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stxrvel · 2 days

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tis the damn season

a season of sadness wanted to come to an end. 'tis the damn season and you thought maybe you could go home and live with your mate the way it was meant to be…

pairing: azriel x f!reader

wc: +3.5k

warnings: pure angst, cuss words and slight (or light? soft?) unprotected (wrap it up) smut. no happy ending, sorry

note: hi guys! :)- i wrote and published this one some time ago, but i deleted it because it was poorly received and that disappointed me a bit. but now that i was able to read it again, i feel it's a good job and that should be enough for me. i hope you guys like it :). see u next time!

Azriel was your mate. You had known for a couple of months. He knew it long before that, too. The bond snapped first for him, but he never tried to get close to you. You didn't know if it was out of fear or if he never agreed with what was chosen for the two of you by the Cauldron.

Likewise, you never had time to ask. The battle against the King of Hybern almost cost you your life. You didn't know what things had been done outside of your consciousness to keep you alive, you didn't know what boundaries Rhysand had crossed to bring you back to life, and you never wanted to ask either. You never asked anything, living in that ignorance gave you a sense of peace you didn't want to get rid of.

But things were never the same after that. From the day you woke up, everything felt different. During that time, you didn't allow yourself much time to delve into what the recent bond between you and Azriel meant, and he always agreed to give you your time.

However, one day, out of nowhere, it all became too overwhelming. And you decided to run away.

You never said anything to anyone, and you closed the door so Azriel couldn't feel you. You knew it must've been painful for everyone, especially your mate, but being with all of them after everything that had happened was unbearable. You lived under a constant reminder of suffering, violence and blood. You couldn't stop seeing your hands full of blood every time you closed your eyes, guilty for the lives they had taken as if you had had any right to do so, but having to know daily that it was all justified. Velaris and the permanence of the rest of Prythian justified it.

So, you went far away, to the other side of the world, to the east. To the Continent.

And life was not easy at all. You knew Azriel wasn't having a good time. After a while, the wall you both had built around the bond was beginning to crack and his emotions were seeping through those tiny cracks. You could sometimes feel his sadness, his pain… his anger. After a couple of minutes of heartbreaking grief, the pangs of anger would appear. You could tell what he was going through and, selflessly, you tried to think that your decision was for the best.

Rhysand wrote to you almost daily. Paper with his handwriting constantly appeared around you and, although you never answered him, he always made it a point to let you know everything that was going on in Velaris.

The first few days were the hardest.

There was a heavy snowfall on the Continent when you arrived, something that had never been more than a welcome, tearing at your skin. The cold was so deadly and the gales so lethal that you couldn't leave the apartment you were renting for a whole week. Apparently, at that time, that was normal. The cold that fogged up the windows, that froze your limbs, and that made all signs of life disappear.

Where are you? Azriel is very worried

Please, answer me

Y/N

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU????

Cassian and Azriel are flying over Velaris. Can you just tell me, please?

Y/N, we are very worried. Please.

Please.

You had a lot of tugging on your bond from Azriel. You could feel his desperation even through the walls of silence. Those were difficult days. The cold days were not comforting at all.

However, as the months passed, with the cultural difference and the harshness of reality outside of the family you had known for as long as you had memories, so many hundreds of years ago, you gave in to Rhysand's wishes to return to Velaris on the night of the Starfall.

And that night… well, you hadn't told anyone you were going.

But as you expected, Azriel was the first to know you were there.

You heard the flutter of his wings before you saw him, towering in the moonlight against the dim lighting in the city in anticipation of the biggest celebration of the year. He stumbled as he fell, being one of the few times you had seen him unable to control his strength, staggering with his feet and hands to get to a safe distance from you. His breathing was rapid, almost erratic and his eyes were bright, crystallized. The stirring movement in your chest brought tears to your eyes.

Azriel was there in front of you from the moment he had the slight feeling, because he knew the bond wasn't wrong. And his gaze reflected everything. Everything he wanted to say and everything he preferred to keep silent. You had never felt so strongly the need to be close to him; you hadn't even accepted the bond, but you felt as if you had just done it. His eyes roamed the features of your face, his expression contracting as if he was slowly processing that you were really there in front of him.

You saw him raise one of his hands, the hands that had so often held you in the darkness and through the sadness. If you focused really well, you could almost notice how his body trembled at the closeness, with anticipation, just as your body shuddered at his presence.

The effects of the bond were powerful. But that hadn't been what made you fall in love with him.

Azriel took a tentative step forward, reaching out his hands as if in a trance, seeking to touch you to make sure it was really you in front of him and not some kind of hallucination. Your voice stopped him on his feet.

“Hello, Azriel,” you could barely speak, that suffocating feeling of being close tightening your throat. His eyes moved quickly back to yours and watered once more, his breathing quickening again. You didn't know what you had awakened in him just by speaking to him once more after so long without seeing him, but it must've been the same thing that ignited in your body when he spoke.

“Y/N,” he elongated your name, like a plea or a prayer, you weren't sure. Electricity coursed through your body in a matter of seconds and you felt your feet move before you could stop them. The emotion rising in your chest matched your mate's expression, nostalgic because it had been so many months since you had last been so close and yet more pained and suffering because you had been the reason all that pain now surrounded you both.

You stopped just inches away from him, your hands itching with the need to touch him, to feel him close, to once again have that warmth that would warm and thaw your soul. His huge, beautiful wings were taut behind him, being that all his attention was focused on your every move. You saw him hold his breath as you approached, struggling hard to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you whispered the question, the air stealing your confidence, perhaps feeling a little silly and embarrassed about it. Suddenly, you felt too small under his gaze.

“Okay?” the change in his voice was hardly imperceptible, sending shivers throughout your body, the panic of fear making its way into your chest, the bond tightening as if both ends were being pulled at the same time. “You left for a year without telling anyone. We went months without knowing if you were okay. I couldn't… I couldn't… feel you.”

His voice became shaky, each word brimming with a tinge of suppressed anger.

“Do you think I'm anything close to okay?”

Yes, it was a stupid question. The knot in your chest grew rapidly, the back of your throat burning with pent-up tears.

“I can't even enjoy the relief of seeing you now because… I'm so angry.”

“I know…” you barely mumbled, lowering your head. How could you look him in the eye? Why did you think you had the right to go back as if nothing had happened? It was clear that things weren't going to be like they were before. You weren't sure about the others, but it seemed you had taken some of Azriel with you by disappearing like that. Proud you weren't of your actions, but you didn't know how to explain to his shattered features and cheeks wet with tears that, at that moment, you believed it was the right thing to do.

The tears in his eyes prompted your own and you sobbed unable to contain the feeling. You tried to regain your composure, because you had no right to show such sadness when you had created it all. But Azriel was faster and you didn't even manage to put your hands under your eyes when his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. His wings also surrounded you and, although you had hardly noticed it because of the darkness, you felt his shadows dance around your feet.

The warmth of his body was automatically welcome. How many times had you imagined that scene in your cold bed on the Continent, all alone and devastated from time to time, with memories invading your mind. Not many times did you regret your decision, except when you thought of Azriel.

He sobbed too, his hands tightening on your arms, as if he was afraid to let you go again. He probably was.

“I don't understand what made you think you'd be better off away from us… away from me, but I'm sorry.”

His words surprised you, but a flood of feelings greeted you from the other end of the bond as Azriel let go and you couldn't think too hard. Crying swirled in the back of your throat. The level of pain and sadness that your mate was handling and had hidden from you for so long was so uncontainable that you almost doubled over, leaning over Azriel's body as you felt it rushing through you.

“I thought you needed space. I know what happened with Hybern was too much for you and I didn't want to overwhelm you. But if I had known that decision would've made you decide you'd be better off away from me…” Azriel gulped, his voice full of feeling breaking off between words. “If I had known I promise you it would've been different.”

You couldn't believe Azriel was telling you that. And the feelings coming from his end through the bond confirmed it to you. Azriel felt guilty about your departure. From moment one, when the panic and fear dissipated, Azriel never stopped feeling that it had been his responsibility that you decided to leave. And he couldn't have been more wrong. You loved him, had loved him long before the bond appeared, but the things that happened after Hybern, that affected you, had nothing to do with him.

“Azriel…”

“I'm supposed to be your mate. I'm supposed to support you, help you when you're down. I don't understand how I could fail at that. I'm sorry,” his voice was muffled as he spoke with his face hidden in your neck. At no time did he let go of you and his wings kept you warm. At that moment, that was home.

“I promise it's not your fault,” you managed to speak, your face pressed against his chest.

“I was supposed to be with you, accompanying you, but I-”

“Azriel, you didn't do anything wrong,” you fought against his tight grip so you could look him in the eyes and the tears running down his cheeks broke your heart once again.

“Then why did you leave?”

You didn't have an answer for that and Azriel realized it when your lips pursed. He sighed, as best he could, and drew you back into his arms. Maybe he didn't need an answer at that moment, just having you by his side was more than enough.

With the others it wasn't much easier.

Rhysand and Feyre almost wept at your feet. Cassian, on the other hand, didn't hide it and deliberately filled your shoulder with tears and saliva. Mor lifted you into the air and almost didn't let you escape when Azriel started begging her to let you go already. Everyone cried. Possibly even Feyre's sisters shed a tear or two.

You felt calm for a while. Complete, as if you were back in that house, in that home, before Amarantha and Hybern destroyed everything for you.

But things couldn't be perfect. After the Starfall, you began to feel that anxiety again. Azriel could only tell by your body language, because you still kept your end of the bond completely closed to him and he couldn't feel the swirl of emotions coursing through your body. You had barely had time to get used to the familiarity of the situation when all the memories came flooding back. Perhaps you had blocked them out during your absence living on the Continent, you weren't sure, but the cries of war began to haunt you from the back of your mind.

Azriel's shadows were also restless and that was another way he could tell something was going on. He was almost glued to your side all night, watching you out of the corner of his eye when you stepped away to talk to some friends. He never let you out of his sight. You knew where this behavior was coming from, but it never occurred to you to comment on it at any time.

So, by that time, Azriel knew what was going on and you were sure you couldn't escape him. When he approached you and extended his hand in silent invitation, with the sound of conversations and drinks in the back of your head, you almost didn't hesitate to take it. His darkness enveloped you and, within seconds, you appeared in your room at the Town House. The party was now an imperceptible murmur.

“Would you like to rest?” Azriel spoke, after spending several seconds standing facing each other. One of his hands ran over your face barely perfunctorily, but the warm sensation ignited too many things in your body. He arranged the strands of your hair that hid your face behind your ears with delicate, almost invisible movements.

You only moved your head in response, up and down, under his watchful gaze.

He almost crawled away, moving to your old bed that didn't have the same sheets as when you left. In fact, when you took a quick glance around the room, it looked too neat considering the amount of time that, presumably, no one used it.

You shrunk at the thought of Azriel coming in regularly to clean it.

With crystallized eyes you watched him move the comforter to make way for the clean white sheets waiting to be used once again after so long.

Azriel turned to look at you, expectant. You didn't know if he was waiting for you to move to lie down or to ask him to leave so you could change into comfortable pajamas, but you did neither. Not when the emotions in your chest moved you, when they were more uncontainable now that you shared your mate's. Not when he opened up to you in such a vulnerable way, when he let you know that which for so long he kept to himself. Not when he gave you to understand that he was always waiting for you, even though it hurt him terribly that you had decided to spend all that time alone.

So, for some reason, whether it was feelings or rationality, you approached him. You let yourself be carried away by nostalgia, by the silent desires of your heart, and you approached your mate with long strides.

His expression went from neutral to confused as you got closer and you only remembered seeing it turn to surprise when you cradled his face in your hands and kissed him.

It was rough and awkward at first, because your mate was completely transfixed for a few seconds. Maybe out of anxiety you counted ten. But, whether he was born from the same place as you or not, Azriel melted under your touch and as soon as he came to his senses he was kissing you back. It was just the kiss of an unaccepted bond, of a separated couple who held too many melancholy memories in their chests to bear on their own.

Azriel wrapped his strong arms around your waist and bent his head to kiss you more deeply. You could feel the desperation and desire hovering tentatively in his demeanor, but he held back to give you a sweet, soft kiss; a kiss that said welcome, a kiss that urged you to stay by your side and never be separated from him again, a kiss that made you wonder why you had left in the first place.

The softness of his movements were a direct contrast to your own. You cradled his face tightly, moving your lips over his as if second nature. Then you circled his neck, pressing him against you as if somehow you could hold him that much closer. You wanted him closer.

But Azriel broke away, breathing in and out between gasps, and looked up at you with dark, glowing eyes.

“Do you want this?”

His hands on your skin burned.

“Yes,” you answered quickly and tried to move closer again to kiss him, but he broke away again.

“And are you going to stay after this?”

Your eyes met his worried expression, thinly disguised. Ever since he'd opened his end of the bond for you, shedding any obstacle on his part that wouldn't allow him to feel you, everything you'd seen from him had been genuine. So you knew that concern was genuine and the mere conception generated pain in your heart.

“I will stay,” you assured him, forcing your lips into a tight smile.

Azriel studied your face trying to convince himself of your words, for he was an expert at knowing your body language, and you had no idea what he saw that convinced him and led him to pounce on your mouth once more.

When the lightness settled into the bond, you were thankful you had never lowered your wall. Guilt suffocated you.

But you kissed him back and followed your heart's desires, if only for one night.

Azriel moved his hands along every curve of your body before removing your dress. If you hadn't stopped his movements, he would've surely ripped it off. His eyes followed every part his hands had explored and then his lips were on every inch of skin. Against the soft mattress and with your wrists held by his hands, you could only sigh and moan slightly at the way he explored your body. And yes, Azriel took his time.

Before long there wasn't a single cloth separating the two of you and your mate simply couldn't keep his hands and lips still. Not that he wanted to, either. You moved your hands along his back, trying to avoid his wings, and moving your lips down his neck when he would let you because it seemed like all he wanted to do was eat you up with kisses.

It wasn't long before he had you panting against him, with the sound of bodies colliding being the only thing your head could process at that moment. The tingling that coursed through your body was like no other you had ever felt; the wonders Azriel was doing with your body were unparalleled. He was panting too and every time he met your eyes it seemed to you that they were darker than the last time, but he never stopped holding you at any moment, never stopped hugging you as if his whole life depended on it. Maybe it did.

The feel of his body against yours was indescribable, the movement and rhythm almost unbearable. You had never felt pleasure even remotely close to what he was making you feel at that moment.

“Azriel…” you moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly, burying your nails as if it were your only stability.

He cursed between gasps, increasing the pace and the force with which he held your waist.

You were never going to get to touch the sky like you did that night, that much was clear. Even though your head was split in two, you looked into his eyes as you went through the most shattering, sweeping orgasm you'd ever had, reveling in the sounds that came from his mouth as he followed you to paradise.

You thought it was going to be hard afterwards, but you fell asleep almost instantly.

When you opened your eyes again, your mate's arms and legs were wrapped around your body and one of his wings was covering your nakedness and keeping you warm. You were facing him, chest to chest, and just looking at his peaceful sleeping face made you want to cry. Life was here, next to him, why couldn't you accept that?

Getting out of bed without waking him up was quite a battle. Not as much as it was to sit at the foot of the bed, watching him rest, completely unaware of what would await him when he woke up. This time you were being selfish, you knew it, it was too cruel. But in your head there was nothing but disaster, pain disguised as stability. You couldn't have a good life with Azriel now and you didn't know if you could bear to see him to tell him after you promised to stay. You shouldn't have told him that, but how could you tell him otherwise? Maybe if he woke up at that moment you would stay… maybe that's why you sat there for so long.

But finally you left, just like last time, in the middle of the silence, with his shadows following your feet and trying to keep you company. You felt a deja-vu as you stood in front of the door, thinking about how on both occasions you were thinking about what would happen if someone showed up to stop you.

It didn't, in either case, and you knew the next day the exact moment when Azriel realized you had done it once again. He didn't try to hide his pain, he didn't have to, you deserved to know how you had made him feel.

On the ship, on the way to the Continent, you fell to your knees as his pain stole your breath.

#azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel smut

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bb0nline · 6 months

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I know I haven't posted here in forver but mp100 moots PLEASE tell me you know who wrote the fanfic "Sadness Accident" and if it still exist I can't find it anywhere and it is literally my fav fic of all time I'm going crazy😭😭😭😭.

#mp100 #mp100 fanfic #serirei #ant talks #spoilers for the fic but #basically reigen gets depressed as hell and drinks a lot #passes out. when he wakes up he is in an alternate world where he has everything he ever wanted #married to serizawa. has a child. money. ya know the joke thing #then he finds out that he gained it all via corrupt methods (causing more haunting s everywhere so there is more to exercise)#and it bites him in the ass and his daughter dies his husband dies everyone he loves dies #then OH SHIT it was a dream (kind of?) and in reality reigen is basically almost dead due to alcohol poisoning #and the whole thing was like his consciousness being like do you want to live? and stuff #and there was guilt and self loathing and an intense need for love and confrontation wit himself and all the things he loved and it was #SO GOOD #and after all the confrontation he decides he wants to live and he fights #and while that's happening serizawa and dimple and trying their damn hardest to keep this man from dying since they found his body #reigen survives. every is like WHAT THE HELL?? and he is like guys. it was a sadness accident #but it's written a lot better then that #and serizawa and Reigen kind of?? get together I mean they do but serizawa is pissed about the whole reigen almost dying thing #and it ends with serizawa asking reigen who that young girl he saw in reigens dream was and reigen is like uh #and ITS SLOOO GOOD I CANT DESCRIBE IT IT IS SO GOOD. I NEED TO FIND IT PLEASEEE #the author also had other serirei fics that were like the most beutiful things ever #there was one that was a spin-off of sadness accident where it was about the serirei child but she was real and her whole life #THAT ONE HAD ME SOBBING #if the author wants their fics to be forgotten and stuff I'll delete this but I need to know if anyone has any of that authors fics #or know what happened #insanity is taking over #this is typos in the tags btw sorry I lt was a spur of the moment thing

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hairmetal666 · 2 months

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He hates Steve Harrington, everything about him. His stupid, upbeat pop music. His tall fucking hair. His annoyingly bright clothes. His bullshit German luxury car.

Eddie hates that Steve's a good guy. Hates that he carried Eddie's broken and dying body out of hell. Hates that the kids love him how they do. Hates that he and Robin Buckley are the kind of best friends who might as well be siblings. Hates the way that Jonathan is back and Nancy is happy, and Steve has no resentment about any of it. Hates that he'll never, for as long as he lives, forget about six kids and a Winnebago.

And he hates, more than anything of all, the way he's always finding himself in Steve's bed. The way he falls apart when Steve is deep inside, the way he begs for more, pleads for Steve to wreck him. The way Steve treats him so good that it makes him sob.

Eddie hates himself for not being able to stop. For wanting Steve so much that sometimes he feels it as a visceral ache in the back of his molars. He hates himself for how little fight his dumb traitor heart puts into not being astronomically down bad in love with the guy immediately.

And none of this is supposed to flow from his brain to his tongue to out of his mouth, but Steve fucks him so good and slow--gives him the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life--that it all just slips out of the safe confines of his mind.

"I fucking hate you," he says. Or pants, more like, he's all flushed and sweaty and covered in come, not yet settled back to himself.

"W-what?" Steve stutters. He's standing at the edge of the bed, damp towel clenched in his fist.

True, full consciousness strikes then and he doesn't know what else to say. Steve's big eyes are wide and sad, and Eddie's brain is screaming at him to fix it, and isn't that just another thing that he hates?

"Steve. Like. Fucking look at yourself, man." He waves his hand up Harrington's perfect body. "You're the most beautiful fucking thing in the universe. And you--you embody like every fucking thing I'm supposed to hate with your money and your athletic ability, and your whole goddamn clean-cut All-American boy next door bullshit. And I--I keep ending up here when everything in me says to run away, that this--you--are too good to be fucking true."

And Steve, he's pinching the bridge of his nose, looking more than anything like he's trying not to burst into tears and this--this cannot be borne.

"I love you so fucking much." His voice cracks and he reaches out to circle his fingers around Steve's wrist, the one holding the towel. "I love you so much and I don't deserve even a second of it. Not a minute. Because you're Steve Harrington, you're--"

Steve presses his hand (he hates the the wide palms and long fingers, how they're perfect, how they hold him and comfort him and wring out pleasure again and again like it's nothing, like Steve's hands were made for making Eddie come) over Eddie's mouth. "Shut-up, Munson," he says.

"I fucking hate you too." There's ease in the way he says it, a lightness in his eyes. "I hate that you don't use conditioner. I hate that your van makes that turkey gobble sound every time you turn a corner, and you refuse to let me look at it. I hate how loud you play your music, how it makes my fucking skin shake. I hate when you forget to take the damn chains off your jeans when you put them in the wash."

Steve climbs into bed, straddling him, towel long forgotten. "You know what else I fucking hate, Eddie?" He leans down, ghosting his lips against the tip of Eddie's nose, skimming his mouth. "I hate that I've never loved anyone like I love you. I hate that I almost fucking lost you. I hate that we can't spend every minute in this goddamn bed, so I can memorize every inch of your skin, every sound you make, every single way I tear you apart, and all of the things that put you back together. I love you, Ed. Every fucking terrible part."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #angst #but not really though?#hate sex #but only kind of?#idiots in love #smut #i really don't know what this is #it just kind of happened #i thought of Eddie listing things he hated about Steve and it all poured out #this is very i hate the way i don't hate you not even close not even a little bit not even at all #it wasn't an intentional 10 things homage

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ponderingmoonlight · 3 months

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Gojo being your enemy (or lover?)

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: Your family told you over and over, pounded it into your head since childhood: Satoru Gojo is your enemy, you are simply not allowed to feel anything but hatred towards the Gojo clan. But why do you find yourself lost in his arms each and every night, begging him to love you right?

Warnings: mentions of smut, it's getting heated (intimate touching) but not "real" lol, language

Finally, my first fic after quite some time! Let me thank every single one of you for your patience and sticking with me, I'd be more than honored if you show some love 🤍

„There you are, I searched everywhere for you.”

Just the sound of his melodic voice sends shivers down your spine, makes you break out in sweat. God, it should be forbidden to be this gorgeous, it shouldn’t be allowed for a man to be this charismatic. But oh, Gojo Satoru is. And you hate the way you feel about him.

“And I avoided you as good as I could.”

But at the same time, you can’t keep your mind off him, can’t keep your hands to yourself, can’t stop yourself from shamelessly staring at his delicious jawline, can’t control the urge to get under him. His body pressed against yours, skin to skin while he whispers the filthiest thoughts into your ear until you scream his name into the night.

“You know we’re alone, right?”

The raspy tone in his voice makes your eyes dart up in an instant. You know all too well you shouldn’t even look at him, that you need to keep your safe distance. Why is it so damn hard to resist him? The curse of your family, the enemy of your bloodline. Your family and the Gojo clan hated and fought each other since the beginning of time, making your whole childhood consist of nothing but hatred towards their golden child. But that golden child circles around you like a hunter around its prey, takes off your clothes with the sheer force of his bright blue orbs alone.

“We shouldn’t be.”

Your mouth is dry like the desert, the overwhelming feeling of losing your consciousness eats you up alive. It’s so wrong to stand in front of him, to let him linger over you with his much taller frame. Gojo Satoru is your worst enemy, the one and only thing your family warned you about. Why is it so damn easy to fall head over heels for him?

“You know you can leave anytime. I’m not forcing you to stay with me. But if you do you won’t regret it.”

You swallow down the lump building up inside your throat, doe eyes fixated on his dangerous ones. If they’d see you here, only inches away from the greatest member of the Gojo clan, you’d be screwed to infinity.

“We can’t do this anymore. We’ve already crossed that line way too often. You and me, we are…”

“Enemies, lovers? It’s completely up to you, (y/n). I couldn’t care less about my family’s opinion-“

“You should care, though. Our lives depend on it”, you reply urgently.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

His deep chuckle almost sends you over the edge, the way his eyes linger over you makes you hold your breath. That way too confident bastard who thinks the world belongs to him exclusively, who thinks he’s a god walking on earth. How much you hate his cocky smile, his immense powers, his arrogant appearance. Somehow your family is right for hating him, somehow you get why they want you to stay away from Gojo Satoru.

“You’re an arrogant bastard”, you bite back.

“Watch that mouth, (y/n). Why are you still here, huh? Feel free to leave if you wanna get away from me so bad.”

Your heavy breaths hang in the heated air between both of you. Just one stretch of your finger would be enough for your fingertips to brush over his broad chest. Just one touch would be enough to light the fire between both of you again. Why do your hands start to shake all of the sudden? Why is your heart almost beating out of your chest?

It’s because of him.

“Leave”, you press out while moving an inch forward.

“Just leave and never come back.”

“Or what?”, he breathes out, caging you between the cool wall and his burning body.

Get yourself together, think about your family. Gojo Satoru is your enemy despite being a jujutsu sorcerer as well, you aren’t allowed to even talk to him, you should leave right here and now, you-

“Fuck”, you hiss through gritted teeth before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you roughly.

You press your lips against his as hard as possible, teeth brushing over each other, making your lips swell in an instant. His strong arms are immediately wrapped around your frame, keeping you in place while he teases you with his tongue. Without mercy, over and over. You can’t catch your breath, hands searching for hold on his shoulders.

“I hate you”, you jeer against his parted lips before wrapping your legs around his hips.

“Oh yeah? Then let me show you how much I hate you as well”, he bites back, kissing that sweet spot on your neck that makes you see stars.

You can’t help but moan, press yourself even harder against the growing sensation in his pants, digging your nails into his uniform. God, how much you hate that guy. You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t let him come near you, shouldn’t allow him to even touch your body.

Suddenly his hand wanders down your body, further and further until he cups your crotch roughly.

Fuck.

This feels so good.

No, it feels so bad.

“S-Satoru”, you whimper softly.

Your melodic voice sounds like music in his desperate ears, makes his skilled fingers pick up their pace in an instant. Oh, how precious you look with your eyes rolled backwards into your skull, how well his name suits your filthy little mouth.

This. This is right where you belong. Between his arms with his hand between your thighs.

“You like that, huh?”

You press your lips together and close your eyes, try to escape the sensation that builds up inside of you. No, you shouldn’t feel this good, you shouldn’t let him have this much power over your body. Screw Gojo Satoru and his skilled hands, screw that bastard for always making his way into your pants.

“Hell no I don’t.”

“Is that so?”, he teases.

Roughly, he snatches his hand away and cups your cheek, forcing your glossy eyes to look up at him. He looks absolutely delicious with his hair being a wild mess and his puffy lips ready to get kissed again.

No.

You shake your head, avoid his gaze. This is wrong. You shouldn’t even be here. If you leave now and go back to your apartment, you are able to pretend that none of this ever happened. Yes, Gojo Satoru will be nothing more than a comrade you have to endure, nothing but a plague in your life. Everything will turn out alright if you leave right here and now.

But your hands still hold onto his shoulders for dear life, you still whimper softly with every breath you take, your heart still races in desire. Fuck, why is it so hard to let go of him?

“I give zero fucks about our families hating and fighting each other. I want you and nothing else, you understand? We don’t have to do this in secret, you don’t have to pretend that you hate me while you don’t. I want you, (y/n). And I need to have you.”

You hate the way his words make shivers run down your spine, how your heartbeat picks up in an instant. The thought of having him alone is enough to almost send you over the edge. But oh, how could you forget his reputation with women, the things you’ve heard from Shoko? You are nothing but a trophy for a man like him, nothing but a price he hunts after.

You take a deep breath in and out, tame down your beating heart. He might be hot, but he’s still your enemy. Don’t forget where you came from, don’t let yourself fall because of a man.

“You only want me to brag about it. I’m not just one of your many toys, Satoru. And I’m too good to be yours. I’d rather keep you as my enemy.”

With a swift motion, you free yourself out of his grip, remove your touch from his burning skin. Fuck, should you turn around and fall back into his open arms, let him fuck you until you see stars like usual? As much as your body begs you to stay, as much as you miss his touch, you can’t.

After all, Gojo Satoru is your enemy, right?

…Right?

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82

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grandline-fics · 4 months

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All That I Need

DESCRIPTION: When your presence is all they crave

WARNINGS: Just fluff

CHARACTERS: Sabo, Sanji |Luffy,Zoro,Shanks

WORD COUNT: 1,107

A/N: Hope everyone has a wonderful and happy New Year. Be safe however you celebrate.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

——————

SABO

The role of Chief of staff to the Revolutionary Army was one Sabo would never give up. To even consider that would be laughable to him. Yes it was dangerous at times and hard work but a difference was being made and it was rewarding. However on long missions like these that took him away from you on extended periods of time his resolve did get tested. On the one hand the growing agitation of being away from you could at times make him distracted but on the other hand the anticipation of being in your presence again was a very strong motivator to get the mission finished as soon as possible.

It was a blessing in disguise that the events on Dressrosa greatly intensified for Sabo just when his need to hurry things along was reaching its limit. Reuniting with Luffy and the chance to get Ace’s devil fruit steeled his mind to keep on track enough until everything was completed. Satisfied that he had done all he needed to and that Luffy was safe he finally made the return to the Revolutionary base. When he set his feet on the island he considered home he couldn’t keep the grin off of his face, knowing that finally seeing you would be only minutes away and no longer days or weeks.

Knowing he had one more duty to conclude he ran as fast as he could to Dragon’s office, the small line of line coming from beneath the door telling him his commander was still awake. Sabo barely knocked once before entering and rattled through a condensed and hurried summary of the mission and its success in record time. Dragon was used to this by now, all too aware of the childlike giddiness that took over his second in command when every fibre in his body was being pulled to wherever you were in desperation. “Just go Sabo, but just be mindful that they’re sleeping.”

Sabo’s face fell into a heavy pout as he left the room and walked to the living quarters he shared with you. Logically he told himself that you’d both been apart for long enough that the rest of the night wouldn’t be too long of a wait by comparison. Then again logic wasn’t his priority. He needed to be with you, his whole body compelled him to be near you now. When he entered your shared bedroom he took in your peaceful sleeping form and felt his heart race just a little faster. Quickly shedding his coat, gloves and boots he climbed into the bed instead of doing his usual nighttime routine and wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling you as humanly possible against his chest while he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

“Welcome back Chief…” he grinned at your greeting, slurred and heavy with sleep. Lightly he pressed a kiss against your shoulder as your fingers found their way into his blond hair and curled against the nape of his neck. As you felt Sabo’s body relax on top of yours as sleep finally claimed him you let your mind linger just a little longer on the edge of consciousness. As much as you wanted to go back to sleep your body needed to anchor yourself to him too, to keep him close and take in his warmth and the feel of him again for as long as possible.

SANJI

Cooking was his passion and he’d never want to do anything else. However on a day like this he did resent it just a little. With a feast to beat all other feasts needing to be made it meant he was practically a prisoner in his own kitchen with no end to the meals he had to make in sight. Damn Luffy for making such a huge declaration with very little time to prepare and after such a long battle it meant he hadn’t seen you in what felt like a lifetime. With a heavy pout he tried to make the food as quickly as possible while still ensuring it was the best quality as always. The only problem was he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He wanted to see your face, hear your voice and laugh, embrace the feeling of your presence that he just could never get enough of. When he first met you he fell hard and knew that what he felt for you was far different than any other passing infatuation he’d experienced. Something told him that this was real and he made sure to enjoy every day with you being on the crew. It was just a shock but a very pleasant one that you also developed feelings for him too during the adventures on the crew and not once did he ever take it for granted.

At the sound of the door opening, Sanji turned ready to yell at Luffy to get out and wait patiently for the feast he was so desperate for only for his anger to die at the sight of you entering the room. Immediately he felt his legs carry him away from the stoves to meet you halfway, the excitement on his face unshakable and infectious as you returned the grin he had. His arms slipped around your body and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head and letting out a soft hum of contentment when your arms tightened around him. “Need any help?” You offered, looking up to smile at him.

“Just having you here is all the help I need, love.” Sanji told you gratefully, pressing one more kiss against your temple before reluctantly pulling away to tend to the mountain of food that still needed to be made. Having the brief moment would be enough to keep him sated until he was done. His heart skipped when you followed closely behind him and tucked yourself against his side. “Everything okay?” He asked, glancing down to see you look over his food in appreciation and a content smile on your lips.

“I’m great, I just know how Luffy’s spontaneity for this feast ruined any plans we had for today.” You told him, leaning your head against his chest. “Plus I missed you.” Sanji couldn’t help but beam at your words. He knew out of the two of you, he could seem the more invested one and sometimes clingy or overly affectionate so it was rewarding to hear you missed him just as much as he had been missing you. Overwhelmed with his rush of emotions he abandoned the food for another brief moment to lean down and kiss you deeply.

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fic #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #sabo #sabo x reader #sabo x you #sabo x y/n #revolutionary sabo #one piece sabo #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji vinsmoke #sanji #sanji x you #sanji x y/n

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inbarfink · 7 months

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So when I talk about how the Winter King is, on some level, far more removed from original-flavor Simon than Ice King ever was - Betty is the most obvious example. Ice King’s whole obsession with princesses and the kidnapping therefore and general romantic neediness has always been a Mad, Sad and Magical reflection of just how much Simon misses Betty.

Even when he was too far too gone to recognize Betty when she was standing right in front of his face

Ice King always carried the hole she left in his heart. Meanwhile, the Winter King has full access to his old memories, he just forgotten her because he doesn’t care anymore.

Even while he was forcing Princess Bubblegum to dance along in a recreation of that same romantic grief.

But still, I feel like what happened Winterworld version of Marceline is an ever more poetic example, even if figuring out what exactly happened includes a lot of inferences and headcanons.

In “I Remember You”, during yet another emotional breakdown, Ice King accidentally shoved Marceline - and he was immediately absolutely overcome with regret and shame

Because although he didn’t consciously remember what Marceline meant to him, he still retained these feelings of fatherly care and affection. Some sort of core element of Simon’s being that persisted despite the effects of the Magic Crown. Because of that, he couldn't even stand the thought of hurting her, even slightly.

Ice King was capable of doing some fucked-up things in his desperation and madness - but hurting Marceline was the one line he never ever wanted to cross.

But the Winter King?

We only have hints of what went down between Winterworld Simon and Winterworld Marceline. All we know is:

The Winter King and Winterworld Marceline had the same Simon and Marcy backstory as in the Mainworld, and the Winter King fully remembers it - since he conjures a vision of them during his song.

Since Marceline’s Ax Bass still exists in its familiar form, it’s safe to say this version of Marceline did reach adulthood and probably had a pretty similar life to Mainworld Marceline.

The Winter King did something absolutely morally repugnant to the Candy Kingdom in general and Princess Bubblegum specifically. Although at the time the Winter King came to being, Marcy and Peebs were still reeling from that centuries-old breakup (assuming there are no other major divergences in the timeline) - I have no doubt that Marceline still had enough lingering feelings (and also maybe general human decency) that she would not stand for Simon’s actions.

And yet the real Marceline is 100% unaccounted for, only her Ax-Bass remains, in the Winter King’s possession.

Or rather, in the possession of Ice Marcy, an icy duplicate of Marceline as a child living in a gilded cage in the Winter King’s palace - presumably just as lacking in Free Will as the Ice Scouts and any other creation of the Winter King.

The Winter King’s little conversation with Simon about Betty is the best hint we have to Winter King’s motivation for making Ice Marcy. Namely, he suggested making an ‘Ice Betty’ as a way for Simon to get over losing the love of his life. And he’s fully aware that this is unethical - he just doesn’t care.

I think it’s pretty reasonable to assume that Marceline and the Winter King would have some sort of confrontation about what he did to Bubblegum and since the Winter King implicitly compares it to the situation with ‘the dead one’ (Betty)… I honestly think it is not a stretch at all to assume the Winter King killed Marceline.

And even if he didn’t straight-up kill her, I think most scenarios that fall under Occam’s Razor still involve the Winter King knowingly inflicting a great amount of emotional and potentially physical damage to Marceline. And it definitely involves the Winter King claiming Marceline’s most beloved posession as his own and giving it to a false icy duplicate of her child self he made to replace her.

I mean, the fact that he even bothered implies that he at least misses her more than Betty. But his discussion with Simon still means he considers replacing her with a nonsapient magic ice construct that copies not the person she was when she was speaking out against him but the child who adored him to be more than a suitable solution. Which is a demonstration that whatever sort of love remained in the Winter King’s heart for Marceline was a very twisted and selfish kind of love.

Even if you want to argue that the Winter King has nothing to do with Marceline’s disappearance - the fact that this is how he dealt with her being gone shows how much of the love Simon genuinely had for Marcy is now become a hollow and self-centered sort of thing. This is also a form of hurting her. And again, with the way the Winter King is in general - I think it’s very likely he has a lot to do with what happened to Marceline.

Meanwhile in the Mainverse, the Ice King couldn’t even lightly shove her away in a fit of emotions without being overcome with pain and regret.

So which Ice Wizard really retains more of what made Simon Petrikov who has is? The one who kept his identity and memories but has lost all of the love and care that has once motivated him more than anything? Or the one who can’t remember his name or his old face most days but still retains this ever-persistent echo of his romantic love for Betty and his fatherly love for Marceline even if he doesn’t fully understand where it comes from?

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 11 months

Text

Cod With Monster!Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Reader is described with some monster features depending on which character, blood drinking, Reader is dead in Ghost’s section, descriptions of blood and a slit throat, a decent amount of spice Soap’s along with some dub-con, also mentions of eating human flesh, Reader is described with a green dress in Soap’s part because it’s part of the mythology that I read, Reader remains Gn though.

A/N: This is the post I got way too into. Soap’s especially is….way too goddamn long.

Price - House Spirit

Price first met you when he moved into his new home. He was annoyed when he thought he had mice, what sounded like their little claws scurrying all under the floorboards and in the cellar, unaware that that was just you moving about. So preoccupied with his own worries, he never wondered how dust never seemed to collect in home, despite him being gone for months at a time, how his clothes and sheets always smelled clean and unwrinkled, or how his dressers were always full despite not actually having done his laundry since he moved in.

It all comes to a head one day when he was home on leave and decided to check his cellar for the first time in the whole 3 years he’d technically lived here. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t even know he’d come home that day and were too busy reorganizing your little nest in the back corner of the room to hear the door open or his heavy footsteps coming down the steps. Not until you could feel his bewildered gaze staring holes into the back of your head.

Things from there were….tense. He wanted to believe that you were some strange person who was either trying to rob him or maybe someone who was suffering mentally and was confused. Something that didn’t fuck up his entire concept of reality and what was real and myth. That was, until he got a good look at your little horns, your long and floppy, almost bunny like, ears, and the swishing tail behind you. He promptly backed himself up the stairs and slammed the door to the cellar shut.

It took another week or so before he went back into the cellar, but this time you were hidden away from his eyes. It took some coaxing from him to get you to reveal yourself, promises that he wouldn’t hurt you or try and force you to leave. Once you did come out, he was all questions, what you were, why you were here, why you were staying in the fucking cellar of all places when he had a bed he didn’t even sleep in when he was home.

After that, things were a bit rocky but….almost domestic. He enjoyed coming home and seeing your ears perk up so cutely when he walked through the door, or how your tail swished a bit faster when he greeted you kindly. Overall, he enjoys your presence and it’s no skin off his back if you want to do all the cleaning that he can’t be bothered with on his few lazy days. Or if you feel like cooking for him when he comes home. Or if you wake him from his ptsd induced nightmares, touching his face and holding his hand, making him warm tea and something to eat to help stop his shaking.

The only thing he insists on is that you move out of the cellar and into an actual room.

Gaz - Dullahan

Gaz met you when he was lost in the woods, a chopper having crashed and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was thirsty and hungry, having run out of emergency rations and water days ago, with nothing nearby to help him. He was on Death’s door, his eyes heavy, his stomach long since having stopped it’s rumbling, body weak and feeling like lead. But, as his eyes began to close, he heard the strangest thing just before he lost consciousness.

The beating of hooves on the ground beside him.

When he came to, Gaz was feeling significantly less thirsty and weak, but still very much tired. The warmth of whatever he was laying on brought him a sense of ease and relaxation.

Until he registered that what he was laying on was ever so subtly moving up and down. At the same time that he made this realization, something cold and wet nudged at the palm of his hand, making him shoot upright. Whatever it was startled at this and snorted almost angrily, making him lose his balance and fall back.

What he saw only confused him. A large black horse with a long mane and tail, it’s eyes completely white and leaving him feeling cold every time he looked into them.

And then a voice, your voice, calling out to the giant creature. “Dubhshláine, come.” You said, and it did, but not before sniffing at Gaz’s face one more time before it trotted over to your side. Then Gaz was pushing himself back up, eyes searching for the source of the voice, almost shouting when he saw the headless body that was petting the snout of the great beast.

It took….a while for you to calm him down, frantically trying to keep him from running, your voice shouting from somewhere that he needed to calm down and that he shouldn’t move when he was like this. But his struggle only ended when he was practically dry heaving in your arms, dizzy from trying to exert himself like that when he was recovering from dehydration and starvation.

Things went a bit smoother after that, at least, once you reattached your head and offered him some berries and meat that he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to eat, despite you insisting that it was just goose. He did end up eating it though, if only to stave off the incessant rumbling of his belly. And that night, as he let you guide him into a cave and helped him into a large pile of warm furs, you promised him that you’d help him get home.

But he couldn’t help but think that going home meant he’d never be able to hear your soothing voice again.

Ghost - Poltergeist

Ghost is someone who goes to thrift stores every once and a while. A habit of his, as he doesn’t like to spend too much money, and part of him likes to see what sort of things other people have collected and gotten rid of over the years. Priceless things and useless things alike. Normally he sticks to buying little, only things he needs, like a cheap and worn t-shirt because his last one finally became too ripped to wear in public.

But on that day, something else caught his eye. A simple and small Jade necklace tied on a black string. His fingers brush over it, running his thumb over the hole in the middle where the string was tied. Ghost should have known something was wrong then, as he never took interest in jewelry. Ever.

The owner seemed to take notice of his attention and told him to just take it, as it had been sitting on the rack for ages, longer than he could remember. What he didn’t tell Ghost was that people constantly avoided it, avoided even looking at it, even the owner himself. It instilled a sense of dread and fear, and made people’s hearts race. The owner had tried to simply throw it out but it ended up right back on that rack, time and time again. And if it wasn’t making this strange masked man uncomfortable then he was more then welcome to take the fucking thing off of his hands.

Ghost is surprised at the offer but accepts after a moment of hesitation. The necklace becomes sort of a good luck charm for him, and he rarely, if ever, takes it off. It’s always so warm against him (it grew almost scorching whenever he took off his clothes), making him feel a sense of security that he wasn’t sure that he ever felt before.

But soon things…changed. He noticed that if he neglected to touch the necklace for a certain length of time, things would happen around him. Things moving from where he left them, pictures falling from walls, objects jumping off of shelves. Like a brat throwing a temper tantrum after being denied attention. It was something that he brushed off time and time again as the wind or loose nails or whatever other thing he could think of. Ghost didn’t believe in the paranormal.

At least, he didn’t. But when he wakes up in the middle of the night to hands oh so gently petting his face and chest, an eerie and croaky sounding cry echoing quietly in the room, he starts to believe just a little bit. His eyes slowly peek open when your hand on his face drifts down to cup the back of his neck, your other hand going from his chest to his hip as you press soft and sweet kisses to his chest, focusing particularly around the necklace that laid in the center of his skin. He only got a good look at you when you started rubbing your cheek against his clavicle, that same noise as earlier coming from your mouth.

And god when he saw you.

Your throat was slit open, that much he could make out, wide and deep, so deep that it must have damaged your vocal cords, which explained why you sounded so croaky. The blood from the cut was all down your front, staining your once white t-shirt and the panties that adorned your body. And you looked almost see through, but Ghost could certainly feel how corporeal you were.

Ghost’s eyes quickly shut again when you started to move, straddling his hips as you pressed those same kisses to his face before curling yourself against him, burying your face into his neck. You seemed…..lonely, almost. And Ghost decided he could work with lonely, especially when he had been left feeling the same way for the longest time.

Soap - Baobhan sith

It was a stupid wish, made in the dead of night, when he was lonely and sleep deprived on a mission in the middle of nowhere, his comrades sleeping around him on the forest floor while he took the watch shift. It was a wish for companionship, to not be as lonely as he often felt. Sure, he had the 141, but the 141 were family. Not a lover that would hold him tight, press kisses to his lips, tell him that he was loved and cherished.

And that was when you appeared. He didn’t see you at first, too lost in his own thoughts. You only caught his attention when you shifted, your curious and mischievous eyes peeking out at him from behind a tree trunk. He was stunned for lack of a better word, especially when you came out fully, your long green dress dragging on the ground. What were you doing out here?

He called for you quietly, his voice full of concern. Were you hurt? Looking for help? Lost? He stepped closer but you stepped back, gesturing for him to follow you, to chase you. And it was stupid that he listened. He was a soldier and he was leaving his sleeping comrades defenseless. He shouldn’t have set his gun down and took off after you, no matter how worried he was. But something about you was clouding his judgment, making him lose his way.

He stumbled through brambles and branches, through bushes and mud, your giggling the only sign that he was even going the right way. And then finally, a break in the darkness. A little homey cottage, the sudden light almost feeling blinding to his retinas. But when he opened his eyes again, you were there, excitedly beckoning him again, coaxing him into what was supposedly your house.

Soap knew he should turn back, should wake away, but his body only moved forward, his mind a fog of confused desire as you pulled him in for a kiss, your back pressed against the door. He was putty under your touch, just waiting to be molded into whatever shape you wished for, whatever shape pleased you best.

And apparently what pleased you was having him under you on your soft bed, riding his cock for your pleasure and your pleasure only, batting away his hands every time he tried to touch you. He was desperate for it, for more of you, like you were a drug he’d never be able to come back from, that he’d never stop craving.

And then you came and all he could think of was how you were pulling away, how wanting he was, how he couldn’t let you leave him like this. He didn’t notice the red in your eyes or how sharp your teeth became, how you started to go for his wide open neck, his blood pumping so deliciously fast for you.

And then you were flipped, so distracted by the thought of your own meal that you didn’t notice that he’d grabbed you until it was too late. He pushed your face into the pillows as you started to wiggle, his other hand clenching the meat of your hip tightly to keep you still as he plowed back into you, making you cry out in surprise and pleasure.

He’s overcome with the need for his own pleasure. With the need to drown himself in the pleasure your body gave him. His cock was twitching, he was so close. So so close. He needed it, needed it more than he needed the air in his lungs. He leaned in-

And you screamed.

Your cry was loud and sharp, like a banshee’s wail ringing in his ears. It shattered the haze in his mind, sent the wool flying from his eyes. He looked down and he saw your skin steaming from where his dog tags had touched your back. You seemed relieved with them gone, your body shaking under him, snarling at him over your shoulder.

It clicked for him suddenly, everythinh falling into place like one horrible puzzle that was missing its final piece. He’d grown up on old stories and legends of creatures that harmed humans, ate them down to their bones but were repelled by iron. His tags were steel, so he supposed they were close enough to iron to merit their effect on you.

You watched him. He watched you.

And then all at once he was moving again, finding your little squeak of surprise both amusing and cute. You were confused but he had never been more certain in his life. As he used you like his own personal whore, his mind was made up. You were his now. You couldn’t leave him. You were the first person in so long to take away the loneliness, the pain.

He flipped you onto your back, holding your hands above your head with one hand as the other whipped his dog tags over his head, wrapping them around your wrists as you hissed at him, bucking wildly. It only served to impale you further on his cock, making him groan with delight before his mouth was on your skin, nails raking down your sides now that you were successfully restrained. And he didn’t stop til you were a drooling whimpering mess on his cock, his cream dripping from your sore hole as he pressed kisses along your face and hands. Showing you how good he could please you and take care of you.

And then, you’d come with him, right? You chose him that night in the woods, and he chose you right back. Except instead of a quick meal, you ended up with a Sergeant who was head over heels for you and refused to leave you out in your woods all alone.

At least he was cute.

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kairiscorner · 8 months

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no thoughts just miguel turning into a cat. like a literal cat bc of sum villain did sumn to him on a mission and we have to babysit him. him as a cat would be so grumpy and would hiss if anyone touched him but ofc miguel o’purra has a soft spot for us ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ he’d be the purrfect cat me thinks plus bonus points bc him as a cat is 100% extra clingy and demands to be perched on your lap or shoulder at all times <3

AWWWWWW ngl this is reminding me of the tropes in cartoons i used to watch as a kid, where like, the only way for a stubborn character to get with the person they secretly like is through being an animal the character doesn't realize that's actually them (this sounds so fucking confusing i'm sorry) but yeah, I WANNA DO THAT FOR THIS HEUHEUHUEHUE

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 – miguel o'purra and you.

miguel o'purra is a very angry kitty, one that loves to hiss, scratch, and bite—though, when you're rubbing that sweet spot on his stomach all slowly and gently... he lives up to his name and quits being grumpy for a bit and just purrs as you rub that spot on him.

miguel o'purra is a bratty kitty, he hates not getting what he wants—despite hearing his own, normal voice in his own head, he hates it when lyla nor anyone else at the spider society can understand his angry purrs of frustration when he's asking for updates on anomalies or for a leg (or paw) up to get something because... he's such a small little kitten now.

miguel o'purra refuses help, he kicked ben reilly in the face when the blonde guy picked him up and cooed to him, and he hissed at jess when she baby talked the cute little thing. he definitely scratched peter b multiple times when the stubborn brunette tried getting the cat to warm up to him, but no, he was a very grumpy kitten that didn't want anyone to do things for him.

miguel o'purra hates everyone at HQ, he can finally be vocal about it through his incessant hissing, scratching, biting, kicking, and... littering on others' desks as revenge for taking your attention away from him while he was still human. it's petty, sure, and he did debate with himself whether or not to do this because it is pretty disgusting—but he can't help but want you to tend to him, your touch is the nicest and softest to him, why can't he be in your arms for the whole day while he's like this? without having to worry what you think of him the next day because he's just a cute, helpless, furious little furball that just so happens to prefer you over everyone else.

miguel o'purra is not appeciative of the fact you kindly named him 'mr. furball', he glares at you every time you call for him like that. he finds it a little degrading, too, because he still has his human consciousness intact; he's just in the body of a cat. though, he does like how your eyes light up and how your smile widens whenever he walks over to you and nuzzles up by your legs whenever you call for him, it warms his little heart, though he isn't sure why.

miguel o'purra knows he should be hatching up a plan to break this stupid spell that has technically incapacitated him in this feline form, but... he can finally have a day of rest since you insist on giving this cute kitty you found the most proper grooming and makeover fit for royalty, royal cats, that was.

miguel o'purra doesn't mind how your hands are all over his furry little body as your brush his hair, trim his long claws, how you boop his little paw pads that make him purr lowly whenever you touch the sensitive pads on his paws—and when you rub in between his ears all gently, just stroking his head all hypnotically and repetitively... he smiles a little, and it warms your heart so, so much.

miguel o'purra despises baths, however—he has such killer instincts whenever you're about to put him in the bath full of water, his archnemesis. he literally spreads all his legs out and clings on to the walls of the bathtub to stop you from putting him in the bath, aggressively hissing in resistance.

miguel o'purra loves being rewarded for such good behavior. he loves being stroked on his back and on his head, on those sweet spots he loves being touched on so, so much. he's relaxed like this, being on your lap while you work and try finding miguel, not knowing he was right here on your lap as 'mr. furball', but you didn't need to know that.

miguel o'purra accidentally brushes his little fuzzy paws over your thighs, tickling you. he gets all surprised and arches his back, jolting up, realizing he touched you by accident. you giggle and ask 'mr. furball' why he's so on edge and compliment his fuzzy little paws, with him purring in a questioning tone if you meant what you said. you reassure him and tell him your lap was basically his second home; he feels like he could just live like this forever, but he resists that notion and treads lightly when it came to you and your irresistibly beautiful lap.

miguel o'purra doesn't want to leave your side; he's always perched on your lap and will hiss at and swing his claws at anyone who dares take you away from him. you tell him you aren't going anywhere, but he doesn't buy it—he wants to go with you and protect you, even as a cat; he has claws for a reason, and he's unafraid to use them now, especially as a cute, fuzzy little clingy furball that loves you dearly.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

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justkeeptrekkin · 9 months

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I think Aziraphale was planning to make a move at the party.

so I went into good omens s2 actively looking up spoilers because I couldn’t cope with watching it and not knowing what the end of the season would have in store.

I therefore found it REALLY interesting seeing how Aziraphale behaves at the start of his party, considering I knew how he responded to Crowley.

One instance we see this is how furtive and coquettish he is when he tells Crowley to ‘wait and see’ (seen below). Like there’s a surprise for Crowley, as well. It’s actively flirtatious.

This is the face of a man who is *bashful*. This is a teenager before a school dance. He is excited about Nina and Maggie and nervous and he is living variously through them, of course. I also, genuinely, think he was planning something to do with Crowley. Like, this is the face of a man who has thought to himself, ‘I’m going to show Crowley how I feel about him, and he doesn’t even know it!!!”

more under the cut:

Then of course we have the DANCE SCENE. This is an explicitly romantic affair that Aziraphale has orchestrated. It’s clear that both Aziraphale and Crowley are projecting massively onto Maggie and Nina, consciously or not. He’s designed this evening to be a meet-cute/match-making event, and Crowley knows this. So yeah, it’s really transparent what Aziraphale’s doing when he asks Crowley to dance.

Thing is, I don’t think he’s being oblivious here. I don’t even think he’s planning on just taking a risk. I think this is Aziraphale making a move. This is Aziraphale being wholly himself, happy, silly, playful, vulnerable, and openly affectionate with Crowley.

That’s why when Crowley’s trying to warn him that something’s wrong, he ignores it-- it’s scuppering his plans to sweep Crowley off his feet! This evening is meant to be perfect!

Let’s look at the dance invitation moment:

^ The serious look in his eyes here. Like he’s steeling himself to just make that leap of faith and be brave. Knowing that Crowley will probably think he’s taking the piss.

^ the innocent vulnerability of this moment. Tell me this isn’t a much younger Aziraphale asking his crush to dance with him at prom. He’s been planning this and he so desperately wants it to be like how he’s imagined it, but he’s also terrified. Look at how nervous he is! He’s being so brave. You know he’s thinking ‘It’s finally happening! I’m doing it!’

^ a very blurry image of Aziraphale’s nervous little giggle as he takes Crowley’s hand and drags him over for a dance. He’s absolutely buzzing of the anticipation and nervous energy and the butterflies! He’s so happy and so YOUNG here and it is so so pure. god the little laugh he makes as well-- like he knows it’s forbidden, that it’s cheeky and silly, that he’s living his lil Jane Austen dream here.

Ok, so then we have the moment with Beelzebub and Gabriel. We all have foamed at the mouth at how he looks at Crowley here when he realises that they can run off to Alpha Centauri, too. And that it’s possible for them. When he instinctively grabs Crowley’s arm... good lord.

It’s like Aziraphale’s dream has come true here. He is seeing validation of what he has started to plan. He’s seeing that this isn’t just a pipe dream that he’s indulging in. He can be happy with Crowley!

Then of course, Metatron comes along and offers what he thinks -- in his abuse-victim mind-- is the perfect alternative. By going to heaven and bringing Crowley with him, he’s pleasing everyone! (Right?) ((I will discuss this in another post...)

I mean, this is literally all just conjecture, obviously. I am wearing my silly little tin foil hat. but when you pair all of this with the fact that he literally gazes with heart eyes at Crowley for the whole season, is pretty flirty, lets Crowley come to his rescue... we are seeing an Aziraphale here who is acutely aware of his crush on Crowley.

#good omens #good omens season 2 spoilers #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #just chats shit

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dailyadventureprompts · 4 months

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Hey Dapper! As an avid follower of- and equally avid inspiration-taker from your work, first of all, thank you for the work you've put into all this. It is a treasure-trove of knowledge and inspiration that has certainly made me very happy. Can I ask for your thoughts on Tharizdun? I've been trying to form a concept of it for in my own world, but I've had little success.

Monsters Reimagined: Tharizdun, the Whisperer in Darkness

Being the default "god of madness" Tharizdun brings together two of my enduring gripes with d&d: gods that no one would actually worship and the enduring legacy of depicting people with mental illness as dangerous lunatics devoid of empathy and reason.

As he currently exists in the DM's toolbox, the whole point of including Tharizdun in your campaign is to act as the powersource behind whichever final fantasy style endboss wants to start the apocalypse before unleashing a mass of offband lovecraftian tentacles. Derivative, trite, his singular desire to inspire others to end the world is MCU levels of failing to give villains proper motivations.

We can do better

TLDR: Far In the wildest depths of the astral sea the ur-god Tharizdun is formless and thoughtless, yet dreaming. Resembling nothing so much as a cosmic nebula of oily clouds, a vast and shapeless expanse of churning primordial chaos that pulses with synapses of psychic lighting containing a consciousness older than time itself. Like a sleeper beset with sleep paralysis the chained oblivion thrashes against a reality it can only barely perceive, sending shockwaves of destruction across the cosmos.

While scholars of all worlds debate the true origins and nature of Tharizdun they can agree on two things:

It is more powerful than all the pantheons of creation, and it is terrified.

Inspiration: I wasn't originally going to do a whole monsters reimagined on Tharizdun, instead simply gesturing on what Matt Mercer has done with the deity (using the roiling chaos as a throughline for much of his Exandrian worldbuilding) and leaving it at that.

Around the same time I got this ask though I was considering doing my own take on Azathoth, the so called "blind idiot god" of the lovecraft mythos, inspiration struck and I decided to alloy the two concepts into what I think is a stronger whole. There's a lot of overlap in the two formless horrors, partly due to Tharizdun being a d&d's attempt to dip its toe into eldritch horror, without quite understanding the thematic framework involved.

Like many other things ( Minorities, the sea, decay, air conditioning) Lovecraft was terrified of objective reality. This might sound like a joke, but fundamental to his mythos is the fear that earth and the white men that lived upon it were not the centre of the universe created by a loving god. Lovecraft lived in increasingly scientific times and the science supported the idea of a universe in which humanity's existence was the meaningless product of random chance. Azathoth was this anxiety embodied in its most extreme scale: the capital G god of the universe which sat in the middle of all creation that was not only uncaring towards humanity (as many of Lovecraft's creations were) but the embodiment of ultimate unthinking chaos.

Trying to port Azathoth (and most of the other lovecrafitan pantheon) doesn't work because the conceits of the genre fundamentally clash. D&D DOES propose a moral universe, and goes out of its way to simplify morality down to such a cartoonish level that it has objective answers. In Lovecraft the horror comes from the fact that the cultists and their fucked up alien gods exist, where as the moral christian god doesn't... in d&d there's no reason for the cultists to worship the fucked up alien gods because the regular gods are both existent and quite nice.

The default d&d cosmology has multiple infinite voids of chaos including limbo, the abyss, and the far realm. I've already given my take on one of these, but I wanted an alternative for the origins of the weird that wasn't specifically focused on entropic decay.

There's a fascinating (and very depressing) history over the term hysteria and the connotations of mental crisis with feminine fragility. The word itself comes from the greek word for womb and there's something about the idea of "primal birthing chaos" that's worth playing with insofar as it makes weird rightoids Jordan Peterson deeply afraid.

Taking these thoughts as well as my earlier gripes in mind, its going to take a bit of an overhaul to make Tharizdun/Azathoth as a credible antagonistic force for a campaign. Also, this might be my own bias as an author showing through here but I don't go in for the lovecrafitan "truths too terrible to be understood". I think the universe is a fundamentally knowable place and if things exist outside our means of perceiving them then we'll just bullrush through and work out a temporary explanation on our way.

Here's my Fix/Pitch: Both Tharizdun and Azathoth are supposed to represent primordial chaos and formless madness. D&D's less than stellar history with mental health issues aside, we know that "madness" isn't evil and it isn't the antithetical opposite of order: It's flawed reason, it's an inability to comprehend, and it's deeply scary for those going through it.

THAT ended up reminding me of a famous quote from lovecraft himself; "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown".

What if we make THAT FEAR into the god? Imagine the panicked sensation of being woken from the deepest slumber by a sudden noise, the door opening or a loud bang going off somewhere on your street..... the phantom horror of something touching you, crawling over you in the middle of the night before you have any of your senses or reason or memory to tell you that it's just your partner or your pet or your own bed sheets. That's the stuff sleep paralysis is made of and it's been haunting us humans since the dawn of time. It's also the same horror of being born, of being a non-thing and then coming into existence in fits and starts without any understanding of the world that you're now

Now imagine there's something out there in the astral sea, the plane of dreams and thoughts... powerful beyond all imagining but created without the ability to ever fully wake up. It is stuck in that first moment of existence because it may well have been the first thing to ever exist and it's been trapped in the shapeless nightmare of an infant since the dawn of time

THAT is how you make a god about the horror of the unknown. A god that is antagonistic to us because it is sacred of us, and it is scared because it has no way of knowing us, knowing the reality it inhabits beyond its own fear.

Adventure Hooks:

The greatest threat Tharizdun presents to most beings in the universe is having a nightmare about them. Through the inexplicable paths of sleep an individual's mind may find themselves connected to the entity's own... receiving terrible visions as the thinking clouds of Tharizdun's body churn in a variable brainstorm. Some aspect of this communion will be twisted into something terrible, birthed into the cosmos with the same shrieking fear and confusion that inspired its creation. Some desperate few seek out this communion, thinking in their hubris that they can give shape to Tharizdun's creation, that the terror beyond time suffers collaborators or requests. (Yes, I'm yoinking the dream-spawning ability of beholders. They were already weird enough before they started getting involved with dream stuff)

Despite being a living entity, Tharizdun is also a place, a plane unto itself streaking through the multiverse like a collossal ameoba through the primordial soup. There are landscapes within the god, whole continents that form and erode through seasons of surreality as the paroxyc titan dreams them into being. One can create portals into these landscapes, even fly a jammership across them, but the act of doing so invites an even more chaotic backlash than visiting the chained oblivion in dreams, letting its terror leak out into the waking worlds.

The name "chained oblivion" dates back to an eon when forces of celestial order attempted to keep Tharizdun contained in the hopes of preventing the escape of its creations or its contact with other minds. This period of the multiverse oft refereed to as the "Time of Quiet" sadly came to an end when the entity's bindings were shattered by a collective of villains and horrors today refereed to as the "Court of Fools" or "Troupe of the Final Void". The Troupe are a motley bunch, unable to agree on a theology but all wanting to pick at the slumbering titan like it was a scab on the skin of heaven. Some serenade Tharzidun with cacophonous music, others hurl saints and sacrifices into its body, some worship or hunt the god's offspring while others stab it with cosmic pokers, just to get a reaction. They want to wake the chained oblivion and don't care how much of the multiverse they have to burn to do it.

Like a mollusc producing pearls as a means of containing an irritating bit of grit, Tharizdun's roiling cosmic body will occasionally spit out an entire world or strange demiplanes as a means of dislodging something it could not pallet. While this has been the genesis of many realms both beautiful and terrible throughout the astral timeline, of late all these worlds worth taking have been colonized by the Troupe. Woe and pity to any mortal who calls such a world home, ruled over by tyrants who care only for destruction, unaware of a cosmos not coloured by Tharizdun's wake.

Titles: The chained oblivion, the spiraling titan, sire of stars, the Paroxsmal god, Lord of all Hysterics.

Signs: Stormclouds that look oily and churn with otherworldly light, formless nightmares and pervasive sleep paralysis, mass delusion, darkness that echoes with the god's muttering and the sound of distant flutes.

Worshippers: Ad hoc worship of Tharizdun tends to congregate around those who have received unwanted visions of the chained oblivion, as the harrowing experiance often bestows those that suffer it with an otherworldy weight to their words, to say nothing of occasional psychic powers. Many abberations likewise pay heed to the chained oblivion, either for directly giving them life or for its great and insuppressable power. Among these include Grell who refer to Tharizdun as "storm mother", The nightmarish Quori follow in the wake of the god's psychic emanations and make up a large faction of the court of fools, and the Kaorti, terrifying mage-things remade by exposure to the spiralling titan's heart who claim to be heralds for the entity.

Art

#monsters reimagined #outergod #tharizdun #lovecraftian #outer spheres #astral #kaorti #quori #far realm #planescape #spelljammer

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devilishchaos · 9 months

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Can you write a ruben smut where maybe it’s the middle of the night or maybe very early in the morning, and y/n and ruben are sound asleep in bed with ruben spooning her and at one point she probably having a dream and she unconsciously backs her behind towards ruben and starts moving slowly. And ruben wakes up and gently wakes her up. Upon letting her know what had just happened and becomes mortified but when he said he was into it, and making sure she consent, they do it from the back being impossibly close with the whole thing being intimate and passionate, and thank you for your writing - you're my favorite

Love on you | Rúben Dias imagine

Rating / genre: M (18+); smut, fluff

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit talk, use of pet names "baby", "babe", "princesa"

AN: This is heaven! I LOVED this concept and I LOVED working on it, thank you so much. <3 enjoy x

Word Count: 1 975 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

When you woke up, it wasn’t to the sound of your alarm. You became aware of your consciousness when you felt a warm hand stroking up and down your arm. Then down your back, gliding over the oversized t-shirt you’d slept in, down to graze over your panties, finally landing on your hip. After a moment, it went in reverse, moving slowly, the touch so gentle and pleasant that it almost put you back to sleep.

Still half out of it, your breathing stayed even, eyes remaining closed as you let Rúben trace over you. When he shuffled a bit closer, you could feel his chest pressed to your upper back, his hand changing its path to caress over the bare skin of your thigh up to your ass. Then there was a press of lips to your shoulder, so soft that you were almost sure you were dreaming.

God, it felt good. You didn’t want him to ever stop. Barely able to compose a thought, you still registered how sweet it was, him just slowly kissing your skin and holding you close to him. Perhaps Rúben liked the feel of you as much as you did of him.

When he moved to kiss your neck, your shoulder twitched up slightly and he paused for a moment before continuing. A quiet hum came out of you a moment later, unable to keep it in at the feeling of his lips pressing against you, your hair being gently combed out of the way.

“Hi..” you said so quietly that it was barely audible at all.

“You don’t have to wake up. I just wanted to touch you.” he grumbled low against your skin, arm tightening around your waist.

“You can touch me.” you whispered back softly, about to doze off again with his permission.

So he did, continuing to explore you with his lips as he caressed a finger over your midsection, almost tickling your ribs with how light his touch was. Somehow it was just making you more sensitive to him, faint chills erupting on your skin.

“Is this okay?” Rúben asked directly in your ear while his fingers teased at the hem of your (his) t-shirt, pushing it up and slipping them under until his whole palm was pressed warm against you, starting at your hip and slowly moving up.

“Mhmm..” you sounded in agreement, nodding a little as you adjusted your position a bit, pressing your ass back against him, happy to feel him against you.

It would’ve been nice to roll over, pull him to you in a slow morning kiss. But you felt so at ease, body totally relaxed, plus you were a bit curious at what he might do next. The thought of it, paired with the feel of his erection hardening against your ass, were enough to have you excited, even in your dreamy state.

“I’m going to kiss you. You can keep sleeping.” Rúben whispered, adjusting to sit up a bit more so he could trail his kisses over more of you, your t-shirt ending up bunched up so he could brush his lips over your hip and in the dip of your waist.

Somehow your panties had been removed when your eyes fluttered a bit, you waking slightly once again to something warm grazing up and down the back of your thigh, teasing to the inner portion so that it was just brushing over your pussy. A faint whimper came out of you in your confusion, the light touch eliciting a feeling through your core so easily. Your nipples were hard, poking against your t-shirt uncomfortably.

Another tantalizing brush over your pussy lips then the mattress was moving behind you again, weight causing your body to shift slightly. The movement up your thigh, against your cunt, up over your ass then back down became consistent, causing you to go back into your slumber.

When you woke once more, the pleasure was much more intense, something hot and hard flicking back and forth over your clit and through the wetness at your entrance. You became aware of heavy breaths behind you, a quiet groan from Rúben coming out and causing your heart to race as your mind started to piece together the physical sensations with reality.

A soft moan left you as your hips pushed back against the feeling, wanting more, suddenly hyper-aware of how needy your cunt was, how empty it felt, being teased over and over by his cockhead.

“Fuck.” a low grunt came from the hot body pressed behind you.

You whimpered at the sound, pussy clenching around the tip of him in invitation. When Rúben’s lips found your shoulder once again, you turned your head, blinking a few times to focus on him. Just as you locked gazes, he pushed in more, the sudden shock of the stretch causing you to gasp at him with wide eyes.

“Oh, fuck. How do you feel so good, amor?” he groaned loudly before closing his eyes shut.

Overwhelmed, your body took over, pulsing around his cock as your hips rolled back, trying to get him in deeper. He’d gotten you so wet and ready..now you just wanted to feel full. Once again, he was cursing, hand finding your hip and following your shallow movements. But it was too hard in your position to get as much as you wanted.

“Please..baby.” you whined.

“Please what?” he asked, meeting your eyes before interrupting your ability to answer with his lips on yours.

“More. I- I n- need more, need you to f- fuck me.” you moaned into his mouth, squirming against him in search of friction, before pulling back.

He hummed into your neck, pulling you close with both arms wrapped around you until your torso was flush with him “Just wanted to feel you.”

A sad little whimper came out of you and you felt him twitching inside of you.

“But you turned me on so much.” you whined quietly as you turned forward, grabbing the pillow and trying not to sound as bratty as you felt right then and there.

“Mm, I know, baby. You got so wet for me. So cute and sexy, moaning and sighing in your sleep.” he whispered right in your ear.

His words were making you clench more and more, causing you to soak his cock and the inside of your thighs.

“Made me so fucking hard..fuck..I’m so hard for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” you whined once more “Please, meu amor, please fuck me. Wanna feel more of you.”

“You have me, baby. I’m inside you.”

“No, you’re not.”

Rúben chuckled quietly then just when you thought he was going to speak again, he thrust his hips forward sheathing the last few inches inside of you and making you cry out, gripping onto the arm that was wrapped around your middle and across your chest.

“Oww, fuuuuck.” you moaned, your hips once again pushing forward and back, succeeding only in sliding him in and out an inch or so “Again, please.”

“So whiny and needy this morning.”

“For you. It’s your fault.” you told him, breathless already as your pussy ached.

Thankfully, he listened, beginning to push his hips marginally, then a bit more, losing the lock on his lips when his cock started to slide in faster, breathing pretty little groans into the crook of your neck.

Your back arched away from him, letting him press deeper. He felt so good, wrapped around you, pulsing inside of you. The wet sounds of him slipping into you over and over were audible, even from under the sheets. When he moved to prop himself back up, his hand switched to your hip to leverage his thrusts, allowing him to fuck into you harder.

“Ahh, yes. Rúben, fuck- ” you choked out, everything getting more intense as he took advantage of his power. Already feeling like you could come too easily, you slipped your hand down between your legs, the addition of your fingertips swirling over your swollen clit, causing you to let out a throaty groan as you tensed around him.

“You feel so good..” he moaned, practically whispering “Oh my, God.” It just made it better, how he sounded so soft, his voice breathy and needy.

“You’re gonna make me come, Rúbes.” you mewled into your pillow, your hips pushing back to meet him, the pressure building inside of you as he pounded deep in your walls.

“Ugh, yes- fuck, fuck, fuck..” the word fell from your mouth continuously, a bit louder, a bit tighter with the pleasure radiating from your core where your clit was throbbing under your fingertips.

“Come for me, princesa. Wanna feel you coming around me- ”

Before he could finish the words, you were, letting out a low breathy moan that might have resembled ‘holy shit’ in some shape or form, the feeling washing over your whole body.

“Oh my God, fuck! Oh, fuck.” he let out with a multitude of other ridiculously hot sounds as he came as well, still giving you shallow desperate thrusts as best as he could, even as he faltered through his release.

“Oh, yes..yes, give it to me, baby.” you echoed his sentiment but in a shaky whisper as you began to come down, your orgasm ricocheting inside you with each additional movement.

He adjusted his hand, holding once again around your chest so you were close to him as he rolled into you a few more times, slower and without much consciousness. His forehead pressed gently to your shoulder while your hand went back to hold his hip, simply wanting to be touching him more.

Eventually you both stopped the languid waves of your bodies against one another, stilling completely to catch your breaths. Blinking away the remains of sleep, your awareness caming back.

If you could wake up like this every morning, how could any day be a bad day?

Rúben’s head laid against the pillow now but he was still right up against you, his breath hitting the back of your neck. To fully wrap you up, his hand had moved to cup your breast, just holding it in his warm grasp.

You found yourself smiling.

“Hmm. Time to go back to sleep.” he mumbled cutely, burying his face into you.

“If I wasn’t hungry, I might actually agree to that.” your hand traced over his hip to the side of his ass where a perfect divot sat thanks to all his muscles.

“But if you go back to sleep, it means I get to wake you up again.” Rúben said as he lifted, leaning onto his hand to look over at you, finally letting you get a good look at him: beautiful, flushed, his messy morning hair everywhere. And, of course, smiling.

“Don’t tempt me, Dias..”

He chuckled, sitting up more. His hand moved to your thigh to push it up slightly as he withdrew before he was turning to his side of the bed and getting up.

“Rúben!” you said suddenly before allowing yourself to move an inch “Did you-? Did we-?”

“Huh?” he asked as he walked away from the bed.

Then you watched as he dropped a tied-off condom in the little trash can.

“Oh, okay. Whew.” you rushed out with a gust of air, a relieved smile pushing up on your cheeks “For a second, I thought you weren’t wearing a condom.”

“Oh. No, I wouldn’t do that.” he replied quickly, brows squishing together.

“No, I know. I just..in the moment..I worried you forgot.” you said with a little shrug, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Baby, you were practically asleep.” he said with a little chuckle, coming over to where you were still lounging under the covers, leaning and giving you a kiss on the forehead “Don't be anxious. I got you.”

#ruben dias #ruben gato dias #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias smut #ruben dias fluff #football imagine #football imagines

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anonymouspuzzler · 2 months

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you know what? fuck you (heartbreak gulch's my own guys)

(@heartbreakgulch courtesy of the inimitable @strangegutz & collaborators, also miscellaneous Thoughts under the cut bc it's my blog no one can stop me the doors have closed behind you)

HEARTBREAKER BULKHEAD:

Probably does not have superpowers anymore but still came from a family of considerable influence and was under pressure to inherit, pressure which he very much Broke Under.

Turned to a life of crime, definitely got in over his head with it, and essentially got rescued by Eddie, who he is Utterly Obsessed With And Heartsick For.

Has spent literal years as one of Eddie's attack dogs and generally jumping through hoops for him for Whatever Scraps Of Affection He Can Get, though he's still kind of squeamish around Literal Murder and thus tends to be assigned to supply runs and such most of the time.

Amateur mechanic and car enthusiast. Probably did a lot of McGyver-ass fixes around the Gulch-slash-generally assisted Ami til Davey was recruited.

Speaking of, was still the guy who recruited-slash-rescued Davey. They fell for each other hard and are in a committed relationship now, which has helped Buck take a little bit of a healthier step back with whatever the hell he and Eddie have going on (and helped him be a little less jealous and curmudgeonly about the Hot Young Things In Town, ie Zeki and Felix).

Absolutely not prepared to be a guardian to Minnie which has led his and Eddie's whole Relationship to enter a fun new stage of "hey man can I ask you for parenting advice nothing weird"

HEARTBREAKER DYNAMO:

Pretty similar backstory to the Villain-Coded version. Civilian turned criminal, lost his arm when he got in over his head on a job and Buck rescued him.

Has a bunch of different prosthetics he swaps out for different purposes, ie. one for combat, one to use for mechanic work, a kinda general use/everyday one, etc. That said, he goes without a lot to make sure he's prepared for a situation where he doesn't have access/one breaks or fails on a job/etc.

An alarmingly good recruit; I feel like originally Eddie kind of let him stick around as a kind of "gift" to Buck, but now that he's actually got him on jobs he's become a real rising star. Real good in a scrap and is a little more flexible with his moral lines in the sand compared to Buck. Outside of that he works with Ami a lot doing mechanics and repairs - probably interested in learning CompanDroid maintenance/repair but figures it'd be skeevy for him to push that point too much.

He and Eddie have a complicated relationship I think. They'd be kinda suspicious/distrusting of each other but also have a LOT of similarities and work really well together. To say nothing of their respective relationships with Buck.

I don't think he's Trying to Uncle the younger recruits in the Gulch but he definitely Does. He likes White a lot. He and Ami would also definitely get along really well. He is being The Bigger Man and Mature Adult and not giving Felix a wedgie no matter how badly he wants to

HEARTBREAKER(?) MINNIE:

From the same family of prominence as Buck and is currently very much on the run after a failed attempt to kill her own dad.

Extremely a city kid and is Not necessarily adapting well to Middle Of Nowhere Self Sustained Living.

Knew Of Buck but never met him before this so his whole Life and Little Criminal Commune featuring Multiple Guys He's Got SOMETHING Going On With is. it's a lot

Would like to do some crime actually but is A) still a little traumatized and adjusting to the whole Situation and B) 13 Whole Real Human Years Old.

Fascinated by Zeki's whole deal and his work but I think they would absolutely bring out the worst in each other they would fight so much. Autism to autism hostility

Having a very complicated response to White and Ami wherein she thinks they're SO cool but interacting with them at any length would make her realize Things About Herself that she's not consciously ready to confront so just like. Imagine being White and looking over your shoulder and that 13 year old is just Intensely Staring At You Unblinking from around a corner and as soon as she realizes you've seen her she turns around and runs off as fast as she can directly into a wall

Zarita absolutely hitting that Cool Just Slightly Older Kid niche for her.

#anonymous puzzler art #anonymous puzzler originals #villain coded comic #heartbreak gulch #strangegutz #long post #it's fun to put your Guys in a New Situation! love that!!!#fun and interesting to think ok what about you is inherent no matter the setting and what changes when your situation is different #(the funny thing being I don't think a lot would fundamentally have to change about the HBG gang in villain-coded)#(like sure why not we can have compandroids. we can have the criminal haven in the desert. that all makes sense.)

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nalyra-dreaming · 3 months

Text

Pre season 2 rant - heavy on sarcasm!

This is the... well by now somewhat meditated on rant I promised a while ago. It has a lot of cussing, so be warned.

It is a… summary comment about some views I‘ve seen around, from “bad writing“ to the “abuse“ and other things. Oh, and it's about the "lying" subject. With receipts!

I‘m getting this out of my system before season 2 hits, and before more of the press leading up to it is released, because cast, crew and writers as well as the show have given us all of it already and, tbh, if I‘m going to see anyone scream “bad writing“ or “Louis being made a liar or the memories revisited/changed is racism“ when the changes will hit I‘m just gonna block you.

Fair warning.

This is long… so under the cut.

This show has made color-conscious choices. Brilliantly so. They also have an astonishing meta level.

And what we saw was not the truth.

That much is clear now. HAS ACTUALLY BEEN CLEAR FROM THE END OF SEASON 1 ON.

Jacob has said at the TCA panel that Louis is trying to regain his true memories.

Here is a reminder of some key statements by cast and crew:

Here are interviews and statements by Assad and Jacob and Sam and Rolin and the writers & producers that what we have seen was not the (whole) truth, that Louis’ tale has been “tinkered” with, influenced.

I'm heroically refraining from adding the gifs of Rolin and his statement again. Which are from the episode insider… and remember when that aired?! Yeah… 😒

But I've seen things recently that make me want to pull my hair out, to be frank. For example this, behind the link:

...Like, not making him a whole flat ass liar is actually the point, guys. And no it does not undermine the story....

As the writers said:

I mean, I get it to an extent. It's becoming clearer and clearer that the show some people made up in their heads is not the one they'll be getting. (We've been trying to tell them, but hey.)

Yeah.... That.

Unfortunately @blackgirlasis has blocked me, (and I have returned the favor now that I noticed), we only discussed something recently, but I think the reason might have been after I posted that video, in which it is literally said that "not everything Louis says is a lie", which, given her statements here might speak for itself, especially this part of that statement:

"It is actually ACTIVELY harmful to perpetuate the idea that the Black characters aren't to be trusted with the narrative and that we need Lestat to come through with the honest accounting."

You know, I would actually agree! Which is also why I always emphasized that we did not get the WHOLE truth. I also kept more than hinting at the fact that Armand is, well Armand.

BUT - and here it gets interesting - why is JACOB's - a BLACK man's - statement discarded? Why do they do not want to hear it that Louis does, in fact, lie? And, just to be clear - I do not NEED Louis to lie, nor be proven a liar, and I think the show will do its damndest to explain via the "tinkering" that Armand did. They will give some of the blame to Armand.

But to flip one's shit over argumentation that the MAIN CHARACTER, a BLACK MAN has already stated... that is what I find interesting.

Like, why do you* (*generally spoken, not her especially) accuse people of racism over this, when HE has already said that Louis does, indeed, lie. Why is he not actually listened to? I don't get that. Why is agency taken away from a living, breathing person to give it to a fictional character? Why is his statement that "not all representation needs to be healthy representation" not kept in mind?

Louis is Louis. Louis being color-consciously handled didn't "change the character an awful lot".

JACOB said that. Here. Interestingly enough in a comment about the racial consideration the show does(!).

Louis is NOT a whole other character despite the changes, and the twists that will happen in season 2 were always set to come, as the friggin' video of BEFORE the show aired is proof of. They talked about all that. They know it didn't all happen as shown. They knew Louis did lie. But NOT about everything.

They also knew that some of the scenes did not happen (at least as shown). And now... "it’s clear that Louis is somebody hugely angry with a man he loved deeply and now presents them as a monster…" Also Jacob Anderson.

Presents. Them. As. A. Monster.

Bailey Bass said in the SDCC interview, that it is not clear who is the "villain here" in various scenes, interestingly enough, because the dynamic keeps changing. Which of course was after they shot a myriad of scenes that would not make it into the final s1 cut. Again: why is she not listened to? Why do you take her agency away to give it to a fictional character?

And I'm not even starting on the others. Sam. Rolin. The writers.

Also, re the abuse and scenes being revisited. Again, screenshot as example:

There is nothing simple about this show. Especially that scene.

BUT the show knows what it‘s doing! I'm not going to rehash all that here now, here are links on that.

AND THE WRITERS SAYING IT WILL BE REVISITED... is from December 21, 2022.

DECEMBER 22.

A revisit and a change of that scene will not be bad writing. (Or tasteless.) They already DID so in the last episode of season 1, continuing that will simply fall into line with what we have already been given. That's not bad writing. That's just the show, and there's people who just did not want to examine that.

Because it will be echoed, and it will serve a purpose.

I know the show did the meta level of patriarchal domestic abuse, but for fuck‘s sake, the story itself is about vampires struggling, and Louis is struggling.

The show has a meta level of abuse, and patriarchy, and recognizing is valid and the meta discussions are too.

But Louis is not chained to his coffin guys, he could have left, and a fight which shows off power discrepancies within the show story line is not automatically domestic abuse.

*slow clap*

No-one wants this to happen for the sake of "redeeming" Lestat. Because he does not need that redemption. They're all murderers and monsters.

They kill. For a living. LITERALLY.

THEY ARE VAMPIRES It's not about vampires trying to find their humanity.

It's about vampires trying to find a way to live with themselves, because they are, indeed, monsters.

Doubting the narrative which was TORN APART WITHIN THE SHOW is not the same as bad writing or racism FFS, nor is actually looking at what we're given - and knowing the fucking, 50 year old books. And recognizing the hints and parallels.

I have also seen the take that Lestat isolated Louis... and like, did we watch the same show? You know, even with the vampirism (which, of course™, could not free Louis as promised)...

Months of flirting openly in NOLA, public wooing. DECADES LIVING IN NOLA. Operas. Restaurants. Family dinners. (And Louis stopping Lestat there, AS a mortal...) Cleaning the cribs, years of "human entanglement" because Louis wanted it.... Banjo barbecues, political influence, wakes... Everybody knew.

(Like, I could pull up gifs here.)

"Isolation". Right. It has nothing, at all, to do with the Rite of Passage, or Louis' depression.

Of course not.

I mean, Jacob says that Louis is very depressed during the time leading up to the fight, and his and Sam's discussion here is interesting as well, but hey, I mean, why listen to the actual black actor, right.

As a last thing.

Yeah. Tell me you know nothing about the books without telling me you know nothing about the books.

And, as a note, context is important if you pull up other scenes from the VC.

Welcome to the fucking Vampire Chronicles.

Anyone expecting big bad patriarchal abuser Lestat is not going to have a good time.

And honestly, to those: don't let the door hit you on the way out.

Good riddance - and BON VOYAGE

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mysticbewitched · 11 months

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My Beliefs Have Evolved..

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▪︎ I'm about to piss off some popular bloggers & start a major fire in this community.

{ Lights, Camera, Action.}

A serious epiphany hit me hard out of nowhere as I was wandering through some of my old posts way back when I first started this blog. As I was reading through some of my old writings from my former posts, I realized that I held certain beliefs at those times that no longer resonate with me anymore.

I did not realize at the time, but I took some teachings of things from Neville in a *literal manner* that were never supposed to be taken in that way and some aspects of my understanding of the law of consciousness were completely distorted due to the ridiculous amount of ignorant misinformation and misinterpretations flooding through tumblr.

I admit that in the beginning, I was one of the ignorant ones, and it was because of all the information you're constantly seeing spread around like chaotic wildfire in this community.

It clearly warped my understanding and I thought I finally had Neville's teachings all figured out.

Let me tell you, I was beyond wrong.

Recently, I had discovered that I've been missing the main puzzle piece: the entire source of the law of consciousness.

For that reason alone, I want everyone to know that I will most definitely be revamping and transforming quite a lot of my older posts to reflect my newer, evolved beliefs to reflect the philosophy of nondualism.

Now before you start stressing out, I want to explain to you that Neville Goddard was actually teaching nondualism at the core of his teachings, which a lot of people wrongly mistake as something separate or completely different from the law of consciousness.

They could not be more mistaken, and they simply do not understand it. The law of consciousness is the expression of nondualism at its core.

I'm here to tell you that they are the exact same philosophy with different delivery. That is truthfully what Neville was teaching about all this time.

Now whether or not you believe in nondualism, that's entirely up to you, and you are free to believe whatever you wish. - I just want you to truly understand and realize that Neville Goddard was, in fact, truly teaching nondualism.

Admittedly, Neville did start off his teachings with some limiting beliefs, but he eventually evolved in his beliefs and his teachings after he experienced the promise.

The law of consciousness is just a name for the physical expression of nondualism's philosophy. Simple as that.

For everyone who is here for the "law of assumption" and you are being led to believe that you are somehow separate from your own reality, or the law of consciousness is a law "operating outside of you"- you are seriously not being taught the law of consciousness in the way that Neville Goddard actually intended for you to understand the whole core his teachings.

*Your understanding of the law is being warped and twisted out of shape because of all the countless amounts of misinformation.*

Neville Goddard and Alan Watts both taught nondualism at its core. However, their styles of teaching were different from the other, and they were focused on different aspects of nondualism.

Neville focused his teachings on the true operation of the law of consciousness shaping our own lives from within us for his listeners to understand how to consciously create their own realities while Alan Watts' teachings were more centered around our true self as unmatched, infinite awareness and how we as awareness are the original source of the universe experiencing the physical expression of itself.

Nondualism is all about oneness and unity, not separation.

All the total bullshit you hear these days coming from the most popular bloggers in this community about: "The 4D vs. The 3D", "The 3D conforming to your desires", or "The 4D is more real than the 3D" -

Blah, blah, blah.

Throw all of that shit out of the door.

All of that implies separation. There is no separation.

You are the prime *source of all creation* and one with all. This is what true nondualism is all about.

You are source of the universe.

You are God of your own reality and all things come from *within.*

All comes from within. This is the core of nondualism: absolute oneness and unity.

You are one with your reality.

Consciousness is the only reality.

"All things come from within; nothing comes from without-" - Neville Goddard

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A lot of my former beliefs were about:

▪︎ The "3D conforming" - That's a huge no, no. There is no damn "conforming" going on, and I will explain all about that in another post. "Conforming" implies separation, and there is absolutely no separation. You and your reality are *one*. Simple as that.

▪︎ Taking Neville's whole "mirror" comparison in a literal manner to imply separation between imagination and reality.

Guess what? That teaching from Neville was *never* meant to be taken as literal.

I'll say it louder for the people in the back this time. There is absolutely *no* separation. Your reality "mirrors" your state of mind because there is no separation between you and your reality.

You can thank the ridiculous flood of popularized misinformation flowing through this platform for making me think there was some sort of invisible, barrier between imagination and reality that performed as a literal mirror in action.

What the hell was I thinking? Most definitely not. Those former beliefs of mine are history and deep in the trash where they belong.

▪︎ Focusing on the "time" with manifestations:

I actually now feel as if focusing your attention on the "time" implies a lack mindset because you're just supposed to focus on enjoying already having your desires in the present moment.

"Time" does not matter.

Stressing out and worrying about the "time" is a strong indicator of a victimhood mindset, and I only want to empower my followers to step into their power and change their mindset to manifest their dreams.

I firmly believe that the more confidence in yourself and your own ability to manifest, the less "time" it takes for the physical manifestation of your desire to be expressed in your reality.

▪︎ Thinking as if the "law of assumption" was a law that was somehow operating outside of us. -

Oh, hell no, it's not. Not even close.

The law of consciousness is *you*.

Everything is coming from within you.

You are the *infinite source of all creation.*

It's simply a beautiful and freeing realization.

Free yourself from the chains of misinformation.

▪︎ { I will be doing a post sometime to explain nondualism in greater detail and how it is actually about the true nature of the law of consciousness under a different name and form of delivery. }

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None of the former beliefs reflect my views anymore, and people who are still following these beliefs are only overcomplicating and distorting their understanding of Neville's teachings about the law of consciousness.

I resonate far deeper with the true intended teachings of nondualism from Neville and Alan Watts compared to the popular ways that people are trying to teach "law of assumption" these days on here.

I'm just not having it, chief.

I have stepped away and opened my eyes. I am on the outside looking in and I am now seeing just how much distorted misinformation are being blindly accepted as the end-all and be-all from even most of the Neville inspired blogs.

The teachings from Neville in this modern community are incredibly warped and distorted. These people just don't get it, man and I remember being in the exact same position, myself.

I shake my head when I think about the old, ignorant version of myself. I really thought I had it all figured out and I was missing the main piece of the puzzle the whole entire time to tie everything together.

It is now safe for me to say that I have definitely strayed far away from the distorted misconceptions and "popular" ways a lot of bloggers are trying to teach "law of assumption" these days. I'm just not having it, man. The ignorance is unbearable.

*Knowledge is power* and you want to make sure that you are being exposed to the right information from others that will simplify everything and actually help you achieve success on your manifestation journey.

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#loassumption #law of assumption #manifestation #manifesting #law of manifestation #neville goddard #nondualism #nonduality

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