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#AND MANY MORE BUT THOSE ARE THE ONES THAT COME TO MIND
theemporium · 3 days
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Hi,
I’d like to order a violet fluff with Carlos and number 19. I really like your cocktail bar idea! No worries if it’s not possible ☺️
Bye, have a nice Sunday!
thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
19. "If the Gods choose to only give us daughters, then I will gladly have as many as you are willing to give me."
.
Logically, you knew he wouldn’t be angry but somewhere in the pregnancy hormones and lingering doubts, you found yourself spiralling. 
If there was one thing Carlos hated, it was that he couldn’t be with you twenty-four/seven for the duration of your pregnancy. He was over the moon to start this new chapter with you, even if it was a little earlier than either of you anticipated. He was excited to start a family with the love of his life. He had been so happy when you had originally told him during the winter break, so lost in the giddiness of it all that it took a few weeks before he realised he would be away from you for a majority of the pregnancy with the upcoming season. 
You had flown out for a few, but Carlos didn’t like stressing you out unnecessarily. His overprotectiveness reached new levels and a busy paddock wasn’t exactly ideal during the first trimester when everything was still delicate and a secret to everyone outside your immediate families. And then, as the pregnancy continued, it didn’t seem worth the risk just to fly out for a race weekend when he would be too busy working to really be with you. 
But it meant he missed important moments. He missed appointments and ultrasounds and milestones. He tried to be there for as many as he could, but it just wasn’t always possible with his busy schedule. 
And one of those moments was the gender. The two of you had decided you had wanted to find out before the baby arrived. And despite your insistence that you would wait for Carlos, he encouraged you to find out at the earliest possible moment.
And you were happy when you found out you were having a girl. You were over the fucking moon. 
But there was a voice in the back of your head, persistent and annoying and unnerving. And it didn’t leave you alone in the days following your appointment until Carlos had returned from the latest race. In all honesty, somewhere between pestering thoughts and baby brain, you had forgotten he was even coming home that night. 
“Mi amor?” 
You froze, sat on the edge of the bathtub with the latest ultrasound in your hand. You don’t even remember why you were in the bathroom, it had just happened and now Carlos was seconds away from walking in and you just weren’t ready to face the disappointment on his face.
“Amor? Where are—”
The door to the bathroom opened and you lifted your head to find Carlos smiling at you. He wasted no time in walking towards you, his hands cupping the back of your head as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. 
“Hm, I’ve missed you,” he murmured the words against your skin before he glanced down at the small picture in your hands and let out a noise of excitement. “How’s our baby chilli?” 
Your throat closed up and blood was roaring in your ears, with the voice on a twisted loop in the back of your mind. But you also knew you couldn’t hide it any longer.
“She’s all good and healthy,” you managed to mutter out, watching his face closely. 
You barely blinked before the sight of Carlos’ huge smile made your chest tighten. 
“Princess baby chilli,” he murmured affectionately, his voice thick with emotion as he kneeled in front of you, his hands reaching out to gently cup your belly. “Mi princesa perfecta.”
“You’re happy?” 
Carlos looked up at you, his brows raised. “Are you…not?” 
“No, no, I am. I–” you choked by the words, feeling a sudden and overwhelming wave of emotion hit you. “I was scared.”
Carlos frowned, his demeanour changing as he straightened his spine. “Scared of what?” 
“That you would be upset we weren’t having a boy.” you admitted, a little ashamed but more so relieved to finally get the admission off your chest after it had been haunting you for the last few days. “That you would have wanted a mini you who could—”
“Hey, shhhh,” Carlos cooed softly, his hands cupping your face to wipe away a few stray tears you hadn’t realised had started to fall. “Baby, no. I would be happy with whatever we were having. If the Gods choose to only give us daughters, then I will gladly have as many as you are willing to give me."
“You mean it?” 
“I mean it,” he whispered with a soft smile before he leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips, and then another to your stomach. “Plus, I always thought I gave girl dad energy.”
You snorted, despite yourself. But the sound made Carlos grin wider. 
“I can’t wait to meet our girl,” Carlos continued, his hands lightly squeezing your thighs before he stood up, offering his hand. “Now, c’mon. I’m going to make us dinner, whatever my girls want.”
You smiled. “Whatever we want?” 
“Whatever you want,” he confirmed with a nod. “My princesses deserve only the best and that is all I’m willing to give you both.”
“You sap.”
“Always, mi amor. Always for you.”
.
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whiskeyghoul · 2 days
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She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader] Pt2.
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Read part 1 here
A/N: OMG I can’t believe how much people enjoyed part 1? Seriously, as I am finishing this part up it has reached over 500 notes, I am shocked and so very thankful for the love. I didn’t expect it. A silly little fic not proof read, totally self indulgent, really this is so wonderful and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read it and reblog, like or comment on it. I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint. Part 3 is going to be here soon too, which will be the unofficial date.
WC: 1,9K ~
Tags: Fluff, just fluff, Spencer is a flustered mess, Alt!Reader, Goth!Reader, 2 idiots flirting, Reader and Penelope are besties, use of Y/N, Penelope has been playing matchmaker, alluding to a date, crushes.
Warnings: None. 
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Your pov.
It was a late Sunday afternoon. You were sitting on Penelope Garcia’s couch, cup of hot tea in hand. Legs curled up on the couch with a colorful blanket over your lap. It clashed just ever so slightly with your dark outfit. The two of you are in complete contrast to each other. Penelope was a ball of color in a bright purple dress with a lemon pattern, large yellow earrings and a blue bolero sweater. Compared to your all black ensemble she was a ray of sunshine. An array of snacks spread out over the coffee table. The aforementioned peppy blonde was sitting next to you on the couch. Deeply engrossed with the romance show playing on the TV. You watched it together every Sunday, when a new episode would come out. Today your mind was somewhere else completely.
“He hasn’t called yet.” You spoke up. Penelope eyed you curiously, “Who?” She asked, her focus gone from the show. Her eyes peered at you with interest from behind the cat eye glasses she had picked out that day. “Doctor Reid.” You turned your head back to the TV casually, trying to not seem bothered. You could hear Penelope hold back a small squeal. It sounded more like a gasp that way. “Oh my god! Are you interested in him? What did he do to impress you? I have been trying to set you up for ages! You have shot down any person I have discussed with you. Always something wrong.” She started rambling, hearing the clink of her glass being put on the coffee table. Her hands grabbed yours, making you look back at her and rolling your eyes. “Firstly: I am not ‘interested’ in him. Secondly: I just thought he would have called by now. Or stopped by at least.” You shrugged noncommittally. You were just a little interested. Thinking back to that meeting.
When Spencer had stepped into the lab earlier that week, courtesy of Penelope, you had found his awkward demeanor endearing. He was hot, that was for sure, and tall, you remembered having to look up at him, Those dark brown eyes pinning you in place. Especially when you had stood so close together. You had wanted to tease him after watching him stumble over his sentences. See him even more flustered. It made you somewhat excited. When you had given him your number you could feel his pulse racing under his skin. He had shown many signs of being interested yet he hadn’t even texted you. It made you rethink the interaction. 
“Well, he couldn’t have stopped by. They got called on a case in Utah so he’s not really in the area right now.” Penelope clarified. Those words put your mind at ease more than you expected them to. “Oh, I guess he can’t really get to the lab then.” You shrugged. Just a little disappointed but feeling relieved that apparently he hadn’t meant to not visit you. Or maybe he had done so on purpose if he would be close. Your earlier relief was replaced by a mild panic again. Trying to convince yourself you weren’t interested in Dr. Reid. Although, he could have texted. You could practically feel Penelope smirk as you turned your attention back on the TV. Unable to focus but pretending to. “Spence is not one for texting. He probably has been getting to the hotel at ungodly hours and hasn’t had time to call.” it was like she could read your mind. “Don’t do that.” You said with a shudder. “Do what?” Penelope questioned innocently. “Read my mind like that. It’s weird.” You answered, making her laugh. “Just goes to show how well I know you.” She answered with a smile. It was true. She knew you too well you would even argue. The fact both of you were women in a male dominated field, both dressed eccentricly, and both with a passion for cheesy movies and tv shows. It was only a matter of time until you were best friends after your first run in.
Your phone, which was placed on the table, lit up at that moment. The ringtone played at a high volume, making the cure blast through the room. Your eyes quickly flickered to the screen. Caller ID unknown. You picked up the phone, hesitant of the unknown caller, deciding to hang up instead. You had been plagued by telemarketers for the past month and really didn’t want to deal with that right now. If it was important they would call again. And they did, you still had your phone in your hands when it went off again. “Just pick it up! I will keep watch over our show, fill you in later.” Penelope said, motioning her hands for you to get up. You got off the couch, soft blanket falling to the ground as you picked up the phone. Softly padding away to the kitchen to be out of earshot of Penelope. “Y/n speaking.” you answered, waiting to hear from the other end of the line. “Hey… ehm… is this not the right time? Are you busy?” The voice on the other end of the line made you straighten up slightly in surprise. “Doctor Reid.” You breathe out his name quietly, adding a “Now is a perfectly good time.” to your sentence. Wondering how hearing his voice through the slightly tin-like phone speaker made you feel a little flutter in your stomach. “Good… I didn’t want to bother you. You can just call me Spencer by the way. Doctor sounds too formal. I just introduce myself like that. It’s a habit. I don’t call you Doctor L/n either. So call me Spencer.” He started rambling. A smile spread across your lips, this rambly version was different from how speechless he had been in the lab. You held back a giggle. Apparently you had rendered him speechless in the lab. “Alright, Spencer.” You answered, the humor in your voice apparent. His breath hitched a little on the other side of the line. 
“Why did you call?” You asked, trying to continue on without dawdling. “Oh eh, the report, I ehm…” He was quiet for a moment. It crossed your mind that maybe he didn’t need to speak with you, but he wanted to. “Yes?” You urged after a silence had fallen on the other side of the phone line. There was an intake of breath from Spencer, a moment that signaled he might be trying to raise some courage. “I didn’t want to talk about the report.” He finally spoke. It made you smile, your cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “Oh, well then what did you want to talk about?” You added a bit of playfulness in your tone. You pictured him, holding the phone to his ears that were tipped red. His face was probably just as flushed as it had been in the lab. 
“I ehm- I haven’t been able to focus, on the case that is. Because I keep thinking about the lab. How I probably came off as a mess, I just didn’t know what to say because you looked so… Not that you look bad because you don’t, you looked really nice. Emily says my IQ gets slashed down to 68 when I am around pretty girls. I wanted to make a good impression. I couldn’t find the words though. I usually don’t make great first impressions, because I tend to ramble. Just- I really really hope I didn’t make a bad first impression.” His sentences flowed into each other like word vomit. Nervous, quick, and hardly understandable. Luckily, you were trained in the art of understanding nervous rambles when Penelope would spiral into one from time to time. However he had called you pretty. “Spencer.” You said his name almost like a question. There was a beat of silence. “Yes?” He asked softly, he sounded so nervous.
“You didn’t make a bad impression. I gave you my number for a reason.” You told him with a smile, a little giddy as the words ‘he called me pretty’ kept bouncing around your head. “And I am sorry I called without any real reason to… I know it was for talking about the report. Though Morgan tried to convince me it wasn’t.” Spencer answered. You rolled your eyes at that. Ofcourse, this hyper intelligent man would mix up what you were trying to do. “I gave you my number because I wanted you to call me. Not about the report. I just wanted you to call me. About anything.” There was apparently a need to clear up that confusion. It was silent for another moment. “Oh.” It was like realization dawned on him. “So I should have called sooner, right?” His question made you laugh softly, trying not to clue in Penelope on your call.  “Yes, you should have. Or could have at least. I was waiting.” You answered back, smiling at the ground. You fidgeted with one of the large rings on your free hand, twisting the cool metal round with your thumb.
“I’m sorry I didn’t.” You could almost hear the smile in his voice. The slight uptick in his pitch. You imagined he was still fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater, or was perhaps looking at his shoes with a grin. “You can make it up to me by buying me a coffee when you get back.” The suggestion came naturally, you didn’t even have to think about it. The words left your lips before you could, really. “What do you like?” Spencer asked without hesitation. “Cinnamon latte.” You answered it softly, a little surprised he agreed so readily. A giddy feeling in your stomach. “Alright, cinnamon latte, I’ll remember.” Spencer sounded a little breathy, like he too was feeling giddy at the prospects of having coffee together. Like the idea of taking time to get to know each other at work over a warm beverage was the perfect first date. “What do you like?” You asked in turn, wanting to know what he would usually get. Knowing more about him would feel so domestic and sweet. “Black coffee, usually with tons of sugar.” He had a hint of embarrassment in your voice. A little muffled like he had covered his mouth to hold in the confession of drinking it so sweet. You smiled at his answer. Of course he had a sweet tooth. “Tons of sugar, I’ll remember.” You mirrored his words. 
“Oh! My! God!” You heard Penelope gasp from the living room. Knocking you out of your little phone call bubble with Spencer. “I think I have to go. You better call me tomorrow.” You said it lightheartedly. Just wanting to hear from him again soon. “I will. I’ll call you.” Spencer answered. “Bye Spencer.” “Bye Y/n.” You hung up with a smile, already turning and walking back into the living room. Penelope turned around on the couch to look at you, “They shot Richard!” She looked absolutely shocked as she gave you the news of your favorite character being hurt. You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face though. “Spencer called.” You saw her face form from a shocked to surprise expression, “Oh! My! God!” She sounded a lot happier that time, and you knew you wouldn't hear the end of it.
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bizbat · 21 hours
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can you PLEASE write jason coming to you instead of anyone else. like i need that sooo bad please :)))
p.s i love your writing soo much. youre so talented, i am constantly giggling as i read
Always You . . .
🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️
🐼JJK Masterlist🐼
~ You can find more of my works here.
~ This took forever omg, but yesterday I got food poisoning so I finally got some time to write this. Not my proudest work but wtv.
Above all else, he'll always come to you.
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Contrary to popular belief, Jason Todd can be gentle. You've seen it, in the way he slowly flips through whatever book he's reading so you can read it over his shoulder, or how his fingers softly caress your thigh when you're seated beside him as if you're made of glass, or in the warm way he smiles whenever Damian says something the reminds him he's a child.
He's gentle now too, his head resting in your lap, his shirt torn and soaked in what's now dried blood. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you promised you'd watch over him while he slept, just in case something went wrong and he choked on his own blood or vomit.
You had that same nausea when he first came to your apartment at five in the morning, the bile rising in your throat at the smell of metal and the sight of blood gushing out of his gaping-
Just remembering is enough to keep you awake.
It . . . hurts, for many reasons, knowing that he puts his own life in danger for people he doesn't even know. You don't know why he does it, all you know is that for the next week and a half, he'll take a break to let his stitches heal at least a little bit. It's never enough, though. He'll crawl back to you in a few weeks, a sheepish smile on his face and his stitches popped open.
You'll roll your eyes but you always fix them for him. It's become a routine. Not one you're exactly fond of, but a routine nonetheless. It gives you something to look forward to. Sometimes it doesn't feel fair. The fact that he's always on the brink of death when you see him, that he's always covered in scars and wounds and gashes, and above all that, the fact that he only seems to come to you to sew a bullet hole shut or wrap a broken arm.
It does get exhausting, but who are you to complain. At least he trusts you, that's what you tell yourself. He comes to you because you're the only person he lets get that close to him these days, because you're the only person who won't chew his ear off. All things you've told yourself. He comes to you because maybe, possibly, potentially, somewhere deep deep inside, he loves you. That's your favorite excuse.
"You're really pretty, have I ever told you that?" You're so deep in thought you don't even realize those deep cerulean blue eyes are now studying your contemplative expression. When you calm your beating heart you turn your gaze back to his. "I thought you were sleeping?" "I was," He wraps his arm back around your waist, holding himself closer to you. "But you were tuggin' on my hair."
You hadn't even realized you'd been running your fingers through his hair until he pointed it out, though at some point in your thoughts it seems your hands had begun twisting around the raven locs. Upon said realization you immediately pull your hand away, only for him to reach out and pull it right back. "I didn't mind it that much doll." His smirk is enough to clear your mind.
He slowly rises from his position, moving to sit beside you, resting most of his weight on your shoulder with a groan. His hand reaches to his side, where a particularly nasty gash resided, thankfully sewn shut by you. Once the pain subsides he moves his hand to check your handy work. "Not bad, not bad at all." He turns that stupid smile back to you and it fries your brain. "Getting better and better every time."
It does make you smile. You weren't always so good at fixing him up. He'd come in almost every night needing you to patch him back up. It took awhile for you to be able to get him back in shape so fast. "Jay," A long while, actually. "I . . . I've been wondering?" You slowly proposition him. "Yeah? About what?" He is genuinely curious, and he knows that look on your face. He sits up, taking his weight off of you and resting against the arm of the couch.
"Just-nevermind, actually. It's stupid." You hold your hands in your lap. "It's not." He hates when you do that. When you shut yourself down before he even gets a chance to answer. "Ask me, I won't be mad." He leans in closer, his hand on your knee, and he strokes it how he always does. It takes a second to gain back your confidence. "Why-why do you always come to me when you're hurt? I just mean wouldn't it be better to go to Bruce, or Alfred, or I don't know, a doctor?"
The only thing worse than his smile is his laugh. Like an icy breeze on a hot summer's day, or a dark cold wave crashing down on a yellow beach. It warms your heart and makes you feel stupid for asking in the first place, all at the same time. "Why would I go to any of them? I like you." He likes you!!! You were right!!! "Because I'm not a professional. I can barely give you stitches, I don't know what I'd do if you were-if you," The quiver in your voice breaks his heart.
He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. "You don't need to worry about that. It's never gonna happen," He grabs your chin between his forefinger and his thumb and brings your gaze to his. "You take care of me, too much for me to be risky about that." You think you believe him, especially when he presses a kiss to your lips. Though you've tasted it a thousand times, you still wince at the taste of blood still clinging to his chapped lips.
He laughs when you grimace. "Sorry," He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He's quiet for a bit after that, silent as he holds you. Before too long he speaks again, breaking the, admittedly, uncomfortable silence. "I . . . I dunno why I always come to you. I guess I just . . . like it here. I like you." He's not looking at you when he says it, but you know he's being honest, and knowing him, he's understating.
It's enough for you, at least until next time. You relax into his body, satisfied. "I like you too Jaybird. I like you a lot."
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merakiui · 1 day
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feel free to delete if this is perhaps too raunchy of an ask!! but how do u think the twst guys masturbate? do they use their hands, fleshlights/onaholes? are they loud or quiet? do they rely on their imagination or sexual material? etc etc lolol
I'm sorry that this is a bit of a sleazy question, but it has been pestering me ^^;;
Nothing is ever too sleazy when it comes to smut. <3 this ask gave me so many thoughts,,,
✧ Riddle only ever masturbates when it's absolutely necessary (i.e. he needs to de-stress and relax or it's a poorly timed erection that won't go away and he's too impatient to wait it out). Sometimes his mind wanders when he's studying. He doesn't mean for it to, but he often thinks back on the day's events when he's settling down for the evening and suddenly you pop into his mind and his brain is working overtime...... orz he uses his hand and lotion/lube and gets off to lewd thoughts in his imagination. It gets the job done. I like to imagine he's eerily quiet because he fears someone might hear him. That, and he probably learned how to do everything quietly after living so many years under his mother's roof. >_< he's biting his lip or stuffing his tie in his mouth to muffle any sounds that may slip out.
✧ Trey does it when he feels like it. All he really needs is his hand and some lotion and he's good. Sometimes he doesn't even use lotion; it really depends. I like to think Trey watches hardcore porn even though he seems like he may be into soft, sweet vanilla things on the surface. Definitely enjoys food play porn. Cater probably gifted him an onahole, and Trey uses it and imagines it's you. Does the trick every time. :) he's quiet, save for the few occasional grunts and groans.
✧ Cater absolutely watches porn. He scrolls through his favorite swimsuit models' Magicam accounts while he's moving his hand up and down along his dick. <3 sometimes he browses the selection of sex toys on his favorite online erotic stores. Although I also think he has a folder full of pictures of you and he looks through those when he's masturbating. You could be fully clothed and yet he's imagining cumming all over that cute, smiling face... depending on the day and how horny he is, he can be either loud or quiet while he's masturbating.
✧ Ace,,,, I want to preface this by saying he absolutely has a cum sock. T_T and you know he'll never tell you which one it is, so never ask to borrow socks from him for whatever reason. Sure, he washes it, but do you really want to use a sock that has been wrapped around his dick more than once in the past? ;;;;; Ace definitely watches porn. He masturbates a lot. Typical horny guy who has sex on his mind often. He's not very loud, but then he's also not very quiet either. He tends to lose himself in the sensations.
✧ Deuce tries not to masturbate all the time, but he can't help it. It's the same situation as Ace: he's a horny guy who gets worked up over the smallest things. A breeze could probably get him hard. </3 you don't know this, but the majority of his hard-ons are the result of you. He thinks of you all the time... things you say and do make him feel so hot. He uses his hand. It's impossible to use any toys in a dorm with three other roommates, and his hand makes things easy and simple. He tries to be quiet (he really does), but he grunts and breathes heavy a lot. >_<
✧ Leona's too lazy to search for porn that'll get him off, so he just sits back, shuts his eyes, and fucks into his hand at the thought of you. Ideally, it'd be much better if you were here and he could sink himself into your tight heat. Leona's a mess when he's in rut. He always tells you to keep away if you know what's good for you because even he's not sure he'd be able to restrain himself if you came into his room smelling so sweet while he's in rut. He's not very loud. Soft groans, maybe a growl here and there, but for the most part he's quiet.
✧ Ruggie does it more often than one might think. It's hard work running errands for Leona. He's got to get some stress-relief in somehow! He doesn't use anything fancy. Just his hand and some porn will do. Most of the time, though, he thinks of you. It's a little embarrassing how hard and needy he gets when he's fantasizing about you. <3 lots of whimpering and soft groans...
✧ Jack does it when he feels like it or when it's absolutely necessary. I feel like Jack often represses his horny thoughts by exercising and working out, so he doesn't masturbate often. The usual hand and lotion combination. It's bad when he's in rut, though. No logical thoughts in his brain. Just the ever-present desire to fuck and mate and breed.
✧ Azul......... my beloved darling. <3 he bought an onahole at the suggestion of a certain blue-haired board game club member and it was over for him. orz I think Azul whines a lot. He's panting like he's in heat. He gets so wrapped up in his fantasies. I don't think he's an avid porn watcher, but then this is because he's picky and has very specific tastes (it's you. you're the specific tastes). In merform, he uses one of those full body onaholes and pretends it's you. One tentacle wrapped around the silicone waist and bouncing it on his hectocotylus. He's definitely broken more than one sex toy LOL. Accidentally filled one of his onaholes with eggs and was so frustrated that it wasn't you. :(
✧ Jade is a menace (part one) because he's a Shameless Freak who is too curious for his own good. Instead of a cum sock, he probably has a jar. He makes it a fun game to see how much he can fill within a certain amount of time lol. Jade's sex fantasies are CRAZY. Sometimes he gets off to porn; sometimes his thoughts are enough to have him cumming into a tissue or his hand (or the jar). He's definitely more quiet than he is loud. In merform, anything goes. Jade's gotten great practice fingering his slit, so he'll use this expertise on you when the two of you finally fuck.
✧ Floyd is a menace (part two) because he does it all. Uses spit, lube, lotion, blood????? It doesn't matter how clean or viable it is; he wants to try it. He's messy with it. Probably has a cum sock as well. Human sex toys are so fascinating to him, so he's willing to sample it all. Whatever catches his interest, really. Most days if he's feeling something quick he'll just use his hand and look at things on his phone. Definitely has vocal range when he's masturbating. Some days he's loud and other days he's quiet. Like the above, Floyd's also down to do anything and everything in merform. You should 100% eat him out when he's in merform. Quickest way to have the eel wrapped around you (literally and figuratively).
✧ Kalim does it whenever he feels like it! He's also curious and wants to try all manner of things. He used an onahole once and was hooked. It's just so great. <3 he's even named it after you. T_T I think Kalim's louder than most when he really gets into it, but other than that he can be quiet sometimes. Not always, though. He throws his head back and gasps a lot when he's on the verge of cumming, eyes squeezed shut as he succumbs.
✧ Jamil does it when he has time. </3 his schedule tends to get busy when he's looking after Kalim, balancing his own life, studying, club stuff....... I like to imagine Jamil gets horny so easily and quite often, but he's the repressed type of horny because he never has enough time for himself!!! When he does masturbate, it's usually just with his hand. He hardly makes any noise, save for the occasional groan or pleasured hum.
✧ Vil does it whenever he's in the mood. It's healthy for the mind and body to masturbate every now and then, so it's not like he's against a little self-care time. <3 he probably sets aside time for it on the days when he knows he'll need some stress relief. Sometimes these things can't be planned for, so a little spontaneity is okay. I feel like Vil doesn't get too complicated with it (that's saved for when he's with you hehe), so he probably just uses his hand. If he's using any sort of toys, he makes sure the material is safe and won't hurt him or his skin. He's also very picky when it comes to toys and other products like lube and lotion. Most days his hand is enough. I think he's the type to gasp. Maybe a low moan here and there. In any case, all of his sounds always sound so beautifully debauched.
✧ Rook......... it goes without saying he does it whenever he wants and can get off to anything and everything. orz especially candid pictures of you!!!! I think he's also a type who is willing to try all kinds of things. He prefers the sensuality of skin to skin contact, so he's more than fine with using just his hand. "As nature intended," he'll probably say. T_T Rook is a hunter who is always so eerily quiet and stealthy. I like to think it's much the same when he's masturbating. Mostly quiet, save for the occasional sound every now and then.
✧ Epel also falls into the category of Ace and Deuce. He's a little sex-brained sometimes. >_< but can you blame him? There was hardly anyone else in Harveston his age and now he's at NRC and you're there and he's just,,,, down horrendous. I feel like he tries so hard to sound "manly" or more mature, but the truth is that he whimpers and whines like he's in heat when he gets really into it. Mainly uses his hand, but I think he'd be curious and buy an onahole for himself.
✧ Idia.......... T_T this one is already self-explanatory, but he's using his hand, lube/lotion, an onahole based on his favorite anime girl, etc. He watches hentai and reads r18 doujinshi of his favorite series. He's probably one of the few twst characters who does it so frequently. Lots of pent-up horny. OTL if you're chatting with him online, he jerks off to your messages. He keeps clips of your voice from the times you VC in Magicord and he replays them while he's fucking the onahole like he intends to knock it up. ^^;;; I think he whines a lot, but then maybe he's good at being mostly quiet when he's masturbating. Either way, he's left breathless every time.
✧ Malleus didn't even know pornographic imagery and videos on cellphones existed, so his idea of porn is probably a tasteful nude painting. Imagine the Renaissance nudes, but Malleus's probably commissioned someone to paint you like that. He's so sexually awkward, so an exposed ankle or shoulder or even an outfit that looks so wonderful on you could get him worked up. ;;;;;; he probably uses his hand, but sometimes he ruts into his pillows/sheets. orz he groans a lot. He definitely visits you post-masturbation and greets you as if he wasn't just picturing you beneath him, writhing and sobbing in pleasure. Post-nut clarity for Malleus is just him realizing you'd be much better than his hand or bedsheets.
✧ Lilia uses and does it all. He loves experimenting. He's always curious and willing to try everything once. At this point the question is: what hasn't he done? Sometimes he's quiet and sometimes he's loud. Sometimes he watches hentai (as per his online friend's recommendations) and sometimes he uses his imagination. He's always finding ways to try new things. Although lately he's enjoyed using your mouth. <3
✧ Silver does it when he's feeling up for it. I imagine he doesn't get horny very often, but when he does......... 👀 he just uses his hand and nothing else, but I'm sure he's heard from others how good certain things are. Silver's so genuinely honest, so I feel like he'd want to know if there's any merit to an onahole versus an actual hole (your hole). Something to try in the future perhaps... I think he can be quiet, but then I also imagine he groans softly a lot!!!
✧ Sebek....... he tries not to, but the horny always catches up to him. He does it more often than you'd think, but he refuses to use anything other than his hand. He's stubborn! Definitely makes a lot of noise and he doesn't even realize it.
✧ Rollo didn't do it much (only when it was a necessity), but after meeting you that changes. He goes from going weeks without touching himself to doing it nearly every other day. You make him feel so insatiably horny. He usually just relies on his imagination, but sometimes I like to picture him reading erotic literature. >:D he definitely relies on his hand and lotion/lube, and he's also another one who is scarily quiet.
✧ Neige does it fairly often! He likes using his hand, but then he also likes using an onahole. He's so obsessed with you to the point where I think you'd be the only thing that can get him properly worked up. He cums to thoughts of you, to pictures of you, to the sound of your voice, to the smell of you, to your clothes... he's so cute,,, definitely the type to whine and be noisy if he's really feeling good.
✧ Che'nya also does it often! He's a curious cat, so he'll want to try all kinds of things. He does it all. His ability to turn invisible makes him great for watching you during private times or secretly groping you in a crowded place and you're completely unaware of his presence hehe. He's also got a vocal range, and it really depends. Sometimes he can be so quiet, and other times he's so loud you think he's in heat.
✧ Fellow....... tell me you can see the vision: room dimly lit by candlelight or something and Fellow's leaning back against the headboard of his bed and he's slowly running his hand along the length of his lubed up cock. Slow and steady, dragging it out, edging himself to thoughts of you! >:D I feel like this is one of his favorite ways to masturbate. He has time. <3 why rush? He's not as loud as you may think. When he's alone, he probably gasps and groans a lot. The type to squeeze his eyes shut and bow his head when he's on the verge of cumming.
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avocad1s · 3 days
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Requests are open and the latest sparked some ideas so…
Imagine the reader not having specific favorites, but more groups favorites, like a reader that’s a big fan of the Knights of Favonious or The Akademiya
Note: KoF, Adepti, Akademiya, Fatui, and the Abyss mentioned with some small snippets from characters in those groups. But all of them have a small overview of how they view your favoritism over them.
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The Knights Of Favonius are pretty humble unlike the other nations. Although they may be criticized by a certain tavern owner, even he won’t question your favor towards the Knights (openly). Having your favor feels like a blessing from the Anemo Archon, many of them even believe that handling the stormterror incident themselves made them win your favor.
Although he isn’t around currently, daddy I mean— Varka feels a sense of pride knowing he left the wellbeing in Mondstadt in good hands. He is looking forward to finally meeting you once he returns. Jean constantly overworks herself, but she’s knows that it’s worth it if she can keep your favor. Mondstadt might seem “inadequate” when compared to other nations when it comes to where you should stay but Jean will make sure you’re never uncomfortable.
When it comes to your comfort, Jean would turn to Diluc, he may not be apart of the Knights but he does own the Dawn Winery and everyone knows you’ll enjoy staying there. Outrider Amber will make it her responsibility to guide you to the heart of Mondstadt and back to Dawn Winery during your entire stay. She’ll teach you how to glide! Just be sure not to mention that to anyone else… some might be upset that she could’ve put you in danger.
Speaking of danger, Klee adores being able to play with you! She will take you fish blasting! Yes it can be a bit dangerous but it’s fun! However once someone realizes that Klee and Their Grace hasn’t been seen in a while, they begin to panic. Usually Albedo, Kaeya or Rosaria are the ones to find you first, then the fun is over. (Klee may or may not get solitary confinement 💀)
Kaeya is a smooth talker and very charismatic that it’s difficult to discern just how flustered he’ll get in your presence. He’ll use his good talking skills to get you to himself, usually inviting you out to Good Hunter or even for a drink (if you’re a drinker) but being in your presence and knowing that he is apart of the group you openly favor over anyone else in Teyvat makes him tremble. Although in front of you he’ll just give a simple smile and charm you with his flattery.
———
Oh the Adepti are so respectful towards you. I mean, they served directly under Rex Lapis for centuries. They do not allow mortals to disrespect Rex Lapis, I’d be surprised if they even let anyone have a thought that could be considered disrespectful towards you. They feel a sense of pride knowing that they are your favorite. However unlike the others, they aren’t too vocal about it.
Sharing tea with you is by far their favorite thing to do. Inviting you to Jueyun Karst to enjoy the finest of tea and meals while reminiscing about Liyue’s past is something they all always wanted. During the Archon war, while they all fought for Rex Lapis, everything was still in your name. So now that Teyvat is at peace, (for now) they just want to enjoy an eternity with you.
Xiao is usually the one who tries to stay away from you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be around, far from it, but in his mind he feels as if he’s only useful to you if you’re in danger. When you spend time with the adepti he is unsure if he should come. Would you even want him there? But the second he hears you call his name, he’ll appear no matter what. Prepared to face any danger you might be in… but there’s none. In fact it’s just you, Cloud Retainer, Moon Carver, Mountain Shaper, and Ganyu. Xiao would remove his mask and place down his polearm silently enjoying his time in your presence.
Xianyun who has just recently began visiting Liyue Harbor in her human form again is definitely most open when it comes to you. Spending all her mora to buy things she knows you’ll like (and getting scammed) and inviting you to join her and Shenhe for tea. If you’re not in the mood for tea? Why don’t the two of you dissect these new human inventions that managed to capture her interest. How exactly does this machine from Fontaine keep a kite floating?
———
The Akademiya values their wisdom over anything else, and now they have your favor? Well, they’re kinda smug about it, you know? Many of them already believed they were better than the other nations (cough, cough, the Grand Sage) and having you in their corner might just make them a bit more insufferable. Unless it’s after Nahida takes back the reign.
The Akademiya would prefer if you stayed in Sumeru. The second you’re ready to settle down, Kaveh will be the first to approach you, he would be honored to be the architect that builds your palace. Mora is no problem! (Because no one would dare charge mora for Their Grace) No matter, Kaveh is very good at what he does, do you have any preferences when it comes to the construction? Please tell him, he strives to make you happy and show off his skills to you.
The acting grand sage of the Akademiya, Alhaitham enjoys living a comfortable life and is not fond of being in the role of a leader. The second someone worthy comes around, he will resign as the acting grand sage and return to his previous position as the scribe who was never around during working hours. Despite his… unambitious tendencies (only doing what’s necessary), he’ll try when it comes to you. If there is something you desire or some type of knowledge you going through the Akademiya for, he’ll offer his help. Although he can be pretty nonchalant, he does enjoy being in your presence and if your favor towards the Akademiya began after he took on the role as acting grand sage, his ego may swell a bit.
———
As if the Fatui didn’t have enough power across Teyvat already and now you favor them. Her Majesty and the harbingers are extremely grateful of having your favor in their corner, but they are definitely going to exploit this. It’s so easy for them to obtain more and more power in the other nations with the simple use of your name.
However even thought the Fatui can all collectively agree that having your favorite benefits them all, they are still incredibly selfish with their own intentions. The second you enter the Zapolyarny Palace, the harbingers are quickly scheming on ways to get you to themselves.
Pantalone, by far the richest of all the harbingers, will always offer to take you shopping. You’re the Creator! You can have as much jewelry, clothing, and other accessories as you want. Just be sure to follow him before one of the others pull you away.
Arlecchino is fully aware just how… unsettling her true side might be to you. But worry not! If there is one person who can keep her sane, it’s you! Want to see a magic show? Or maybe even an opera? She’ll take you! Cracks of her true personality might show if the others try stealing you away though.
Capitano is truly a legend on the battlefield, no matter how the others feel about him. One thing none of them will never deny is his strength. He holds a sense of righteousness that some (one puppet in particular) criticize. But his righteousness shines through with you. If you show any interest in learning to fight, he would be honored to teach you. Or maybe you already have incredible abilities, you are the God of Gods, he would love to test his strength against yours. No matter who wins, he’s willing to go again and again… just don’t go to a certain ginger asking for a sparring match.
Pierro, the first to be betrayed by the Seven when they destroyed his home. Many would think he would hold some type of resentment towards you, but he doesn’t. He is the director of the harbingers and they listen to his orders (usually coming from the Tsaritsa) so when you visit Snezhnaya he is usually the one to assign one of the harbingers to look after you. However he’s not afraid to use his power so he can be the one to look after you. Much to the other’s dismay.
———
You favor… The Abyss? Sorry, I need to rub my eyes and read that again.
No one understands your favoritism towards the Abyss. “They hate humanity Your Grace… Perhaps you should stay away from them?” Is what you hear all the time. But no one can technically force you to stay away… not to mention no one really knows what the Abyss actually is.
Very few know of the leader of the Abyss, the Prince/Princess or rather the travelers sibling. They can’t see you as often as they’d like but on the rare occasions they can, they love speaking to you about their plan. Sometimes they’ll even ask you questions about the traveler, curious how their journey of meeting the Seven is going.
Although he is not apart of the Abyss, at least not anymore. Even Dainsleif wonders what about the Abyss is appealing to you. Even if you do not know it, he’ll be sure to keep an eye on you just in case anyone or anything tries to harm you.
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Note: While I was writing this and reading about some of the harbingers personalities on the fandom wiki, I might have accidentally gave myself a crush on Capitano 💀 I just know he is fine under that mask.
© avocad1s 2024
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klausysworld · 20 hours
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Sinful
Klaus had become, to an extent, addicted to sex.
The amount of time he had spent indulging in his deepest fantasies over the course of a thousand years was unbelievable.
He had learned how to please himself and others.
He was able to tell what people liked or wanted just by their body language. He was able to tell what their darkest desires were.
Some girls were shyer with what they wanted, they would make him work for it and tease him. Klaus learned to enjoy the chase, the game of catching the girl and finally unraveling all those dirty little thoughts and playing with his new toy until she was all tired out and used.
Klaus often could't help himself but ruin women whenever they let him. The knowledge that they were his to break and claim turned him on enough and it was so easy for a man like him to push their limits and get whatever he wanted from them.
Girls would fall to their knees for him. The image of legs spreading was permanently engraved into his mind and the sweet scent of sex always span through his head.
As the centuries past by, woman had gotten a lot friskier. Much more forward and confident which made Klaus's desires much easier achieved. Especially in recent years, it meant he had been partaking in many more types of play.
From being in sex dungeons where he was able to literally use woman as personal fuck dolls to having someone restrain him and use him in return. There was very little Klaus would ever not do. There was also very little Klaus had not done aalready.
It was because of this, all this experience that he knew a girl like Y/n when he saw one.
She had been eyeing him as though he were nothing more than a piece of meat for her to sink her teeth into and as he trailed his eyes over her, he found himself doing the same back.
Y/n was what Klaus would call 'sex on a stick'.
She was gorgeous, flawless actually.
Legs long and toned, ass firm and round, waist tight and slender, breasts ample and tender, neck utterly delicious and biteable attached to a borderline angelic face.
But Klaus knew that she was no angel. No this girl was surely hand carved by the devil himself, utterly sinful.
Her eyes were dark under the dimly lit club lights. Admittedly Klaus had come there hoping to find someone to satisfy his needs but he hadn’t expected to be graced with a seductresses presence.
He looked right at her, soaking up the feeling of her attention. There was something daring about her gaze as though she were taunting him, testing to see if he would come over to her. Klaus didn’t bite the bait very often, he preferred for his women to come to him however he also knew how quickly someone like her could be snatched up.
Especially when he glanced around the club and noticed the other eyes she had on her.
He wouldn’t risk the opportunity to taste a treasure like her.
However when he moved to sit beside her, she pulled herself up and walked away from him. Klaus’s eyes narrowed in both annoyance and intrigue at the challenge as he followed her.
His hands slid up her hips and abdomen as she began to move along with the crowd in the centre of the room, the dance floor. Her body moved so smoothly that he could only imagine how well she could ride a man, how good her thrusts were. As her skin began to shine with heat, he pulled her closer to his body so that her squeezable ass could grind against his hard cock through his jeans.
Her head leant backwards until the back of it rest against her shoulder and he was presented with the site of such a delicious looking neck. Her hot breath tickled his ear in a way that sent shivers along his spine and made his hips press forward again.
His lips began to latch onto her skin, sucking and nipping up her throat slowly. A little giggle vibrated through her body as she kissed his ear teasingly and pulled her neck away from his mouth. A low growl left his chest and his hands gripped her body in need and possession.
She shifted round in his hold to face him. He pulled her right up close, squishing her breasts against him and sliding his hands down to her ass.
Klaus leaned forward so his face hovered just over hers. The music made it difficult for her to hear him but she watched as his lips moved. Eventually he spoke up, “I want you” he told her firmly and she laughed.
“You and everybody else” she answered, a taunting smile on her lips as she moved backwards but he wouldn’t let her get away from him. She was far too good to lose.
Klaus rolled his eyes and tugged her back to him, “Come on sweetheart” he hissed into her ear, his hands squeezing the firm flesh of her ass before kneading it. Y/n took slight amusement in her ability to have men all over her in the matter of seconds. Especially a man like him.
Someone like Klaus would get what he wanted, Y/n wasn’t a fool to that and she saw no bother in dragging it out too long but still, it was fun to watch the desperation set in.
She could feel how hard he was, how badly his body wanted her. Naturally she rubbed herself against him, allowing him that slight satisfaction to make his grip tighten further.
Y/n let out a little moan as the pain of how aggressively he held onto her ass, the mere idea of the things this man would do to her was enough to make her want him too.
Klaus responded to her display of pleasure and smacked her ass harshly to hear her breathy moan beside his ear. He breathed in the rich scent of her blood that pumped just below her silk-like skin.
The music vibrated through both their bodies as Y/n continued to move against him and welcome his eager hands as they groped and grabbed at everything she had to offer. Klaus slid his hand up to her throat and squeezed until he heard a sound of approval making his lips pull into a cruel smirk. He knew she was going to be something special.
Y/n could feel the delightful buzz of alcohol fuel her confidence as she brought her hand to cup his cock through his trousers. She caressed him firmly, enjoying how his hips ground back against her touch and his head tilted back in pleasure. Slight amusement made her lips twitch to a smirk as she squeezed his erection.
It took every ounce of control left in Klaus not to fuck her in front of all those people. Not to push her down onto her knees and fuck that perfect face until her vocal cords stopped working.
Fortunately for him Y/n could read his thoughts very well and slid her hands back up his body. She cupped his neck in her hands and smiled at him, her red lips curling enticingly.
"I hear there's a nice hotel a few streets over" she whispered, eyes shining with desire. Klaus nodded faintly, holding onto her hips as she lead them out of the club.
The cool air soothed his boiling body for a moment and he was able to think a little clearer. He pulled her flush against him making her squeal and stop walking, placing her hand on his chest and giving him a questioning look. Klaus, however, didn't have anything to say. He just desperately wanted to see her face in the moonlight, to feel her right there and then. Her hand felt like pure sin as he leant into it. Everything about her was sinful. And he loved it.
Y/n could see everything flashing through his eyes and slowly continued to guide him towards the block of hotels. Klaus was barely aware that his feet were moving as he felt all along her curves, stroking and squeezing as much as he could. Eventually they got into the building and after almost losing it and nearly taking her against the elevator wall, they got into a room.
Klaus finally let the animal in him out to play when they got inside. Her body was handled roughly as he threw her onto the bed and pinned her down with him on top of her.
Y/n laughed softly and ran her fingers through his hair as his lips and teeth attacked her jaw and neck. She laid back willingly and pet the beast that was so desperate to ravish her.
Her feet shifted to kick her heels off before she lifted one to press against her crotch, offering something for his throbbing cock to grind against. The contrast between his roughness and her softness stirred so much within him. Klaus couldn't help but tear the dress right off her body.
Y/n rolled her eyes to herself, wondering what she'd wear when she left in the morning but pushing the thought away when his big warm hands cupped her tits. His palms rolled over her nipples, before the heat of his mouth tugged at them.
"Fuck" she whispered breathily, her hand pushing his head encouragingly. Klaus had his eyes closed so she wouldn't see the wolf behind him as his tongue flicked over the hardened bud before switching to the other. His find could only imagine how gorgeous she would look with his cum splatted all over her tits. His hands squeezed them painfully as he pulled off her nipple with a loud 'pop'.
"I want to fuck these" He murmured, a growl to his voice that send a wave of warmth between her legs. Her hand lifted his chin, nails denting his skin as she pulled him up to kiss her lips at last.
They both moaned in unison as their tongues danced and played tauntingly at the other. Her fingers worked his clothes off his body, wanting him bare for her to touch and admire.
He pulled away from their passion as her hand tugged at his cock, he hadn't known himself to get quite so hard before. To the point where it pained him, he had to restrain himself from jerking himself off right then just to soothe himself. He knew if she tried to tease him that he wouldn't be able to help but cum. She knew it too.
Her hand stroked him firmly, once, twice, three times before he came with a loud guttural moan. Her humour filled laugh made his gut twist with humiliation but he couldn't overthink it. All he could think about was her.
"I hope you have more left in you" she teased and his skin blushed red as his wolf raged under the surface. He could see that she expected him to get embarrassed and defensive so he tried especially hard not to. Instead he simply rolled his eyes and pulled her against him again. His lips moulded back against hers and his hands caressed down to her hips.
"Don't mock me yet sweetheart, you won't last much longer than I" he muttered, brushing his fingertips over the soaked lips of her pussy. Her moans were like heaven and hell twisted together and he lusted for more of them.
The pad of his thumb caressed her clit slowly to begin with, teasing and spreading her wetness before a finger sunk into her. Y/n's eyes went back into her head and her teeth bit into her lip as she rolled her hips to feet his touch. The tightness of her cunt made his cock twitch again while his fingers worked her up.
"You like this sweetheart?" He murmured as his knuckles bent inside her and he stretched her with a second finger. Y/n nodded with a moan, bucking her hips to feel the delightful friction against her clit. "Your pussy feels so soft" He mumbled, more to himself than her but she still her heard him.
A breathless laugh left her as he pumped three fingers inside her, his eyes locked onto the way her cunt wept for him and the way her clit pulses with need. His thoughts blurred together as his hand sped him, effectively fucking her until her nails clawed at the sheets as her walls spasmed around his fingers. His breathing was as heavy as hers as he lifted his fingers to his lips and licked her fresh orgasm off of his skin.
Y/n was looking up at the ceiling, panting as she calmed down only for his hot tongue to press against her cunt. She cried out in pleasure, legs spreading for him to fully indulge himself between them.
He lapped at her like a man starved, his tongue curling passionately until the familiar taste of her cum filled his mouth again.
Y/n pushed him onto his back, kissing his lips deeply and forcing a groan out of him. Her hands caressed up his body to his chest. He grunted and his back arched when she sat on his cock, her pussy swallowing it whole.
"Fuck- angel!" he moaned and Y/n let out a soft laugh as she slowly rocked her hips, getting familiar with the feel of his dick inside her.
"Don't call me that" she whispered and he grunted, bucking his hips up in time with hers so that smack of their skin could be heard.
"Why not, angel?" he muttered, a little amused until his eyes locked onto hers.
Y/n's eyes were entirely black when he looked into them, in response his went gold against his will and a choked groan left him as she bounced faster on top his cock.
"Because I'm not an angel" she told him, her voice much lower and almost smoky as her words sunk in.
Klaus had no time to react before her teeth were in his throat.
An ironic turn of events for the hybrid as the demon fed on his soul.
Klaus's mind was a haze for the following hours though he was vaguely aware of what he was doing and the pleasure she was giving him.
The feel of her wicked tongue wrapped around the head of his cock was burned into his memory. Her pussy took him time after time again until they were both trembling with overstimulation.
Eventually they both passed out.
He woke a while later, when the sun was high in the sky.
He was laid beneath the covers with Y/n tucked to his chest. Visions of her true form flashed through his head and a slight feeling of fear mixed with the prominent intrigue he felt.
His body was heavy, too heavy for him to get up and he truly had to wonder what she had done to him and what she planned to do.
When she woke, she behaved as though it were a normal one-night stand. She smirked at him as he watched her get changed from the bed. Before she left she came to his side and stroked the side of his face, her touch so hot that it sizzled his skin,
"Don't worry Niklaus, your strength will restore" she whispered and his brows pulled together when she uttered his name though his heart sped up at her following sentence; "When I feel that you're ready, I'll find you again." She warned him as she kissed his lips and left.
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drdemonprince · 3 days
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Your post about "transitioning to escape gender but then there's more gender" has been rotating furiously in my mind since I saw it. When I first realized I was trans at age 15, I identified as agender, but I knew I wanted to go on T and get top surgery so I decided it would be simpler to tell everyone I was a trans man and that just kind of became the truth. Now 10 years later I'm sorta starting to feel like I wanna actually be agender again, but the idea of an identity shift like that at my current age is terrifying and idek who I'd tell, or how I'd do it, and I don't think I wanna stop using he/him exclusively, and I have no idea why I'm telling *you* this other than that I'm scared to talk to anyone I know about it because it feels like somehow admitting that I was wrong about the gender I fought like hell to become, even though i don't really think that's the case I think my sense of self might just be continuously evolving... but I just wanna say you talking about having a gender shift like once every several years is helping me process this rn and feel like I'm not faking anything now AND wasn't faking anything before.
Dog i am right there with you. As a kid I always thought gender was bullshit, the coercive nature of it disgusted and scared me and I rebelled against it the best that I could. I loathed being assigned to any gender category, I never identified as a "girl", but I didn't really identify with any other category either. Puberty terrified me (and of course, it does most young people, but it felt like it would only more deeply entrench the category that I was assigned to in other people's minds, it made it more difficult to escape). I had trans friends as a teen but it did not occur to me to transition because there was really no end goal that I wanted to head toward, I just knew what I wanted to avoid and not experience. I coped mostly by degendering my body with a fairly androgynous style and way of presenting myself to the word and mannerisms, but also by starving myself which was not so great, and not sustainable. I considered transness for myself, even trying on a friend's binder and presenting masculinely at certain queer events, but it seemed to me at the time like just another way in which to obsess over gender, a foolish coercive socially constructed thing that i was trying to avoid.
In my 20s, I learned more about nonbinary people and figured that explained things pretty well. I was enamored with the transition journeys of some other trans people, largely trans women more than trans masculine ones (with some trans-effeminate faggot boy exceptions), but I still didn't want to take on all the expense and uncertainty and hassle of navigating the medical system for myself. I didn't think that the pursuit of being happy merited taking on so many risks or fiddling with myself so much. I saw it as an extravagance I didn't deserve, I guess, and I also couldn't locate a target outcome that seemed desirable enough for me. I was still dealing with an eating disorder and recovering from some trauma and didn't really think about my life in the long term. I guess I still don't, haha, whoops.
Eventually I came out as nonbinary, and nobody really gave a shit. There is a lot of useless, solidarity-breaking discourse that happens online about essentially who is "more" oppressed, binary trans people or nonbinary people, and a lot of that fight amounts to the two groups shouting about the ways in which they annoy one another without there being any cogent analysis of power and where oppression comes from (let alone how much those two categories overlap).
But I will say that being a they/them was far more difficult than being a trans guy socially and institutionally, because your identity is completely illegible to every system around you. "binary" trans people struggle under this too, but i have found there are some immense benefits to having a socially and institutionally legible target gender. nobody would fucking actually they/them me. not anyone. not even other trans people and queer people. there were no public gendered spaces for me. there were no spaces for me. there was no way to move through the medical system, professional life, and other public institutions as a nonbinary person. i was still just a cis woman in everyone's eyes. including the people who claimed to support me. and it was massively frustrating.
and so i think ultimately, i took my frustrations with not being at all able to escape coerced gendering as a nonbinary person and combined that with the affinity i do feel for queer men and the general sense of misery i was still experiencing in my life and decided what the hell, i'll round myself up to being a trans guy. i upped my T dose, i dressed more masculinely, i eventually got a super masculine hair cut that really squared off my jawline and got me gendered correctly, and i started more consciously inhabiting queer men's spaces.
and it was pretty dope. for a while. i felt the rush of having gotten away with something. when people effortlessly gendered as male i felt freed at last from the pressure to be a woman. i was no longer being coerced into being something that i was not. i had escaped the enforced category so much that people couldn't even see the history of that category being pushed onto me. there was relief.
but then. as always happens. people made little comments about my handshake being too weak for a man. the hypermasc dudes at the leather bar rolled their eyes at me and all the other effeminate dudes swanning around the bar. the people who picked me up off the apps or at the sauna would always let it slip, eventually, that they had a lot of experience with trans guys, or had most recently been dating all trans guys, and it would make me feel like a stock character to them, yet another category into which all kinds of assumptions had been projected. a type not a person. a few people said my haircut made me look like i was in the military or described me as actually masculine, which was equally jarring because it was so incorrect. people tried to affirm me by saying i was such a dude, i was such a man, i was such a fag, i was such a gay bro, pawing all over me leaving the mark of all their assumptions and oversimplifications behind. i had tried to run away from gender and there i was just BASTING all the time in everybody's goddamn assumptions about gender. trans people didn't talk about it any less than cis people did, they were just as fucking confining to be around.
it honestly feels really dirty. when people try to affirm your gender constantly and can't stop talking about it, when people look past you and see only your body, your history, or the role they have typecast you in, when people use your body as an outlet for their own gender or sexuality explorations, when they keep trying to measure every single facet of existence up into being masculine or being feminine or being toppy or bottomy or any other gendered type, it's claustrophobic.
as a trans man i tried playing this whole gender game and the second i started winning i began to feel even more disgusted with myself. it wasn't a victory or an escape, it was a capitulation. exploring with my identity and presentation has brought positive things into my life and my health has gotten better as a result, and i've made wonderful friends who, like me, are disaffected by this coercive gendering system. so i don't regret any of that. but trying to make myself legible under the existing gendered system was a fool's fucking errand. i wish i hadnt done it to myself and i wish i hadnt had it pushed onto me. to be clear, it was cissexist, binarist society that forced it onto me; even when other queer people coated me in their gendered assumptions that is obviously a byproduct of societal conditioning, and it's conditioning that ive reinforced in my own behavior and outlook toward others plenty of times too. we all do it, and we are all wronged by the existing coercive gender system.
i dont even care how i fucking identify anymore and i have no intention of changing pronouns again or anything, i'm so bored of it, i just actually want off this fucking thing. im not interested in trying to make others understand what i am anymore or in who i am even being simply categorizable, i dont want to obsess anymore over how i am perceived or to attempt engineer my appearance and mannerisms to broadcast an identity to anyone. i dont even want to fuck anybody right now at all because im so sick of how much that's a gender pantomime for people. i want off this fuckin ride man im so done.
it's kind of freeing, to hit this point of complete gender apathy, and i think it is a pretty common stage of identity development for a lot of queer people who have explored multiple identities and roles over time. there is no category that i actually am, or that anyone is, there are just the frameworks that society has given us to work with to understand ourselves, and the ways in which we flatten who we are to be able to make sense of the world using those frameworks. but who i actually am is so much more contextual and mutable than all that. i am a different person in the classroom than i am on the train platform than i am in the bedroom than i am cuddling on the couch than i am when i'm working out than i am when curled up on the floor crying than i am at a big furry convention. who i am continues to change as new people come in and out of my life and age and change and my body alters and as the weather turns. who fuckin knows man it's nothing and everything. i want to let it just be
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euphoricfilter · 2 days
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hearts for dinner ~ drabble 1:
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pairing: yandere! taehyung x demon! reader
genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || established relationship || yandere au
summary: the lust of kim taehyung
tags/ warnings: he films her without her knowledge. smut in the forms of: phone sex/masturbation, cumming on thighs, fingering, mentioned oral, sort of cum play, first kisses!!
notes: takes place before the previous part :D
<- previous || where you can read my other stuff!!
.  . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.
the first time taehyung had invited you over to his house, it took every single cell of willpower to not lock the door and demand you move in with him that very second.
it had only been a couple of months since he’d asked you on your first date, seconds after meeting you enough for him to be entirely enamoured by your mere existence.
the pretty little dove he wanted to cage and keep to be cherished by his all consuming love for the rest of time.
there was only so many nights he could watch you through the camera he’d planted in one of the flower pots he’d given you before he was desperate to feel your flesh against his.
waiting for you to be tucked under the plethora of blankets on the bed before he’s snatching his phone off the desk, calling you.
he needed to be the last thought before you fell asleep, treading through your dreams, following you into the real world. he needed your mind as full of him, as his was of yours. needed you to understand the tight squeeze of his fragile heart every time he thought of you.
he needed your reason for life to be him, to want to breathe his air, touch him. he wanted the spiral of love, pulling the both of you so far into the black hole of raw desire to be the only thing that surrounds the both of you, as he moulds your very own paradise.
even on the nights you’d be sleepy as he calls, he can see the faint outline of a smile, barely there on your lips when you hear his voice.
and even on those nights it wouldn’t be hard to rile you up, smooth timbre of his voice ever so sweet as he tells you how pretty you are. how as he closed his eyes he could see the outline of your body, how much he wanted to mark you as his for the world to see.
teasing as you go quiet, hand palming his cock as he asks if you’re wet. if you’d be a good girl and press a finger through your folds, press a thumb over your clit.
he’d watch on the screen of the laptop, mound under the blanket where you’d slipped your hand into your panties.
he’d have to stave off his orgasm, always such a good thing for him. some nights you’d get a little hot, covers slipping onto the floor, and tae wouldn’t be able to help the ropes of cum that paint your face on the laptop screen at the little peek of your pretty little pussy, the perfect treasure taunting him.
you’d always been so shy, so to have you wriggling beneath the sheets as he tells you how to pleasure yourself made his heart soar, cock throbbing with the incessant want to cum between your walls, the rawest form of claim.
the night of your first kiss— that wonderful day you’d finally come over to his place, will forever be ingrained in his mind. how red your cheeks had been, ever so flustered. fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you blurt out your admission of never having kissed anyone before.
so unsure of yourself he was convinced he wouldn’t last the night with you sat in his bed, a vulnerable little thing.
“it’s okay, pretty” his thumb had brushed down your cheek, gentle reassurance. caramel sweet words soothing the sheer panic you’d felt.
there had been a quiver in your fingers as he leaned forward, eyes squeezed tight as his lips brushed over yours. the briefest little kiss, teasing you.
you’d chased after him, desperate for more. pressing a soft peck to his lips.
he hadn’t known you’d get so excited, hand shoved between your thighs as you try to relieve some of the growing arousal.
“oh sweet thing” he’d crooned, hands holding both your cheeks as he’d kissed you, tongue pressing into your mouth.
he remembers how you’d rubbed your poor little cunt on his thigh, how you’d admitted no one’s ever touched you before.
you’d watched as he’d tugged your panties down, showing you how to play with yourself. his fingers spreading your folds, thumb slipping into you.
the first time you moaned his name, he came over your thighs, slapping the head over your cunt to watch his seed mix with your arousal pushing it into you afterwards, making you push it all back out only to make you swallow it after.
it didn’t take much to convince you to stay over his house after that, tucked away sleeping in his bed with his head between your thighs, or your hand wrapped around his cock.
because taehyung knew you were perfect, your own version of love slowly forming into the raw sort of need that he had for you. your souls slowly becoming one, with every moment you spent together. because you even met in your dreams.
your life, be it awake or in the world of dreams, taehyung had taught you his way how to love.
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janaispunk · 14 hours
Text
no one has to know what we do
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chapter 2 • series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.
word count: 4.4k
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!
a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍
follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍
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The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.
It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.
Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.
It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.
You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.
But David — David is refreshing.
He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.
You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.
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He’s not expecting you to reach out.
Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.
Because all he can think about is seeing you again.
It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.
Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.
He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.
Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.
And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.
He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.
Seconds after the first, another text comes through:
[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone
Fuck. Fuck.
His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.
He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.
The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.
His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.
“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.
He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”
“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.
Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.
“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”
His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.
“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.
“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”
You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”
It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.
“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.
You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.
“You don’t like me?”
He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.
The call disconnects with a beep.
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You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.
His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.
“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.
“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”
Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.
“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.
“Probably not.”
You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.
When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.
Have fun last night?
From David, sent five minutes ago.
You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.
Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.
Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.
i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you
His reply comes almost instantly.
Who said you bothered me?
You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.
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Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.
It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.
When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.
You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.
He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.
Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.
You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.
He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.
You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.
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You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.
You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.
After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.
But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.
On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.
Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.
He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.
“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”
“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”
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It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.
He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.
He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.
The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?
“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”
He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.
“Yes. Come on.”
He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.
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He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.
So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.
You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.
He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.
He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.
You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.
“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.
“You want me to take care of you?”
You nod.
“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”
Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.
He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.
“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.
Slap.
“You love this, don’t you?”
“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.
Slap.
“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”
You gasp.
Slap.
“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”
It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.
He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.
He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.
You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.
No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.
He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.
He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.
When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.
“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”
He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.
You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.
One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.
“I thought I told you no begging.”
You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”
He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.
“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”
You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.
“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.
He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.
It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.
He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.
Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.
“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”
You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.
He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.
You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.
Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.
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He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.
“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”
He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.
You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.
“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.
Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.
The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.
When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.
It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.
He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.
Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.
[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.
Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.
It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.
Maybe just one more time.
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thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!
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Note
May I please request something involving Rise!Raph where he confides in the reader that he’s a little insecure about his size when someone calls him “bubble butt”?
Big Teddy Bears Are The Best (Angst/Fluff)
Rise!Raphael x reader
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A/N: Gotta show Raphie and his beautiful size some love❤️
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Warnings: Insecurities about size, cat calling, expression of insecurities.
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There was no doubt in Raph’s mind - you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. Ever since you had gained knowledge about him and his brothers, you had always been there for them. A close friend that they could always count on, always ready to help with whatever they needed. The fact that you were so calm and helpful when taking care of him and his family, made Raph’s head calm yet his heart flutter. It didn’t take long before he started developing feelings for you. You were absolutely amazing.
But if there was one day better than the day Raph met you, was the day the two of you got together. It was like a dream come true for the snapping turtle. To be able to hold you close and call you his.
But there were times where Raph would get… insecure, is probably the right way to put it. You were a beautiful human. The prettiest Raph had ever seen. There were times he still couldn’t believe you were real, and not just an amazing dream come true. And he… yeah, he was what he was. A big, large, mutant snapping turtle, so large that his hand was as big as your head. There were times where he would spend much of this time, thinking about it, feeling his insecurities nag inside of him. That gave way to many questions, that just wouldn’t leave him alone. What did you see in him? How could you love someone like him? Would you want to stay with him?
But whenever you would enter the room, all those worries would fall away, lightning up Raph’s state once more, as he would hold you close and let you pepper his face with kisses, the same way he would with you. He would remember the nickname you had given him, exactly because of his large size - teddy bear. Your teddy bear. Words you would tell him, before embracing him in another loving hug. Truly the best thing that has ever happened to him.
Together, you and Raph would frequent many places together, hand in hand on many wonderful and amazing dates, that the two of you would remember forever. In the disguise of human clothing, you would bring Raph with you out around New York City, or Raph would bring you with him down to the Hidden City. So far neither you or Raph had experienced any problems with that. Your dates had always gone smoothly, providing you with the time together that the both of you held so dear. During these dates, Raph would be too occupied to worry about his size or nature. Well, that was until the two of you took a stroll around Central Park.
Hand in hand, you and Raph walked together through the park, laughing and smiling at whatever conversation you were in, with not a worry in the world. That was until a group of three women came by in the opposite direction. Their eyes were locked on Raph, taking in his towering height with awe. Raph grew uneasy, feeling their eyes on him. For a moment he feared that he hadn’t brought his hood up high enough, and that they had noticed his turtle-like features. He tried to keep his focus on you, yet out of the corner of his eye, he kept an eye on the staring women as they came closer and closer, just about to pass by the two of you. But then one of them spoke, a teasing smile on her lips as he stared directly at Raph, her words causing him to stop dead in his tracks.
“Looking good there, bubble butt!”
Raph froze but you turned, staring daggers into the woman that had just cat called your boyfriend. One thing was to cat call a person in general, but to do it while they were walking with their partner? They must have lost their minds! You would have run after them and given them a piece of mind, but instead you turned your focus to your boyfriend, who’s spirit seemed to be dampened quite a bit. His gaze was now directed towards the ground, his brow muscles pushed together in a worried expression.
“Raph?”, you asked, holding his hand in your much smaller ones, your thumb stroking his knuckles with loving care. “Raphy bear, are you okay?”
Raph did not answer. Instead his head started flooding with the same insecurities that normally only seemed to take place when he was alone. But with the soft feeling of your thumbs on his hand, he finally brought himself to look you in the eyes, unsure on how to explain the tumult of emotions he was feeling. With a sigh, he finally decided to tell you, realizing there would be no benefit of hiding his thoughts any longer.
“(Y/N)”, Raph said, avoiding your eyes as he spoke, nervousness growing within him, fearing the worst would happen. But he had to say it. He just had to.  “Am I… Am I too big for you?”
You cocked your head in confusion, clearly understanding what he was asking you. “What?”
Raph swallowed the lump in his throat. “It’s just… for some time now… I’ve been feeling… I’ve been fearing that I’m too big. That I’m too big for you”. You stared at Raph, your thumbs coming to a halt, your silence causing him to grow even more worried. “(Y/N)? Babe? Please talk to me. I need to know-”.
Before Raph could finish his sentence, you cut him off by wrapping your arms around him, as far as they would go, pulling him in for a tight hug, smiling up at him with that beautiful smile of yours that made him weak in the knees.
“Raph, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me! You’re the sweetest, greatest and most wonderful person I’ve ever met”, you said, resting your chin against his clothes-covered plastron. “And your size? I’ve already told you that you’re my teddy bear, and big teddy bears are the best!”
Your words made Raph’s heart flutter, feeling small tears of happiness press against the back of his eyes. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer against him with a happy sigh.
“I’m so lucky to have you, (Y/N)”, he said, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you so much”.
“I love you too, Raph”, you smiled, pulling him in for a small sweet kiss. “All of you”.
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dcafanzine · 3 days
Text
☀️ Application Tips 🌙
Applying to a fanzine can be a pretty nerve-wracking experience, especially if this could potentially be your first zine! This set of tips has been made in the hopes of easing any potential anxiety and making the application process smoother for everyone!
Please read on to find out more and see some cute little puppets!
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Read the FAQ and guidelines carefully
The FAQ and guidelines explain the theme of the zine as well as what we’re looking for when it comes to contributor applications. Reading these will help strengthen your application when you come to apply!
Make sure the zine schedule matches your availability
Please verify you’ll be able to keep up with the zine’s schedule if you’re selected to contribute a piece for the zine! For this zine, once selected, you’ll have about three months to complete your piece, with check-ins every month. Life happens, and unexpected things can make us all busy at the last moment (and our mods will try our very best to work with you to get things sorted!), but please be mindful when applying to check that your availability matches with the schedule.
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Step one: Follow the guidelines carefully when submitting your application(s).
Please pay careful attention when reading and answering the application questions to ensure that your application follows the guidelines and answers everything as clearly as it can. Applications will stay open for a month - there’s no rush if you need time to complete your application in detail! If there is a maximum number of samples, a word count range, or a specific theme requested on the application form, please make sure your application adheres to these so we can properly evaluate your application. If you’re unsure about anything, please feel free to ask, as our mod team is only too happy to help!
Step two: Make sure we can see your samples.
Once contributor applications open, we’ll be asking to see existing samples of your work so we can see if you’re a good fit for the zine! Please be sure to link specific examples of your work that you think fit the zine’s theming as well as the style and quality level you’re hoping to meet when contributing to the zine. Bear in mind the mod team are likely going to be looking at a lot of entries, so if you link to a gallery that has a huge number of examples, we might not be able to give a fair amount of time looking at the pieces that best showcase your work! These don’t have to be posted publicly on social media, but please ensure we can see them for the duration of the application period (e.g., the links work, the links aren’t set to private or followers only, and the links don’t expire before the application period ends).
Step three: Make sure your application samples fit the theme of the zine.
In this case, we’re looking for examples of your work featuring the DCA. The zine will primarily focus on canon-adjacent depictions of the DCA, with some slots available for AU content made by the AU’s own creator or with express given permission from the creator of that AU. Your application should ideally provide one or more samples depicting the DCA, with at least one of those preferably depicting the DCA in a canon-adjacent form or setting.**Canon-adjacent here doesn’t mean the depiction has to be biblically accurate, just that the design should not differ so substantially from what would typically be recognised as the DCA to essentially be a separate character. This fandom is intensely creative and we love and applaud the originality of the many different variants of the DCA, but this zine aims to focus primarily on canon-adjacent depictions, with a limited number of slots for AU content as well. Having canon-adjacent depictions of the DCA will massively help round out your application for this zine!
Step four: This one’s for the merch artists - please don’t apply with the same samples you’d use for a page/spot artist application!
Including actual merch designs for your samples helps a lot, as prior experience making merch is a massive advantage for a merch artist application!
Bear in mind, you don’t strictly need to follow all of these steps to a tee when completing your application - the mod team will try to accommodate where we can. However, it will really help your application to take these things into consideration!
And most importantly …
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Step five: If you get rejected this time, please don’t let it discourage you!
Zines often get a huge number of applications vs contributor spots, and a lot of tough decisions (often taking hours or even days) will likely have to be made between several really good applicants.
Being rejected from a zine in no way means you’re bad at what you do, or in any way less worthy or skilled than anyone else. You deserve to be here just as much as anyone else does, and there are people who adore what you do, so keep doing it! In some cases, certain applications might fit the theme of the zine better, particular applicants explained themselves more clearly in their application, or it was just all in all an extremely close call with one lucky winner. So please don’t ever let a rejection email discourage you from trying, and bear in mind rejection happens to the best of us at some point!
We appreciate every single application we get, so good luck out there!
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heyidkyay · 22 hours
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Pause it, play it, pause it, play it | Market girl AU
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Matty x marketseller!reader
Summary: Saturday's are always the same working the stall, until a stranger stops in to disrupt your cassette display...
Authors note: A one shot for you, needed something to help me with a little writer's block so I hope it's alright! Nothing too detailed, mostly just fluff, just saw that middle picture and the idea took root:)
--
“Oi, Rob… You see where I set those new slips I just had?” I called out loudly, riffling my way through the boxes I’d brought over from the van that very same morning. “I swear I left them here in one of these lot.”
Rob seemed to shuffle over towards me at the beckon, peering around the tent whilst I pulled apart one box’s contents. 
I huffed when I heard a familiar crunch and looked over my shoulder to see him stood there munching on an apple. “Nah, babe. Sorry. I can ‘ave a look though if you want, got Nance watchin’ out for me.” ‘Nance’ being Nancy, Rob’s massive Alsatian that had once been his grandad’s guard-dog when he’d manned the stall years back. 
With a soft chuckle I pushed myself up onto my feet once more, tucking my hair behind my ears as I went. 
“Have at, can’t for the life of me find them.” I told him, watching on in growing amusement as he bit down on the green fruit to hold it between his teeth whilst he mooched about the pyramid of cardboard boxes for me, “Sure you’ll still have enough left to sell? Last Saturday you ate your way through six of those, the one before that was the highest yet, at eight.”
Huffing, Rob took another bite of his apple and then shot me a wink. “Keepin’ an eye on me, are you?”
I rolled my eyes as a breathy laugh escaped me, falling against the stall’s main bench so that I could cross my arms over my chest. 
A quick glance at the time told me that we still had a while yet ‘til it hit nine and the market opened properly, letting that first bit of crowd sail in. Though I’d always found it was easier most days to just enjoy the atmosphere that was Portobello, instead of focusing in on the imminent mob.
See, I’d been at the market since I were nine, working the vintage stretch with my mum and aunt, having grown all too fond of the people and their many eccentricities. Rob was of the same cloth, though a tad bit older, just enough that I’d had the fattest crush on him and that East London accent of his as a kid. 
It had faded over time, mind, what with him jetting off a couple years back when he’d been a holiday rep in Ibiza and me realising that I’d wanted to try my luck at art school. Not that either of those things had worked out, which had ultimately led us back here, surprised not to be rid of the other.
He was as close as I could get to a best mate though. Strange yeah, but he was family, wasn’t he? Everyone who worked the market was.
“With an arse like that? Always.” I retorted easily enough to have him laughing along with me and shaking his head at my antics. Something he’d grown all too used to in the recent years since I’d come back and made my mark with a stall of my own.
It wasn’t anything too grand, my stall. Nothing like the tourist trapping shops that sat a little further down, but sweet enough for the likes of me and the massive music collection I managed to drag down here each weekend. Set up was always mad, yes, but with Rob, Nancy and a few other early starters, time slipped away quick enough.
“Here we go then.”
I blinked and looked back over at Rob, who was now beaming brightly at the set of LP slips I’d ordered in special, waving them about in smarmy pride. I swatted his side as I made a grab for the things, only to have him lift them up higher to where I couldn’t reach. 
“Don't be a twat, pass them over. We open in five!”
Rob simply chuckled in retort, taking another chomp out of that apple of his. “A thanks wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Yeah, yeah, I would’ve gotten to it!” I swiftly shot back, jumping up to swipe them from his grasp and grinning in triumph when I managed it. He only laughed, a slight rasp working its way into it like it typically did. “Thanks.” I added after I’d thumbed through the lot, smiling up at him as he made his way to the other side of the tent. 
“Buy me a pint and we’ll call it even, treacle.”
I gave him a roll of my eyes, but agreed without much fuss. “Fine, but just the one, tight arse.”
His hearty chuckle filled the steadily growing street of sellers and I watched on as he stroked Nancy’s collar before settling back in at his own stall which resided by mine.
“Penny’s take care of the pounds, my darlin’.”
I raised a single brow and tucked the slips into one of the closer vinyl cubbies- 70’s Proto-punk wasn’t much of a seller anyway. “You mean, look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves.”
Rob clucked his tongue, waving the correction away with the hand that held his apple core, “Alright, smart-arse. You knew what I meant.”
I smirked, tittering quietly to myself whilst he settled his usual bum bag around his hips. It suited him, I thought, the neon green pouch sitting atop that awful red and white apron he’d pinched off the butchers up in Notting Hill when he’d worked there for a weekend. Though I much preferred my own, my nephew having decked it out in all sorts of pins and patches for me a while back now. 
With that Rob and I settled into our own stations, me taking perch on the old wooden stool I’d found in the back of a garden shed, and Rob being his usual loudmouth self, beckoning the arriving customers on closer.  
The crowd grew bigger and bigger the closer it got to ten, lots of people stopped by to have a chat or a look round, a few purchased a couple of bits. It was mainly just the vinyls that sold these days, but I still had posters, cd’s, and even cassettes on show.
It wasn’t usual for the cassettes to get a good look over though, mainly just a ‘Oh! Do you remember them?’ and then a small laugh before people eventually moved on. Which was why I was more than a little surprised to see a figure having a right old rummage through the steady collection I owned, once I’d managed to wrap up another sale. 
Glancing about, I spotted a pair of old birds flirting with Rob by the pears, Nance having gone to settle herself down by my bag in the back to hide from their gentle clucking, and how the crowded mob had thinned out a tad since most people had made their way further down the road’s neck.
I tucked the few notes I held into my pouch and stepped over a tangle of cables to make my way closer to the person, taking in their too big graphic tee and the tight zip up that had been layered over top of it. The nearer I grew the more I spotted though, the slight nod of a head as fingers worked their way deftly through the collection, the array of dark curls that poked their way out of the sides of a worn cap, and then the tiny hoop which dangled from a right earlobe. 
“Looking for something specific?”
The bloke didn’t startle much, there was no real jump at the sound of my voice, only the slight tilt of his head, as though he was used to being caught off guard. I watched him closer after that, noting how his thumb trailed across one of the few Sonic Youth singles I had.
“Their ‘86 album?”
His voice was gentler than I’d first been expecting, rasped with a slight accent I couldn’t quite place. I blinked at his ask, skimming through the catalogue of tapes my mind offered me, which hardly ever seemed to move from their typical place of sorting. 
“Um, top right? Should be one there, got Sister and Goo too, if I’m not wrong. Though the ‘88 album seems to be their most popular- even in cassette form.” I had rambled a tad there, I knew that much, but it was all part of the job to me. Talk and talk until they either fled the scene or decided to buy more than what they’d first come for. “You into cassettes then?”
He gave me a low chuckle and pulled away from the stand slightly, it was then that I caught sight of his face, a tad bit stubbled and lips parted almost in wait. He must’ve been closer to Rob’s age than my own.
I raised a brow when he didn’t offer me an answer, tilting my head in turn. “Or, is it a gift of some sort?” I dragged out.
With a blink, he seemed to stand a little taller and I noticed he only had an inch or two on me.
“Er, no.” He muttered, before mimicking my head’s movement and propping his elbow up on the cassette stand almost as if he was attempting to suss me out. It took a second before he finally flashed me a slow but genuine smile, “Looking for a certain sound. Some tapes sound better than the actual record so I figured here would be my best bet.”
I hummed, crossing one ankle over the other. “The further back you go you can hear it, but most of their stuff's good either way.”
He smirked as he settled in further, looking out at me from under the brim of his cap, “Aren’t you meant to be selling it to me?”
My laughter couldn’t have been helped because he did have a point there, only… “It’s just not everyday that someone pops by to talk about music mediums with me.” I argued, all too pleased when I heard him give another hearty chuckle in reply, “So forgive me for my excitement.”
“Will do.” He simpered, eyes flicking down to where he still held the Evol tape, I reached out to tap its plastic top.
“That one’s known for its ballads, if that’s something you’re into, but,” I practically sang before peering round him to see if I could find the one cassette case I was thinking of, “If you’re wanting a specific sound then A Thousand Leaves is probably worth giving a listen to. Personally I don’t think it got the recognition it deserved, but there was a lot of experimenting whilst also managing not to betray their roots, you know? It’s softer, smoother, and the guitars are almost unmatched.”
When I went to hand it over to him just to have a look at, I found him already watching me with this inscrutable sort of expression. I merely brushed it off, figuring that he’d just leave if he did eventually grow tired of my ranting, then turned slightly when a round of whispers echoed around the tent. It seemed a few younger girls had wandered straight on over to the independent artists section I had placed by the front and were arguing over who got this one Sam Fender album.
I looked away and went to say something else to him, but the way he'd simultaneously moved to angle his back away from the cassette tapes when he too spotted the new arrivals wasn't lost on me. I frowned a tad, though chose not to comment on it. “So, what sort of sound are you searching for anyway?”
His gaze skittered away from the tapes to meet mine for a second and I wondered, briefly, why he’d so suddenly lost the relaxed stance he’d been in just minutes before, but then he said, “Anything I haven’t heard much of before, in truth.”
Mulling his words over I then gestured towards the stand. “Can I?” I gestured, and immediately he knew where I was going with it, jumping back a step to let me riffle through the lot. 
I pulled out a couple I figured he might be into, simply going off of the Sonic Youth album he’d been eyeing, then a few of my own favourites, not that I’d let that tidbit slip. 
Handing them over, I let him search through their titles and answered one or two questions he had for me. I had to admit he intrigued me a bit, I’d had music enthusiasts stop by and talk about this and that with me, even had a couple people who played and were searching for new stuff to learn and adapt, but him? He didn’t give much away.
“Any good?” I questioned once I'd wandered back over to join him. I’d only left him to look through the selection again when a customer had called me over towards the front, and was just tucking away the few extra coins I’d been given when he glanced up at me with a bright grin. I was a little surprised to say it caught me off balance a bit.
“I’ll take the lot.”
Trying my hardest not to outright baulk, I paused. “The lot?”
Sure, cassettes weren’t all that pricey, not compared to pressed records at least, but there must’ve been just over a dozen that I’d pulled out to show him and now he supposedly wanted to take them all.
He laughed after a moment, most likely at the baffled look that marred my face, and made to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. “That gonna be a problem?”
The question was almost argumentative, pushy even, but in a jokey sort of way, the kind you’d use when ribbing a mate, not now. Not with some stranger at a market stall. It only left me marvelling further.
“Might be, I’ll have to find a bag big enough to fit them all though.” I countered, hiding my own smile when I heard him laugh again whilst I spun around to fetch exactly that.
“Anything will do, love.”
I dipped my chin in a slight nod but didn’t go right for the usual stack of black baggies I used for most sales, instead I swiped one of the few printed totes I had hung up for trade and tallied up the price. “You gonna be alright walking the rest of the market stretch with that?” I teased him, looking up once the transaction completed to hand him the now very full bag only to find him already looking back at me.
He hummed around a sly smile, fingers meeting mine around the totes handle before they were slipping away again. “Think I’ll make do. Only came looking for these anyway.”
My brows jumped up in surprise as I watched him tuck his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. “Everyone loves Portobello.” I murmured and his light laughter echoed around the market stall once more before he simply shrugged. 
“Been a couple times before, and besides, don't reckon I’ll get a better deal than this, do you?”
My eyes narrowed when I smiled, humoured by his easy going nature and quick quips. I found that I wanted him to stick around a while longer, if only to solve the mystery he made. “No, don't reckon so.”
He lingered for a moment or two more, simply smiling at me and I found myself smiling back, before a gaggle of school kids wandered on over, loud and uncaring of the looks they garnered. They caught my attention too and I found myself reminiscing over years where I’d been much of the same. 
When I glanced back over to him, I saw that he was gone. My forehead pinched in confusion and I glanced around to see if I could spot him in the busy crowd, but it had grown all too quickly again and appeared easy enough for anyone to get swept up and lost in. 
I rocked back on my heels as I gave up the search, just before I was called over by one of the kids asking for a specific LP. I let it go, him and the strange encounter we’d shared, and went about the rest of the day just going through the motions.
By the time seven o’clock rolled around I was shattered and had already packed most of the stall away. I waited patiently for Rob to help me with loading the larger bits into the van, watching Nance for him whilst he wrapped up what remained of the fruit and veg, knowing he’d take most of it back home to his family. It was at that moment that I caught sight of something amiss in the vinyl cubby I’d used to hide those slipcovers in just before we'd opened. 
I walked over and was more than a little dumbfounded to spot a cassette lying there on its side. Standing On A Beach. One of The Cure albums I’d mentioned to that bloke in the cap earlier, the very same he’d gone and bought, and the exact one I was more than sure I’d bagged. 
I picked it up, feeling Nancy brush up against my side whilst Rob called out to say that he was just dropping off his usual round of goodybags to the nearby sellers. I waved him off, then looked down at the tape I held, pausing when my thumb caught on something attached to the back. 
Flipping it over I found a quickly scribbled note, its corner tucked into the case's opening so that it would hold its place. 
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(It sounded like you enjoyed this one when I asked about it. Know it’s a first edition too, so I figured maybe you should be the one keep it. - Matty.)
Matty.
“What you smiling at, weirdo?”
I startled at the sound of Rob’s usual drawl, head snapping over to my left to find him already trailing back towards us, a happy grin plastered over his face. 
“Go on, tell us!” He ribbed, and now that he was drawing nearer I was quick to tuck the note into my back pocket. 
“Nothing, just this tape. Figured I’d keep it.” I told him with a small shrug, clutching the cassette closer when he hip checked me in passing and bent down to give Nancy a good old stroke.
“Thieving your own gear! Wow, that’s a new low even for you.” Rob chuckled, shooting me a bright smile before he stood once more.
“Hush up, it’s a goodun. Forgot I even had it.” I defended, but he merely continued to laugh at me. Rolling my eyes, I shoved his arm lightly before I said, “Now be useful for once and grab the last of those boxes for us, will you.”
“Tetchy.”
I simply snorted, shaking my head as I moved to pick up my bag, clinging to the old cassette case for a second before finally dropping it inside. 
“You coming then?”
With a deep breath I took one last glance around the stall and didn’t see anything that had been missed, so I wiped down my jeans and then gave Nance another pet, “Yeah, coming!”
My week continued on much the same after that. I worked in the local pub behind the bar when I wasn’t performing on the crate stage there and on my day off I took the tube over to see my mum and nan. They lived further East nowadays, closer to the clinic my nana hated but needed, and not too far from the street she’d grown up on as a girl.
Saturdays were my only market days, even though it was open most of the week. Rob usually did Fridays there and the rare Tuesday too, when he could be arsed. Though the rest of his time was used up by frequenting the old boxing club every other evening, training and helping out with the younger lot that liked to come in. I’d only been half a dozen times, but he was very much in his element there.
So in shorter terms, my week had slipped on by without much fanfare, which meant that Saturday had seemed to both crawl and shoot back around. 
I opened the stall like usual, only without Rob for the first time in ages. He had apparently come down with some sort of bug or other that he’d gone and caught off of his nieces when he’d popped round to see them Wednesday afternoon- and well, he was a man, wasn't he? Which ultimately meant that he was dying. 
He’d let me have Nancy though, seeing as she hadn’t been out very much since the cold had hit him. So the Alsatian had jumped in my van that same morning and had been as good as gold all day. To be honest, she was a much better seller than me and I could see why Rob always brought her along with him, people seemed to flock to dogs which in turn meant more sales for me.
I’d been fanning the crowds away ever since we’d opened, which typically only tended to happen during half term or school holidays, but nonetheless it was a more than welcome change after the crappy tips I’d garnered down at the pub the night before.
‘Cause well, since I’d dropped out of school I’d taken to performing there on the more livelier nights, a few covers, one or two of my own songs, and then I’d end the set and slide behind the bar to serve. Normally I was fine with that, the tips were often good when both the older folk and the younger lot rolled in, Friday nights especially. Only, there’d been a gig on down at the O2 so we hadn’t gotten our usual patrons in, and had instead been sacked with a couple of stragglers and a less than lively lot.
Still, today more than made up for it.
The sun was shining as much as it could do during a London March, the skies were blue although not completely clear, and the market crowd seemed to be in good spirits too.
Sy, who worked a couple stands down, had passed out a tray of coffees not too long ago, just after the lunchtime rush, and then Dianne and Reg had followed with some of their freshly baked pastries. They’d even thought to bring a little treat over for Nance too. 
I'd just texted a picture to Rob to show him what he’d missed out on by having a case of man-flu and had just got up to toss the last of the rubbish away when I was caught off guard by an unexpected surprise.
“You!”
Matty, my mind supplied a half a second later. The same name that had been circling my thoughts since he’d left me that note the Saturday prior. I blinked at the sight of him. He was wearing a cap again, although this one was different, a dusky navy blue that he’d gone and tucked under a giant grey hoodie. 
“Me.” He grinned in glinted amusement, jutting out his chin in a gentle hello. “Figured I might find you here.”
The snort I gave was unprecedented, “Oh, really? Wonder what gave that away.”
Matty smirked. Matty. It felt strange to put his name to his face then, even though it had been puttering around in my head like the bouncing DVD logo since the last time we’d met. 
“Got any more tapes for me then?”
My eyes squinted in my attempt to dim my smile, not really believing that he was actually here, before I pursed my lips and tilted my head at him. “Might do. Take it you liked the last few?”
He hummed, smiling down at Nancy who’d trailed on over and allowing her to sniff at his hand. When she nudged his leg with her snout I watched on as he dropped into a crouch to give her a proper stroke. Nance seemed to be quite taken with him after that. 
I propped a hip against the nearest vinyl cubby, crossing my arms over my chest whilst he replied, “They were good- helped a lot, in truth. You were right about the Roxy Music album, too.”
Chuffed with that, I shot him a pleased little grin. 
“You’ll come to learn that it’s to be expected.”
“What, you bein’ right?” Matty wondered with a low laugh, petting Nancy’s head once more before he forced himself back up onto his feet. 
“What I said, in’t it?”
He shook his head softly and I felt his eyes on me before I finally gestured him on over to the cassette stand. “I found a few new ones in the charity shop near my mum’s the other day, figured it’d be best to add to the collection after you nearly took the lot.” 
“Wow, and she’s dramatic too.”
I swatted his arm thoughtlessly, then stilled the second I realised what I’d done, but Matty was either none the wiser to my momentary pause or just didn’t care. “That come with the job then? Having to be mouthy?”
My jaw dropped a tad at his sudden cheek and I tutted around the tiny beginnings of a stuttered laugh, “You’re brave. I’ll let you have that. But honestly, you’re probably not wrong there either.” We shared a chuckle, coming to a standstill by the tower full of tapes, “Most of this lot have to be gobby enough to have a shout at bagging any customers, especially when Rob’s around.”
“Rob?”
I titled my head over towards the next stall which sat empty, “Yeah, he works the fruit and veg. Might’ve seen, or rather heard him last weekend.”
Matty gave a slow nod, dragging his gaze away from where I’d pointed and back to the many cassettes I had to offer.
“So what're we looking for this time?” I smiled, thoughts on The Cure tape he’d gifted me, although wary to mention it too soon. “80’s Punk? Electro? Rhythm and Blues?” I dragged that last one out, enjoying the sight of his smile and how it only appeared to lift on one side before dimpling the corner ever so faintly.
“Give me one of your favourites.”
“Mine?” I blinked.
He hummed again, fingertips trailing over multiple rows of cases. I watched the movement, caught up in it in actuality, before I tore my eyes back over to him. 
I caught him looking again, only this time around I didn’t much question it, not when the Saturday sun sitting high in the sky reflected so prettily in his eyes. Lightening them enough that they almost appeared to glow. 
I followed through on the ask though, once I’d finally managed to get my head in working order and drag my gaze back towards the task at hand, pulling out an extensive range of cassettes, both singles and albums, for him to view. 
Matty liked to talk, I quickly learned. He asked question after question, even when it seemed like he knew more than he was letting on at times, and he waited whenever someone else walked over, sitting amongst the back shelves with Nancy whilst I talked and sold a couple of vinyls.
Soon enough the sun had started to dip low in the sky and we realised that the hours had honestly escaped us. I was startled when I finally looked down at my phone to see that it was almost time to start packing away, having lost myself in the conversation we’d shared, or rather the debates we had both started over artists and genres, and what decade had done the most for music. 
“Oh shit! I can’t believe it’s almost half six!”
Matty appeared to remember himself at my exclaim, pulling out his own phone to see for himself and blowing out a large breath when it rang true. “Fuck, ah, I didn’t even realise.”
He actually looked somewhat apologetic when he met my eye again. 
I shook my head and waved him off, “You’re all good, actually one of the best market days I’ve had in truth, made almost double than what I did last weekend, even with the stash you claimed.”
With a soft laugh, Matty made to stand, holding out a hand to help me up too once he'd found his footing. I smiled softly at the offer and took it, perplexed by the careful callouses which lined the tops of his fingertips and the soft palm that accompanied them.
“You play?”
“Hm?”
My chin jerked over towards where an older acoustic hung on display in the stall across from mine, “Guitar. Do you play?”
His brows knitted together at the ask but he did eventually give me a low chuckle too, hand still holding my own. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
My eyes flickered up to find his and I gave a small smirk, unable to help myself. “Intuition.”
Matty scoffed in amusement, “Oh yeah? How’s that work?”
Shrugging a single shoulder, I stepped on closer to him, near enough that the brim of his hat shaded the top half of my face and the toes of our shoes almost aligned. “Just comes to me, I ‘spose.”
He quirked a questioning brow.
“What’s your intuition telling you now then?”
I bit down on the insides of my cheeks in hopes to contain my playful smile, figuring I’d best take the chance now while it was being handed to me. “That you’re gonna buy me a drink.”
“Am I?” Matty answered, voice dropping a fraction as a grin threatened to split his face.
Humming, I could only smile, eyes flickering between his own before they darted up towards the brim of his cap. With the hand not holding his, I reached up and settled it a little lower on his head, then glanced back down at that growing grin. “I mean, if you’re gonna keep coming back each Saturday then…”
His eyes narrowed a tad and finally he let go of the chuckle he’d been holding onto, leaning in even closer to me. “Intuition telling you that?”
“Hm, along with a couple other things.” I quipped, revelling in the hand that came to rest on the hem of my jeans. “So, that drink?”
Matty laughed, sweet and lovely. “Might know a place.”
“Good,” I murmured in the little space he’d placed between us, mouth almost touching his own before I was smirking and pulling away, “Guess you can help me pack up then.”
Matty huffed out a breathy chuckle whilst shook his head at me, watching as his hand slipped from mine. Though he wasn’t left lonely for too long, seeing as Nancy padded on over to him for another round of strokes whilst I set to picking up a horde of albums. “Tease.” He shot out, though he didn't look too disheartened.
I gave him a loud laugh in return, content with being labelled as such. “Well you’d best get to work then. Quicker we’re done here, quicker we can see about you and me sharing anything other than a drink.”
And he did, he set to work swift enough, the two of us slipping by one another with a gentle ease we shouldn’t have yet earned and sharing soft smiles in the lessening market bustle. All the while I continued to wonder and watch him, thinking back on the cassette he’d gifted me and the sudden fondness I’d found for him. 
“Ready to go?” He asked me not long later and I found myself never wanting to say no to that pretty smile of his. So I just nodded and took the hand he held out, Nance moving to join us too before we finally ventured our way out of the market street. Matty asking me every question he’d been holding back the further we got, and making realise that I had a horde of my own.
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The Brutality (and some censoring) Of The Rumbar Deaths.
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Similar to my piece on Yorki and his lil sickness, this is again just something that haunts me constantly and is honestly something I don’t see anyone else talking about. Maybe this is because I have Rumbar Pirates autism. The deaths of the Rumbar Pirates are often thought to just be the snippet we see during their final moments, however Oda paints a much darker picture, with such dark hues the anime had to censor some of this. To begin, I am going to introduce you all to a certain Rumbar Pirate. Pirates.
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This is Madaisuki! He has a twin brother named Madawadasuki Mizuta!
These Mizuta boys are named this because they are the japanese pun of “I love DOTS!” and “Dots ain’t half bad!” We know they were young, and that they wanted to be just like Brook. (I will go over these statements a bit later.) They wore matching clothing, mirroring one another as some twins do, having a tight bond. We already know their candles were snuffed out too short, but do you know how this happened to each? Madawadasuki is shown in the Bink’s Sake flashback, blood pooling on his temple and matting some of his hair. He looks tired, but with a smile, plays on with the other remaining crew. That is the key word here, remaining. There were hundreds of men on this ship yet THIS is what we see surrounding Brook on the deck? Where are the rest. THAT is where Madaisuki comes in. 
Madaisuki does not die on screen, but his body, just the body, is gruesome enough that the anime had to censor it. When we find the young man, he is in one of the off rooms, looks to be the dining area, thrown onto the floor with his arms outstretched, with his hair still attached to the skull.
This is not the reason behind the censoring, no, the reason is the cause of death.
Plunged into his skull and back, pinning his body to the floor with his jaw still open, are his own weapons. His own swords pin his body to the floor, so even if he somehow survived the attack, he could not get up, however with your own blade through your brain case and into the blood spattered floor below you, that is not much of an option.
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This leaves a few things open for the reader to take in. Why is he tucked away in an off room like this? Well, it means the battle either continued into these rooms, not just on deck, which is more than likely shown by the shattered mirrors and doors in the bedrooms and hallways we see, or poor Madaisuki was cornered, and slain.
In any case, this means his brother either also saw this and continued to smile and sing for Laboon, or held a hope that somehow, his twin was just somewhere else, tucked away to die in peace. 
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This is just one body, one upon hundreds, we know this because of a line Franky states so casually I am unsure if the anime added it; “We could not carry them all, we buried them here. The weight was too much for the Sunny to take.”
The weight was too much for the Sunny to take.
How many men died, because those multiple upon multiple coffins were not filled with bodies, but skulls. Only skulls.
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If the ship cannot carry it, how do we expect BROOK?? He must hold grief for he was acting Captian, these things on his head alone, and knowing he failed his partner, my god, that must ache. To know you created widows, fatherless children, families who will never know if their little boys or men or partners or fathers would come home. No closure, only Brook, and the poison that caused the remaining light-hearted musicians to bleed out in their little heap.
When Brook picks up the skull of Madaisuki, a memory comes to mind. Perhaps not a recent one, for he knew them for many years, but one that stood out to him. One Oda chose for us to see as a representation of Brook’s thoughts;
“You’re awesome, Brook! Can you teach me to swordfight like you?”
We see the body, with his own weapons used against him, holding his corpse in place with a hole blasted through his brain. His polka dots he adored are spattered as well, torn where his ribcage was cut open. Brook failed him. He failed them all, in his eyes, not the viewer or actuality. And this breaks my heart.
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tarotwithlove · 2 days
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PICK A CARD⭒why did your soul choose to incarnate into this life
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reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.
BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!
GROUP ONE
cards · four of pentacles, six of cups, nine of wands, knight of wands, king of pentacles, lepidolite: rest, sleep, dreaming 
channelled songs · already by beyoncé. no bus by iophiile, col3trane, amber mark. freedom flowers by liu fang. anything you want by jawny. 
my dear group one ♡ your soul chose to incarnate into this life because of a sort of clinging. the word “clinging” keeps playing in my mind, to the extent that even as i asked your question it came out, “why did your soul choose to cling to this life?” over and over again. each time i had to consciously correct myself. 
but that’s why your soul chose to incarnate into this life, because you are clinging onto a specific person or a specific dream -- a person that was out of reach in your past life, or a dream of success and stability that you were unable to reach in your past life. 
in your past life, you were greatly unfulfilled. you were born into a time where you had little to no options -- even though, in this past life, many of you may have come from wealth. and while you had aspirations, you were so trapped that you could not reach them. because of an arranged marriage, you could not even be with the person you wanted to be with. 
you incarnated into this life to have a fair chance at everything you missed out before. to find this person, to spend your life with them. to be successful. to build a life, a wealth, that is entirely of your own making. and that it, thus, something to be truly proud of. 
your soul is not ready to let go. not yet. your soul wanted a second chance. that is why you chose to incarnate into this life. 
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GROUP TWO
cards · nine of pentacles, knight of cups,  judgement, ace of wands (reversed), the magician (reversed), azurite: inspiration, understanding, intuition
channelled songs · run by bring me the horizon. doomed by bring me the horizon. gangsta’s paradise by coolio. hiss by megan thee stallion. 
my dear group two ♡ your soul did not have much of a choice in this incarnation. this life was entirely thrust upon you by the divine. in your past life, you may have committed an incredible offence, one that, in this life you will have to pay for. that is why you had no choice. but, of course, that does not mean that the divine has forsaken you or that this life will be nothing but pain and punishment. not at all. 
you have come into this life to experience major karmic lessons. to experience major spiritual awakenings. to close the gap between you and god, that you created in your previous incarnation.
in this life, you will be put to the test, time and again. such that you may find yourself asking why god hates you. when that is not the case at all. god does not hate you, nor has he abandoned you. but, also, know that he won’t save you either.  
in your past life, you may have gotten used to getting what you want through stealing, cheating, and lying. through violence. through manipulation. you may have damaged a holy site or used the name of god to take advantage of others. you may have even proclaimed yourself a god. 
thus, you have incarnated into this life to atone for those past sins. those past affronts. and to find the divine in a way that you had not found the divine in any of your lives before. 
you may find yourself being called to a more ascetic lifestyle. and it is through following an ascetic lifestyle that you may be free of your karmic debts in this incarnation and lifetime. 
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GROUP THREE
cards · seven of pentacles, judgement, eight of swords, king of wands, ace of swords, sodalite: awakening, insight, inspiration
channelled songs · my rules by wang yibo. epic i by reeve carney. it’s my party by obey me! boys. hello stranger by kai. 
my dear group three ♡ your soul chose to incarnate into this life simply to experience life again. simply to fall in love with life again. this piece of art by anna laura came to mind as soon as i started pulling your cards. you may have skipped a few incarnation cycles, choosing to watch earth, humanity, and the general unfolding of life from afar. and you were happy to do so.
that is, until your soul came across your specific life (your body, your attributes, your achievements, your obstacles) and decided to give living another chance.
your soul chose to incarnate into this life to experience all that you could possibly get out of life. all the highs and lows. all the pain and the happiness, in equal regard. just life! everything that life has to offer!
your soul chose to incarnate into this life simply because they loved life so much. so do not limit yourself, at all. follow your heart and your heart’s desires to its full extent. trust your intuition. be free and wild and unapologetic. you are doing yourself, your soul, a disservice by not living as such. 
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GROUP FOUR
cards · strength, the tower, judgement, the world, nine of swords, malachite: restoration, protection, growth
channelled songs · rewind by wonder girls. green candle music by bbymutha. backflip by the front bottoms. blueprint by stray kids. 
my dear group four ♡ your soul  chose to incarnate into this life to make a difference. in your past life, much like in this one, you may have suffered under or experienced a specific type of oppression or marginalisation. in your past life, you dedicated yourself to the same pursuit, though you may have only been able to do so on a much smaller scale.
through lifetimes, your core values have not changed. you have come into this life knowing you will improve something for others. for the greater good of society. 
the librarian mychal comes to mind. he is so devoted to the library and spreading library joy to other, to making people fall in love with the library and with reading. and he is changing people’s lives. he is making people’s lives better.
that’s the same reason your soul chose to incarnate into this life: simply to make people’s lives better. 
whether that is as a human rights activist, or a doctor, or an artist, or a librarian, or a spiritual practitioner. whatever it is, that is your purpose, and that is why you chose to come into this life. 
even though it won’t always be easy, it will be worth it. 
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shini--chan · 10 hours
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Personal pet peeve of mine: Reading a yandere story with a historical setting with the yandere reducing the target of their obsession to just sitting around all day when they are not being subjected to "affections" and it being written that way for "historical accuracy".
I mean, yeah, there were gender roles in the past, but those gender roles didn't feature women being completely reduced to fleshlights with no other purpose. That was a job and it was called prostitute or concubine, and many women didn't do it willingly. Even high society women had a lot of tasks.
Being into historical re-enactment really showed me that it didn't matter if you were a man or a woman, or even just a child; you really didn't have much time to be idle. Asides, idlness was/is frowned upon in many religions and cultures.
C'mon, even the thing with societal norms is that a great part of society didn't adhere to them 'cause it just wasn't feasible. The attitude went along the lines of: "Nice morals you got there. We're just gonna throw a few out 'cause else we're not gonna survive. Mary, go get ye scythe now, the wheat's not gonna reap itself." And high society geneally didn't really practise what it preached because it was commonly too interested in debauchery.
People didn't get married for shits and giggles either. The single lifestyle only really worked when you either inheired a lot/had relatives paying for you or that you were living under your employers roof and all your worldy possessions fitted in one bag. Or you just lived with your family until you kicked the bucket. I mean, the armour and weapons a knight had were often provided by their liege lord and a priest's housing belonged to the Church.
Also, the trope of arranged marriages is a bit overused at this point. How about more stories about both parties hating each other's guts, or the woman loving the idea of marrying her intended but the man wanting to run for the hills? The woman baby-trapping the man perhaps? Because all of that existed to!
Don't get me started on fashion. Corset =/= patriarchy. You don't see the women in Jane Austen or Mary Shelley novels complaining about corsets and burning them, so let it rest. Really, that trope of corsets being a torture device comes from men making fun of woman's fashion and actresses with illfitting periode costumes. Corsets were more comfortable than stays and only really went out of fashion due to women needing more flexability due to bicycles. Ya really think ladies removed ribs, in a period where there weren't antibiotics and doctors went from cutting up corpses to treating patients without washing their hands inbetween? Common sense, where are you?
Asides, the clothing having to be chaste and covering certain parts applied to everybody. Breeches went out of fashion because people thought women would become arroused by men's exposed calves. Such standards didn't only apply to the Victorians, mind you.
I'll stop here, else this will be ten pages long. You also get the gist of it. Over and out.
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ghouljams · 1 day
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yo that villainous price giving fae!simon a gun made of iron is like giving regular soldier simon a knife with no guard but 1000% more. because the guardless knife means a chance of slipping and cutting his palm but that iron gun means the grip burned into his palm definitely
hurt comfort?? 🥺
Here's the fae!Price giving fae!Ghost a gun excerpt. Price hitting him with a "the experiment must continue"
The weight of it settles in Ghost's hands, the wooden stock keeps the iron he can feel worked into the metal from touching his skin. Still, his shadows whip around his hands to provide some form of barrier. He looks at Price, stares at the man he's trusted his life to, owes his life to really.
"What's the rifle for?" He asks, turning it over in his hands, inspecting the metal, steel. He can smell it, cold, made for killing things. It hurts his nose just to smell it.
"You're gonna learn to shoot it," Price tells him, setting out caps, bullets, and black powder on a nearby stump.
Ghost doesn't ask why, just follows Price's instructions. Check that the hammer is back, powder into the little brass thing, into the barrel, then the minie ball. His fingers flinch against the bullet, the iron cutting into his skin. He looks at Price, his heavy gaze urges him to continue. There's no room for argument, his is Price's life to risk. Ghost lets out a hiss, grits his teeth and grabs it again, pressing it tip up into the barrel. He shakes the burn out of his hand, inspecting the dark bubbling spot on his finger tips. Not as bad as he's seen on Price.
"Just enough human skin still on you then," Price mumbles to himself, as Ghost grabs the rod. He doesn't let the comment stick around, doesn't let it bounce through his mind more than it should. Still just human enough to handle iron for a short time, to not burn down to the bone.
Ghost shoulders the rifle like he's seen those military idiots do, pressing the little gold cap under the hammer. Price directs his stance, feet apart, brace your shoulders, eyes down the barrel, breathe in and out on fire. Ghost's finger hooks around the trigger, brass thank god, but the steel is starting to chafe uncomfortably. The iron is too worked up, too eager to burn and kill even the hands that hold it, cold steel can do the job if it's mad enough.
He hits a tree dead on his first shot, the explosion of smoke and crack in his ears striking the whole forest dead. Price looks at the tree trunk, the cratered wood and the iron lodged in it. "Good," He says, "Try to get your shadows around the ball, we want real deadly precision."
-
Ghost notches the long bullet into the chamber, sliding the primer back and forth, his skin still bubbling from the iron. No one makes 'em like this anymore, these bullets are special order. Just for him. Just for the fae that cross Price's path one too many times. Ghost watches down the scope, the way Price sits back in his chair with a smile while his target rants and rages.
His fingers still twitch against the trigger, testing the make of it. Even through his gloves he can feel the cold steel. More iron than it knows what to do with. He rests his cheek against it, his mask shielding him from the worst of it. There used to be a time he'd come out of these with marks, with new burns and frayed skin, he's learned better by now. Pain used to ground him, but now... he's getting too old to rely on that.
Price raises a hand and Ghost pulls the trigger. His bullet slices clean between the fae's eyes, the iron bubbling out and splattering blood over the table. There's not enough human skin left in him, not anymore, even steel is starting to do more than chafe, but it doesn't matter. This isn't his call, it's Price's. There's no room to argue, not when he's been doing it this long.
If he had a complaint he should have raised it in the forest all those years ago.
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