned grocery store off of Burke Street. I have to rotate the site to, you know…”

“I’ll pay extra,” he adds. “For the inconvenience of the hour and short notice.”

You lick your lips at the prospect of making additional funds. What would be fair to charge? “You need it right now? What’s the hurry?”

“Are you able to do it or not?” This now laced with irritation. His patience and good graces were wearing thin already. Best not to ire him further. You’re lucky to still be alive.

“Yeah, I can do it.”

“I’ll drive us there, then.”

“Where am I supposed to sit?” You glance around the front of the cabin. There’s only one seat for the driver.

You see his shoulders raise and lower in a shrug before he sits behind the wheel. You suppose your only choice is to sit on the floor.

“Your truck reeks,” you say, that sour smell assaulting your nostrils again as you lower yourself down.

The engine rumbles to life. “Deliveries didn’t get made today.”

“Did you…” You’re wondering what happened to the original, human operator of the vehicle. Had he suffered some grim fate? Were his remains sitting in the doppelgänger’s gut, being digested at this very moment? You shudder at the unpleasant thought.

He glances down at you. “No. I simply duplicated his form and stole the truck. You humans leave your body substances everywhere,” he says, lifting the cap off his head and tossing it onto the dashboard. “This one perspired all over that.”

That was all it took for a doppel to replicate a human. Just a little bit of something from the original. Sweat. Blood. Mucus. Probably other, even more unsavory substances, too.

It’s uncomfortable on the floor. The truck’s suspension jostles you roughly. Luckily you don’t have far to go. The driver eases behind the abandoned brick building, shutting off the headlamps. There are no functioning street lights in this part of town. You’re shrouded in darkness.

The doppel stands and you struggle to your feet, reluctantly accepting the hand he offers you to assist you to your feet. You’ve never touched one of the invaders directly before. It feels normal. Just like a human. You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

You’ve been working out of the manager’s office in the rear of the store. You’ve got an actual set of keys, pilfered once you’d broken into the building. Another of your talents, that. Breaking and entering. An additional skill this unfair life has made you adept at.

You’re not used to being here so late. It’s amazing no one’s realized the building is still on the electrical grid. You’re grateful for the mistake, switching on the light in the back hallway after feeling blindly for the switch. The doppel is just behind you. You unlock the office door and hit another light switch, sighing in relief. That was better. Familiar territory. No longer in darkness.

But there’s an anxious invader at your back, and that knowledge is less than comforting. You sit down in the office chair behind the steel desk and he settles into the hardbacked one across from you.

“So, um…about the fee.”

Without a word the alien digs into his pants pocket, extracting several bills from a wallet and sliding them over to you. “Will that be sufficient?”

You’re trying to keep a straight face. Where did he get this much money? “Yes, that’s fine. Do you…do you have a home address for the individual?”

Delving back into the wallet, he now produces a car registration. Francis Mosses. You recognize the area he resides in. A better part of town than the one you’re living in, but maybe someday you could change that.

Although, you’re about to make that area a lot less safe, you think, pulling the necessary tools out of the large bottom desk drawer, including a DDD logo stamp. That had been the hardest item to acquire. The rest were fairly routine.

“I need to take a picture. Do you just want to get that over with now?” He nods. “Can you stand in front of the door? It’s a good blank background.” Another nod as you stand. He closes the office door and positions himself, waiting for you to snap the Polaroid. Damn, he really is attractive. Exactly your type. You don’t even mind the little bend at the bridge of his nose or the shadows under his eyes. You take several pictures, one for the ID card and one for the entry request, with some extras just for…well, maybe just to have options if the others didn’t turn out well.

You’re not used to being watched while you work.

You typically have the doppels come back to pick the forgeries up later. These dark eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, from the way you print onto the request form to the drag of the scalpel blade around two of the photographs(they had all come out fine), carefully affixing them to both documents. You roll the stamp in the black ink pad and press it gently but firmly into each corner, waving a hand over the fresh ink to help it dry.

“You’re skilled at this,” he murmurs appreciatively, and your head lifts to meet his gaze. “I see why you come so highly recommended.”

“It’s not like there’s any competition,” you say, feeling a flush creep into your cheeks over the praise.

“True. Not many humans would betray their own kind, would they?”

Your lips press into a thin line of displeasure. You didn’t need the reminder. Was he mocking you?

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Somewhat mollified, you glance down at your work. It still looked a little moist. You need it to be completely dry before you apply the lamination to seal it in permanently.

The copycat is still staring at you. You, not the documents you’re working on. You clear your throat. “I want to make sure they’ve dried properly.”

“Of course.”

“It’ll just be a few minutes.”

“I don’t mind the wait.”

You lean back and the swivel chair creaks. Your shoulders are aching. You’d made a lot of forgeries today. Too much time spent hunched over the desk. Your eyes are a little sore, too, dry and burning. You needed a bath and maybe a snack and bed. Forget dinner. That sounded too complicated at this hour.

“You’re tired,” he observes.

“It’s been a long day.”

“I am inconveniencing you greatly, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t sound remorseful, exactly. You don’t know what he sounds like. It’s too difficult to process. You’re exhausted, that post adrenaline rush from earlier really depleting the last stores of energy. You don’t even think you’d protest if he decided to turn on you right now, taking the goods and making a meal out of you before he ran. The symbols are more of a professional courtesy than anything. It’s not like it actually prevented the doppels from physically being able to attack.

The legs of the chair he’s seated in drag across the dirty linoleum flooring, making a loud scraping sound. You watch warily as he comes around the desk, easing past a filing cabinet to reach your side.

“We haven’t really negotiated the full price yet, have we?”

Oh. Was that what was happening? He was going to stiff you. Suddenly that advance amount no longer seemed so generous. That was to be your total payment. Honestly, you should have been more demanding.

“I have more money,” he says, immediately canceling out your previous assumption, “but I don’t think that’s what you need most right now.”

“You’re right. I should be at home in the bathtub. Or better yet bed,” you add.

His hand reaches for the edge of the chair, turning you fully to face him. The abrupt movement catches you by surprise.

“Maybe what you really need is some good old fashioned milk.” His hand closes over your wrist, dragging your hand towards what you’ve somehow missed previously. He’s hard. Like full on, bulging, fit to burst out of his trousers. You should be terrified. You are scared, kind of. But turned on. Stupidly aroused because you haven’t had anyone give you this kind of attention in who knows how long. Sex had just kind of fallen by the wayside for you. There was so much else that needed to be accounted for.

You watch the hand pulling the leather strap of the imposter milkman’s belt in wonder, as if you can’t quite reconcile it’s your own doing this. Its partner joining, thumbing the button of the fly through the slot and parting the metal teeth below into a wicked grin. You shove the waistband of his briefs down and his cock springs free, flushed and thick and oozing precum. You stare at that clear bead of fluid as if hypnotized. Your mouth waters. You want it. You want to suck this creature dry.

Your tongue swipes over the crown of his erection and the doppel hums in pleasure. “Good girl,” he says encouragingly, and the praise sends heat right between your legs, your pussy tingling in response. You’re no longer thinking about your unfinished work on the desk beside you, about how dangerous it is to be alone with a doppelgänger in an abandoned building at night. You’re instead wondering how much of that dark pink length you’re going to be able to voluntarily sample before your gag reflex interrupts and he’s forced to fuck into your throat manually. Your sex throbs again. Time to stop wondering and find out.

Your lips close over the head and begin sliding over the shaft. Clean musk. A better flavor than perhaps you’d anticipated. You take a few experimental bobs, testing. He’s stretching you already. Your lips. The fat head bumping your cheeks, your soft palate. His fingers are in your hair, combing through the tresses with a strange kind of tenderness.

“So good. You’re so talented…”

You whimper a little, trying to reach more of him. There it is. That natural barrier of your body’s resistance. You struggle against it until you’re forced to withdraw, coughing and gasping, leaving a trail of thick saliva behind. You give yourself a brief respite, stroking the slick fluids over his prick. It makes a lewd squelching sound every time you massage the shaft. You can feel your arousal leaking between your legs, saturating your panties. You reach under your skirt, no longer caring about how depraved you appear. It’s a relief when your fingers make contact with your clit, dragging that wetness around the nub in frantic circles.

“That’s a good girl. Touch that pussy. It feels good, doesn’t it? So good…”

Your mouth engulfs his cock again. You roll your lips inward and massage the length in short bursts. Now relaxing and planting soft, passionate kisses on the tip. You spit on it and slurp up the liquid noisily. You like the sounds the doppel is making. You’ve never liked the men who were quiet, reserved. This invader isn’t holding back. He moans and groans and hisses. His teeth catch his bottom lip. His head tips back when the ecstasy of the blow job gets to be a bit overwhelming. And you love every minute of it. You savor every sound and gesture as you perform the obscene act while masturbating, grinding your swollen bundle of nerve endings against your pubic bone.

“You’re hungry, honey, aren’t you? Starving. I’ve got what you need, darling.” The nails of the hand you have curled around his hip dig into the cotton and polyester blended fabric of his uniform pants as you push yourself even further down his length, this time bruising your throat. You ignore the discomfort, grateful when the hand in your hair finally tightens and you feel him begin to fuck your mouth, battering the rear of that moist cavern over and over. “You want a drink, baby? You ready for it?”

You hum in agreement and he eases up, withdrawing until just the head of that thick phallus sits on the tip of your tongue. You’re panting, moaning, frantic for his release perhaps even more than your own.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” A couple of swipes along the shaft and that brief pumping is enough to send him over the edge, thick pulses of cum now spraying the inside of your mouth, pooling on the wedge of muscle his dick rests against. There’s a lot. An absurd amount. You can feel it leaking from the corners of your mouth. Bitter, but not the worst you’ve tasted. Sheer coincidence your body decides to shatter the instant you swallow that load, forcing that creamy baby batter down your gullet while your pussy spasms against your relentless finger.

“There you go, baby. Good girl.”

The milkman’s doppel bends to kiss you, surprising you with the gesture, now of all times, licking your face clean before thrusting his tongue between your lips and you crash right into another orgasm, moaning and twitching while the imposter fucks your mouth with his tongue.

Truly wrung out now, you collapse against the back of the chair, your chest heaving. The doppelgänger refastens his pants, but not before you notice it looks like he could go another round soon, and oh, doesn’t that make your cunt throb again in spite of being so recently satisfied, twice no less.

It takes great effort to smooth your skirt and your mussed hair back into some semblance of order, returning your attention to the documents that are certainly ready by now, the ink well set. The doppelgänger doesn’t return to his seat, instead remaining beside you, watching as the final protective layer is applied.

“There you go. Finished.” You glance up to see the doppel’s gaze fixed on you again, the money forgotten in his hand.

“Maybe…maybe we could work out a deal for the remainder of the payment.”

Your heart speeds up a little. “I’m listening.”

“Maybe I could make special deliveries. To your residence. For as long as it takes to cancel the debt.”

You hum, pretending to consider the offer even though you already know what your answer will be. “What happens after that?”

“We can renegotiate the terms when the time comes.”

“Interesting.”

“Interesting as in you want to think it over, or…interesting as in you definitely want more?” He bends to kiss you again. Gentler this time, but no less appealing.

“The latter.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He sets the cash on the desk. “Consider that a tip then, for a job well done.”

You’re not going to argue with that. You hurriedly put everything away and lock the office again, soon finding yourself back outside next to the truck.

“Are you walking home, or do you want a ride?”

You weigh the discomfort of being on the floor in the smelly vehicle against walking home alone at an even riskier hour, where an encounter with another doppel would most assuredly not go as pleasantly.

“I’ll take the ride. But you need to clean the truck out.”

“I’ll do it in the morning.”

“The real milkman must have caught hell losing all these orders and the company car,” you murmur as you return to your former position inside the vehicle.

“Not my problem.”

“Every man for himself, right?” You can hardly condemn the attitude, given your current career choice.

“Exactly.” A flash of teeth in the darkness. He steals another kiss before starting the engine, bending low to capture your lips.

You’re delivered safely to your apartment building minutes later, personally escorted by the cloned milkman.

“I’ll bring you your next delivery tomorrow night, hmm?”

“Okay.” He’s standing so close. It takes just the slightest lean for him to kiss you again.

“Unless, of course, you wanted another advance…”

You shove the door you’ve already unlocked open, inviting the doppelgänger inside.

#francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #milkman x you #milkman x reader #francis mosses smut #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #milkman #the milkman #that’s not my neighbor #doppel francis #tnmn francis mosses #tnmn smut #tnmn fanfic #divider @cafekitsune

[bangtanflirt]

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 11)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10 > Part 11 > Part 12

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: trauma from past SA (vaguely hinted at this time, not explicit), jealousy, ambiguity around fidelity in hybrid pack dynamics, internalized prejudice (against wolf hybrids), mentions of drugs

____

Namjoon stills, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Yoongi’s lips on yours. Discomfort has him wriggling in his skin, but he battles the feeling long enough to discreetly retreat—finding the nearest guest room before the two of you can pick up on his presence. The wolf shuts his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.

This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t be jealous. She doesn’t owe me anything.

But all the rationale in the world can’t shake off the of jealousy. It’s not a strong, world-shattering type of feeling—but it’s there and it irks him nonetheless. He can’t help but feel like an absolute idiot for mistaking your offering of friendship as anything more. Was he the only one feeling a pull?

Of course she doesn’t feel anything for me. She wouldn’t think of a hybrid in that way.

As much as you talk of equality, Namjoon isn’t dumb. It’s one thing to support hybrid equality, but it’s an entirely different matter to see him equal enough to be a romantic option.

How could she ever think that way about someone she has to put a fucking leash on to be seen outside with? It’s impossible.

He doesn’t know why he let himself feel this way in the first place. He’s only known you for a couple of days—not to mention he already has a loving pack. Guilt stiffens his features, not wanting to think of what his pack would say at his pathetic little crush. Would they feel betrayed?

Relationships aren’t exactly as black-and-white as “open” or “closed” in hybrid packs. On one hand, a pack is always “open” to accept new packmates to form strong bonds with; however, their pack hasn’t had a new member in years…so were they “closed” now?

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking so deeply about it—you’re not even a hybrid. There’s no wolf in you for them to form a pack-bond with.

You should be with a human, someone who can actually build a future with you. Someone like Yoongi.

You should be happy with a human like Yoongi, and he should be happy with his amazing pack. It should be this simple. So why isn’t it?

___

“Yoongi…”

His heart beats hard against his ribcage, drumming loud in his ears. He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts, but every millisecond feels like a year. Some part of him hopes you’ll pull him back in for a second kiss, but it’s clear that’s not where your head is. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until you start talking again.

“Was that…was that because I was teasing you?” Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, but the closeness between your bodies guarantees he hears every word.

Shaking his head, his mouth answers before his mind has any time to think.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

He doesn’t realize what he’s done until the words spill out.

There’s no going back now.

There’s a moment of regret. You literally gave him an out on a silver platter—just brushing the whole thing off as an answer to your teasing, fueled by wine. But he doesn’t think his response through, and now the entire friendship he’s built with you could easily go down the drain. His heart—which he’s kept guarded for so long—is fully on his sleeve, vulnerable to whatever you decide to do to it.

The confession lingers heavy in the air, sobering any slight buzz out of both of you.

“I’ve liked you for a while. I don’t know when it started…maybe a few months after I was hired? I don’t remember. I just—I like you. A lot. And I know it might be really stupid to say this and ruin what we have,” his voice barely holds it together to get the rest of the sentence out, “but if you tell me you don’t have any feelings for me then I’ll never act on it again, I promise. That’s all I need to know.”

The strain in his voice prompts you to find your own quickly.

“I…I have feelings for you too.”

Yoongi’s shoulders finally fall down, a mix of relief and elation washing over the second your words soak in.

“Thank fucking God” is all he can manage to get out before pulling you into a tight, cathartic hug.

___

Bacon sizzles on the stovetop, edges turning crisp as Jimin watches over. The fresh aroma of Yoongi’s favorite dark roast fills the kitchen, luring the man in as he’s getting ready to go to work. Jimin signals for him to sit, singing an unfamiliar song as he’s plating the bacon next to a stack of pancakes. The surprise on Yoongi’s face is evident, as Jimin hasn’t cooked him breakfast since the morning of the incident. He'll never say it out loud, but the site does endear him.

“You look happier than usual.” The wolf remarks, noticing the smile Yoongi can’t seem to suppress. It’s hard not to smile when all that’s going through his head are your words from yesterday.

“So do you.”

Jimin puffs out his chest in pride, “Because I just finished baking these” he gestures proudly to a tray of freshly baked muffins. They look mouthwatering, and Yoongi’s hand is reaching out before he even realizes it. But the wandering hand is quickly swatted away.

“Hands off. These are exclusively for Taehyung.”

“Not even one?”

Jimin almost gives in at seeing the pout creep on the man’s lips, but regardless, he stays firm, “Nope. This is step one in fixing our relationship. I need every muffin here if I’m going to make it up to him.”

Curiosity takes over Yoongi’s features, wondering what exactly a guy as sweet as Jimin could do to land himself in such hot water.

“You must’ve messed up really bad.”

Jimin shakes his head, sliding over a fixed plate and coffee. “Funnily enough, I still don’t think I did. It’s the drugs that messed up both of our minds.”

“Why are you making it up to him if you don’t think it was your fault?”

“Because love isn’t always about who’s right and who’s wrong. Sometimes you just have to do what you can to make things work.”

The man raises a brow, taken aback at the wise words coming from such a naïve face, which Jimin notices and starts laughing at immediately.

“I sounded so smart, didn’t I?” His eyes shut into happy crescents, “Namjoon hyung says that to us a lot. It sounds a lot cooler coming from him.”

Yoongi shakes his head in amusement, small chuckle leaving from his lips as he digs into the neatly decorated plate in front of him. Not even the mention of Namjoon could throw off his good mood this morning.

___

As much as you want to celebrate your recent developments with Yoongi, the current mood in the car has you (and everyone else) stiff with unease. The cause of said unease is looking out the window, paying no mind as he stares blankly at all the cars passing. It’s not lost on anyone how distant Jungkook is becoming towards you, refusing to acknowledge any of your attempts at conversation.

That isn’t the only cold front you’re experiencing.

The wolf in your passenger seat is also visibly off. Normally, he’d be the one trying to get Jungkook to get along with you, but it’s clear that Namjoon is lost in his own world at that moment. You steal glances throughout the drive, trying to decipher his expression: it doesn’t look like he’s mad…but it also doesn’t look like he’s comfortable? His responses are short and the smile he flashes is contrived at best, but you hold off on asking him why.

Hoseok’s also lost in his own thoughts, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt and trying to keep the bad memories away. His anxiety’s been spiking up as the synthetic hormone levels decrease, mind now unable to create a haze to block all the bad. There are moments, like right now, when he wants to scratch off his skin until he breaks flesh—grasping for any way to reclaim his body. His claws almost peek out, tempted to follow through with his intrusive thoughts, but he’s pulled out of it when he feels Jimin’s fingers interlock with his own.

The younger one leans in, car radio loud enough to allow them their own moment, “Is it the memories?”

Hoseok nods, eyes down on the interlocking hands, trying to focus on the welcomed touch instead of thinking about all the unwelcomed ones.

“Try tuning into your hybrid hearing when it gets really bad. Maybe that can help block them.”

Hoseok’s willing to try anything at this point, so he zones out on the back of the driver’s seat and lets his ears do their thing. It’s been far too long since he’s tuned into his heightened senses, and it feels disorienting at first, as if he’s no longer in the same place as his body. But natural instincts kick in and have him adjusting quickly, letting him filter through various conversations and noises until he’s focused on one moment. It’s a child begging his mother for ice cream, a sweet exchange. He follows their journey throughout the ice cream aisle, listening in as the mother finally gives in and the two discuss what flavor. Surprisingly, Hoseok doesn’t realize arriving at the doctor’s until Jimin’s unbuckling his belt for him.

Hoseok smiles, “That actually helped.”

Jimin simply responds with a peck on the cheek.

___

Dr. Gong notices Jungkook’s changed demeanor instantly, as he’s not acknowledging her either. The youngest simply sticks behind his pack, hands holding onto the bottom of Jin’s sweatshirt. She looks back and forth between Jungkook and you, and you don’t know what else to do but sigh.

“Good to see you all again. I hope all is well.”

You bow before ushering three of the hybrids to take the empty seats while you and the others huddle around her desk.

“We’re getting there” you say, half-heartedly smiling.

She nods, “I assume you all are familiar with the process of heat shots. We’ll do the rut suppressant first. Namjoon, please follow the nurse into that room.”

The rest follow one by one, coming out with band aids on their arm. Dr. Gong pulls out a pile of lollipops onto her desk for their return, scattering various flavors on the desk. Taehyung looks at them with curiosity, eyes telling Jimin he’ll take one if he does as well. Jungkook shoves a strawberry one into his jacket, not bothering to thank the doctor the way his hyungs do.

“I was actually with the authorities yesterday, going over the hybrids’ medical results for them. They’re collecting evidence for Kang’s trial. I expect they'll call me to act as a witness soon.”

Just the mention of Kang’s name has every hybrid in the room flinch.

You nod, "I’m waiting for that call as well. Even a life sentence seems too kind for him though.”

“Plans to distribute fevocaine should land him at least thirty years. But realistically, with his status, I won't be surprised if it's fifteen max.”

A low growl comes from Jungkook, startling everyone in the room.

“All the shit he did to us and he’s only tried for the drugs? You must be fucking kidding me.” The only thing that keeps his rage from boiling over is Jin’s firm tone telling him to settle. The raise in voice has Dr. Gong pulling back, fear creeping in at seeing a fired-up wolf.

“He won’t hurt you” Jin assures, snaking a hand around the youngest’s waist to keep him still.

The doctor gives an unconvincing smile, trying to regain composure.

You give an apologetic look, bowing on his behalf. “Sorry Doc.”

“It’s understandable. I also agree with Jungkook. The laws are ridiculous. The only real good news I can give you is that the synthetic hormones seem to lose most of their effectiveness without the fevocaine. There’s no chance of the collars entering the market anytime soon—hopefully ever.”

The information, although positive, has you baffled, “I knew it was a dangerous drug, but such small amounts really made that much of a difference?”

“It’s the base needed for everything else to work. Only fevocaine can subdue a hybrid’s nervous system enough for the other hormones to instill specific behavioral changes. Simply put, without getting the hybrids in a hazy enough headspace, the rest of the hormones just don’t work.”

You suppose it makes sense, as the Kang you know wouldn’t risk involving fevocaine into his plans unless it was absolutely necessary.

“You’re all set for this month. The receptionist out front can set you up for next month’s appointment. I remember you were hesitant about continuing them on the suppressants, though.”

You nod, “We don’t need further appointments. I’m sure they’ve had enough of synthetic drugs messing up their hormones to last a lifetime. Right guys?”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide, “Are you sure? It’s not safe for you to be around us in heat. We don’t mind getting the shots.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “I mind.” Jin’s grasp on him becomes tighter, an unspoken command to behave.

“It’s alright Joon, Yoongi said I could crash at his whenever you’re in your heats—or rut for you.”

Namjoon’s jaw ticks slightly at the mention of Yoongi, before he reminds himself that this is how things should be. Humans with humans and hybrids with hybrids. He reluctantly nods at your plan, thinking for the greater good of his pack.

“If that’s alright with you then yes, we would prefer not to be on them. Except for Hoseok.”

Your eyes go wide at the realization, of course Hoseok wouldn’t want to go through his heat. You curse under your breath for not catching that.

Hoseok, on the other hand, looks relieved that it was brought up before he had to bring it up himself. He thanks the heavens he has a good Alpha during situations like this.

___

“You’re back early” you muse, quirking an eyebrow at the figure standing at the door of your home office. Yoongi smiles, making his way to your desk before bending down to kiss your cheek.

“I told Minhyun I had to leave early for an urgent appointment.”

“So you lied to get out of work early? I could fire you for that, you know.” He tilts your head up, kissing the teasing grin off of your face.

“I didn’t lie. I had to come here and kiss you urgently.”

Another kiss.

“Well, this is a side of you I’ve never seen. Can’t say I don’t like it.”

“I have to make up for all the lost time. Besides, this is one step closer to my househusband dream, so I can’t afford to mess it up.”

You roll your eyes, “Am I just a means to an end?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

You pinch his arm and he fakes a hurt face, causing both of you to laugh.

Yoongi traps you in your chair, one hand on each arm rest as he bends to eye level, taking in every second of the moment.

“It feels surreal. Getting to kiss you like this. It’s not something I ever thought would be possible.”

You snake your hands around his neck, pulling his face even closer. “I’ve liked you for a while too. I was just scared…the idea of losing what we already have by trying to be more is terrifying,”

You’ve been scared about the same things as him. This whole time.

“but nothing’s ever felt more right than that kiss. Made me realize that high risk and high return isn’t just for the next business deal.”

“Only you can figure out a way to make this into a business analogy” he chuckles.

“Well my gut instincts have gotten me this far with investments, so no use trying to fight them for everything else in my life.” You’re the one who leans in for the kiss this time, hands cupping his face as you chase after his lips.

“This is going to be the best investment of your life.”

“Those are big claims, Assistant Min.”

“I’m very confident, Miss Shin.”

___

Namjoon’s fork hits the table, slipping out of his hand and forgotten the moment Yoongi announces your relationship at dinner.

“We want to try and see where things go” you say, bringing your free hand to rest on top of Yoongi’s for everyone to see.

“You don’t have to make a big deal out of it. We don’t care.”

“Jungkook.” Jin admonishes, but the youngest pushes back this time.

“What? It’s true. Whatever they do has nothing to do with us. Unless you want us gone so you can be all lovey dovey. I’m sure he” Jungkook glares in Yoongi’s direction, “wouldn’t want his precious girlfriend sharing a space with us. I mean, we’re wolves after all.”

Yoongi cringes at the mention of his ignorant remark.

“Once again, I’m sorry for saying that. I wish I could take it back.”

You squeeze his hand, “Yoongi’s not like that Jungkook. Nothing about this changes the fact that you all have a permanent home here.”

Yoongi nods.

“I’m happy for you guys” Jimin beams, breaking the tension and making you extremely grateful.

“Me too!” Taehyung follows.

You look over at Namjoon, who sends a tight-lipped smile, “You two look good together.”

 “Thank you Joon,” his stand-offish demeanor still isn’t lost on you.

Hoseok barely reacts, only half present at the dining table. Jimin assures everyone to just let him be, explaining that turning up his hearing is helping him. He doesn’t need to elaborate, as everyone is highly aware of what goes on in Hoseok’s mind most of the time now. You’re just glad something’s helping.

It’s the sound of a record this time, playing maybe two houses down. A nice, soft melody that makes him want to hum along.

Namjoon volunteers to do the dishes this time, until Jin assigns the task to Taehyung and pulls the Alpha to the side, “What’s going on with you?”

“What?”

“You’ve been in your head all day. I could use a little help reigning Jungkook in, you know. It feels like I’ve been keeping him in check all alone since morning.”

Namjoon looks at the eldest with remorse, “I’m sorry hyung. My thoughts have just been all over the place lately. I should be paying more attention.”

“What is it that’s bothering you? Anything I can help with?”

He shakes his head, “No don’t worry about it. I have it under control.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

___

The Alpha hangs by Yoongi’s door awkwardly, clearing his throat to make his presence known to both of you. You sit up from your cuddling position upon seeing him.

“Hey Joon, you need to talk to Yoongi about something?”

The wolf nods, “I can come by later if it’s not a good time.”

You shake your head and get out of the covers, much to Yoongi’s reluctance.

“I need to go look over some documents anyways. You guys talk.”

It’s when you’re right in front of him do you ask what’s on your mind, “Hey, are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself lately…unless this is another instance of the hormones wearing off?”

“No, this isn’t that. I’ve just been feeling a little under the weather today. It’s nothing serious.”

Your hand is on his forehead in an instant, “It’s not a fever, thankfully. You sure you’re good? Need any cold meds?”

“No it’s fine, really. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

The wolf waits a second after you leave, making sure you’re far away from the door before speaking. Yoongi watches carefully, not in the mood for whatever “Alpha claim” he’s about to stake on you.

But Namjoon isn’t that kind of Alpha.

“I wanted to talk about y/n.”

“Go on.”

“Now that you two are…together” the word is bitter on his tongue, “we should get along. For her sake.”

Yoongi can’t say he’s not caught off-guard. He always thought a jealous Alpha would be one throwing temper tantrums and bearing teeth. Namjoon’s words don’t help make him any less wary, though.

“That’s hard to do when I see the way you look at her. I’ve wanted this for so long, and I’m not going to let a stranger walk into our lives and take it away.”

The word “stranger” has an unsettling feeling rise up in Namjoon’s chest, wanting to protest and that he and you are not strangers. That he understands you in ways Yoongi never will. But he stops himself. Because none of it matters if he can’t be the one thing you need: human.

That’s something Yoongi will always have over him.

“It’s just a crush, nothing serious. I’ll get over it without her ever knowing.”

“How can I believe that? How do I know this crush won’t turn into something serious in the future?”

“Because it can’t. She likes you. Not me. I’m not stupid enough to make a move and risk her kicking out the entire pack. I know you don’t trust me, but you can trust that I won’t risk the future of my pack over this.”

It’s the one statement that does placate Yoongi, because he’s right. The one thing he—and anyone who’s known Namjoon for longer than two seconds—knows is that his every decision revolves around his packmates’ wellbeing.

“Okay. I can believe that.”

____

A/N: Took a bit longer to get out this week, but I'm always grateful that you guys stick around and interact. Have a great day!

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universee @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g @wittyreader

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

#bts hybrid au #hybrid bts x reader #poly bts #ot7 x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #hurt/comfort

[fickleminder]

sacrificial lamb

The impossible choice between you and the Devildom.

I can’t believe I didn’t see anything based on this cliffhanger yet. I gotta do everything myself, don’t I. Spoilers for the Frost event!

“Well, it was nice knowing you guys.”

The joke fell flat as everyone’s heads whipped towards you with varying degrees of shock and horror.

“You… How can you possibly think that we’d ever consider—”

“It’s the classic trolley problem. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” you explained with a sad smile. “You of all people should understand that.”

Diavolo visibly winced. You were right, as always. The fate of the Devildom and all its denizens hung in the balance.

“There has to be another way.” Solomon shook his head, unwilling to accept the ultimatum. “Barbatos, let me try talking to it—”

“I’m afraid we are out of options. The white wolf expects an answer before it returns to the ice realm, and we do not have any bargaining power at the moment.”

Lucifer’s grip on your hand tightened. You didn’t realize when he’d grabbed it, but now it was the only thing keeping you upright.

There’s a rumor that the white wolf likes beautiful things. It freezes them and keeps them in its personal collection. Thirteen’s words burned at the back of your mind and sent chills down your spine. You knew better than to take rumors at face value, but the reaper was rarely wrong about these kind of things. Your mental impression of a soft, fluffy good boy was quickly twisting into one of a sadistic beast straight out of a nightmare.

The impatient howls echoing from the summoning chambers weren’t helping your nerves either.

“What if I went and bought you some time?” You whispered to Lucifer, who’d been watching quietly from the sidelines as Diavolo, Barbatos and Solomon dissolved into frantic discussion. “Maybe this arrangement isn’t permanent. I could go with it for now, until you find something else it wants more than me.”

“Out of the question.” The demon shot you down without hesitation. “There’s no guarantee the white wolf will respond to our summons a second time, and only it knows the way to the ice realm. If we let you go now, we risk losing you forever.”

All the breath left your lungs in a shaky exhale. An unbidden image popped into your head: a crystal statue of a human figure preserved in ice, curled up for warmth that would never come, a hand reaching out for loved ones who would never be seen or held again.

Lucifer drew you closer as you shivered, and you decided to let him think the cold was finally getting to you.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon

[introcoryo]

— au where you’re reaped as sejanus plinth’s tribute from district 2, and he breaks into the arena to get his final goodbyes in.

coriolanus can see the brunette’s jaw tighten in his peripheral vision when highbottom announces that he’ll be mentoring one of the district 2 tributes. that tightness is followed by a deep, deep scowl when the reapings are aired, and your sweet, lamb-like face is shown on the now, sejanus notices, glaring screen. he has half a mind to storm out, but instead swallows thickly to fool his brain into thinking he’s calm and collected.

he remembers you, as if a remnant from a previous life. sejanus knows this is a shameful way of thinking. he’s no capitolite. they can throw as much money as they want at him, keep his stomach full and plump of steak and apple pie, give him the so called luxury of attending the academy, but he knows his name will metaphorically never leave that reaping bowl. for each year the hunger games have commenced, three names were picked from district 2. a boy’s, a girl’s, and sejanus’s. he is in that arena with them, although not physically. and that is what hurts him most. his name, although not verbally chosen and spoken into a microphone, is amongst that litter, and yet he has the privilege, like every capitolite, of leaving the arena every year when the victor is announced, when his fellow district 2 tributes do not have that option.

upon first greeting you at the capitol zoo, a stinging pang shoots through his throat. he has absolutely no idea how he’ll be able to mentor you without completely destroying himself in the process. it’s eating him up inside; this hope that the academy has indirectly forced you to place in him. how that hope, crushed, would leave as you, god forbid, would have to take your final breaths in that arena, with nothing to attach to that despair but sejanus’s face.

you’re timid at first. you too, remembered this familiar face. the big brown eyes, never dull of emotion. long, fluttering eyelashes. he’s much taller now, with curly hair that looks like raw hazelnut under the sun. with the way he’s looking at you, you figured he did not outgrow his tenderness. it was no look of pity, though, but a look of understanding. of sharing your fear, instead of accepting your fate. that made you feel a comfort you haven’t felt since standing in your district’s square.

after a few minutes of silence, of examining each other wordlessly, communicating with shared gazes, sejanus decides to speak up first, albeit everyone knowing it is his heart that speaks for him.

“i am so, so sorry for—”

he begins, but you stop him. there wasn’t a point to this, you think. unless he was the one who picked out your name specifically, why would he even feel the need to apologize? that certainly won’t change anything.

“it’s fine. it’s not your fault. i know, big elephant in the room, i’m behind bars at a zoo. the odds just weren’t in my favor. i’m not sure they will decide they like me later, either.”

sejanus clenches a hand around one of the steel bars at your pessimism, but how can he blame you? he has no hope himself, how could he even possibly think you would? he wishes he could effortlessly bend the barrier separating you two with his palms, grabbing you by the hand and running off somewhere else. somewhere safe. somewhere hopeful. he knows he can’t, and that leaves a shake in his voice as he chooses his next words delicately.

“i just… if there’s any way i could help you, guarantee that you would… walk out of there unharmed…”

“well, i saw the district 12 girl with her supposed mentor in here. inside the zoo. you’re mine, i assume? do what a mentor has to do. mentor me out… and some food won’t hurt, either.”

at the mention of that, sejanus’s face slightly lights up, and he reaches into his scarlet colored blazer pocket, taking out a wrapped napkin and handing it to you. you reach through the bars to take this mysterious item from him, fingers lingering just a bit, and unwrap it to find a sandwich, diagonally cut. you smile wistfully at the simple meal before you, this being the very first act of kindness you’ve been on the receiving end of since coming to the capitol. so much for hosting etiquette.

“thank you, sejanus, really… here,” you say in an unanticipated small voice, holding out one of the pieces.

the brunette freezes. you’re still kind. all of this, and you’re still kind. perhaps that’s all you’ll ever be. perhaps that’s what will be what dooms you in that arena. you will try to speak heart to heart, not sword to sword. he loathes that he’s thinking this way. he absolutely despises that he knows you will not be able to walk away from this without staining your hands red, but what has made a home in his chest is the miserable feeling of not knowing whether you’ll be able to do that. he’s district. he will forever be district, a vow he made at birth. but here he is, standing in front of you, free. here he is, handing you food as though you truly belonged in that zoo. he is everything you wished you could be in that moment, and yet you still decide to share your meal with him, despite the rumbling coming from your stomach. he wants to take it. wants to act like this is a normal picnic that you two are having together, but he knows you need that full sandwich. he knows you should take all you can get.

and so he declines politely. you begin to talk about the changes in district 2 since he’s left, and how life continued, yet everyone was stuck. sejanus emphasizes. he listens. but the dread has not left his system. he starts to think about how he’ll see you in another life if this one wasn’t enough. there’s so much time on the other side, and here it all feels like a constant countdown. never knowing if your time will be cut short. he mentally chastises himself; he needs to be optimistic. he needs to be here for you, now. he needs to think about the life you’ll have when he gets you out, not if. soon enough, you’ll believe it too.

to say that sejanus was a complete wreck watching you enter that arena would be an understatement. the cameras capture your soft features so well that you look displaced. lost. you shouldn’t be there, he thinks. no one should be there. the tears that built up in a split second blur his vision, and when the bell rings, he is there, running as a district 2 tribute.

sejanus watches as you take his advice, as you run and hide immediately, and he is kept at bay through at least that. he can’t lose it now. not when you’ve placed your entire life bare in his hands.

but sejanus is weak, too. he feels too much too often. his thoughts are frantic, and he finds himself in that arena the following night. the thumping in his chest intensifies as the voice at the entrance pleads him to enjoy the show, and he scoffs at that. he checked the cameras before coming, so he knows exactly where you are, and he’s so overwhelmed with the thought of seeing you that it doesn’t register that he has now, momentarily, taken the path he very well could’ve lived if he had not moved to the capitol. sejanus plinth, district 2 tribute.

light footed, he makes his way across the arena, and up the stands. he saw you come out of hiding when it was safe out, when most of the tributes were either asleep or in the tunnels, gathering a weapon or two from the cornucopia then settling on high ground. he figures you were startled once you heard the automatic greeting that played when he walked in, so he whispers your name.

he whispers it again. so delicately. laced with so much sweetness, it feels wrong to say it here.

and then a third time. the syllables now come out desperate. overwrought. he can’t leave without seeing you. touching you. it will break him.

“sejanus?” his ears perk up, and he looks around, frenzied, trying to distinguish the direction your voice came from. you peek out from one of the stands, and when you find those big, brown eyes looking back at you, you pick yourself up entirely and run to hold the man before you. the man who rushed into the possibility of death head on just to wrap his arms around you. he’ll face it all, just for that. oh how he wished you knew how badly he wanted to swap your places.

“you’re… but how? why? it’s dangerous here—” sejanus wastes no time, cupping your cheeks and diving in to kiss you. his hands are holding on to you for dear life, as if his knees will give out without the support. his eyebrows are knit together, focused on the feel of your lips on his. they’re dry, chapped, and cracked, but he doesn’t care. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip to give you some relief, making a mental note to send you some water as soon as he leaves.

he kisses you until it hurts him. until his lips are swollen and red. until the way you’re tightening your hands on his broad shoulders feels as though it’ll leave bruises. when you break the kiss to breathe, he tries to take you all in. to memorize everything. he desperately needs a pen and paper right this moment so he could draw you as accurately as he can, lest his memory fails him later.

the automatic voice sounds again, and only you turn your attention to the entrance. slowly comes coriolanus snow, the district 12 girl’s mentor, and his eyes scan the arena before they land on yours. you nudge sejanus lightly to direct his gaze to his friend, but he wants more. he can’t leave now. he can’t leave you. not like this.

“it’s okay, sejanus. i’ll be okay. help from the outside, and we’ll see each other again in no time.” you whisper, a tiny bit unconvincingly, eyes glossy. “just take care of yourself, okay?”

sejanus’s lips quiver, and he too whispers. you don’t believe it’s because of the other tributes, but because if he were to speak normally, only a sob would come out.

“you are myself. please take care of me.” you glance down and nod at that, tasting the saltwater that came rushing down your cheek. he wipes the trail that settled along your face, and begrudgingly makes his way to the blond.

sejanus is motivated by the thought, the need, to get you out of there. no matter the methods he uses. no matter the consequences he faces. he has the resources to buy you more time, and he finds himself not above exploiting them.

#this was so long omg sorry #it’s 4am and i’m thinking about sejanus plinth #the hunger games #thg #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus x reader #sejanus plinth angst #sejanus plinth fluff #sejanus plinth imagine #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird

[yanderemommabean]

Yandere red room idea

The Red rooms. It’s not something He really thought he’d find himself using but here he is, walking up the corridor with a key card in his pocket. It’s definitely a secret society type of deal, code words, secret hand gestures, one use keys, all the security one could imagine. The first time he even heard of such a place like this, he assumed it was dark internet fetish mumbo jumbo. 

But after he found you, well, the right people found him and led him to the right place. Not a room of pain, but one of pleasure, to show his darling all of his intense love and emotion and then some. 

He hasn’t even booked a room yet, he’s here as a sort of consultation visit. To see if he really has the balls to do this and show that yes, he adores you, and that his love outweighs anyone else’s. 

Sliding the card into the door brought him into an empty room besides a desk, a few chairs, and two large filing cabinets. He takes a look around, quickly surveying the area, before stepping inside fully and sitting in the chair facing the large office chair in front of him. Before he can let his shoulders relax, a man follows in behind him, followed by a woman as well, both dressed professionally and seeming very…happy. 

“Ah! It’s good to see you, Mr-” 

“Lee, you can just call me Lee. And you are?” He asks, gesturing to the woman standing beside the man in the suit as he begins to open a manilla envelope, spreading the papers out on the table. 

“Victoria. We can leave it at that. I can tell that you know secrecy and customer privacy are our top priority with this business” She says with a knowing smile, sliding the papers over to face them towards the doctor.

“Now, Lee, What we have here is a very basic outline of what we can do for you and that love bug you’ve found yourself. We celebrate rather than punish our loved ones here, and want them to understand that to their core! We find that the red room experience helps!” The man exclaims with excitement, but has yet to really introduce himself. 

Lee was told to expect that however. The leader behind this all was kind enough to reach out but he wasn’t to expect anything too personal. “All business” was his very aura, and Lee could respect that. He nods along as Victoria took the reigns, explaining some of their core beliefs before getting to what Lee really wanted to know. 

“We can make the room however you please, lease it for up to four days at a time with personnel who checks in every four hours with their own special keys, for the darlings sake. As much as we wish to fully trust our customers, we will not take the risk of them dying or being seriously injured in any way. As stated, this is a way to show love and we give you the tools to do so! “ Victoria then spreads apart the papers, pointing here and there as she explains a bit more, intriguing Lee with every bit. “We have romantic layouts like at a hotel, we have BDSM specialist rooms, we have very highly rated toys and devices that we inspect and clean before each room is ready, and we have a live stream option if you’re the type who thinks everyone should see the pleasure you’re darling is receiving! I personally recommend the tribbing machines with the black rose theme if you prefer the dom and sub type of vibe, but we can personalize however you like!” 

Huh. Wow. They’re very thorough aren’t they? 

The business man nods, sitting back in his seat as he adjusts his tie. “I started many companies in my life, all based on bringing smiles and joy, and it’s my personal belief that there needs to be a company looking out for your lover! Love, adventurous or more mellow, is a beautiful thing that our darlings need to be showered in as much as possible. If you’d like, this can also be set up in a way to just calmly express your love to your darling, but I will clarify that it isn’t guaranteed to go well…I advise getting our crews to pick them up and deliver them for you, with every person being given a  background check of course! Safety and security is what comes first for your darling” 

Lee was a bit flabbergasted to say the least. They talk so professionally, have such a strange ethic to them, and they act as if he’s about to buy a company or large house rather than finally get ahold of the love of his life. It’s…Odd but charming. He can’t say he’s turned away from this, in fact he has a few ideas for his own red room. 

“Are they CPR trained and do they have basic first aid knowledge?” Lee asks as he looks over some more of the photos, liking the array of toys they had up for use to add to the room, each one costing extra of course but for what he had planned…it wouldn’t be too bad. 

Victoria smirks, laughing lightly in amusement “I can see we’ve caught even more of your attention. We can make sure these personnel are trained for the pick up, but our permanent staff are already trained in first aid help and some, even small surgical emergencies. You know, always needing to be prepared and all”. 

They talk  a few more things out, Lee deciding that if these people were serious, then he could trust them. If they crossed him in any way, he’d easily rid at least a handful of them. He didn’t get that gut feeling he usually does when people are lying to him however. This felt thorough and legit and well…Professional. 

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you Mr Lee. We’ll be getting in touch with you shortly! You wont regret setting this up-” the business man says with a firm handshake, smiling in an almost uncanny way. “And remember, when you’re in a bind, one of our smiles will ease your mind"

-Mommabean (This was so silly but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!)

#yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #mommabean #yandere CEO #yandere red room #yandere male #Victoria my oc #CEO my oc #Dr lee my oc #Doctor lee my oc #lovely smiles corps

[kaicubus]

Distraction P2 | Xavier T.

warnings ✩° : mutual pining, fluff confession, slight VERY SLIGHT angst bc i was listening to enchanted by taylor swift at one point in this, closure, both reader and xavier are 17-18 years old.

pairing ✩° : xavier thorpe x fem!reader

premise ✩° : demanding answers from your rival who stole a kiss from you  unexpectedly at the poe cup to distract you, you confront him, this time  ready to catch HIM off guard.  

word count ✩° : 3.1k

authors note ✩° : a performance was demanded of me. and now i have delivered. ENCOREEEEEEEEEE!!! anyways. OMG I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS EEHEHHEHE GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET...hope you enjoy...also expect more fics of xavier bc i love this show and i love him.

From the time you lost horribly due to a certain distraction to the time now, your mind has been scrambled to the point of irrevocable recovery. Still, you didn’t say anything to your friends or your teammates, especially about your plans for tonight.

The feeling of that kiss had been lingering for hours on your lips, how could he catch you off guard like that? You wanted to be angry, you wanted to throw all the books off of your desk and wreck everything around you, but you physically can’t. It’s almost as if the feeling of Xavier’s hands trailing down your waist were keeping you from it all.

You sit up in a panic and shake your head, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/n it’s kinda hard to ignore the fact you lost that completion for us but it’s even harder to pretend like somethings not on your mind. As your friend, we need to talk.

“There’s nothing we need to talk about.”

She sits down next to you on your bed and leans back, hugging her knee to give her stability, “So what I heard was that only you and Xavier made it to shore. Could it be something with him?”

Before she can ask more agonizing questions, you sit up and throw the doors of your closet open. “Woah. Calm down.” F/n says softly, “Look if you don’t want to talk about it we don’t have to. I just want to know if—“

“The reason I didn’t get back in time.” You ignore her, huffing roughly, “I was distracted. That’s all that needs to be said.”

“A bit of both, F/n. A bit of both.” With that, you get dressed into a more comfortable outfit, adjusting your hair and doing other rituals to finalize your outing. It should be fun.

“Y/n.” Xavier raises his brows, “Didn’t think you’d actually come. Considering you hate me and all.” He takes a moment to take in all of you. Your outfit, your hair, your makeup, he can’t help but smile to himself. After all, you look cute, so who is he not to appreciate that?

“Afternoon, Xavier.” Your eyebrows lift on instinct, expressing your disapproval of your presence in front of him already. He has his arm propped up against the frame of his door and the way he leans onto it so casually makes something inside of you self implode. Complete with a parted grin, Xavier locks eyes with you and waits for your response.

“I-I don’t hate you.” Keeping composure wasn’t an option. Looking at him in the eyes even once would remind you of that kiss. In fact, looking at him in general was a guaranteed flashback. “At least right now. I have questions.”

“I think I have answers.” He shrugs, “Though I think that kiss kind of cleared everything up—“

You cut him off with a rough sigh, “Yeah. It’s about that.”

“Ok, so…You going to come in? Or are we going to talk right here?” He glances up and looks around at all the passing students. With a small nod, you find yourself entering his dorm room. Hung drawings and strung along polarioids line the walls, giving the overall atmosphere of the room an artsy aesthetic. It’s not as clean as yours, and he lives alone ever since Rowan was expelled from Nevermore, but it’s still nice.

“Sorry about the mess,” Xavier’s voice tugs you back into reality, “I forgot to clean up. The Amontillado’s and I went out for dinner and you know I had a killer steak, almost lost track of time before I realized that I had a possible date with Y/n L/n. I of course didn't want to miss that.” Even though the words coming out of his mouth are cocky and prideful, he looks at you like all of what he’s saying is exaggerated and sarcastic. He’s good at confusing you.

Still, his subtle gloat makes you roll your eyes, “Was that necessary? The steak? The celebrating?”

“Oh absolutely.” He dips his head down and grins, “Let’s talk on my bed.”

“Sure.”

The two of you sit down on the edge of his bed, and now it becomes increasingly obvious that you're the only nervous one between the two of you. Xavier doesn't shy away from the fact either, instead he steals multiple glances at your fidgety hands and blushed cheeks and grins mischievously.

“Do you remember the kiss? How it even happened?” You start, looking him directly in the eyes.

He raises a brow and continues his grin, “Uh, yeah. Other than the fact it was a few hours ago, I don't see why I’d forget it?”

“You didn't answer me from before. I know that now you told me all of that to distract me from the race, but why were you so adamant on telling me that you like me? You could've kissed me and did that, since it was a fool proof plan.”

“Fool proof?” Xavier raises his hand and curls it to his lips, “Me kissing you, was fool proof? For a distraction? Honestly, if you admit it was, I’m not complaining. But I didn't know you could tell me that if I ever tried kissing you before, you'd accept it.”

Usually, you’d be annoyed. Your face would burn with aggression and you’d feel violent remarks bubble in your throat, but now you can’t even think of anything mean to say. Just another question.

“Did you kiss me just to kiss me? Or was it all just a plan?”

Hearing the question makes Xavier stop his teasing. Lip tucked between his teeth to keep quiet, he looks at you, half wondering if what you just said was serious or not and the other half choosing his next words extremely carefully. Though it doesn’t help the throbbing in his chest seeing the way your head is tilted just enough so that you're looking up at him through your lashes, too nervous to hold eye contact for so long.

A brief silence washes over you both before Xavier rubs the back of his neck, pensive in thought. His feeble attempt at making himself seem calm and collected only makes him shift in his position next to you, accidentally brushing his hip against yours.

“No,” Xavier says, his voice just above a whisper, “I meant everything I said. I never wanted to be better than you, I just wanted to talk to you. I like you a lot, Y/n. I never lied about that.”

You show the side of your face and let your shoulders fall, “I never said you lied about it. There’s nothing you can lie about in a kiss like that. You deceived me, not lied.”

He rolls his lips into his mouth and rubs his hand onto his thigh, “You know, it’s not really deception if I meant it all. I was dressed as a jester you know, secretly funny despite being advertised as a joke.”

His laughter that follows after makes your heart tremble. Looking back at him, your smile falls back into nervousness, “I don’t…I don’t not like you.” You stare at his lips, scared to meet his gaze that’s very clearly fixated on you, “It’s just. I don’t like how you make me feel.”

“How exactly do I make you feel, Y/n?” His eyes travel down, “...I know I make you mad.”

“I’m mad because of the way you make me feel, Thorpe. You walk around like you’re some enigmatic being with all the substance and deep personality in the world. You’re always in thought. Maybe that’s why you do better than me.” You sigh, “I can’t focus right. Probably...probably because I’m always thinking about you.”

Even though for once you’re not yelling at him, Xavier listens to you with genuine interest. You didn’t even know that was possible, frankly, neither did he.

You turn your head up to meet his gaze when you realize he hasn’t said anything all this time. “Xavier?” You say softly, “Why did you kiss me?”

He sways back, draping his hand over yours, “You looked like you needed to be kissed. Maybe that’s why. But it seems like no matter what answer I’ll give you, you’re not going to be happy,” he says, pressing his thumb softly into your knuckles, “And all I want is for you to be happy. At least with me.”

This time, you don’t shy away from his touch. There’s not an ounce of nervousness. In place of it, your body acts on its own and you bend more towards him.

“Can I ask a question this time?” Xavier speaks slow and cohesively, “If that’s ok?”

You’re not sure why, but his question intrigued you. What did he have to ask? What more was he confused about? You stop yourself when you realize that these may be questions running through Xavier’s head when he looks at you. When he looks at you, huh, the look on his face makes your ears heat up and your heart skip two beats at once. Of course, scientifically that impossible, but Xavier makes facts feel wrong in your mind. Just like how it was a fact you hated him. Or it was a fact he wanted to be better than you for the sole purpose of humiliating you. Just as those were shot down and proven to be wrong, so have your previous feelings, now shedding new light onto the hidden ones you've kept locked away.

You could feel his smug face staring down at you, as you wait silently for the question.

“How exactly do you feel about me?” The question falls from his lips, the same lips that’d kissed you speechless earlier today, “Because when I look at you, I can feel you hate me, but you said that’s wrong. I don’t know what’s right and wrong when I’m with you. Usually I’d want this to end but, I just want to know, Y/n.”

How you feel? About him? Your eyes trip into his inescapable stare and suddenly you feel your throat start to close. Of course, you didn't want to leave him short or even worse, assuming your feelings towards him because anything that isn't what you say is wrong and you need to communicate that with him but you just can’t. It’s so easy just to swallow your pride and talk, but every second of silence jabs the knife of uncertainty deeper and deeper.

But you have to say something.

“Xavier—”

“Y/n—” Suddenly, he interrupts. Not intentionally, but because you were silent for so long.

Maybe you and him aren't so different after all.

Xavier’s quick to apologize, but you're faster. “Sorry, go ahead.” The heat on your face only grows hotter so you're forced to pull the collar of your shirt away from your skin.

“No, it’s ok, I was just going to say something stupid.” He shakes his head, causing his long hair to sweep along his perfectly cut jaw, “Go on.”

You roll your shoulders back and inhale sharply, “We both know I don’t like being second best—”

“Obviously.”

You glare at Xavier.

“Right, sorry.”

“And we both know that that obviously has been happening—”

“Not intentionally.”

“XAVIER.” Your rival laughs at your temper, only for you to grind your teeth together in frustration, “I’m trying to tell you how I feel about you—like you ASKED—but you keep interrupting me! PLEASE! Be quiet!”

He chuckles a bit before nodding, “Yes ma’am.”

You decide to ignore that. For now at least. Instead, your nervousness returns now that the uncomfortable silence has returned, but at least you have the spotlight now. An ache in your chest spirals into your stomach as the thought of ‘now or never’ finally settled in. If telling Xavier how you really felt all this time would mean relief from all the negativity bottled up inside you, self loathing tendencies and being the human embodiment of a locked box with no key, you were willing to take the risk of him making any comments towards you.

Reaching out, you take your finger and place it on top of his as a sort of reassurance that everything will be ok if you know this moment is real. He glances at your small gesture, his lips cracking into an unnoticed smirk, and curls his slender finger under yours, hugging it almost.

"I guess there’s no better way to say that...I return your feelings. It’s ironic too because, for all the time we spend together, even if it’s not quality time or anything, I like it. I like it a lot. You actually make what I do fun, I realize that now.” The words become even easier to say, “No matter how much I push you away, it makes you ten times stronger. And I don't think I want to let that go. What I’m trying to get at is I like having you around. I don’t know if it’s your presence, or just you in general, but I don’t want to let go of it any time soon.” It takes another moment before you finally say, “I like you back, Xavier.”

Silence, again. That was...something.

Almost as if the quietness wasn't deafening enough, a small chuckle breaks it and somehow makes the whole situation all the more unbearable.

“What?” Your voice is exasperated, “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not laughing at you,” He smiles and cuts his hair down the middle, allowing it to fall from each side loosely, “You know you do this thing where when you're talking, you kinda,” he swerves his wrist in a circle and motions in front of his face, “I don't know how to explain it, but it’s really cute.”

His smugness is infectious. Like a virus, it travels into your system and makes you avert your eyes to wherever he isn't looking to distract yourself from the overwhelming palpitations your heart is running. “Hey,” his deep voice speaks, somehow closer to you now, “Is there maybe something else you want to tell me?” Xavier mutters.

“Actually, yeah.” You nod, enveloping your other hand over your ear and looking to the other side of him for a brief moment, “I want you to give me another answer.”

“To what question?”

“My feelings.” You whisper comfortably, “Not like last time. Not as a distraction. As a real thing.”

“Are you sure?” Xavier whispers too kneading his hand into yours, “Like, you want me to kiss you again?”

You feel like the breath is knocked from your lungs when you nod your head, “Please.”

He hesitates a little before bringing his cold palm directly to your collarbone, using his thumb to lead his movements to where he wants it to be. The gentleness of his touch makes you even weaker than before. Just barely, the tip of his thumb stretches the corner of your lip, bouncing it back into place when he feels like he’s satisfied. Little touches like that make your head reel. You don't even care that you want to ask how he knows all the right places to touch you, you just close your eyes and let him. Before you know it, that crashing sensation returns. Fuck, have you missed it.

Very quickly, Xavier feels a jolt hit your body as it tenses against his grasp, but as quick as it came, it leaves and you give in. An arm wraps around you, catching your waist and pulling you closer to him, his unoccupied hand rubbing slow and small circles on your back smoothly while he takes the bottom of your lip and nods deeper into your mouth. He’s in no hurry to do anything more, but you can tell he wants to stay here with you for hours. It’s all easily told with his not so secret grabbing and pulling that in this moment, you're all he wants.

There’s something surprisingly methodical, coming from him, in the way he takes in your lip, sucking gently on the pliant skin, then scrunching your hair in between the spaces of his fingers. There’s one spot his touch lingers on though, the nape of your neck. The spot, with an ache for much needed attention, makes you squirm into him when he runs his thumb over it accidentally—almost like a sweet spot of yours Xavier was sure to abuse in the future.

You don't notice it at first, but eventually you realize that through the total mind fuzziness of when he kisses you, you've both ended up further up than you were when you first started on his bed. The way time passes doesn't seem real, kissing him feels like nothing else matters in the world. In fact, being around him, in his dorm room, and just looking at him was all it took for you to forget about everything.

When he eventually pulls back, his body lifting away from you—a second of fleeting panic shoots through your chest at the sudden space between you both. By the solemn expression on his face, eyes hooded with pure relaxation and satisfaction, he can tell you enjoyed the kiss a little more than you should've.

“So, does this mean that I can take you out on a proper date now?” He mutters against your lips, “Because I’ve been having these dreams of taking you to this place out in town. You know,” Xavier kisses his teeth, “Gotta listen to the dreams, Y/n.”

His smugness is now just laughable, so you give in and throw your head back chuckling, “Let’s listen to them then. I’m free tomorrow?”

“So am I.” He leans back in and gives you another soft, quick kiss but instead of pulling away this time, he remains close to your face, his fingers interlocked with yours, “I’m really glad we figured this out, Y/n.”

“Me too.” Your chest flutters.

No one told you how to feel after your first kiss with your sworn academic rival. There were no rules to base your feelings on and there was certainly no expectations to meet up to. But you weren't confused anymore, that was the more important issue. Your head is clear as it’s ever been. Thanks to him, Xavier made that all possible.

#xavier thorpe #wednesday netflix #wednesday xavier #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe fanfiction #wednesday #xavier thorpe fanfic #wednesday fanfic #wednesday fic #wednesday addams #kaicubus

[briarcrawford]

Is This How You Write Romance?

I have never written a romance; not even once. That does not mean there is anything wrong with romance stories, just that I typically am drawn to writing stories that focus on other aspects. Now, that might sound like I am being a snob, but what I really mean is that I am a simple soul; I crave action scenes. Media that is majority romance just tends to bore me.

I do want to improve as a writer, though, and that does include writing romance(as a sub-plot). It is something most people expect in stories, and, if I am honest, a part of the reason I continue to avoid it is that I have no experience writing it. So, to help me get started, I have been doing what I do best: researching.

I have been (halfheartedly, with my phone in hand) watching the odd romance movie when my mom has them on(those ultra cheesy Hallmark ones), and it seems like most romances can break down into a simple formula.

The formula is:

1. The Meet-Cute

After the viewers have had a look into the life of the main character, the meet-cute happens. This scene is most likely funny or overly dramatic.

“In film and television, a meet cute is a scene in which the two people who will form a future romantic couple meet for the first time, typically under unusual, humorous, or cute circumstances. This type of scene is a staple of romantic comedies, though it can also occur in sitcoms and even soap operas.” Wikipedia

2. Building a Connection

Scenes that gradually bring them closer; typically do to coincidences or circumstances that force them to keep meeting. These scenes are when your readers will decide if they have chemistry or not.

3. Turning to Feelings

They continue having scenes together, and show signs of mutual interest. These scenes are when readers decide if they would make a healthy couple, and romance fans start looking forward to what could happen.

4. Feelings Confirmed

Something happens (such as a rescue, or a near kiss) that makes them realize or suspect that the feelings are mutual.

5. The Test

Their relationship is tested, and they realize how much they need each other. This is normally when one side runs off, and the other chases.

Without some sort of conflict and character building, the romance may come off feeling like filler content or fan service.

6. End

All is resolved, and they are together now.

Obvious, right? Well, the trick is to weave these into your main plot without them standing out too much.

Once you know what readers want in romance, the tricky part starts.

1. Confirm your genre.

What scenes are most important to you? If it is the romance scenes, you may want to rethink how you classify your genre. For example, there is a difference between writing a fantasy with a romance subplot, and a romance with a fantasy subplot. Deciding if you need to shift your main focus will change how much of each content makes up the percentage of your book.

2. Decide Your Goals.

What are your goals for the relationship? Sometimes, the plot points above stretch through just one book, while other times it can stretch for a whole series. If your goal is to have them get together in one book, know that you will have to deal with continuing that romance throughout the rest of the series(and adding in enough drama to keep it worth the subplot time).

3. They Should Amplify Your Main Plot.

If you have your characters become a couple in the middle of your main-plot’s climax, you risk ruining what tension you have built. Some writers do fight this and go with it anyway, though that is often because one of the love interests is almost guaranteed to die in the next scene.

Instead, consider having the relationship build at the same speed of the main plot. This is why end-of-series kisses are so popular to write.

Another popular option is to have them get together early on, but separated. That way, the hero is fighting not only to survive, but also to get back to their love.

This is, of course, all written by someone learning, so if any of you have any tips for writing romance, please let me know! I am not planning on watching any more of those movies(sorry, mom haha), so I will take all the help I can get.

#writing #writing help #writing advice #writing tips #romance #writing romance

[kentosbabes]

I was daydreaming about this earlier and just had to blurt it out. need him so bad :(

Eren who sits next to you in Computer Science class. You never really spoke to him only small talk here and there. he didn’t have a pristine reputation, both for messing with girls and also for his constant smoking and drinking. yet when he sat next to you in class he was as quiet as anything he never made any inappropriate comments or glances, he always paid attention to the lecture and handed in his work on time.

Eren who asks you to be his partner for the assignment coming up on building an application. Although you were a little shocked at first you realized he probably picked you as you were not only the easier option as you sit next to him but you were excelling in the subject so he was guaranteed a strong grade. He asks for your number and you gladly type it into his phone saving your name with a heart next to it. you notice the moon in the top left corner of his phone, he’s put his phone on silent, and you can’t help but think about all the notifications he must be getting. you pass his phone back and he chuckles at the name placing his phone in his back pocket.

Eren who messaged you at 6pm one night of the week. ‘hey smarty wanna come round to work on the project.’ you smile at the nickname and type back ‘who is this?’ hoping to tease him and knock back his seemingly big ego. ‘it’s Eren? don’t tell me your cheating on me and got a different partner’ he responds. you finally agree to go over and follow the directions he sent you.

Eren who has a penthouse over three times the size of your own apartment. To your surprise it’s all tidy with a timeless design and floor-to-ceiling windows. ‘wow Yeager not what I was expecting’ you say as you look around ‘And what were you expecting’ he asks leading you to what seemed to be a dining room. ‘i don’t know like a decaying apartment that reeks of weed’ you say scrunching your nose at the thought. he only replies with an ‘ouch’ as he sits down next to you at the table.

Eren who has no idea what to do when you begin to type up a planning document. he gets even more confused as you begin to start coding. ‘yeager are you paying attention’ you say as you try to explain to him what is going on but he just stares at you. ‘huh um yeah something about the structure of the code right?’ he says shaking his head as you bring him back to reality. ‘why did you even pick this subject’ you ask now staring up at him batting your lashes. ‘I like playing games on my laptop’ he shrugs keeping eye contact with you ‘I get all the graphics card and PC talk it’s just the coding that baffles me’. he can only think about how innocent you look as you look up at him.

Eren who continues to meet up with you almost daily to work on the project. You meet up at one of the cafes closer to your apartment and he can’t take his eyes off you. you walked in with your hair down glasses on your nose and wearing flared jeans and a crop top doing all the right things. He waved at you so you can see him and you catch his green eyes and walk up sitting opposite him in the booth. he lets you order your coffee then says his own and puts out his card paying for the both of you ‘Eren you don’t have to do that’ you say looking at him ‘It’s my treat baby, you just worry your pretty brain about the project yeah I’ve got everything covered’ he says pocking your temple.

Eren who surprisingly takes initiative as you stand presenting your application. He says all the right things and also lets you talk about the more detailed elements. it’s no surprise you got a grade A making Eren smile hard and look over at you shaking your shoulders and repeating ‘thank you ma’ over and over. ‘damn smarty you really know your shit’ he says as you begin to pack up your things ‘i’m throwing a party later, you should come’ you shake your head no ‘oh come on mama you’ll be my VIP. I promise you’ll enjoy it' he says throwing his arm around your shoulder. You sigh out a yes and let him lead you to your next class.

Eren who mixes you up a drink and sits with you on his balcony as the apartment is filled with people dancing to loud music. he leans back on the sofa his arm reaching your waist, sipping on his beer as you both admire the view. you look over to him and find him already staring at you. 'your beautiful' he says. 'do you say that to all your girls?' you scoff turning away from him. his hand reaches up caressing your jaw and turning your face so his eyes can meet your own. his emerald eyes burning into yours as he stares at you. before you can think his lips are on yours in a soft kiss, his lips are soft and you can taste the beer on his tongue. your leg moves so you straddle him his hands still cup your cheeks as your hang around his neck. your the first to pull away looking down at him, 'speechless for once Yeager?' you tease. he only hums in response before bringing your lips back to his.

Eren who now messages you non-stop from as soon as he opens his eyes to when he sleeps sleep. he gets you to come round to his on a regular basis. He uses the excuse of needing help with a topic but just wants to have you sit on his lap cockwarming him as you attempt to explain the topic. He becomes obsessed with you needing to feel your touch at all times, from having to hold you as you do your makeup to holding your hand under the table during class. Not because he's ashamed because all he does is talk about you to his friends to the point they're sick of him. He walks with pride with his arm around your waist as you walk through the corridors.

Eren who turns up at your place drunk after a party. As soon as you open the door his head is nudged into your shoulder as he mumbles gibberish. 'Hey what are you doing here it's only 8pm shouldn't you be partying?' you question dragging him into your dorm. 'I missed you, was no fun without you mama' he says stumbling onto the couch and dragging you with him into his lap. 'you're drunk.' you say rolling your eyes. 'god baby you make me crazy.' he groans kissing your neck 'wanna make you mine'. 'okay Yeager don't go saying things you don't mean' you simply state dragging him to your bedroom. 'i mean it.' he states flopping down on the bed. 'then ask me when you sober and maybe you'll get a yes'.

Eren who's arms are still wrapped around you when you wake up. 'Morning baby' he mumbles into your neck. You turn so you can face him 'Morning handsome' you say tucking his strands of hair behind his ears. 'I believe I have something to ask you' he says now pecking kisses all over your face. 'hmm and what is that' You giggle at his affection. 'Would you like to be my girlfriend?' you both can't stop smiling as he asks. 'let me think about it' you say looking up at the ceiling Eren rolls on top of you trapping you between his arms the motion making you squeal. he raises his eyebrow as a sign to continue 'yes, yes I would'.

Masterlist

#shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren #eren x y/n #eren smut #eren x reader #eren aot #aot eren #aot #aot headcanons #eren yeager #attack on titan #eren jeager x reader #attack on titan eren #eren yaeger fluff #eren jeager smut

[qqueenofhades]

JSYK the OP of the Crab Day post is a self-identified conservative Christian. Can't speak to anything she may have done or said, but I do know that Crab Day wouldn't actually fix Tumblr - the site is running a 30mil *deficit,* which is different from debt. All Crab Day would do would be telling staff that their current policies get users to send them more money, which doesn't actually change anything. Corporations change only when their business strategy is losing the shareholders money.

Gotta be honest, my friend, I'm... not sure what you're trying to do here? Warn me that the original post was made by a Problematic Person (tm) and therefore that must mean it's all wrong, or.... what?

We know that Tumblr badly needs money, because they have told us that and openly admitted that the unpopular new changes were spurred by a need for increasing revenue. I logged on just now on desktop and got a suggestion that I could purchase an ad-free browsing subscription to help support the hellsite (which is the word they used, because they have very much embraced the joke). I have in fact already bought an ad-free subscription, both because I like the product Tumblr provides and want to keep using it in its current form, and because it makes my mobile experience immeasurably nicer. I am well aware that especially in this era of social media sites dropping like flies, the continued existence of a platform that is 30-million-dollars underwater (however you want to split hairs about exactly how) is not a guarantee. And we all complain about Tumblr, but we have all been here a long time (me, uh, over 10 years), we have a solid community, there's no other alternative that's really ever come up or gotten the same kind of uptake, and if it went under, we would be uh, screwed.

Tumblr is kind of a mess, it's the antithesis of every social media site, and it doesn't (for now) have the crap that makes The Artist Formerly Known As Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram so utterly unusable, or if it does, you can (mostly) turn it off. That's why we all like it and why, even if we are resolutely anti-capitalist gremlins who resist being marketed to with every fiber of our being, it doesn't change the fact that servers, staff, and all the rest cost real human-people money which the site, by their own frank admission, is struggling to raise. Even if staff does often make crappy updates, they generally at least TRY to listen to us and include a feature to make it optional or roll it back, unlike certain unnamed idiot billionaires. Their mockery of other social media sites can sometimes be a little much, but for now, Tumblr is pretty much the last place on the internet that does what it does, and I like it that way. If it went under and took my blog of 10+ years and all my friends with it, I would be incredibly sad.

That being the case, and basic financial realities being what they are, encouraging people to toss a few bucks at a TOTALLY OPTIONAL and fun gimmick that increases functionality for a product we like is actually not a bad thing. TumblrMart has crabs, checkmarks, Ea-Nasir merchandise (seriously), ad-free browsing, etc., and if our choice is voluntarily supporting the site through fun (and again, OPTIONAL) purchases versus having us all be involuntarily subject to some horrible data-scraping mechanism or forced off altogether because they couldn't keep the lights on, that is fine with me. Nobody is making anybody do or buy anything. But if you like the product Tumblr provides and want a fun material way to show your appreciation, then I don't think it's some Great Transgression to participate in that.

#temperedknight #ask #crab day

[gynandromorph]

It's okay not to answer, I know it's broad territory, but I really respect you as an artist and writer. How do you handle people misinterpreting or missing elements of your work, especially when they may still enjoy it and get something out of it? As an artist I'm struggling lately with knowing my work will always inherently be read differently from what I intended as a matter of the human experience, as well as me being autistic complicating my ability to communicate.

An addition to that last ask. I don't know if it's clear what I'm asking so I'll give some examples. A 50 year old man and a 21 year old woman will get different things from a movie due to their lived experiences. As a gentile reader I might miss jewish narrative themes in a piece of work. That doesn't mean it's bad for us to have experienced it, but as an author I find it frustrating when something is missed or misinterpreted, and I don't know how not to be a control freak about it.

i feel you, i have ocpd and being misinterpreted when i agonized and stressed about how to present my wording makes me want to light myself on fire and it's something i'm working on. writers are supposed to expect and account for different perspectives ahead of time, so it always sort of shocks me when i hear interpretations i wouldn't have thought about at all. i know logically i can't predict all outcomes, but it's still surprising anyway!!! but i generally feel a lot of distress about being misinterpreted because i'm afraid it'll label me as A Bad Person, so i think that's where the experience diverges. maybe investigating why you need to or want to control the way your work is interpreted would help as a starting point? i think having a larger audience helps, too... it means more people will misinterpret your work, but it also means you're more likely to have at least One Guy who interprets it just right and makes fireworks go off in your brain, but there's no way to control how big your audience is!

anyway, the ways to control how your work is interpreted, to the degree that you can:

you can make it simpler. the more parts a story has added to its complexity, the more it's going to be misinterpreted.

you can make the intended message more blatant. you can have a character say exactly what you want the audience to think or hear, or something very close to it. don't want a detail missed? make it bigger.

you can reprioritize parts of the story. basically think of a group of interpretations you want the audience to have if you can, and then put them in order of importance. then the story has a hierarchy to lean on wrt artistic decisions.

you can give the story multiple meanings. more targets to hit. if they're mutually exclusive, i find this works better... i like making my stories ambiguous with conflicting interpretations a lot. yeah, people are going to interpret the story wrong, because it was made in a way that will guarantee it is interpreted wrong in some way.

you can layer the meaning so that less literate audience members will at least get SOME of what you intended. basically, close to the previous strategy, but like a hybrid of that and "make it simpler" imo because you're constructing multiple interpretations that are all supposed to lead to one conclusion (like a persuasive essay or something), but can act as an adequate conclusion on their own.

all of these options have obvious qualitative losses. if you have anything in particular that is repeatedly misinterpreted or missed, it's a good idea to think about Why you're making those choices. consciously committing to a higher-risk artistic choice will help you feel more in control of what happens to it once it's done. the way your art is interpreted isn't totally out of your control, you are making decisions that add to or mitigate the risk of misinterpretations, and you can bring those choices to a more conscious awareness to see them and appreciate them. sometimes it'll feel like a begrudging compromise, but it'll still be Your choice ultimately.

on an emotional level... hopefully this makes sense. there's always going to be the piss-on-the-poor scenario and sometimes i just remind myself that some people are not as literate as me, but it's great we were still able to connect through a work that was probably difficult for them!!! it was a privilege to get to grow up with a good education, access to art and technology, strangers who want to look at what i made, and there are times where i take this for granted, and my expectations of readers are actually kind of unreasonable!!! some people are younger than me and say stupid things like i did, but they aren't able to understand things like me yet, and it's important for them to learn by figuring it out on their own!!! i was and will always be That Guy to other artists and other writers, and i want to give other people the same grace as i get. some people have wildly different life experiences compared to mine, and these experiences can be much more nuanced than i could ever imagine, but it's a little gift that they made my world larger by sharing theirs through my art!!! it's terrifying and embarrassing knowing that i don't know much of anything, even about something i have total control over, but the consequences of that aren't always negative. and possibly the saddest but most common way i deal with this is nothing more than accepting that no one is ever going to understand me on the level that i want to be understood. sometimes my frustration has come from a place of miserable alienation, where the need to feel Seen can be quite desperate. i've made art explicitly about Me, and i've made art deliberately hostile towards its audience, art that's said they don't get it and they never will, but they still bothered to try. i made a game that said no one will win here and they still played it with me, and i can appreciate that. in many cases, they actually know more about me than i know about them. but more importantly, it isn't my audience's job to take care of that emotional need -- in fact, as much as art is made out to be a mode of pure self-expression, i don't think they can. it's a reality that i don't like, but i accept it. art made to benefit others is a one-way mirror: you make them feel seen, but they should never see you, because if they see you, the mirror isn't working.

[atopvisenyashill]

there’s a few potential sansa romantic endgames that i think have some textual basis and i think all of them come with a lot of issues wrt sansa being able to publically claim these relationships which is why i think sansa will say her children are “fathered by a wolf” because regardless of Who she’s with or even the legality of it, she’s going to be actively concealing their identity AND YET she needs to have children.

i think especially that even though arya’s love life is guaranteed to be less complicated, sansa will feel obligated to take this “burden” of ensuring their line onto herself; she wants arya to have the freedom to go where she pleases, be with who she pleases, and follow her passions and that is not easy to do if everyone is expecting you to come home and start popping out kids. I consider them a sort of reflection of ned and lyanna in this way in that sansa, second born and not meant to rule, uses her newfound power to let the wild, youngest girl (but not youngest child) in the family follow her passions wherever they may take her.

this is all kind of weird with the nixed time jump but considering that george has talked about writing stories from arya’s pov about her adventures, I think it’s going to be fairly important in story regardless of their ages that arya will attempt to offer to stay home and marry and have children as a way of helping to protect sansa’s very shaky claim on winterfell but that sansa encourages arya to do whatever she wants. to travel, to help shepherd the boatloads of refugees from the various wars to wherever they want to call home, to settle displaced northerners in other parts of westeros as well, to get involved in the lives of the people arya is helping and agree to help them liberate their own homes by using her skills (crucial here that arya is A leader but not the SOLE leader), or to go out into the woods and be a secret not-quite-an-outlaw (bc sansa isn’t outlawing anything that could hurt arya’s lil crusades, probably is helping bankroll arya) to bring justice to the smallfolk, like whatever it is arya wants to do with her life, the point is that she offers to give it up and sansa refuses to take the offer.

and then we have the idea that her kids are fathered by a wolf. not elizabeth-ing herself here exactly because she’s having children but never publicly acknowledging a father or a husband or even a lover.

i think the candidates most likely are jon snow and theon, with both brienne and podrick as like “i’m not saying he’s gonna do it but i am saying they make a lot of sense narratively” and aegon vi as a huge long shot but still undeniable contender. if briensa does go canon everyone owes me five bucks each tho. i think the options other people float are not just wildly unserious they also clearly don’t think sansa will be The Ruling Lady Of Winterfell, but some much more minor or less emotionally resonant title and i just do not vibe with that shit at all. harry the heir, sandor, sweetrobin, tyrion, littlefucker, like never mind sansa never once showing any real interest in these guys and NONE of these dudes being satisfied by the idea of being her secret husband, if sansa says to arya “yeah i’m marrying tyrion” arya is going “blink twice if you’re being held hostage and you need me to kill him” but it’s too late because jon snow is already unsheathing longclaw and bran is attacking with every raven in winterfell. it’s not fucking happening and imo it’s unserious to pretend like it could happen in canon. (and if it DOES happen in canon you will find me rocking up to george’s house in jersey and demanding to know why he’s so weird about teenage girls). i think margaery is a huge long shot here (and not just bc it would make them both canonically on screen gay) because i don’t think she’s gonna live to the ending, and jeyne poole is too traumatized at this point in time for me to feel confident in putting her in the same category as brienne and pod.

(theon’s trauma is WHY i think he’s still a contender - post reek theon is going to struggle a lot with figuring out where he’s supposed to be, who he’s supposed to be, and who he can trust as he puts himself back together, and that lends itself nicely to the idea of a secret husband/lover imo. once again, we are talking extreme trauma bonding here - that’s just the only way i see sansa’s romances going).

if you’re asking “who do you think arya is winding up with” it’s gendry. i don’t doubt that there were some plans for edric dayne, arya, and gendry but i think gendry was always going to be her great love here, that she’s always going to turn down the idea of marriage to him but gendry doesn’t care so long as they are still together. there’s a neon blinking sign over gendry’s head that says “endgame material” and i think it’s unserious to pretend it’s not there too!!

#again my conspiracy here is that he can’t do all the rhaegar/lyanna/robert/ned/ashara/cat paralleling he would like and it’s thrown him off #that’s my rant of the day aksjdj #getting on my soap box #theonsa #jonsa #briensa #jeynsa #what’s the pod sansa name i always forget #the sun and moon in endless chase

[thecorvidcurio-if]

For as long as you can remember, no one you've loved has ever lasted very long.

The moment you come to love someone, no matter the type of love, tragedy befalls you both. In a desperate attempt to escape this cycle you've been moving from place to place, uprooting any time you start getting too close. This new city shouldn't be any different. It wouldn't be any different, if not for your new neighbours.

The more time you spend around these bizarre people, the more obvious it becomes that there's a layer of reality you've previously been unaware of. As you discover more of what was previously hidden from you, though, it begs the question:

Is there something more to your tragic circumstances than an unfortunate run of bad luck? Could it be the result of some power you don't understand? If so, does that mean there's a way out of it?

Does that mean there's someone to blame for your suffering?

Or click here if the image link doesn't work.

PLEASE NOTE: This game is in very early development. Only the first two chapters are posted, the writing will be continuously revised as I write, and there may be bugs or glitches. If you run into any issues, please let me know.

Cursed Ambrosia is an interactive fiction novel that deals with topics of death, loss, and love. It's a supernatural fantasy with a focus on interpersonal connections. There are six relationship routes, two women, two men, and two non-binary options. All romance options will have a platonic route as well. More info on them under the cut.

Note: Though these characters are romanceable, you do not need to romance them to play out their routes. On the platonic route, you still get the same plot content, just minus the romantic bits.

Vicente - An exceedingly polite and seemingly put together man who values kindness and compassion, but struggles to accept those things himself. He's keen to look after others and encourage them to accept help, yet insists on handling his own troubles alone.

Abby - An overwhelmingly enthusiastic and eccentric "person" who values curiosity and freedom, but struggles with moderation. He has more energy than he or anyone else knows what to do with. He's got a talent for mischief and is incapable of going very long without causing trouble, intentionally or not.

Kaida - A bitterly jaded and taciturn fellow who values knowledge and secrecy, but struggles to trust others. He's always many steps ahead of everyone else, and always knows more than he lets on. He's someone very useful to know... Or, he would be, if anyone could get a straight answer from him about anything.

Marina - An unapologetically loud and rambunctious woman who values rebellion and individuality, but struggles to let her guard down. She's brilliant, but easily bored. If you tell her she can't or shouldn't do something, it's just about guaranteed she'll be doing that thing in the near future.

Thea - A theatrically elegant and captivating woman who values loyalty and honesty above all else. On the job she's glamorous and confident, captivating any who hear her hypnotic voice. Off the job, though, she's something much different, and hopes to find someone who can appreciate both sides of her.

Shiloh - A cripplingly shy and skittish entity of uncertain origin who values privacy and comfort, but struggles to leave the safety of what it knows. Shiloh enjoys observing others interacting, and lives vicariously through witnessing the connections other people form with each other. It is quite sure that it will never manage to make such connections itself.

#cursed ambrosia #cursed ambrosia if #cursed ambrosia interactive fiction #shiny new post for shiny new blog #now with pictures

[jaynovz]

Expanded Info for Black Sails Kink Meme 2024

Hi there!

Since there has been a sufficient amount of interest for this idea, let me explain a little further how I think this will work and general guidelines–

I’m encouraging as informal and low stress/pressure of an atmosphere as possible here. Back in The Day when LiveJournal Kink Memes were common, it was very typical to see a prompt put up and filled within an hour. It doesn’t have to be polished, it doesn’t have to make logistical sense, it just has to fill the prompt as best as you can, sexily! It’s supposed to be fun. A bunch of fun, raunchy kink and smut to roll around in as a fandom. 🥳 🥳

So yeah, first thing to expect, it’s basically ALL PWP (porn without plot). Not to say that someone can’t write a full plot epic if they like, do whatever you like, but in my experience, a 4am fugue state smut fill written in a sweaty haze is kind of, the spirit of the thing. We’re creating ficlets, snapshots, tasty treats of smut with as little pressure to make it in any way polished as possible. Please think of this as, hmmm, a little fun writing exercise you do before you go back to your Big Serious Work, if that helps. We are letting loose, we are having fun, we are being deliciously, joyously, unrepentantly filthy with it! The tagline for the event is: “Get High, Jerk Off Three Times, and Write Me a Warmup :DD”

A prompt might say, for example– “MaxAnne, s2, would love to see the girls get slippery wet with some period sex, bonus if one or both eats the other out while she’s menstruating.” 

Pretty standard stuff, nothing that off the wall from my perspective, however, some folks might feel shy about asking for it for whatever reasons and so the anonymous format frees ppl up to ask for anything from: “Midshipman James McGraw getting caned in pre-canon by his superiors” to, idk, “full tentacle-y type oviposition porn where someone is being forced to come over and over again while being implanted with eggs by some giant plant beast on Skeleton Island (probably Silver).”

Literally ask for whatever smut you want~~ This is your chance, toss it into the pot! It will be tagged accordingly when posted if it’s filled, so live your truth, chase your bliss, know no shame, no one can see you~~

It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description. Sort of like the MaxAnne period sex I gave an example of above.

Logistics and Structure of Submissions–

I have created a sideblog called @blacksailskmeme through which, once submissions are live (it will be open to accept prompts hopefully in March 2024), you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt.

Simple as that! 

Follow the Event Blog, or the tag #2024BSKMemeFills in order to keep tabs on when prompts are filled. 

This makes it very easy for me and yall both, as there is no claiming process to trouble ourselves with. As many fills as are written are allowed for each prompt, simply write whatever speaks to you and I’ll be able to track the fills by the notifs on the collection. :DD

As of now, I’m planning to open prompts in March 2024 and keep the collection and blog running for prompts and fills both up through the end of Summer 2024. To respect the spirit of the event, all fills and prompts MUST be anonymous. Edit for clarification: The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this. I apologize for the initial confusing language, I have been learning as I go.

It still stands that if, after the event is closed, you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

Rules–

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit. 

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

–All ships, all kinks, are welcome for submission, and the fill will then be tagged appropriately. If you have any questions on how to tag something, or just want another pair of eyes to confirm, you can always DM me <3

–Fills must be 500 words minimum of fic. There is no maximum and the fill is allowed to be WIP if you intend to write more chapters later. I would encourage that the content of the prompt be IN the first chapter at least before submission to the collection.

–We’re Gonna Be Nice and Civil!! No ship bashing, no kink shaming, we’re all mature adults here. If you don’t like something, then don’t fill it, don’t reblog it, don’t read it, pretend you do not see it. If you don’t like it, it’s not for you! 

If I haven’t covered everything here, or if you’re unsure about something, feel free to reach out to me either through the event blog or through @jaynovz <3 Also, if you’d like to help me out with the event, hit me up as well.

Thank you!

#black sails #black sails event #black sails fanfiction #2024bskmeme #would love if yall would reblog this to signal boost thank you

[v-ternus]

His Creation Myth

Nice little MountainDew I wrote that got me out of a writing slump. For @forlorn-crows , because of your kind tags on my last Mountain fic.

MDNI

~1900

tags: water Dew, virgin Dew, handjob, alot of praise, Mountain is absolutely whipped, nice mention of a little aftercare

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Freshly summoned Dew has a quiet movie night with Mountain, and lets all pretend that he's never done anything before. A problem arrises, and good boy Mount has to help him.

Below for your consumption.

It was just supposed to be movie night, a welcoming night so to speak with some snacks and lighthearted conversation. Mountain wanted a relaxed moment with the new summon. But things went sideways halfway through watching Nemo of all things. 

Dew had started feeling a weird heat pooling in his stomach. Before long, the slight pressure from the throw pillow on his lap was becoming excruciating. He sat there, with a pit of worry blooming deep in his chest, before finding the courage to raise the pillow a little. He finds a tent in his sweatpants with a small, darkening wet spot. The hot ache occupying his midsection combined with whatever this was made him feel like he was dying. 

He was apparently staring for too long, because Mountain had to interrupt his non-attention. 

“Something wrong?” Mountain’s words may as well be cracks of thunder, they spooked him and he stupidly jammed the pillow into his lap to hide his problem. It visibly makes him wince, which doesnt help Mountain’s brewing suspicions. 

“Nothing!” He says, too quickly, that it was definitely unusual. Mountain looks at him with those obnoxiously kind, green eyes, a stare that wasn't going to let Dew avoid confessing his problem. Dew was very new to life topside, he was fresh, but Mountain had already taken a liking to him. He could read him pretty well and had learned most of his tells. 

“It's written all over your face Dew, come on. You’re new, you couldn't have run into too many problems yet, I can guarantee that I’ve dealt with whatever it is,” 

The pleading and genuine concern was making things more difficult for Dew. His dick was really aching and he didn't know why, or how to fix it, how to make himself feel better. For all he knew, he could be dying, he had never dealt with this in the pit. Maybe something went wrong during his summoning, maybe his vessel was defective. Regardless, something was very, very wrong. 

Mountain pauses the movie and moves to face Dew, again asking what's wrong. His undivided attention makes Dew’s face hold a bright shade of red, hot shame working down his spine. He tries to curl in on himself further but ends up pushing the pillow down again. The harsh friction makes tears pool in the corners of his eyes. 

Mountain can smell his distress, astringent and bitter. He uses a finger to raise his chin up to bring them face to face. He’s left staring at a pair of eyes screwed tight. 

“Bug?” Dew’s breath hitches. The endearing nickname was the final nail in the coffin. 

Dew finally lets the words out with a whine, “It really hurts,”

“What does?” As far as he’s noticed, nothing had happened to Dew in recent days, and definitely nothing happened in the two hours they’ve been hanging out. He couldn't drum up a moment where he could’ve gotten hurt. 

Dew doesn't even really know what’s hurting, he cant really explain it, so his only option is to show Mountain. Once he moves the pillow, Mountain knows exactly why Dew is hurting. 

“Oh…” He swears he tried to keep his voice neutral so as to not alarm Dew, but he failed miserably. If anything, the way he said it further convinced Dew that something about this was bad, that it would be hard to fix. 

“What do you mean oh?! You have to help me. I think I fucked up Mountain.” A new scent quickly invades Mountain’s senses, it reeks of burnt wood and venom— fear. His brain is quickly wiped clean of any joke, realizing that Dew really has no clue what’s happening. 

“Calm down Dew, you’re perfectly fine,”

“How am I possibly fine?” The tears have started to fall against his rosy cheeks, leaving trails down to his jaw then neck. 

“You’ve really never…?” Mountain desperately needs the full picture, needs Dew to confirm his suspicions. Dew shakes his head, messily wiping off tears that wont stop falling.

“I know how to fix this,” Its Mountains turn to blush. He’s worried that he’s taking advantage of Dew in such an unknowledgeable state, but he’d be lying to himself if he said that this didn't make him throb in his own pants. The chance to relieve him, to teach him for the first time. The notion turned him into a puddle. 

He cradles Dew’s face, dragging his thumb across the tear streaked cheek. The warmth makes Dew loosen his eyes a bit, it takes him off the edge just enough so he can breathe. 

“You need to tell me if anything feels worse ok? Really Dew.” Dew sighs, hopeful for relief. 

“Ok,” Its a quick whisper, he follows it up with a nod just to make sure. His eyes are still shut, he doesn’t know what the cure is and he definitely doesn't know what Mountain is about to do. So he waits patiently, waits for whatever is supposed to make him feel better. 

What he doesn't expect is his shirt being lifted off and a new pressure surrounding his cock. The sudden contact makes him hiss. His eyes shoot open to see Mountain’s eyes locked on his crotch with his large hand palming over it. 

Pain floats around in his mind, he’s sensitive. He didn't think the pain could get worse, but it did. And it was torture. But it was steadily being replaced by a comforting warmth the more Mountain kneaded at him, so he didnt say stop. 

“I’ll show you Dew, how to make yourself feel good,” He drags a thumb over the larger wet spot, slowly, right over the tip, making a point to press down on where he thinks the slit is. Dew jolts and reaches for the offending hand, clamping around his wrist. 

“—feels like you’re lighting me on fire. Hurts.”

“Sorry,” He doesn't mean to tease, not now, but he just can't help it. It's built into him like his magic. It's stronger than second nature. He studies Dew’s face when he goes back to gentle touches. Takes in how his jaw has gone slack, how his pale blue eyes watch on with awe while Mountain touches him.

He gives one last tender squeeze before gently wiggling his arm out of Dew’s grasp. He hooks a finger into Dew’s sweatpants and works it down to his mid thigh, just enough to get it out of the way. Just enough to catch a glimpse of the offending member. 

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't what he saw— a heavy cock that bounced against his stomach right under his belly button, leaking pre onto his little happy trail. Its nicely thick and long enough that the head would sit nicely in his throat if he got the chance to wrap his lips around Dew. 

“I’ll teach you everything Dew. You just have to let me.”  He wraps his hand around Dew’s cock and he feels it twitch, kicking against his hand. As well endowed as Dew is, he looks embarrassingly small in Mountain’s grasp. He wants to make a remark, make Dew blush even more by telling him just how small he is, but he tucks that fantasy away, for now. Dew’s cock is so red that it's almost purple, he understands then, why he shed tears. 

“It’s so much Mount,”

“Give it time Dew.”

He starts to stroke him, root to tip, lightly gliding over the head and Dew yelps each time. Soon, the drag of his hand fills the room with wet noises. The only other noise is a stream of ‘Ah, Ah, Ah’ falling from the little ghouls mouth.

“Your body already knows what to do, bug, look at how wet you are,” Dew moans, high and feminine. His eyes catch on his slicked thighs and hips, noticing how he they shine with the light dim light of the tv. Mountain's brain is enamored by how he looks like a star as he comes apart in his hands, by how pretty Dew sounds.

The previously overwhelming sensation has bled into indescribable pleasure, Mountain is towing Dew back from the thin line between pleasure and pain. With the relief, he starts to relax, his muscles go numb. 

The earth ghoul recites a silent prayer to whatever is out there. He prays that he’ll be the only one to ever hear his siren sing, that Dew will be his— that Dew would let himself be his.

The easiest support is against Mountain’s chest, so he uses it, leaning against the supple flesh while Mountain snakes his hand up onto the nape of his neck, dragging his nails over his scalp. He holds Dew close, relishes in his warm breath against him. 

Dew starts to roll his hips, jerky and uncoordinated, until he finds a rhythm. He thrusts up to meet the tight fist around him while Mountain uses his finger to pet at the sensitive spot under the head. 

“Good Dew, take what you want,” Mountain watches as even more slick drips out of Dew, it quickly reminds him of his soft spot for water ghouls.

Dew’s rhythm starts to falter and the muscles in his toned thighs start to twitch. Mountain can see it, hell he can damn near taste it, Dew was close.

A tightness forms deep in Dew's stomach, he’s about to have his first orgasm, ever. And the best part? He doesn't even know it. 

“Mountain, what is this? Its- Mount its…” He’s been reduced to a mumbling mess, devoid of any coherent thought thanks to Mountain’s ministrations. All he can do is cling to Mountain like he's his only chance at salvation, which in this moment, he really is.

“Just let it happen Dew, let go for me.”

Mountain tightens his hand and jerks him off faster, twisting when he gets to the tip and rubbing his palm into the head to polish it for good measure. He’s trying his hardest to snap the wound up band in Dew. 

Dew cums without a sound, save for the yelp of him choking on his own breath. He keeps nuzzling his face into the column of Mountain’s neck, grazing his fangs over the tender flesh. All he can smell is his earthy scent, laced with pine and lavender.

He has an unexplainable urge to bite, he wants to sink his teeth in, but he clamps down on his own lip instead. A tinge of copper hits his tongue as he breaks skin. His fingers stay wound up tight in the earth ghoul’s shirt, feeling like he would drift away without the tether. 

Mountain feels like luck is raining down on him as he gets to watch the birth of something he can only describe as celestial. He basks in the glory of Dew discovering pleasure, realizing desire, he watches as Dew fully becomes one with sin. He cant peel his eyes off of the cum spilled over his fingers, speckled along the small hairs of Dew’s happy trail.

Mountain keeps stroking him, working him through everything gently. Once Dew goes soft, he rests his dick gently against his thigh before wiping his mess off on his sheets. He pulls Dew into his lap, ignoring the stickiness that'll inevitably dry uncomfortably between them, and pulls him tight against his chest while leaning against the headboard. He feels Dew’s heavy breath, the deep rise and fall of his chest against his own. 

Dew shifts his leg and unknowingly nudges Mountain’s own throbbing cock, it makes him gasp. But his brain doesn’t recognize it beyond that, it doesnt care about his release. All his brain can think of is the twitching ghoul in his arms.

“Fuck, Mount. Fucking hell.”

“Was that ok? Are you ok?” Mountain expects a simple yes, but Dew’s answer is better than he could’ve imagined. 

“Teach me more sometime.” He feels him further sag into his chest, feeling hopeful for the future. He places a kiss against his hairline and catches his scent again. This time, Dew smells like petrichor and a breeze along a shoreline, sweet and light— happiness.

Dew resting on him makes him feel flayed open, like his raw nerves are being singed one by one. His brain is draped in the sensation— he can’t imagine a life without it.

They’ll eventually get up and when they do, he’ll run a bath for the both of them. He’ll lay Dew on top of him in the tub with his back to his solid chest. He’ll lean his chin on Dew’s bony shoulder and whisper about how good he was, how this is what he deserves each and every time he ever lays with someone. He’ll pepper the side of his face with soft kisses as he mumbles words of thanks, immensely grateful that Dew trusted him with something so special. They’ll stay till the water runs cold. 

He hopes Dew falls asleep tucked into his side. 

#nameless ghouls #ghost band #the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #fire ghoul #mountain x dewdrop #dew ghoul #ghost band fanfic #vee writes #mountain ghost #mountain ghoul #dew ghost #dewdrop ghost #ghost bc #water dewdrop #mountain dew #mountain dew ghost #mountdew #earth ghoul

[razorblade180]

Stage reveal

[Teapot]

Paimon:Three hundred wishes! An indomitable will! One golden hair boy’s determination and not to mention 75 pity! It all happens here!!!

Aether:Nice intro.

Paimon:Felt appropriate. Though it might be anticlimactic if Furina shows up in one go.

Aether:That’s the point! *throws ten wishes*

Golden Meteor!

Keqing:You really think it’s going to be her?

???:HAHAHAHAHA~

Nilou:Judging by that sound…yes.

Aether carefully runs with his arms out until the gold light finally fades and Furina lands squarely in his arms.

Furina:Splendid! Simply splendid! Bravo in participating for my wonderful entrance!

Aether:*mutters* You had no land strategy, did you?

The whimsical girl completely ignores the absolutely true accusations, favoring to stand on her own two feet and greet the gaggle of people who attended this glorious occasion.

Furina:Greetings! I’m-

Everyone:We know.

Ayato:He’s mentioned you.

Nahida:More than that. He’s asked us all to help build you for awhile now.

Aether:She didn’t need to know that.

Lynette:My brother is gathering your flowers as we speak, upon Aether’s request.

Aether:I thought I invited friends, not enemies here.

Furina:Well, well, *turns around* well! It would appear despite your blatant shenanigans towards me, you actually wanted me around? Isn’t that adorable?

Paimon:Big talk coming from someone dedicated to letting people wait. You fell faster than anyone Paimon has seen. Didn’t even entertain the idea of making him “work for it”

Furina:I- I just happened to weigh the options is all! It was impossible for me not to arrive, so why not start off with a bang and allow more time for the real drama to begin!

She dramatically points to the weapon banner vendor. Suddenly, nobody but Nilou and Furina were having a good time. The only thing guaranteed was pain but yet they held join in the idea of things working out. Aether decided not to waste time and started lighting the sky with colors from his wishes.

Yaoyao:…Huh? *holds constellation* That was unexpected.

Keqing:That tends to happen from time to time. Congratulations. That’s your second one.

Kaveh:*holds constellation* What the?

Nilou:(Wow. I really do win today.)

Mika:*holds constellation* Oh wow. I got one too!

Eula:Now get five more.

Aether:(Why is my luck for characters better on here than the standard?)

Golden Meteor!

Kokomi:Heads up. It could be anything.

Furina:Ha! Anything!? The answer is as clear as water. *holds hand out*

The light falls straight down into her hand brilliantly. As it fades, Furina’s own gaze lights up as she brandishes her blade.

Furina:See!? Clear as water! (Oh my gods, that could’ve been sooo embarrassing!)

Everyone:(She’s trembling…)

Aether wastes no time in dumping more wishes until another gold light. Unfortunately …

Jade fall splendor

Baizhu, in the distance:Pull for me now!

Aether:Let’s all pretend that was the wind. *spends more primos*

Jade fall splendor

Bahizhu:Puuullllll

Aether:Not gonna lie, this hurts.

Nilou:I don’t even feel good about this outcome.

Ayato:So you’re giving me the sword?

Nilou:Mmm, no. I’ll just cherish it more.

After several painful wishful, the dancer gained her new blade.

Paimon:Okay then. Cheer up Aether! Now let’s use the remainder to get Charlotte! You still around 130.

Aether:*toses 20* I know it just sucks a little to-

Golden Meteor!

Everyone:…..*looks at Furina*

Furina:…..*reveals constellation* Praise my generosity! Let the good times return!

80 wishes later….

Aether:I just want Charlotte around!!! Is she at work or something!?

Tighnari:Look at the bright side. *holds constellation*

Aether:…Look, I love ya man, but you should probably be helping Collei. She’s drowning in coins.

Collei: *buried* I kinda like pressure if I’m honest.

Furina:Let me try. Clearly your luck ran out.

Aether:And your any better?

Furina:I don’t need luck. What I need… *toses wishes* Is an interview!

Charlotte: *falling from the sky* An interview!? Say no more! I even brought a gift for the occasion! *shows constellation*

Furina:Hahahaha!

Aether:*covers face* Unbelievable.

Paimon:Look at it this way. We can invite Navia to join us soon enough!

Keqing:Who’s that?

Paimon:This cool and sweet lady who holds…a Geo vision….

Everyone:Those still exist!? That’s so brave of her!

Navia, in the distance: Hey! Have optimism! It’s fine!

As fanfare died down and everyone went back to doing their personal tasks, Aether took Furina aside just around a hill.

Aether:Alright. Curtain is closed. I won’t mind if there’s something you wanted to get off your chest before I tell you the r-

Furina:*hugs him* …..Happy to be here.

Aether:…*hugs her back* Me too.

#genshin impact #gi aether #gi paimon #gi furina #keqing #gi charlotte #gi nilou #kamisato ayato #gi navia #gi baizhu #gi nahida #gi tighnari #gi yaoyao #mika schmidt #eula lawrence #gi lynette