#might have already plotted a lil bit for this year

[wtfuckevenknows]

Will I make Carlos as Christmas obsessed as I am? 🧐

#Christmas 2021 #might have already plotted a lil bit for this year #buying a new Christmas tree is on the agenda

[moongothic]

Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #Crocodad #Nico Robin #THIS POST WAS AN ACCIDENT. I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED. WHY DID I WRITE THIS. WHAT DEMON POSSESSED ME #I'm sure someone's written this already right #Right #Surely this fanfic already exists #Please tell me it exists #I dunno what to tell you I am not immune to a Juicy AU #Anyway on a more wholesome side of things: Robin accidentally calling Crocodile ''dad'' and he just inhales and swallows his whole cigar #Nearly chockes to death. Gets burns on his throat. #Robin feeling less alienated because of her DF ability because Croc has seen weirder AND is made of sand himself #If anything if they're literally by themselves then Robin being able to literally lend a hand to Croc at any time could be extremely useful #Like. In regular life situations. 'Cause Croc only has one hand. And Robin as many as she wants. Perfect duo. #(Also if they were travelling on like a small ship then it'd probably be built for a Tall Motherfucker like Croc right) #(Robin's ability would just make the ship more accessible to her and Croc would find that independence good) #Robin still gets a codename because Croc can't have anyone realize who she is. Maybe she even wears like a mask or summin' in public #If Crocodile's openly trans and the news of him transitioning recently broke out. Like. No avoiding that convo eh #Baby Robin's like ''...I read in a book once that some reptiles can change sex but I didn't know crocodiles could do it too'' #''💦.../Humans/ can't do that normally either'' #''Hmmmm. Weird. I don't think being a girl would suit you though'' // ''...I'll take that as a compliment'' #I just. I think they could have really cute interactions if they warmed up to each other after a little while #And I'm Extremely Normal about that

[virgincels]

JINGLE BALLS !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, daddy-daughter incest, leon is creepy ngl, dub-con at first then consensual, daddy issues, you get compared to your mom lots, creampie, daddy kink

note. HAII sorry for this being late omg :3 umm this is weird and jolty and the plot im not totally happy with but :333 ignore typos or I will cry!! feedback and reblogs always so appreciated :3

tumblr removes fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that these fics contain dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“Pumpkin!” Your dad’s embrace is stiff per usual. This guy - he seriously needs a lesson in intimacy. Can’t go hugging your daughter the same way you do a girlfriend. Dads shouldn’t put their hands below your midriff. They certainly shouldn’t grip your hips and pull you close with such fervour, now you’re tit to tit with the man who gifted you your pornstar rack. And it’s a bit awkward to say the very least.

“Hi, dad.” He backs off, skittish when he hears your tone of voice. Flat and clipped.

“Sweetpea, I’m so glad you’re here,” Leon starts, he’s laying it on super thick, “We’re gonna have a lot of fun.” Oh, you’re exhausted already.

“Mhm.” You nod in disinterest as you toe off your shoes, place them beside his mud-caked boots. Leon is your dad. Your dad is just a guy to you. One that’s around never, you see him seldom and from afar. He’s not exactly awful, but he’s nothing great. A little touchy if anything, and enthusiastic in a way that comes across as disingenuous.

The only thing you really know about Leon is that he’s your dad, he works with the government, and he’s still hung up on your mom. You can tell from a mile away. Looks at her like she crafted the earth itself, mapped out the stars, plucked them from the sky to make him a new moon. Totally whipped for a woman who forgets he exists until major holidays roll around. And you get it honestly, your mom is pretty, fun, and she’s all you’ve got. So you might take after dad in that sense.

You’ve seen the kinda women he brings home. That time you caught him mid disgusting, nasty, abhorrent sex act that you’ve only seen in porn. Had this poor girl’s head tilted so far back, blonde curls like liquid gold running along her back, brushing the swell of her ass, his arm wrapped around her neck - like, was he trying to fucking kill her? Well, she liked it clearly. That’s beside the point, when you saw her face the following morning, her sheepish smile and the slant of her eyes - you got it. Mom. She looked like mom. You overheard him telling her she was too young for him, a college girl, his daughter’s age - only after he came down her throat though. What a creep.

Then there was his girlfriend from a few years back, this chick who popped her gum too loud, bossed him around and got him to pay for a new set of acrylics weekly. It was uncanny the resemblance between her and mom. What next? You? Is it your turn to be pursued by Leon, by dad? The only thing you’ve got from him is tits, busty like your daddy, pretty like your mommy. And he fucking knows it. You know he does.

Leon places a hand on your lower back. Like, way lower back, the spot a boyfriend would touch when he wants to initiate a quickie. You shiver, glance at him through your peripheral as he guides you to the lounge, the wooden floor is so cold you feel it through the fabric of your winter socks. This dude is loaded and he can’t even get heated floors installed? Not even for lil ol’ you? His daughter? The one that resembles his one true love?

There’s a red box that contains a gingerbread house sitting on the coffee table, you groan inwardly. Here we go with the bonding activities, it’s so forced it makes your skin crawl. His Christmas tree is, well, it’s a tree alright, crudely and hastily decorated with a sparse amount of baubles and god-awful paper crafts you gave to him as a toddler. Aw, the sentiment is there though, kinda cute. You’ll cut dad some slack.

By the time midnight rolls around, you realise cutting dad even the slightest bit of slack was a mistake. “Take that off.” You jab a finger into his stomach, met with sinewy, toughened flesh. Woah, dad’s still got it going on. “It’s ugly, and I’m not twelve, dad.”

“Moving fast.” Leon - your dad, biological, held you as a baby, rocked you to sleep at night - wiggles his eyebrows at you. All while dressed in a Santa suit by the way, ‘cause that is one very important piece of information. He looks fucking ridiculous. It’s the same one he used to pull out when you were a kid, back when you actually gave a shit about him, what he thought about you, whether he even wanted you. ‘Cause if your daddy wanted you, why was he away so often? Told mom to jingle his balls once, an unsavoury recurring memory that you’d like to forget.

“Oh, dad, that’s actually really concerning, like, I’m not gonna lie.” You frown at him so hard the wrinkles that form on your forehead become permanent. “Don’t say that to me.”

“I was messing around.” He defends, “Christ, what is up with you today? Got a stick up your ass or somethin’? Y’know, in my day, kids used to be able to take jokes.” Now he’s pouting like a toddler in a sour mood.

“That was not a joke, dad!” You don’t mean to raise your voice, but it happens and within seconds he’s sat on the couch dejected. This fucking dude. Ugh. He’s pathetic. How did he manage to bag a hottie like your mom?

“I just want you to love me, sweetheart.” Here we go again. Leon sighs hopelessly as he slumps back into the cushions, and you can’t take him seriously when he’s wearing a fucking Santa hat.

“I do love you, dad.” And you do. Honest. Really. Like, pinky promise. You love him out of obligation - he’s your dad, and you’re meant to love your dad. Doesn’t mean you like him though. In your very objective-totally-not-biased view, your dad is just a bit unlikeable. A bit of a strange one.

“Yeah?” He lightens up, “You love me?” God, it’s like he gets off on it. Oh, you’re just being mean now. You scoot closer to him, lean in for an awkward side hug.

“I do, dad. I love you.” You don’t have the courage to look at him. Leon’s arm snakes around your waist, and you know what’s coming. How much do you love me?

“How much do you love me?” Called it. Up until now it’s been a harmless question, but when you face him, gaze flitting from his eyes to his nose to his lips, the general wear and tear of his aged face - it’s different. This time you won’t be able to get away with the regular bout of flattery, wax poetry about how much you love him, how you wouldn’t want anyone else but him to be your daddy. When in reality, you’d swap out Leon for any poor sod. They wouldn’t leave you hanging so damn often.

“A lot, dad.” You turn your head to roll your eyes, getting it out of your system proves worthy, now you can plaster your mommy’s smile onto your face, the one he loves so much. “So much, you know that, don’t you?”

“Just don’t seem like it, pumpkin.” Leon gives you a sideways glance, “I’m trying… I wanna make it up to you, y’know? For how much I was away.”

“Dad, you don’t have to do that. I’m over it.” You’re not. But, you’re good at pretending you are. “I don’t need you to make it up to me.” You do. Oh, you so do. You need it to a devastating degree. “Like, I’m not a kid, I don’t want Santa, and I don’t wanna make fuckin’ gingerbread houses, or watch Home Alone-“

“What, so you’re a big girl now?” He tilts his head to the side, there’s an edge to his voice that’s hard to decipher. Don’t know if it’s good or bad.

“Well, I’m not little anymore, dad.” You gasp when he tries to take a subtle glimpse down your shirt.

“I can see that.” Leon pokes his tongue into the corner of his cheek.

“Yeah, and I saw that!” When you go to stand, his grip becomes almost crushing, wanting to hold you in place so badly. For a moment it’s scary, only for a moment, this is just dad. Just Leon. He’s harmless. As lame as he is, your dad wouldn’t hurt you.

“I didn’t do nothing, baby, c’mere, don’t be like that.” Dad pets your head, and it reminds you of your childhood bedroom. “I’m sorry, alright? I never spent Christmas with just you, and I wanted to make it good for you.”

“I know, dad, and I appreciate it, just don’t need you to get all weird about it. Like, we can just— we can just be normal about it. Don’t have to do all this shit, I just want us to be normal.” Normal, huh? Neither of you can do normal, and you’re fully aware of that. ‘Cause your dad is a freak, and you can’t exactly drain Kennedy blood all that easy. You’ll be your father’s daughter even when he’s dead. “Like, I really, I really can’t deal with this whole Santa thing, did you really expect me to like it? I’m not a baby.”

“I just thought it’d be cute.” Cute? What is cute about a grown man in a Santa costume that’s covered in a thin layer of dust, dug out from the boxes he still hasn’t managed to open ten years after the divorce? “Listen, baby, I’m sorry, alright? I’m real sorry, look at me,” Leon cups your cheek, stares into your eyes with his gentle ones, “Dad’s sorry, yeah? I’m just stupid sometimes.”

“You are,” you nod, “but, I’m sorry too.” No, you’re not. Just saying it so he doesn’t drag this on, so he doesn’t call up your mom and tell her you’re not having a good time. Then your mom will be down your throat, your dad’s missed you, and you missed him too, you should be nicer to him, he tries his best, darling! “You, like, went through all that effort, and I didn’t even say thank you, I just got mad at you— so I’m sorry, dad.”

“Oh, baby,” he coos, shifts so he can bring you into his chest, cheek squished against one of his fat tits, god, why’re they so big, you swear it’s bigger than both of yours combined. “It’s alright, I know you’re growing up, and I’m sorry for treating you like a baby, it’s just, it’s hard ‘cause you’re my little girl, y’know?” Not true. You’ve always been a mommy’s girl. Dad is an acquaintance.

“Yes, I know, dad.” You blink at him, he melts, traces your cheekbone with his thumb. Thank god he took that dumbass hat off, you couldn’t take him seriously.

“Gosh, baby, you look just like your mama.”

“I know, dad.”

“Crazy, ain’t it?” Leon kisses your forehead, “Only got these from me, and nothin’ else, huh?” Dad gropes your tits. The man that put a baby in your mother, that baby being you, obviously, the man whose name is on your birth certificate— the man who has given you his name, is groping your tits. “Certainly not from mommy are they?”

You shake your head. In agreement though. ‘Cause you can’t deny it, your mom’s as flat as a board. It feels weird, yes. But not bad. Maybe you’ve detached Leon from the title of ‘dad’ to the point where it doesn’t even matter anymore. It’s wrong, so you go to stop him, but he’s unyielding in his perversion.

“You look like your mommy down here, baby?” Dad asks, he cups your pussy through your jeans with his big hand. “Can daddy see?”

You shake your head again. Slowly. This time a flimsy no, one that teeters on the boundaries of a yes. You do owe him, you’ve been acting like a bitch ever since you arrived in D.C. Making a right fuss the moment you stepped through the door. Poor guy put the rather intricate gingerbread house all together by himself, he’s dressed as fucking Santa, all ‘cause he thought you’d like it. How bad can it be? Not like fucking your dad could land the two of you in jail, right? Well, it could, but that’s not the point.

“No? C’mon, sweet girl, dad just wants to see,” Leon’s plump bottom lip juts out, you kinda sit there for a minute, then lay back on the couch. What have you got to lose? You have no emotional attachment to this man. You do. It’s not weird at all. God, it’s so weird you want to claw your skin off. “That’s a good girl.” He butters you up while he unbuttons your jeans, taps your hips so you lift ‘em up and off they pop, jeans thrown to the ground. “Oh, look at her, baby, how sweet, just like mama,” Leon rests your left leg on his shoulder, holds the ankle of your right one to spread you open. “You think she likes it like mommy did?”

“How did… How did mom like it, dad— daddy?” You correct yourself, feel this horrible churning in your stomach. Both nausea and need flooding your shaky body.

Leon presses his wide nose to the bump of your clit through your tight panties, there’s a wet patch that seems to get bigger and bigger the more he sniffs around down there. He lifts his head, rests it on your thigh as he slides them to the side, sticky, gooey arousal stringing apart, sticking to the seat of your undies like PVA glue when he separates the fabric from your soaked centre. “She liked it real sloppy, baby.” With that, he spits on your drippy cunt, runs his finger through your folds, pinches your clit. “Daddy’s gonna give it to you just how mom liked it, alright?”

“Okay, dad,” you tell him breathlessly, hands clasped together as you try to calm your nerves. The warmth of his breath on your puffy clit is enough to make you shiver, he spreads you open with his index and middle fingers, the tip of his tongue traces along the centrefold of your cunt. Then Leon grows agitated by the way your panties insist on snapping back in place, so he has a little wrestle with them and your limp legs, once they’re off he tucks them into his pocket for safekeeping. Santa’s back pocket.

Sweetly, he kisses your clit, sucks on it like he’s getting to the centre of your cunt, blows a raspberry on it - you’re so wet it’s pooling beneath your ass. Leon spreads your cheeks to lick into your cunt, press his nose into it real nice ‘n deep, smacks his lips against your fat pussy, stubble smeared with your slick. Leaking all over your dad’s pretty face, letting your dad tug your clit between his teeth and fuck his tongue into your tight hole. “Should stop shaving.” Is all dad says once you cream on his face, “Your mama didn’t.” Okay, didn’t need to know that, but here you are, dad’s fat cock hard and heavy against your thigh. So you guess fucking him comes at that expense - finding out all sorts of details about their wild sex life. To be honest, you pegged Leon as the kinda guy who knows what missionary is and missionary only, not that you ever thought about that before. He unbuckles his belt, unthreads the prongs from the holes one by one, and drops his red Santa pants. Good riddance.

“Dad,” you whimper when he sits you up, handles you like a dolly. The tight-fitted Santa coat stretches around his biceps when he scoops you up, puts you on his lap, gosh, you’ve never really noticed those. Maybe that’s what your mom saw in him. Big blue eyes and big tits and big fucking arms. This Santa attire is really fucking you up, it’s hard to take him seriously.

“Your mommy’s real good at riding cock, y’know that, pumpkin?” Leon squeezes your ass, you feel him. All of him. His clothed cock grinding upwards into your bare cunt, a toothy grin stretching his lips as he watches the way your lips squish together. Yeah, fat pussy, so what. Get over it, creep. “Best I ever had she was, best fuckin’ pussy,” he licks up the sweat dripping down your collarbones, “but you’re made for me, ain’t you, baby?”

“Yes, dad.” You don’t know what else to say, breath stuttering when he sits you down on his cock. Thick and fairly long in all the ways a dick should be, you suppose. Look at that, giving a review of your dad’s cock. How far you have come. Fucking degenerate cock critic. It sure does feel good, his tip nestled snug against your cervix, pulsing within the silky walls of your tight cunt. Feel every vein, how his tip leaks pre endlessly, how it twitches when you clench around him.

“Baby, you’re such a big girl now,” Dad kisses you smack-bang in the middle. On your pouty lips. The ones that remind him of your mom, same lips that sucked his cock in the marriage bed, same eyes rolling back into your skull when he begins to rock his hips into you. “Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t you? Better than mommy.” Almost, he wants to add. You know he does. He’s so predictable.

There are no words in your brain, only able to let out shaky breaths and the occasional yelp as he takes you, grabs your hips and bounces you up and down on his cock. “Fuck, wait, let me— let me-“ he doesn’t finish his sentence, instead he’s sliding you off and bending you over the couch. “Better like this.” That’s ’cause you look like mom from behind. Same hair, same hips, same perky ass. Leon fucks you harder, his strokes deeper, knocking his cock into your poor cervix with his brutal thrusts. Your nails scratch at the cracked leather of his couch, unable to help the way you moan for him, it’s so embarrassing, even more so when your hips begin to move on their own, fucking yourself back on dad’s dick.

Each thrust is harder than the last, god, is he trying to go through you? Put you in A&E ‘cause his cock got tangled in your intensities? “Is this… Is this how mom likes it, dad?” You manage to get out through a stifled groan, he digs his teeth into your neck, licks a stripe over the tender skin then tugs at your hoop earring with his teeth.

“Your mom likes it even harder, baby,” Leon snickers, “your mama is a dirty bitch.” You gasp, tighten around him involuntarily, your pussy behaves in mysterious ways. “She liked it when I did this,” his hand comes down on your ass hard, you squeal, almost lose footing and fall face-first into the couch cushions. “And when I pulled her hair, and slapped her tits, and spit down her fuckin’ throat.” Your mom is one nasty bitch, good on her. Personally, you’re new to it all. “You want that?”

“I don’t know, dad.” You say helplessly, thighs trembling when he reaches round with his nimble fingers to rub neat circles into your bud, so you come undone around his cock. Coat the shaft in cream, drip slick down his balls. You muffle your moans into a pillow, painted toes curling against the wooden floor, suddenly thankful for his lack of underfloor heating - ‘cause you’re sweating like a pig.

Your body trembles with aftershocks as he continues to fuck you through it, helps his little girl out by kissing the wet nape of her neck, a big hand on her waist to steady her. Sweat prickles your skin, jolting as he gives one last sloppy push into you, hips jerking as he unloads all he’s got to give and you milk him just right. ‘Cause you know, you’re his kid, made for him. That’s why he fits like a glove. Born to get your cunt bred by dad. You think he says your mom’s name into your hair, but you don’t question it, slumping over in exhaustion.

“Dad, can you just do me a favour and take that off, please? I’m really tired and it’s pissing me off.” You curl up on the sofa, uncaring of the seed that drips out and trickles down your plush thighs.. Leather’s easy to clean.

“Why? I like it. Don’t you think it’s cute, sweetpea?” Normalcy or what the two of you consider normal returns.

“No, take it off, or I’m taking the next flight home.”

“Alright, pumpkin.”

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[readerthatreadsss]

Requesting more dom!peter 😮‍💨🥵

𝗔/N: Your request is my command! (especially since I've been searching for more dom!Peter fics myself and have been failing so I might as well do it my damn self!) Also, yeah, it's been a damn long time lmao. I planned to finish up and release this like 4 months ago. Then a whole bunch of bad shit happened and I kinda gave up on writing for a little bit (outside of school cause I need that damn Bachelor's degree) BUT I've slowly started reading again and that bled into me opening up my drafts and finding this and spending some time with it. If you couldn't tell I had a shit ton of fun with this one...so feel free to check my newly updated Masterlist and request guidelines and send me more requests! The more I get, the more I'm gonna force myself to actually write them. (If you already sent one just know I’m working on it I promise)

𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 | 𝗧𝗮𝘀𝗺!𝗣𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

(heavily inspired by the song with the same title by Adele.) It came up in my shuffle and when I started listening to the lyrics it was just too perfect.

he's so fucking pretty aghhhh (gif not mine)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Tasm!Peter Parker x Vigilante!Fem reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.6k+ (This is my big comeback so I might as well feed yall)

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: You and Peter have been broken up for about 3 years, but when an impromptu visit to your apartment takes a turn...that may no longer be the case...

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 (𝟭𝟴+ 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗗𝗡𝗜): SMUT!, lil bit of angst at the end (ex to lovers so ofc), minimal use of y/n, P*rn-with-plot, Reader and Peter are FERAL for each other because of their powers (enhanced senses and all that), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly), a lil possessive Peter, oral (r receiving), fingering, praise kink, Peter using his webs to restrain reader (pre-consented ofc), dom!Peter, sub!Reader (bratty at first tho), pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, angel), choking, rough sex, brief spanking, other positions, creampie, etc...

The remaining sunlight of the evening bled through your wide studio apartment windows as you finished folding what was left of your newly washed laundry. The plan for the rest of the evening was simple;

Drink two bottles of wine (knowing that your enhanced metabolism would sober the effects), catch up on a few missing assignments to keep your NYU professors off your ass, then jump into your suit and go patrolling.

It was a familiar routine.

Or at least, it had been...since he left.

Your relationship with him ended during your first year of college. To say it hurt like hell would be an immense understatement.

What hurt the most was the fact that you both gave everything you had to make it work...but long distance can be a bitch.

On that warm Saturday night in May, your ex-boyfriend received a call informing him that he had been accepted into a very prestigious engineering program (with a full-ride scholarship attached) all the way in California.

You applied for the very same program, so you knew just how big of an opportunity it would be. And, in good faith, you pushed him to take the offer.

You both insisted, "we'll make it work," and "we'll video chat and text every day. It'll be fine!"

What a load of horseshit.

It took 6 months for you to both arrive at the conclusion that you couldn't juggle your individual academic loads, your nighttime hero personas, AND a long-distance relationship all at the same time. A three-hour time difference didn't help matters either.

It took a while, but you eventually moved on. You kept your grades up, went on a few dates here and there, and even managed to convince yourself that you were doing fine without him.

Until...

*knock knock knock*

Your head peeked out from the fridge to look where you heard the strong yet hesitant knocks on your front door.

Only a handful of people knew where you lived and you weren't expecting to see any of them today.

Assuming it would be a postal worker or someone along those lines, you swung open the door with a polite smile.

"Hi-"

You felt your voice die in your throat as you locked eyes with the deep brown ones you hadn't seen in three years.

"Peter," his name fell from your lips, barely audible.

"Hi, Y/N," he replied with that awkward grin you knew all too well.

His hair was shorter than the last time you saw him, but from the tight fit of his jacket, you could see that was about the only thing about him that shrunk.

You wanted to actually hit yourself in the head for actually imagining yourself doing many things to his large...meaty...biceps- NO, no, no, no get a grip! a voice of logic sounded in your mind.

You hadn't realized how long you stood there silently sizing him up until he spoke again. "Can I...uh...come in, maybe?"

"Umm...sure," you nervously answered, finally taking note of the small cardboard box he was holding.

As you stepped aside to allow him entrance into your apartment, his familiar scent invaded your sensitive senses.

"Oh God," you muttered under your breath, knowing that he heard you, yet unaware that your scent had basically the same effect on him as well.

"You alright?" he turned and asked you in concern trying to hide the tightening of his jeans with the box he brought.

You nodded way too fast, promptly putting some distance between yourself and him. He hadn't been there for longer than 5 seconds and he was already having an effect on you.

"How've you been?" he questioned you, scratching his neck and actively avoiding eye contact. Unbeknownst to you, he was currently repeating every physics law he could remember in his mind to try to quell his growing erection.

It wasn't working very well.

"I've been fine. You?" you quickly spoke, slightly out of breath.

"I-uh-I'm alright," he shook his head with a tight-lipped smile.

He soon found himself just looking at you. It wasn't a blank stare, no, it was the sort of intense look you unintentionally gave someone when trying to commit every single feature to memory as if you weren't certain when you'd get another chance to.

It was a habit of his you noticed a lot when you were dating. And just as it did back then, it sent chills running rampant down your spine. Not to mention your nipples growing obviously hard behind your large shirt with no bra to hide it.

Peter noticed it immediately and fought back a smile, which you glimpsed.

"Why are you here, Peter?" you decided to get down to business before your body betrays you any further.

The brunette let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before actually coming up with an answer. "I wanted to drop these off," he placed the small box on your kitchen counter.

Your eyes immediately narrowed. "You could have mailed it. Or you could've just dropped it at the door and then left. So why are you really here Peter?" you would have felt worse about your tone if you weren't so bothered.

Why the hell did he feel the need to suddenly show up and make you start feeling things you swore you wouldn't feel for him again?

Peter took a deep breath. "Aunt May called me last week. She's not doing too good. So, I came back to help take care of her."

You felt your stomach sink at his words. While you both dated, May grew to be like a second mother to you. You had no idea she was sick.

"Oh shit Peter-I'm so sorry," you crossed the room to engulf him in a hug, despite your initial reaction to his visit.

Peter immediately accepted your hug and found the anxiety in his body dissipating soon after. Your hugs tended to have that effect on him.

He couldn't stop himself from deeply inhaling and drawing in your hair's familiar scent when he wrapped his hands around your clothed waist.

A few seconds passed before you released each other, with you also savoring the feel of his body against you and the way how your skin lit up with goosebumps though there was a thin layer of clothing separating his hands from you.

"I was just cleaning up my old room at May's and I found some of your stuff so I figured I'd drop by and..."

You nodded in understanding and walked over to where he placed the box.

It was mostly filled with old t-shirts, tools, and gadgets from days when you would sleep over at Peter's or stop by to help each other with school projects.

"Thanks," you sent him a smile as you closed the box.

Your smile warmed Peter's heart. It was actually his second favorite thing about you, after your hugs of course. "Yeah, you're welcome," he smiled back, running his hand through his hair. It was a mess by now, but you still wanted to run your hands through it…or maybe even pull on it-

"Sorting through some of this stuff made me realize how much I...missed you," he said, his tone growing more assured.

Thankfully, you were still facing away from him, not giving him the chance to catch the pained expression that briefly crossed your face.

But you could feel him slowly approaching your frozen figure and found your body silently reacting in ways it shouldn't be, yet again. "Do you miss me?" he asked, his voice heavy.

You held back the urge to scream "Yes!" because admitting that out loud would be taking 3 steps backward.

Admitting that you missed him would be undoing all the work and tears you put into moving on from him and the hopes and dreams you had for a life with him.

Admitting that you missed him would mean giving in to the part of you that thought back to your most intimate moments with him when you touched yourself.

And admitting that you missed him would mean letting him back into the four-cornered box you had locked yourself in for the past 3 years.

But, with every step closer that he took, your resolve disappeared that much faster.

"You okay?" he called for your attention.

Your sharp intake of oxygen brought a tense silence over the room when you turned to face him and realized that he stood close enough for your lips to nearly brush his.

"Peter, I-" you tried to form words, but then you saw his lust-filled brown eyes lower to your lips.

And that was all it took for the last of your self-control to disappear.

"Damn it," you mumbled once you realized what was about to happen.

Before Peter could question your outburst, you found yourself latching onto his jacket lapels and pulling him down to meet your lips.

It took mere milliseconds for Peter to react. After all, he had been thinking about doing this since you swung open the door and looked up at him with those eyes of yours.

His large calloused hands took hold of the sides of your face as you clashed in a heap of teeth and tongue. It was desperate and feverish but it was perfect.

It was a language only you and Peter seemed to master, even now after three years apart.

Your lips moved swiftly against his, eager to taste more and more of him with each passing second. You felt him press his growing bulge flush against you, causing a pathetic whine to involuntarily tumble from your lips and a smirk to find its way onto his.

"I did miss you," you softly spoke, "but we can't do this Peter," the logical part of your brain made an appearance, though you kept peppering his lips with kisses.

As his lips moved to your neck, Peter's hands slid down to your ass where he effortlessly lifted your legs off the ground and up around his waist. The feeling of his hands against the bare skin of your thighs garnered yet another moan from you.

"You don't sound so sure angel," you felt him smirk against your heated skin.

You hadn’t heard that nickname in years yet it sent small chills down your spine for the second time that night.

A mumbled curse slipped your lips when he nipped a particular spot below your ear. That was definitely gonna leave a mark.

You soon gathered the strength to pull Peter's hungry lips away from your body, swinging your arms around his neck to hold yourself up.

"We can’t go back from this, you know that right?" you spoke, the both of you panting from the effects of the last minute.

"I don't wanna go back," Peter shook his head, "I wanna fuck you, right here, right now," his lips immediately found yours before his words could fully resonate.

This caught you by surprise which allowed Peter to slip his tongue between your lips.

As his taste continued to flood your senses, you felt yourself grow alarmingly wet.

Peter knew it too because he slowly pulled back and smirked down at you. "I could smell you from the moment I walked in here. Glad to see three years hasn't changed the way your body reacts to me, angel," he accompanied his words with a quick slap to your ass.

His slap and the familiar pet name left you a moaning mess. Just like he knew it would.

A lovely laugh left Peter's mouth before his lips met yours again.

He walked your entangled bodies over to the kitchen counter without breaking the sloppy kiss.

Peter used one hand to blindly clear the counter and place you on it, which sent your box of things flying toward the floor.

Not that either of you cared.

"Too much clothes," you were barely able to say in between kisses.

You followed up by shoving Peter's jacket off his shoulders which fell to your hardwood floors with a thud. He immediately got the message and got rid of his t-shirt as well.

A shameless whimper left your lips at the sight of his very toned muscles. You easily maneuvered Peter's body closer to you and began kissing and sucking his neck and every other available inch of skin just as you had pictured earlier, making sure to leave a few purple bruises in your wake.

“You’re killing me here baby,” Peter harshly swallowed, his eyes sliding closed as you continued to have your way with his chest.

"Wouldn't be a terrible way to die though, right?" you mumbled between lovebites and licks. You felt like an animal in heat but you just couldn't get enough of him, the occasional flex of his muscles with each slither of your tongue and his deep groans only egging you on more.

The taste of his skin alone could've made you cum easily.

But the same could be said for Peter as the feel of your tongue slithering all along his chest had him practically creaming his pants then and there.

Fucking enhanced senses, he cursed inwardly.

“Alright, ease up pretty girl,” he reluctantly grabbed your head, detaching your swollen lips from his body.

“Your turn,” he tugged at the hem of your top.

You quickly pulled off the oversized t-shirt you were wearing to reveal your bare top half to him.

He spared no time in cupping your breasts with his eager hands. "Fuck, I missed you so much," he mumbled.

"Me, or my boobs?" you jokingly raised a brow at him.

"Definitely both," he grinned, bringing his mouth down to your tits.

As his tongue made contact with the soft mounds, you loudly moaned and wrapped your fingers in his unruly tangle of hair.

He switched between nipping and sucking on your nipples, in the way he knew you liked, while his free hand pinched and squeezed the other.

"Just like that Peter fuck-" hearing his name fall from your lips drove Peter insane.

His tongue flicked your sensitive nipples harder, and his eager sucking pleased you to no end.

Peter eventually pried himself away from your supple breasts, remembering the other parts of you he wanted to worship, and brought his hands to rest on the sides of your head. Your lips connected once more in a delicate kiss.

Though you knew what lay ahead for the evening, you were both perfectly content with each other's lips at the moment, just enjoying the constant waves of pleasure from the intimate contact.

But it wasn't long before the kiss grew heated and you tried to take control. Peter, however, wasn't giving you a chance.

"I leave for three years and you think you're hot shit, huh," he smirked.

"Why don't you ask the guy I fucked on this counter last week," you retorted, knowingly riling him up.

"Don't say shit like that, it's not funny," he nearly growled as his grip on your ass grew more forceful.

You secured your grip on his hair before pressing a small kiss on the side of his lips. "Gimme a reason to shut up then," you challenged him.

“Trust me, I will,” Peter grabbed your hands from his hair and forced them to your sides. His movements were swift as he laid you flat on your counter and ripped your thong off your body.

There he is, you smiled to yourself. This is the Peter you wanted to fucking ruin you.

You felt his face ghost your drenched opening as he deeply inhaled your scent. "You smell fucking delicious baby," he praised you, his mouth actually watering at the thought of tasting you.

A genuine smile found its way onto your face but morphed into a gasp when Peter teasingly ran his tongue up your sensitive slit.

"You taste even better," he added, using his strong arms to bring your thighs closer to his head. He wanted to tease you but it was getting harder to resist the urge to dive right into your heat like a man starved.

"Holy shit," you all but screamed as he briefly nipped at your swollen clit before sucking on it to soothe the sting.

His grip on your thighs combined with the ministrations of his tongue was pure bliss.

You attempted to slip your hands in his hair once more, but found that they were suddenly held in place against your counter by two of his webs.

Your eyes briefly widened at the feel of the rough, sticky material against your wrists, not having felt it in a few years. Back then, you expressed to Peter your desire to engage in some bondage, but being the daughter of a super soldier, it was clear that no rope or wire would be able to hold you. Peter's webs became the next best choice.

"That's not fair," you pouted, though it melded into a moan as Peter continued to suck and lick between your glistening folds.

The sounds of Peter devouring you resounded through the small apartment.

"I'm close Pete," you whined, your chest heaving in arousal.

Peter decided to focus his tongue on your eager bundle of nerves while he slowly inserted two fingers into your pussy. He instantly curled the digits causing you to briefly squirm at the sudden pressure against your G-spot.

"More," you begged, and Peter delivered, adding another finger inside of you. He immediately sped up his motion inside of you, making sure his fingers gauged that spongy spot to drive you over the edge with each thrust inside of you.

“That feels so fucking good, Peter, oh my God," you loudly moaned at the feeling of his fingers inside of you, calling forth an orgasm with no warning.

You repeatedly bucked against Peter's face as you came, white-hot pleasure filling your veins. Peter locked onto your stare, still skillfully working his fingers in and out of you, loving the way you constantly clenched around his fingers.

"Jesus fucking Christ," your legs jerked when Peter dove in and drank every ounce of slick you had to give while still fucking you with his fingers.

With his face now damp of your juices, Peter looked up to meet your blissed-out eyes. "Gimme one more, angel," he placed a soft kiss on your thighs, "I know you can do it for me."

You would do anything to keep Peter's mouth between your legs.

So, you eagerly nodded in response before taking a deep breath in preparation for another onslaught.

You didn't have to wait long.

Peter’s tongue went to work on your glistening hole while his fingers fiddled with your overstimulated clit. And, within minutes, your thighs were trapping Peter's head as an even bigger orgasm rocked you again, the borderline pornographic sounds leaving your lips shooting straight to his hardened cock.

Peter seemed perfectly fine with staying between your legs all night, but you had other plans.

"Pete, I need you inside me," you begged, tears of pleasure leaking from your eyes.

He rose from beneath you and climbed up to free your hands from his webs. "I know, baby, I know," he softly replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and using his hands to soothe your reddened wrists. Your own taste on his tongue flooded your senses which made you even more desperate.

Peter obliged, slipping out of his sweatpants and sliding his girth between your folds. He used one hand to hold himself up above you on the counter, and the other to slowly guide his dick into you.

You both shared a long moan as he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, your wetness making it way too easy.

He held still for a few seconds, waiting for you to adjust and give the all clear for him to move.

Eagerness guided your words. “Fuck me, please.”

Peter set a brutal pace, knowing you were more than capable of handling it. Satisfied cries left your chest as you dragged your nails along Peter’s back, hard enough to leave trails.

“You can take it, pretty girl, I know you can,” he groaned as he continued to pound into you, trying desperately not to blow his load with the way you were constantly clenching around him and marking his back.

You tried to reply, but all that you could form were sloppy moans and broken syllables.

“Oh look at you, drunk on my cock already?” he teased with a particularly hard slam that prodded your cervix, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Pleasure-filled cries mingled with words continued to fall from your lips as Peter gently moved a few fallen strands of hair behind your ear with a hand. "-feels so fucking perfect," you muttered, your lips curved into a drunken smile.

Peter reached down and pinched one of your nipples, gaining a loud whimper from you. “I love hearing you make those pretty sounds for me baby,” his strokes grew harder and deeper.

“All for you, Pete, all for you,” you panted as he fucked into you, the delicious smell and sound of sex lingering in the air.

Peter used a hand to wrap around your throat before using the other to reach down and fiddle with your aching clit.

The combination of Peter’s dick hitting that perfect spot, his fingers massaging your clit, and the lack of air from his hand around your neck was making you dizzy and overstimulated.

You fucking loved it.

“God, I missed you,” you spoke breathlessly.

He moved closer to kiss you briefly and tenderly. “I missed you too, baby.”

No amount of time could take away his knowledge on how to please you, how to get you like this with ease, not when you were all he thought about for years on end.

Peter pressed a quick kiss to your forehead then continued to fuck you on your kitchen counter.

"I'm gonna cum again baby, right fucking there," you moaned out.

Peter's grip on your neck grew tighter. "Not yet, don't you cum until I tell you to sweetheart," he commanded you, removing his fingers from your clit.

A frustrated groan rumbled in your chest as you forced yourself to sustain your orgasm.

"Don't pout," he smirked.

And before you could realize it, Peter had pulled out of you and effortlessly flipped you onto your stomach.

A hand soon gripped your hair, yanking you up against his chest and eliciting a pitiful whine from you.

"Tell me what you want,” Peter commanded, using his free hand to strike your ass. Hard.

You whimpered again at the sting of his slap. “I need you inside me. Please,” you pleaded.

He seized your hair harsher and leaned forward for his lips to graze against your ears. “Beg.”

A small whine left your lips at his words. You were so desperate you didn’t even care how embarrassing this would be in retrospect. “I need to cum, Peter. Please baby you're the only one who can make me cum.”

Peter pressed a kiss to your neck, nearly causing you to lose your footing. And he soon complied by ramming himself back into you.

“Oh my Fuck-“ you cried before biting your lip, suddenly aware that you had neighbors.

But Peter pulled his cock from your heat, with just the tip remaining, before roughly slamming into you, his hips slamming against your ass with the motion. “Come on, lemme hear you angel.”

He repeated the action, knocking the air out of your chest, “Peter!” your hands gripped the sides of your counter with such force you were sure you felt it crack under your grasp.

Peter caught wind of this and freed your hair before using his hands to pull your hands behind your back. "You're so perfect baby," he mumbled in your ear, continuing to brutally fuck you from behind, "So fucking beautiful with my cock inside you."

"I can't hold it anymore," you cried, "I need to cum, Peter, please."

With that whiny tone and those overstimulated tears to top it off, Peter couldn't deny you any longer. "Let it all out for me sweetheart. Cum for me," he littered your shoulders with kisses.

Your eyes slammed shut as your walls contracted around his cock, pleasure shooting through you and rocking you on a seemingly cellular level. Your mouth opened in a silent moan, unable to form a sound from the satisfied tremors attacking your nerves. The intensity of your finish is one only brought on when Peter fucked you and it was damn near cosmic.

"Shit," you groaned in relief, your long-awaited climax passing.

Peter slowed his movements inside of you and released your hands. "You did so good for me angel," he pushed your hair aside and kissed your neck, trying to stave off his own orgasm for a little while longer.

Aftershocks rocked your body while Peter continued sporadically moving inside of you, yet you couldn't get enough. Your body was more than ready to keep taking whatever he dished out.

Peter didn't need to read your mind to see that, but he needed to make sure. His lips kept up their onslaught on your neck as he softly spoke, "You wanna keep going?"

"Hell yes," you panted with a grin that he couldn't fully see, "You still haven't cum yet, and my bed is still fully made."

Happy with your response, Peter gave your ass a sharp smack. "That's my girl."

He pulled out of you and turned your body to face him, smiling at the sight of your fucked out face. "Three orgasms and a handful of tears later and you're still the most beautiful girl in the world," he held you by the sides of your face.

His words left you reeling, causing a slight blush to dust your cheeks and butterflies to swirl within your stomach.

Before you could form a response, Peter leaned down to kiss you. He soon hoisted up your legs around his waist, preparing to escort you to your bed as per your own demands.

As he looked around for the bed's location, you took advantage of his momentary distraction and latched your lips onto his neck, reapplying the bruises you left there that were slowly fading already.

Peter was the happiest man on earth as he walked over to your bed, his cock prodding your soaked entrance, and your lips ravaging his neck.

He carefully sat on the edge of your bed, with you now on his lap and your legs still around him. You expected him to ease his length back into you but he slowly brought your head down to meet his intense stare.

You carefully wrapped your hands around his shoulders to keep yourself up, the silence in the room growing deafening.

You could tell from his eyes that he desperately wanted to say something, and you wondered if it was the same thing you had been considering as well.

But you were both aware of what saying those words would mean for your broken relationship and simply settled for smiles instead.

Peter brought a hand up to lay your forehead against his, allowing your breathing to momentarily sync.

"You ready for me?" he questioned you with a hand at the nape of your neck to hold your head against his.

You immediately nodded in response causing his own head to shake in time with yours. A small laugh was shared between you both as your nose continued to brush his own.

"You're adorable," you said before you could stop yourself.

That stupid full-toothed grin that you hadn't seen in a while soon spread across his beautiful face at your words, gaining another laugh from you.

"Last round?” you eventually pleaded with a smile.

"Anything for you," Peter replied, meaning it in every way. Adoration littered his stare as he slowly lowered you onto his length.

A satisfied mewl slipped your lips at the familiar feel of him.

The slow drag of his cock in and out of you, while he rocked your hips back and forth to grind on him, had your bottom lip sucked between your teeth with eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure.

But Peter wanted to see it all. He wrapped a hand around your neck and forced you to meet his dilated eyes. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.”

His soft yet stern tone caused you to swallow back a moan as you continued to move on his girth.

He then slapped your ass with his free hand, silently urging you to move faster.

You leaned down and quickly kissed his lips before happily obliging, now beginning to bounce in his lap, chasing your next climax.

“There you go angel, just like that,” Peter’s stare never wavered.

Peter furiously fucked up into you, your moans and the constant smack of skin on skin filling the apartment.

His other hand which never left your throat now squeezed it harder. “Fuck!” You were barely able to moan out as your breasts bounced with your every move.

“Shit, you’re gripping me like a vice,” Peter groaned, his crude pace never faltering though his orgasm was closer than ever.

Your bed creaked under the onslaught of your bodies, but neither of you payed it any attention only having one goal in mind.

“One more time,” Peter planted his feet on the ground to get a better angle, "Need you to cum on my cock one more time."

But from the broken pacing of his hips to the strong furrow of his brow, you could tell he was close too. “Together?” You breathlessly suggested, grasping the nape of his neck with your hands.

Peter nodded in agreement before engulfing your chest and back with his arms, pulling you closer to his body.

Your breaths mingled, eyes focused on nothing except each other as his grip on your upper body allowed him to help you ride him even faster.

"Yes, Pete, oh my God-" pleas, curses, and moans tumbled from your lips as your skin buzzed at your incoming release.

"There you go, cum for me," Peter's voice grew strangled as his hips stuttered below you.

"Fuck," you wailed, your finish hitting you like a freight train and your pussy leaking into Peter's length.

The intense clench of your walls around him was all it took for Peter to explode with a groan, his pace faltering with that final pump.

"Holy shit baby," he panted, his cum painting your walls in spurts.

His firm hold on your body brought you collapsing on your bed together, satisfied and smiling.

And, for what felt like hours, you lay there in his arms. But of course, your thoughts began to run rampant.

Peter could damn near hear your thoughts spiraling.

"I don't regret this," he suddenly broke the silence you had elapsed into, "Do you?"

"Peter I-...I don't know," you freed yourself from his hold and sat up to look at him.

His brows furrowed at your response, hurt briefly flashing across his features.

"I loved you," you spoke, "I loved you more than anything."

"I know. I loved you too," Peter nodded with a small smile.

"And I will never blame you for leaving. Ever," you slipped a hand in his own and squeezed briefly.

"But?"

Your eyes stung with tears threatening to fall. "What happened to us, it damn near destroyed me, Peter. And it took so so long to put myself back together."

Peter swallowed harshly at your words.

"And then here you come, waltzing in here, fucking my brains out and making me feel things," you lowered your head, looking away from him.

You heard Peter move closer to you before feeling him lift your chin to face him again. His expression wasn't as disappointed as you'd expected, just confused. "Spit it out. I know you're holding something back."

"Why'd you come back here and-and do all this? Reminding me of what we had when you know you're gonna be gone again in the next few weeks?" you felt your voice shrink to a broken whisper.

Peter used his thumb to wipe away a lone tear that fell from your eye, his previously puzzled look now morphing into a smirk. There was obviously something he wasn't telling you.

You sniffled and lightly hit Peter's shoulder. "Well, now it's your turn bug face, spit out whatever you're hiding!"

You received no answer other than Peter leaning forward and pressing a deep kiss against your lips. You eagerly accepted and returned the spontaneous action but were left even more confused when he pulled away.

"That wasn't an answer," you arched a brow at Peter.

"I'm not going anywhere," he smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm moving back to New York, or already moved, technically," he began to explain.

Your mouth opened and closed in shock as your brain fumbled for a response and came up inconclusive.

"I'm gonna finish out the school year online and stay here to take care of Aunt May. I mean it, baby, I'm not going anywhere," he grinned, watching tears of joy fall from your eyes.

"This better not be some sick fucking joke Peter, I swear to God," you pointed a finger at him accusingly.

"Can you shut up and just come here?"

You couldn't help but laugh as you obliged and grabbed Peter's neck before pulling him in for another kiss, your face still wet from tears and a smile almost permanently etched onto your face.

You pulled away but sank into his open arms. You relished how securely he held you. "I'm so happy," you said aloud, truly meaning it for the first time in a long time, though it was only meant to be an inner thought.

Peter kissed your forehead and looked down to meet your eyes, "I'll never stop making you happy, Y/N."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

#tasm peter parker #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter smut #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!peter x y/n #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield #marvel smut #smut #oneshot #welcome back #tasm!peter parker smut

[eoieopda]

HELLO IT IS I, THE CHAOS DEMON WHO CAN READ YOUR MIND.

HEREBY OFFICIALLY REQUESTING A SEQUEL TO THE VMIN DRABBLE.

AND LIKE. LISTEN. IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU NEED TO MAKE IT A LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTLE LONGER WE'LL ALL LOOK THE OTHER WAY.

(like if you need to do five times the wc, i swear, we'll all be really cool about it)

(or eight times. you know. things happen. the hand slips. we get it.)

because. uh. i'm afraid to report that I'm gonna need the FULL story here. beginning to end. like i need every detail until someone goes home.

the one with the hall pass pt. ii

summary: you and your boyfriend have everything important in common — especially your taste in men. pairing: kim taehyung x reader x park jimin au: established relationship (kth x reader) type: drabble (sequel, smut) wc: 2.6k rating: 18+ — minors do not have my consent to interact. cw: jimin’s pov; reader is afab + referred to (minimally) with she/her pronouns; sexual orientation isn’t explicitly designated for anyone, but it's implied that everybody is queer to some extent; unprotected (t) + protected (j) piv penetration; big dick™️ kim taehyung; jimin kinda doms?; lil bit of praise + spit + bulge kinks; spit-roasting; oral (m receiving) + deep throating; voyeurism, i guess?; overstimulation + squirting; cum eating; jimin is in his feelings; aftercare; the ending is up to interpretation. a/n: it’s finally here — the rest of the one with the hall pass, which was initially requested by @here2bbtstrash ✨ this picks up where pt. i left off, but there’s barely a plot to be found, so it’s not necessarily… necessary to have read that first.

For as long as Jimin can remember, he’s been the butt of the joke for being so hopelessly unlucky. 

All thumbs.

He’s the one laughing now, it seems, with you sprawled out naked and half-spent between his legs, using his thigh as a pillow, and Taehyung on his knees at Jimin’s side. With one of those thumbs flicking idly over your left nipple and the other tucked into the wet heat of Taehyung’s hollowed-out cheeks. 

Likewise, he’s teased Taehyung for that oral fixation of his for years, and — well, Jimin feels a bit differently about it now that it’s being fixated on him.

Funny how quickly tables turn.

He tears his eyes off Taehyung to glance down at you, only to find that your starry eyes are already watching him. As much as he loves that fuck-drunk look on your face, Jimin can’t help but drink down the rest of you. His gaze keeps spilling — over your bare chest, your soft stomach, down down down to the knees resting coquettishly against one another.

“How the fuck,” he sighs, turning his head back to his best friend, “Do you get anything done with this one around?”

Taehyung releases Jimin’s thumb with a pop. “That’s the thing…” Beaming, all sparkly and fond, he sighs, “I don’t.” 

And when you laugh, your boyfriend’s cheeks go pink. He ducks his head sheepishly, like that sweet shyness will make either you or Jimin want to look anywhere else. He can't imagine doing so; he can't imagine that you get much done with Taehyung around, either. Now, Jimin has butterflies in his stomach all over again — twice as many as when he first barged into your apartment like an opportunistic bull in a china shop, twice as busy.

If he thinks too hard about it, he really might start tearing up. There’s the insane extent to which the two of you adore each other, and the fact that you’re letting him sit in the middle of that, even for a night. 

It’s a lot. 

It’s everything. 

It’s got Jimin flustered to hell and back, and if he doesn’t get a fucking grip, he won’t be able to live up to expectations — his or yours.

Focus.

He fights through the shakiness in his voice, arching an eyebrow to feign authority he doesn’t actually feel he has. “Taehyungie?”

Maybe he should keep the cute nicknames to a minimum to achieve the desired effect.

“Taehyung,” Jimin amends with a little more confidence. 

And if his friend doesn’t perk up at the attention… 

Switching focus, he directs his next words to Taehyung while staring straight at you: “Show me how you fuck her.”

You shiver — he can feel it — and shift slightly in his lap. Your head tilts against his thigh so you can stare up at him fully; that dark glint in your eye makes his dick twitch next to you, which he’s sure you feel. 

“Where do you want us?” You ask, voice low.

Well, shit. Where doesn’t he want you? 

Jimin pauses, pinching his lower lip between his teeth as he tries to think through the logistics. So, maybe he hasn’t done this before — so what? He makes a game-time decision while skimming his fingertips down the soft slopes of your shoulders, humming, “Stay put, pretty."

Then, with a single finger pointed, he wordlessly directs Taehyung to get back between your legs where he belongs. Your boyfriend listens immediately, although he does it so excitedly that he nearly knocks himself off balance in skirting around your knees. Large hands settle over the tops of them when he reaches his position, giving you a gentle squeeze that says open wide.

As you do, you straighten your body out in front of Jimin’s so your back rests against his chest. “Like this?” You ask with a quick glance over your shoulder, just as eager to please as Taehyung.

“Cute,” Jimin chuckles before he can stop himself. He brushes a kiss onto your forehead to hide his smile, and you preen at the praise, nestling further into him. “Just like that. Give me all your weight, love. Don’t be shy.”

Taehyung finds his voice then. He pipes up, a little breathless, and his downright reverent tone makes Jimin’s stomach flutter. “What a perfect fucking view the two of you make.”

Jimin could say the same.

The chain of Taehyung's necklace dangles over your chest when he leans down to kiss you, quick and desperate like he’s starving for years. Jimin’s pulse sprints as he watches you lick into your lover’s mouth, fingers carding through his hair and tugging gently. And he almost pouts, despite how enraptured he is. Because his best friend knows him better than anyone else, he doesn’t have to say why.

Taehyung knows that Jimin’s just as hungry.

“Did you think I’d leave you out?” Taehyung whispers, breath fanning over Jimin’s lips. 

Jimin doesn’t answer. He can’t. His lower lip is nipped between someone else’s teeth so suddenly that his Etch-a-Sketch brain is wiped clean; and the sting pulls an unexpected whimper out of him. Taehyung captures his kiss properly and swallows that breathy, little sound the moment it slips out, mouth curving into a smile against Jimin’s own.

You make sure your presence between them is known, even though there’s no way in hell they could’ve forgotten about you — hand dipping down to languidly stroke Jimin’s leaking dick behind you, marking up Taehyung’s chest with teasing nibbles and sucks. 

You must give one of those a little extra oomph because Taehyung breaks his lip-lock to groan low and deep from the base of his lungs.

“Please.” Wide, wet eyes boring into Jimin’s, he pleads, “Can I fuck her now?”

The fact that Jimin is being asked for permission would normally go straight to his head, but his cock intercepts it, twitching in your palm.

You simper, like you know you’re saying what Jimin’s thinking out loud. “You better.”

He places his hands on Taehyung’s shoulders and gently pushes him away. The younger of the two leans back onto his heels, rests one hand on your hip to brace you against him, and wraps the other around his length. Once he lines himself up with your slit, he moves to slide home. Jimin stops him short.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts. 

Two pairs of eyes flick up to his face, no doubt catching the smug look on it. Jimin lets both of you simmer in the anticipation for a moment. He loves your equal, undivided attention, and he wants to revel in it for as long as possible. He can’t wait for long, unfortunately; the only thing he likes more than the pair of you watching him is watching you. 

“Spit on it first.”

Taehyung’s perfect, 4-D brain sees both interpretations of that directive, so he acts accordingly. He spits once on his cock, and while he works that saliva down his length, he spits onto the mess he’s already made of your pussy.

You squeak at the contact, shiver again in Jimin’s arms. The way he rubs his palms over your biceps only makes the goosebumps worse, Jimin notes. He likes it that way. He likes the way his friend is once again looking at him with pleading eyes, too; and he has to bite back a smile when he finally gives in. “Good boy. Go ahead.”

Just like that, the list of things that Jimin adores triples in length. He couldn’t order them if he tried, so equally fucked up over each discovery that he couldn’t possibly place one over another.

There's the muted sob you shake out when Taehyung stuffs you full and the blatant bulge in your abdomen when you’ve taken him to the hilt. Taehyung’s head tipping back — eyes closed and bottom lip trapped between his teeth — when the warmth of you spreads far enough to pink his cheeks. Your body moving against Jimin’s with each one of your boyfriend’s thrusts, working him up despite not taking him inside you, too.

Fuck.

Is the room spinning, or is he really about to cum like this?

Jimin decides to make you cum instead. He takes back one of the hands he’s been using to keep your thighs spread, and he presses the heel of it to your abdomen — right above your pubic bone — all but forcing your g-spot into Taehyung’s line of fire. There’s no delay to that gratification; you wail immediately, going tense all over as your whole body spasms.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you sputter helplessly. “Oh, my god.”

Jimin can only imagine how Taehyung feels, fighting for his life while your cunt attempts to squeeze it out of him. He doesn’t stop, even though you’re babbling, and he doesn’t slow down. After a few moments slip away, he tears his rolled eyes off the ceiling, stares at Jimin with a rabid look in them, and announces, “She’s still cumming.”

Of course, Jimin believes Taehyung. That doesn’t quell the need to confirm for himself, with his own eyes. 

And he does, gaze drifting down to where your boyfriend drills himself into you. It's even better than he imagined, finding you absolutely gushing around his cock, soaking your inner thighs, Taehyung’s balls, and the sheets blow.

And he’ll be goddamned if his own orgasm comes just by watching yours, which is apparently never-ending.

Fuck.

Taehyung, as usual, reads Jimin’s mind. He pats one of your trembling thighs affectionately, somehow managing to get your attention while you’re astral projecting between their bodies to somewhere far away. Just as confusingly, you muster the ability to be adorable at a time like this. 

“Y-yes?” You peep, voice beyond wrecked.

Neither Jimin nor Taehyung can help it, it seems. In tandem, they both tilt their heads down to kiss you. One pair of lips presses to each of your temples, earning a pleased hum from you.

Taehyung responds to your question without any air in his lungs. “Want Jimin to feel you, too, baby. Is that okay?”

Your answer is the same as the last time, but the intention is completely different. Now, when you cry out in the affirmative, it’s not a question; it sounds a lot like begging. Goddamn.

It takes both Jimin and Taehyung to gently maneuver your fucked-out body. You’re so pliable, melting like wax into their arms as they shift positions. You only resume form when you wind up on your knees with your face mere centimeters from Taehyung’s cock.

Behind you, Jimin sheaths himself with a condom. He rolls his eyes as he flicks the package somewhere off to the side. “Of course you buy them flavored." 

Taehyung looks shameless instead of shy for once, only responding to the tease with a grin and a shrug. You look over your shoulder at Jimin, pulling a face that makes him cackle. “The cherry one tastes like a cough drop —"

"Hey!" Taehyung interjects with an exaggerated look of offense.

"— one that got dropped," you smirk. "Right in the dirt.”

“I promise not to make you taste it.” Jimin punctuates his oath with a quick kiss to your spine that makes you purr. “Put your mouth on Taehyung instead, pretty.”

The only way that Jimin knows you’ve listened is the shuddered gasp Taehyung lets go. Jimin can’t see a damn thing for himself, so spellbound when he pushes into your cunt that his vision goes white at the edges. “Holy fuck,” he coughs.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

It’s the only word in his brain, and it ricochets around his otherwise empty skull, speeding up when you take his silence as a cue to clench around him.

Does Taehyung go semi-blind whenever he fucks you? Jimin figures he must because there’s no way in hell that a person could get used to a searing heat like yours. He’s a mess, not just physically; and the urge he feels again to cry isn’t solely based on how embarrassed he’d be if he came as quickly as his body wants to.

You both chose him.

Out of all the friends you have, Jimin is the one you wanted here with you — like this, sharing it all like it's no big deal.

He’s the one that knows firsthand how adoringly Taehyung looks at you when you have his dick down your throat, drool dribbling over your chin because there’s no room left for it in your mouth. 

The one holding your hair out of your face, using your hand-wrapped ponytail to guide you back onto his own cock, whispering praise into your sweat-slicked back and watching how his compliments make you work harder to earn more of them.

Moaning himself when Taehyung’s release shoots down your waiting throat, when your kitten-licks ensure that the tip of his cock is spotless after the fact, when gratitude swoops down to kiss you stupid.

Jimin’s never felt closer to anyone, never loved his friends more than he does now.

Not for nothing, he’s also never felt an orgasm build so strongly that it tingles at the back of his skull before. “F-fuck,” he hiccups, although it sounds more like a cry. “I’m gonna cum. Shit. Feels so fucking good. Where do you want it?”

He begs himself — steels himself — to hold out long enough for your input. His pace slows so his stamina and resolve don’t give up at once. You’re throbbing around him, though, and feeling your fucking heartbeat like this doesn’t make this any easier on him.

Taehyung is the one who answers, knocking Jimin off-kilter with only three words:

“In my mouth.”

It was a team effort to get you and your sore limbs into the shower, but the three of you eventually managed. Taehyung had stayed with you, mostly because nobody felt confident that you’d stay upright; but also because Jimin hadn’t offered. Even considering the idea felt like imposing, and as far as Jimin figured, this was one of the few parts of the night that shouldn’t be shared.

So, after a quick piss and a thorough wash of his hands, he slipped out of the bathroom to find his clothes.

To try to find his clothes, that is.

“Jesus,” he mutters to himself, laughing under his breath. 

What a fucking mess you’d all made — clothes, sheets, accessories. Like a bomb had gone off, your commingled assets had exploded everywhere. At this rate, he’d be lucky to find a single sock, let alone his favorite pair of jeans.

Figuring that stripping the bed might help, Jimin sets to work pulling the comforter and sheets off the bed, tossing them into a hamper he found near the door. When the fabric flutters, he hears a ring clatter down to the hardwood. It's one he doesn’t remember coming off in the first place, and that makes him chuckle, too.

After a while, his inventory includes two socks — one that’s his and one that isn’t — a belt, his sweater, and what he assumes is your scrunchie.

Were you even wearing one?

He’d been so busy with his scavenger hunt that he hadn’t noticed the water shutting off in the neighboring room. He doesn’t notice your presence in the doorway until you clear your throat.

“These have to be yours. Taehyung is tragically in his animal print era.”

Jimin pauses and stands upright, having been searching under the bed. His gaze lands on the black Calvins first, then it sweeps over your outstretched arm to the rest you. There’s a fluffy, grey towel wrapped around your freshly-washed body; and wrapped around your towel is Taehyung, smiling sleepily with his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Definitely mine,” Jimin sighs after a slight pause, nodding.

It would be anyone’s guess what he’s referring to — his underwear or the people holding it out to him — but there’s no room given for uncertainty because Taehyung says, “By the way, I’m calling the shots next time,” and Jimin is hit so hard with relief that his laugh explodes right out of him.

“We can workshop it.”

“Next time,” you repeat, like those words make you just as giddy.

Jimin nods firmly. “Next time.”

likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

want to be on my permanent bts taglist? sign up here.

tagging: @jihopesjoint @sailoryooons @ugh-yoongi @gimmethatagustd @chimmisbae @somerockstarsgf @mgthecat @whatthefsposts @kookstempo @xjoonchildx @quarter-life-crisis2 @persphonesorchid @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhintothevoid @firesighgirl @iadelicacy @cowboylikeyoongi @minholykingofkorea @serendididy @withluvjm @bbyorchid @nonbinary-demonbrat @piecsblog @myimaginationsrunningwild @zelchena @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @pamzn @cyanide-mustard @taegeum @purplebeebs @i-purple-buff-bunni + some people who were into pt. i: @moni-logues @beahae @unsureofwhathappens @swga-ficrecs @bintific

#taehyung smut #jimin smut #vmin smut #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #kim taehyung #park jimin #kth #pjm #jade writes #jade's requests #jade's drabbles #taehyung drabble #jimin drabble #re: the one with the hall pass #kvanity

[idolatrybarbie]

odd couple

pairing: established francisco "frankie" morales x reader

word count: 2.5k

rating & summary: explicit, mdni! | frankie can't cook, to put it lightly.

tags: no trigger warnings needed for this one, porn with (little) plot, rated e like woah, frankie needs a win, very unedited as of initial posting, stubborn!frankie, premature ejaculation, handjobs, cumplay, overstimulation, sub!frankie moments, multiple orgasms, spit kink/drooling, #petnames4frankie, praise kink, slight dacryphilia, reader calls frankie "wet" in this idk that might not be your thing i guess. look man it's been a hard week.

notes: it's not wednesday and i am struggling a lil' bit (might make a personal life update soon idk ?) but i am being such a brave little toaster about it! writing this definitely made me feel better. when it comes to music, this weezer song is a little generic within their discography but whatever, i like it. hope you enjoy! also everyone go read @wannab-urs sub!max phillips fic because i say so and it's awesome.

You listen to Frankie move around the kitchen from your spot on the couch, trying your very best to ignore the occasional clang and clattering noise that flows out from the distant doorway. Tonight, he has taken on the task of making the two of you dinner. Or trying to, anyway. You don’t cook much either. Your job, like his, doesn’t lend much time to it. Takeout is more than often what’s on the menu—Burger King, of all things, is his favourite.

You know how to cook though. Every once in a while you have the spare time to whip together something truly delicious; slow-roasted pork belly, or maybe a nice pasta with garnish. Frankie doesn’t seem to know his ass from the oven.

The two of you have had this conversation hundreds of times. You stating that he can’t cook, and him pushing back, insisting that he can. Or he could, before the service stuck him with single meal MREs for a number of years and he lost most of the culinary knowledge given to him by various tías, his abuela, and of course Mrs. Morales herself.

His stubbornness spurs the occasional urge to throttle him. It’s fine you can’t cook, you always tell him. Not like he can’t still learn. Still, he insists, and insists on insisting on top of that.

Honestly, you couldn’t be more of opposites. Even excluding skills of domestic labour, he and you are a bit of an odd couple. Frankie’s an early mornings guy, always, while you enjoy a sleepy Sunday—or just about any day that ends in Y. He hates the horror movies you fawn over, while you can’t stand the nature documentaries and sappy celebrity biopics that he eats up year over year. Frankie is highly detail-oriented, the engineer instinct in him always angling towards rigid preparedness; you’re a bit more goal-focused, letting any plan morph and adjust according to the situation.

Another such cooking conversation had taken place on the drive home after declining Frankie’s offer of McDonald’s for the fourth night this week, and now here you are: listening to the man curse under his breath, muttering complaints from the kitchen as he tries his hand at homemade spaghetti.

The kitchen is silent for a moment. You go back to channel surfing, clicking past reruns of Golden Girls and M*A*S*H*. Stopping at a channel playing the cinematic masterpiece Grease 2, you focus your attention on the open doorway behind you again. It feels almost too quiet…

A string of hushed, panicked curses from Frankie confirms your suspicions. Getting off the couch, you use the soft overhead light to guide you through the dark apartment. Frankie is standing over the stove when you see him, quickly moving away and towards the sink. Water splashes into it, surely scalding as steam rises into the air. Or maybe that’s coming from his ears?

You clear your throat in the kitchen doorway, and Frankie turns to you. His face is slightly red, a silver pot held in his grip by the towel-covered handle.

“Is everything okay?” You already know the answer to that question—aggravation rolls off of him in waves, permeating the space between the two of you like a mirage in the Mojave Desert.

Frankie opens his mouth to respond, but the words never come. He does this a few times, wracking his brain for the proper way to put it as he parts and pleats his lips, living up to his call sign.

Eventually, he settles on, “No.”

He heaves a deep sigh, tossing the pot onto the counter. Getting a closer look at it, you see the charred spaghetti noodles stuck to the shiny bottom.

“Don’t, okay?” Frankie says before you look up again.

“What?”

“I know what you’re gonna say. I told you so, blah blah blah. I know. You’re right. I can’t fuckin’ cook.” The words are rushed, like he’s half-embarrassed to even say it.

You frown, reaching an open palm out to him as you shake your head. “That’s not what I was going to say.” You motion for him to come closer and he does, slipping into your arms as you hug at his tense shoulders. “It’s okay. You can take a class, or we can work on it together. I think that’d be kind of fun,” you say.

Picturing making something with Frankie—maybe bowties and broccoli, something simple—has you smiling into his shoulder. For his birthday last year you made red velvet cupcakes with sour cream frosting. The recipe is a little more complicated, but baking them with him this time is a pleasant idea. You already know he’s the type of person to lick the batter off the beater.

“I don’t want to do that to you,” he says.

You pull back from the hug to look at him, those big brown eyes of his crinkled at the far edges. “You’re not doing anything to me,” you say. “At least, not right now.”

A small smile comes to his face then, creeping and dopey before Frankie gives you a soft kiss at the tip of your nose.

“They should really give you a Netflix special or something,” he says.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night,” you muse.

Still in your arms, Frankie glances over at the pot of blackened, noodle-shaped mush. “What are we gonna do for dinner?”

Right now, he’s in the closest proximity to you that he’s been all week. At least, while you’ve both been conscious. Work has you staying later and later at the office these days, while his shifts handling flight operations have him drained, in bed and fast asleep well before you even get home. Tonight is special even if it hasn’t gone the way either of you planned.

You hum, dipping your head to nose at the patchy beard along his jaw. “I’m thinking we skip dinner.”

“Come on, seriously,” Frankie says.

“I am serious.” Leaving a wet kiss on his cheek, you whisper, “Don’t you want your dessert, Francisco?”

A hum rumbles low in his chest. “Of course, but—”

“But nothing.” You move your left hand to cradle the side of his face, his skin smooth under your touch. He leans into its warmth. “I’m hungry.”

You know that he is too. At your words, Frankie practically jumps you, a kiss pressed to your lips hard before your brain can catch up with what’s happening. He holds you in his arms tight, like if he loosens his grip even a bit, you’ll float away. The pair of you move out of the kitchen and back into the living room, the horrible 80’s movie still dancing across the pixels of the TV.

Frankie falls onto his back, bouncing against the couch cushions. The remote is underneath him, the mute button conveniently hit upon his landing. The cheesy show tunes cut out immediately. You move to straddle him as he lays horizontal. Frankie cranes his neck a bit to watch you as you settle over the crotch of his sweatpants. He’s half hard under the fabric already.

Frankie pulls you down into another bruising kiss. You hunch over to meet his lips, his hands circling around your waist. You’ve decided to take the Frankie approach to tonight’s activities; cool and calculated in your plans and decisions on how this is going to go. Grinding your hips down, you watch his face carefully. He huffs out a breath, soft and peppery like the cinnamon gum he keeps in his car.

You reach between your bodies to feel him in his pants. Frankie kisses at your face, quick and sporadic as you palm at him. He moves to lift your shirt off your body and you let him, raising your arms to help him. He tosses the thing to the floor and lets his hands rove over your skin. Continuing your ministrations, you slip your hand beneath the elastic waistband of the grey sweats. Frankie has no underwear on, a pleasant surprise.

“Fuck,” he groans, nosing at your neck.

“What’s wrong, honey bun? Doesn’t that feel good?” you ask, slowly pulling your hand away.

“Yes, please. Do it again?” His voice strains deliciously, the muscles in his arms held taut.

Frankie relaxes only slightly when you return your palm to where he’s hot and achy, cock wet at the tip. You run your thumb along the head of his dick as he pushes his hips up into your touch. You slide the pad of your finger along his shaft, spreading the dampness.

“Aw baby, you’re already a little wet. Isn’t that sweet?”

You start to stroke him in earnest, the tight circle of your hand moving up and down his cock. The movement is a little dry, your skin dragging against the sensitive velvet of him. You push his shirt up his belly, pulling his pants to his knees easily. Then you spit into your palm, jerking him off easier this time.

“Fuck baby. Just like that,” Frankie pants. He’s moving his hips with your hand now, fucking up into it on every down stroke. With your free hand, you prod at the small dip at his hip, feeling the muscle tense beneath the skin.

“Bet you feel so good, baby. Nice and easy for me,” you coo.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

You twist your hand at the end of every movement upwards, fingers rubbing over Frankie’s tip as he leaks steadily onto himself. The glide is easy now, lubed with your saliva and his precum. The squelch makes your mouth water as you watch his cock disappear and reappear in the shadow of your fingers.

He puts one of his hands over yours, urging you to go faster. Your hands move together over Frankie’s dick, picking up the pace as the sticky noise turns into a slap with every thrust of his hips.

Frankie breaks pace, stuttering on a caught breath before he spills over your hand and onto his belly. You pause to watch his chest tense and then loosen, his eyes shut tight as he comes down. Raising your hand to your lips, you lick a bit of his cum from the edge of your fingers. It’s the first thing Frankie sees when he opens his eyes again, making him groan. The noise sounds almost painful.

“That was—”

“Amazing?” you supply.

Frankie wheezes a laugh. “Something like that.”

“What about a second helping?”

He furrows his brow, then looks down at his dick. It lays limp and spent on his stomach. “I don’t—”

“Please,” you implore oh-so-sweetly. Frankie sees big eyes batting at him, a twinkle of adoration. The intent behind it is a little more Kubrick, but he doesn’t know that yet.

He can’t say no to you, doesn’t want to anyway. Frankie nods, mumbling a yes at you. His cock twitches with interest when you drag a finger through the pool of cum on his belly and pop it in your mouth. You smile at Frankie as you take him in your hand, strokes slow as he hardens again.

Leaning into his body, you flick your tongue against the shell of his ear. “So, so wet honey. This all for me?”

“Yeah, shit—I can’t,” he mumbles.

“But it feels so good,” you say. “Wish you could see your cute little face. I love seeing you like this.”

Frankie’s face waivers between tightly wound and relaxed in pleasure. You’re using his own cum as lube now, hand practically sloshing across his cock. He tries to keep his eyes open, watching your movements as you sit patiently in his lap, jerking him off.

Your underwear is ruined, the cotton soaked through as you discreetly rock yourself against the rough seam of your pants. You’ll take care of yourself later. Right now, all of your attention is on Frankie. This reward is his punishment. It’s the slightest bit petty, but you can’t let his stubborn behaviour go quite yet. You aren’t an I told you so type of person, but this? This is perfect.

You stroke at him on autopilot, watching the middle distance between the fine thatch of hair at Frankie’s pelvis and his skin coated milky white. He comes with a flinch before you even realize, still moving as he hisses. He’s still hard when he’s done, solid under your touch, so you continue.

“You’re doing so good for me,” you say softly.

“Oh god,” he whines, eyes rolling back.

“Does it hurt baby?”

Frankie doesn’t speak, can’t, nodding frantically up at you.

“You want me to stop? All you have to do is tell me.”

He doesn’t—not with words or the shake of his head. He likes this, and both of you know it. Frankie gets off on the pain, a pleasure so hot that it burns; water blazing to the point that the sensation runs cold, delicate skin held close over a candle flame.

Frankie starts to squirm. You hold him down by the shoulder with your free hand, fingers spread over his overheated skin with a firm press. His whole body is sweaty, soaking a runway down the front top half of his t-shirt.

“Please, please, please.”

He breathes your name, barely getting the syllables past his lips. You never find out what he’s begging for. He probably doesn’t quite know either.

His dick and his mind can’t seem to agree on what they want. You watch this war play out, a losing battle. Every few seconds he presses his hips to the couch, trying to stay out of your reach. Then he slots his hips forward again, seeking out your hand directly.

Finally, Frankie seems to find his words. “Fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t. I’ve got no more, baby, please.”

“One more, honey. You can do that, can’t you? Just one.”

“Mm, shit. It’s—it hurts. It hurts,” he says.

“I know, baby. You’re so sweet for me, so good. I know you can do it,” you assure him.

Leaning down, you position your mouth over him. You let the spit sitting in your mouth pour past your lips, drooling onto his throbbing cock. The saliva slides down his length slowly as Frankie moans at the sensation.

The added slick makes everything wetter, truly soaking as you jerk him off faster. Frankie starts to babble nonsense between short, tripping moans. A split-second decision, you breathe hot air over the head of his dick. The slightest change in contact pulls his third orgasm of the night from him. Frankie cries, groaning loud as fat, wet tears roll down his cheeks. You hunch over him to give his face a kitten lick, collecting them with your tongue.

You let him go when he finishes coming, letting his dick flop against the plush of his tummy. Dragging your own shirt off the floor, you wipe at his skin and clean up your hands before tossing it back down.

Frankie finds the strength to tuck himself back into his sweatpants. He pulls at your elbow, sending you crashing gently into his side on the couch. It isn’t really big enough for the both of you to lay down. You squish yourself against his chest and shoulder, feeling his arm rest over the length of your back.

“How was that?” you ask after a while.

“A five course meal and then some,” he says. Frankie scoffs at himself, like he can’t believe what just happened. “Jesus Christ.”

You kiss his chest through his shirt, his body warm and solid against your cheek. “Nope, just me.”

#frankie morales #pedrostories #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier #*ww

[whumpback-wail]

09 - Originally Planned Plot

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader)

[<<< previous chapter] • [masterlist]

The published Trial by Fire is only a small bit of the entire plot, so behold, the full unwritten story:

• Reader framed and sentenced to prison in meropide for the kidnapping that has been going on in fontaine. Navia is her friend, and she swore to get (y/n) out of meropide and clear her name

• She has a very young little sister who had to go to the orphanage bc shes sent to prison and cant take care of her

• Was afraid abt prison at first bc of all the news circulating but apparently it was rlly nice there?? People treated her well in general. Her vision was taken tho..

• Wriothesley first noticed her during his patrols, she was struggling with some boxes of equipment, he helped her, and then reassigned her to work on different parts bc shes smol. She tried to tell him shes framed and shes not supposed to be there, but he alr walked off and hes busy

• While she liked being in meropide generally, she missed the sun and the ourdoors tho, so thats reason enough to want to get out, also her lil sister

• kept in touch w Navia using letters, she updates her about the investigation on her end.

• Her interactions w Wriothesley starts increasing after he called her to his office. Normally they just pass by each other while he patrols. Hes also looking into her case bc he can see that shes not a bad person, so he knows she must be framed. Works on the case together. Shes framed bc her father is a famous detective who managed to find out and stop the case of disappearances 10 years ago. He was then killed 2 years later.

• they start having feelings for each other as they keep working together. Wrio also assigned her duties that kept her closer to him.

• after an urgent letter frm navia, wrio allowed her to go up to the surface to meet her

• navia tells her that as far as the records show, the mastermind behind the kidnapping is working for dottore, and is already in meropide. The guy was just communicating and sending instructions out to the surface and the plan to frame him is part of it. They were experimenting on implanting visions into humans so that those visions wont be lost so easily

• (y/n) goes back to meropide and tells wrio abt it

• wrio says he will investigate and see what he can do on his end, and tells her to be careful. He gives her her vision back and told her he trusts she wont do anyth stupid, and that vision is only for her self defense bc hes worried the mastermind might be targetting her.

• but (y/n) also snoops around and she found the mastermind, one of the people wrio suspected but no proof. The guy was talking w someone in the pipes. Then she was found

• kidnapped via childes esc route and taken prisoner, shes interrogated and also experimented on.

• her vision was taken and crushed, then injected into her. Lots of experiment rounds, much torture ehe

• almost dead, thought to be a failed experiement, discarded at the basement

• wrio noticed her disappearance within a day or two and found out about the culprit, who alr disappeared, so he went to the surface to look for navia and neuvilette and they both find out abt the location of the kidnapped people.

• wrio rescues her (ch 1) and she told him everyth

• angst recovery, a lot of trauma

• baddies apprehended and her name was cleared. She's free now, so they both are free to go.

• she is mostly on the surface but wrio visits a lot. He stops sleeping in his office and chose to return to their shared apartment (yn and wrio)

• she alr accepted that she lost her vision, but what doesnt add up is she doesnt show indications that matches people who lose their visions but then apparently she still has her powers

• the vision implant experiment she went through was a success apparently

• learns to live w it, wrio is there every step of the way, and they both live happily ever after lalala the end

[<<< previous chapter] • [masterlist]

[june-again]

TIGHNARI: # something tremendous.

word count. 1k. genre. brainrotted scenario. potentially platonic or romantic.

overview. life at the akademiya was never what you wanted it to be. you didn't just want to read and report, you wanted to learn, to experience. all it took was sitting through one of tighnari's lectures to spark this into a brand new life.

author's note. i planned to entirely trash this fic, but at the request of @duckymcdoorknob , i finished it and am now posting it. perhaps not the best example of my plot-generating potential, but if you just wanna hang out with tighnari for two minutes, this lil fic is for you.

Tighnari’s goal had always been to train you, to do his duty as a Forest Watcher and instructor to pass on his knowledge to yet another rookie in the rainforest. As for taking you on as his apprentice, he hadn’t exactly foreseen it, but it was necessary and reasonable. The fondness he grew for you, unlike that which he’d had for anyone before you, however, was far from what he might have predicted.

He met you on one of the days he requested to give a lecture on a Forest Watcher's duties, after which you approached him with a question. An innocent question, indeed, but not a common one. “Master,” you said, “is there any chance you might teach us about more complex herbal medicines in future sessions?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Perhaps I must clarify. You do realize, young scholar, that my specialty lies in botany and ecology, not pharmaceutical sciences, don’t you? Anything I may have mentioned during my talk was only to illuminate differences between species, as well as highlight practical uses of common ones.”

“I realize this, yes,” you said, “but your knowledge already surpasses that which I have accumulated during four years of study.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded briefly. “I studied medicine at the Akademiya, but found it all a bit cold and detached. As interested as I am in the subject, I cannot learn under such underwhelming conditions. Friends referred me to you and your practices, advising me that if I didn’t like libraries and desks I would be better off in the rainforest cleaning statues of bird feces.”

Tighnari lightly sucked air in through his teeth at this. “Your friends may not have meant well by such counsel.”

You tilted your head, as if such a thing hadn’t occurred to you. “Perhaps not. But I cannot believe that, because of how I enjoyed your lecture.” You shook your head, smiling assuredly. “No, I am quite sure they knew this would be best.”

“And you are interested in herbal medicine?”

You shrugged. “It’s what I have the most background in. But… really, I feel as if I could be interested in anything, if I were to learn it from you.”

Such a comment of flattery—of interest—was hardly rare, but there was something grappling about the way you had sat through his lecture, hanging on every word as if it might change your life… The Forest Watcher scrutinized your expression, looking for any hint of ill-intent. Satisfied to find none but a sparkle of curiosity, he laughed. “Alright, then. I suppose we’ll meet again soon.”

“Master, you haven’t answered my question!”

“You’ll find out the answer soon enough.”

The following morning, you found an envelope addressed “to the young scholar,” below which was your name, and inside, a succinct letter requesting your presence that afternoon for an “herb-securing excursion.”

From there, you went from a new pupil to an apprentice… to a dear friend. You managed to shed the title of “young scholar” quickly enough, as your remark upon how similar your ages most likely were had been met with an obliging “you may be right” — but you did not escape, nor intend to escape, the seniority he held over you. You remained a humble and dilligent apprentice, striving first to learn and second to lessen his workload in ways that you could.

Once, a quarrel broke out between the two of you because of this secondary habit of yours. He was just arriving home, the sun barely disappeared behind the hill, and you were tending to the greenery just outside his hut.

“As my apprentice, I know you take on as much as you can to learn. But you must stick to your own duties.”

“You’re tired, Master,” you pleaded. “I see it every day when you finish with everyone, when you finally drop your mask at the doorway of your own home.”

“It means I’ve worked myself hard enough. It isn’t something for you to be concerned with.”

“I just want to help, Tighnari. I just want to repay you somehow.”

Tighnari’s chest tightened and he gazed at your earnest expression. People like you were the people that made it worth it. People like you were the reason he could hold it together, and love his job. “I think that means you’ve learned all I can teach you.”

Your mouth opened but no words came out.

“Would you like to take on a full Ranger position? I won’t pester you so much anymore, and you will be able to declare your own responsibilities. Gandharva Ville is in need of a nurse.”

You drew your mouth into a line, processing. He was offering you a position, but at the same time… “Are you trying to get rid of me? You’re going to station me in the village and forget about me?”

Tighnari shook his head, a green twinkle in his eye. “No, of course not. You would come along on our excursions. You would take on the role of tending to fellow rangers as well as anyone we may encounter who is in need of care.”

You gasped. “R-really? Tighnari, you mean that?”

He smiled gently. His soft ears flattened sideways, and you knew he was in earnest. “Yes. Now, leave my plants be, as I prefer to tend to them myself, and get a good night’s sleep. You’ll start tomorrow.”

You smiled widely at him, feeling relieved and elated.

“Hurry along now. Don’t gawk, Forest Nurse.”

You bowed out and walked along the path to the hut you were staying in. This was far from what you had expected your life to become; and he was far from the person you thought you would form such a respect for. You paused under a lampstand, and turned around once more to catch one more glance of him.

Tighnari was tending to his plants as he had said, leaned over to inspect the stem of a flower. He seemed to sense your eyes on him, and turned his head up the path. He sent you an encouraging, perhaps expectant, smile.

You briefly smiled back and turned back to your walk. Something told you that this was only the beginning of something tremendous.

thanks for reading! reblogs are always appreciated :)

#love our lil serious fox boy #tighnari x reader #tighnari imagine #genshin x reader #genshin scenario #gi x gn!reader #tighnari x gn!reader #genshin impact fic #we're just ignoring collei's existence for 1k words and that's okay #(in this one case) #u can tell i wrote the majority of this at the Less Sane Hours of the night #tighnari

[tellnotalespod]

TNT S1 E1 - Not For Long came out on 2nd May 2022, which means Tell No Tales turns two today!

(and if we're being honest, TNT being in the terrible twos explains a lot about how emotionally fraught it's been recently)

Going ahead with this show is the best decision I've ever made, and it changed my life for the better. I'm so incredibly grateful for this community for welcoming me in 💜

I got a little nostalgic and found an old voice note (from almost three years ago!) that's posted under the cut. I sent this to Michaela (one of our ghostie VAs) almost immediately after having the idea for the show. It's edited a lil to keep it down to a reasonable length, because much like Leo Quinn, I sure can Yap.

[Image ID: A whatsapp voice note sent by me, followed by another message by me that reads "oh I think I've decided the name of the main character is going to be Leo, bc hell if I'm going to do this completely self-serving project for no other reason than the enjoyment of creating it then I'm damn well gonna use the name I'd use if I ever decide to change to a more masc sounding name." The following messages sent by Michaela on 4 July 2021 are sent in quick succession, "omggggggggg yesssss" "I want to listen to thisss" "I am 100% happy to help" "I love this idea" "so much" "pls do it" /.End ID]

Note: audio quality changes around a lot because I was, I think, dyeing my hair at the time

Voice note transcript:

 I have a… an idea. And it might be really stupid and it will probably never come to anything. However, I'm really excited about it. So... hear me out (LAUGHS). My idea is, uh, I want to write a podcast about an ex-employee of a ghost hunting company, and the- the basis of the podcast is... I literally just had this like half baked thought like five minutes ago, so bear with me while I talk this through. This character works for a quite renowned institute, company, whatever, organization that hunts ghosts. Uh, they destroy the ghosts whenever they're called to it, but the main character is starting to get suspicious of the fact that some of the ghosts that they're called to don't necessarily seem violent, and some of them are completely harmless and they just want to exist and so they have been working on a recording system that can capture the voices of ghosts. And they start off as an assistant to like the head of this company, but they're already starting to feel complicit in what they're becoming kind of more and more aware is potentially a very evil operation. And it's gonna alternate between like their their notes and the recordings of interviews with ghosts that they are sent to hunt, but don't. They sit down and they get their life story instead and then either leave them be or try to help them move on peacefully or whatever. And there's gonna be a bit of a, like a, an overarching plot in that the organization that they work for is corrupt, but not in the way that they think. And I'm thinking the main character is trying to, like, capture enough evidence, basically, before they can quit this organization- t hat's, that's, that's their intention, is they want to make sure that this recording system is completely functional. They want to capture enough evidence of completely harmless ghosts. They want to have like a huge backlog of stuff to use against the head of this company, and to do that, to have access to ghosts and all of that kind of stuff, they have to continue working for it, which they hate, but that's the only way that they see themselves being able to achieve good in the long run. So, the first season is going to be them, like, trying to work on this project in secret while you get glimpses of the boss doing some, like, shady shit. And like... who's to say that I need to finish my novel this month anyway? You know?? But fuck it, this is... I'm really excited about this, so I'm gonna give it a shot.

#tell no tales #tntpod

[love-toxin]

permafrost - josh washington

a/n: I'm replaying the quarry rn so u know i had to pay tribute to the og lil meow meow <33

plot: you weren't so keen on reuniting with your friends at the same lodge the twins disappeared from a year ago, but for Josh's sake, you decided to relent and just have a little fun. who knew Josh's crush on you would be the thing that makes it so terrifying?

(cws: f!reader, mildly yandere josh, takes place mid-canon, UD spoilers, horror elements, a little bit of a fear kink, chasing, nudity, confessions, mutual pining, implied smut [pt2 perhaps?], knives, a little angst w/ fluff)

word count: 3.2k

You had never screamed so hard in your life, but you had also never been so close to death before. It stared you right in the face and in your state, with the cold freezing you to your bones and nothing but a towel to cover your damp skin, you had never been as vulnerable as you were in this moment.

The events of the night flashed by you in a daze, much like you had assumed your life would when you were about to die. Sam had offered the bath to you first and you had taken it gladly, happy to get warm after freezing your ass off while waiting for Josh and Chris to get the doors open. You were one of the first to get there because you were generally the most punctual, but apparently all that "butterfly effect" bullshit Chris was on lately actually had some truth to it. Because if you hadn't come early and almost gotten frostbite, then Sam wouldn't have let you in the bath first, and thus you wouldn't have been the one tricked out of the bathroom and chased throughout the house by the maniac in the mask who now held a knife over your throat.

"Last words?"

He snickered in that tinny voice and you just screamed louder, tears flooding down your face as you squirmed underneath him. The psycho had straddled your hips and held his other hand up to the hem of your towel, and it was impossible to tell whether he was holding it there to keep you decent or just taunting you for when he would rip it off and leave you exposed. You couldn't imagine it was the former, though, and it made you hiccup as you prayed it would just be over quickly. Nothing in your short life could have prepared you for your last moments here–laid out on the cold concrete of the Washington's estate basement, crying, nearly naked, and pinned by a psychopath who had probably already killed all of your absent friends. You just wanted out, and begged for mercy in a shaky voice.

"Aw…okay."

The killer paused, and if you weren't still trembling from the cold you would have thought you imagined it. You squeezed your eyes shut, thinking it might have just been another game–but they shot open again as soon as you heard the clang of the blade skittering across the concrete, the psycho having tossed it haphazardly out of reach. He lifted his arms and stuck his fingers beneath the lower jaw of the mask, and with a flourish, it was gone. And you could not believe whose face you saw underneath it.

"You convinced me. I guess I won't kill you after all!"

Josh Washington, your close friend and former classmate, laughed in your face. Laughed. In the way he would laugh at a corny joke or a video of someone slipping on ice. Not in the situation where he had threatened to kill you, one of his dear friends, and absolutely humiliated and terrified you in the process.

You were stunned into silence. Your mouth hung open and you had no idea what to do, what to say…but when Josh finally got off of you and grabbed you by the arm to bring you back up to your feet, you finally found the strength to grit your teeth and shove his hands off of you. The words "Is this a fucking prank, you asshole?!" escaped you long before you would have the strength to rethink them, and while Josh sobered up quicker than you expected he would, he still had a whisper of that grin on his face that just made you even more furious than you could ever remember being.

"I thought it would bring us together. Y'know," He stood back, and gestured vaguely around the basement like you should have known what he was referring to. "...Like you and the others brought my sisters together. Remember that?"

The tone of his voice brought that boiling anger down to a simmer, tampered down by a feeling washing over you that you hadn't felt for a while–guilt pried your heart open and sank into a wound you thought had closed, only to realize that it was just as tender as the day that tragedy had happened. And in that moment, you felt your defenses go up.

"I had nothing to do with that, Josh!"

"You didn't stop them."

"I tried!"

You felt a quiver in your own voice again, and arguing like this with someone you used to call a friend while he stood there, stoic, just made a fresh set of tears well up in your eyes. And you had done enough crying for the night, so with your hands reaching up to reassure the strength of your towel's hem around your chest, you took a step backwards towards the stairwell and mustered up the worst glare you could manage towards Josh.

"Do me a favour, actually: don't ever talk to me again. We're not friends anymore!"

With that you turned and stomped back towards the steps and took each one just as angrily, the concrete cold enough to hurt as you ventured back up towards relative safety. You knew Josh was following you by his own footsteps hurrying to keep up, but as you stiffly marched past the doorway and through the home theater to climb the stairs up to the main floor, his hand hovered over your bare shoulder just long enough for you to move out of its way.

"C'mon," He sounded desperate, and as much as you didn't want to care, you knew you did. That sad, kicked puppy expression was probably making its appearance on his face too, and if you turned to look at him you might even crack for real. "Come back! Come on, it was a prank. I wanted to get back at them, really…I didn't really want to hurt you, though."

You made it around the railing in the living room, up the second set of stairs, and all the way up to the landing before Josh managed to catch up enough to walk alongside you. His needy attempts at coaxing you into laughing this all off were beyond frustrating, and when you finally managed to get on to the second floor you turned to face him again. He stopped only two steps from the top where you took your stand, but even that much distance was enough for you to feel like you towered over him even though the opposite was usually the case.

"You had no problem chasing me around and watching me in the bath!"

Your hands clenched into fists, mostly in an attempt to keep from just slapping him outright, and your shouting caused him to flinch but not back down.

"Well, that's because I like you. Wouldn't you do the same if you liked me, given the chance?"

"Shut up, Josh."

You waved him off with a huff, and retraced your steps back towards the bathroom that you had been chased out of just a little while ago. The prints left behind by your feet when they were wet from the bath were still visible outside of the door, and even though you pulled on it to let it close behind you, a certain someone let it hit his forearm as he pushed his way in after you.

"Do you like me?"

"I did, before you fucking traumatized me!"

You threw those words over your shoulder as you bent down in front of your gym bag, the one you had lugged all the way up the mountain just for Josh's sake. And luckily for you, he offered you the same courtesy and had simply kicked it out of sight behind the tub so you wouldn't think to dress before he started chasing you. While the clothes you'd changed out of still weren't there, you rummaged around and found something else to change into–not exactly as flattering, but anything that offered you some decency was better than what you had now.

"I like you. I really, really like you a lot. C'mon." You were only half-listening to Josh's drivel, and when you turned to see him holding a hand out to you at your place on the floor, you scoffed and got back to your feet with your clothes draped over one arm.

"Did I not just tell you to stop talking? And get out."

This time, you did smack his hand away from you, and he pulled it back with a soft enough sigh that it almost made you feel bad for him. Almost, but not quite.

"Do I have to? I mean, I've already seen you naked. You've got a really nice body…"

"Out!"

And as per usual, whatever shred of sympathy you had for him evaporated the second he opened his mouth, and especially when he whispered that part under his breath. You put your hands on his chest and pushed him backwards, walking him all the way to the hallway before slamming the door in his face the moment he was over the threshold.

"Fucking asshole…"

You muttered to yourself as you dropped your towel and pulled your clothes on. You were so strung out even upon realizing that it was all a facade, and though you were still tense without your other friends around, knowing Josh he probably sent them on all kinds of wild goose chases just to get them out of the lodge and running all over the mountain. At least, that was what he did with Mike and Jess, and even so you were sure they were having a grand old time with that cabin all to themselves. It wasn't a specific kind of jealousy you felt over them–you had no interest in either of them, at least romantically–but you did have a sense of desire for what they had. They were so carefree. If only you could be more like that, maybe you would have reacted differently to what Josh had put you through–maybe you really would have laughed it off instead of sobbing like a baby and blowing up once it was all over. It might not have been a healthy reaction, but at least you wouldn't be feeling an oncoming wave of tears like you were now, only to wipe them away as soon as they showed up and stop in front of the mirror to try and cool down before you left.

You expected Josh to do as you asked and leave you alone, and at least get out of your sight for a little while so you could calm down. But when you finally opened the door again, he was still standing there. And if anything, he seemed relieved that you were scowling back at him.

"Please give me a chance. I'll make it up to you, I swear." Josh looked into your eyes and your defenses already started cracking. Right then, you had a choice–you could choose to keep that anger you had close to your heart, or…you could let it go, because if nothing else, he did seem pretty sorry and he had expressed it in that awkward way of his.

"Fine! Fine. Just…don't fucking do that again."

"Which part?" He backed down the second you shot him your signature dirty look, raising his hands up as a show of his surrender with a guilty smile still plastered across his stupidly pretty face. "I'm kidding! Kidding."

With that, and with the tension eased up a little bit, you stepped out into the hallway and wandered over to the railing. It overlooked the living room below and the huge, sphere-shaped art piece that hung from the ceiling that his dad had bought, and you let out a deep sigh. Maybe of relief, or maybe not. But either way you weren't as stressed as you were a minute ago as you looked out towards the window and watched the snow fall outside, even when Josh joined at your side to lean against it himself.

"...You didn't answer my question, you know."

"You haven't answered plenty of mine, so maybe you should cool it, cowboy." You brushed him off not to be a bitch, even though you had every right to. Rather…there was something else that you hadn't quite accepted, even though it sat at the back of your mind day after day. It had been something that you once thought about daily, wondering when and where would be the perfect time to reveal it–but after everything with Hannah and Beth, you locked those feelings deep, deep inside so as to not complicate things for your grieving friend.

"Fair, fair. But…I really need to know. Do you like me?"

The fact that he just breezed right over your answer was not only irritating, but it was something you so rarely saw him do that you knew he was genuinely serious.

"Josh, I really don't want to be having this conversation right now."

A few moments of silence passed between you. You naively wondered whether that would really be the end of the conversation once and for all. If maybe he was finally pushed enough to just let it go.

"Well, if you didn't, I would’ve expected you to just say 'no'."

Your fingers curled around the banister and you gripped it tightly in frustration, before turning to face him completely with the words already spilling off your lips.

"What does it matter, Josh? Do you really expect me to pour my heart out to you right now? I'm tired, and I'm cold, and-" And before you could finish, Josh moved in and hugged you tightly, squeezing you hard enough to keep you close but not quite enough to hurt. His hands fell to rest on your lower back but not an inch lower, his unexpectedly full arms holding you like you'd been locked into place against his chest. He had always been a bear hug kind of guy, but it had been a long while since he'd given you one.

"I'll keep you warm." He whispered, and while you expected his voyeuristic self to snicker and cop a feel while he had the opportunity, but that moment never came. He just kept holding you, swaying a little bit, and you listened to the snow and the breeze outside the window until he finally pried himself off of your very inviting body.

"Did…you seriously expect me to just fall into your arms after all that?" You asked, a soft scoff inlaid between your words to try and sell it, but no matter how hard you would try you wouldn't be able to brush that off. As much as you wanted to pretend you could keep holding Josh at arm's length, it wasn't going to last forever at this rate. The man himself just shrugged, a faraway look in his eyes even with the newfound space between you.

"That's what they do in movies."

What a naïve answer, and yet so quintessentially Josh. You rolled your eyes in jest, and yet as you crossed your arms over your chest you knew your friend was looking places he shouldn't. But you weren't going to stop him this time.

"If you liked me, then you should have just told me. You've given Chris enough crap about that with Ashley, so you just look like a hypocrite now."

"It's different."

You gave him a look that just said "How?" without you having to say it, and Josh shrugged again, although this time he couldn't keep eye contact and just kind of looked everywhere but at you. Almost like he felt somebody was listening in, and he didn't want to be overheard.

"I couldn't tell whether you liked me or not. I was afraid you wouldn't, and I don't…want to lose someone else again. I can't lose someone else that I love. It would kill me."

"You love me?"

He scoffed in a way that sounded like disbelief, like even questioning him on his sincerity about this was a laughable offense. "Of course I do. How could I not? You're beautiful, and you're always sweet with me. You've never judged me. You're a kind person." He shook his head, finally able to clue in and meet your eyes this time–and maybe it was because you were smiling now, fear replaced by endearment as you let his compliments wash over you. Not that you knew about it, but Josh had always been a firm believer that you didn't get enough praise, and only now that you thought back on your friendship did you start to realize how often he alone was the one giving it to you when nobody else would. "And I love the way you laugh, and I think you look so cute when you're focused on something. I like hearing you talk, and, and…a million other things. You make me so happy, and you're not even mine."

"I could be yours." The words left your lips so fast you weren't given time to process them, to temper them as you usually did to make sure you were saying everything right. Your hand flew to your mouth on instinct, clearly shocked at your own outburst, but Josh just laughed and his hands drifted back up towards your hips for him to grab them a little more firmly.

"So you do like me back, huh?" Even another eye roll didn't stop him this time, you're pulled into another hug and Josh squeezed you even tighter than he did before. It often felt like he's the one always making up for lost time, which made sense considering all that had happened with Beth and Hannah. You were certain he wished for even a smidgen of more time with them, as would you if they were your sisters. As would anybody. You'd probably even kill for it if it came to that, and you wouldn't have been surprised if he would too. So in a way....it all made more sense.

Those grim thoughts didn't last long at all though–mostly because there was a more pressing matter at hand, which was coincidentally pressing right up against your thigh and only shifted when you piped up with Josh's name.

"Sorry." He pulled back enough to give you an inch of space, his nose a little darker to match his ears as he grinned the same way he did when he was getting up to something mischievous. "I like feeling you up against me…I'm lucky you've never noticed."

"What, you think I might've done something about it otherwise?....Maybe I would." Before he could answer that, you pulled away from his arms and sauntered off down the hall, clearly moving at a brisk pace towards the door of Josh's bedroom. This had not been in the cards for you an hour ago, but something stirred inside you that you just didn't feel the need to repress any longer. Your life had been a horror movie for too long now, but if it was going to be that way, then you could at least get some satisfaction out of it before you became the final girl. You stopped at the doorway, a hand on it to steady yourself, and you looked back in Josh's direction. "You coming?"

#josh washington #josh washington x reader #yandere josh washington #yandere josh washington x reader #until dawn #ellie writes #3k

[gold-rhine]

If it's not too much trouble, could you expand on Diluc's "already incoherent characterization" you mentioned in one of your recent posts? I'm just curious cause I also feel that there's something off about him writing-wise but I can't put my finger on it.

sigh. so, at the start of the game hoyo wrote diluc as super aggressive and negative towards kaeya specifically and knights in general, and all of their interactions are very hostile. they are having bitch fights every time they are in the same room.

like, fandom likes to pretend that diluc has guilt, bc of like some anonymous message on a public board that sounds like it's diluc feeling bad, which hoyo back-wrote. but they can't gaslight me, i just recently replayed start of the game content on my new account. like first time diluc appears is in kaeya's domain after traveler and kaeya cleared it, and diluc bitches at kaeya for no fucking reason and kaeya is v passive aggressive back at him. they have bitch fight in venti's quest. diluc's entire quest is about him trying to keep kaeya from discovering he's darknight hero and he specifically makes it known that kaeya is unwelcome every time he shows up in the tavern. and he sounds negative when bringing up kaeya for any reason.

and then hoyo started to back-pedal. idk what happened, maybe the direction of the plot shifted. maybe the writer who was writing them in this conflict vein quit. maybe at the start they only had vague idea of like brothers at war with each other, and once they started to flesh it out and add nuance, they've realized that like, burning your baby brothers' eye out might be understandable in the moment of trauma and shock, but then acting like you're on high horse and treating him like garbage for YEARS after is a bit of a psycho behavior.

quick aside bc i know there are ppl who think that, um, kaeya "deserved" it and like. he was what, not older than 10 when he was left at the winery. and he was about 17 when he confessed. he was a traumatized kid who kept a secret bc his bio father told him that the fate of his entire country depends on it. get a grip. but as i said, with the same logic, diluc was also in shock and trauma, and i do not fault him the fight itself. what doesn't track is how diluc acts years LATER, when he had time to think.

so they started to drastically soften diluc AND back-writing retcons. Hidden Strife letters are all about it. They were like oh, brothers were always in contact! Diluc is not a maniac, he was polite to the knights and he told kaeya to take care :) :) :) this creates new set of problems. not only it gives diluc personality split where he was incredibly aggressive to kaeya in person, but apparently normal in the letters. But also, we have letters from Kaeya that make it obvious he knew immediately that diluc is a darknight hero and they both were chill about it. But like! diluc's entire story quest is about him trying to keep kaeya from learning that! like, come on! why then diluc did all these stupid scooby doo shenanigans with slimes and shit???

now i think they are trying to shift responsibility for reconciliation from diluc to kaeya, which is the only issue that affects kaeya's own characterization. bc they are very hard going into "all servants at winery ADORE kaeya and treat him like family and welcome him!!" and fandom like, extends it to diluc now, like diluc is welcoming kaeya too and kaeya is a silly goose who has his hang ups and refuses to visit. as if getting your eye burned off, trying to reach out first and getting "ugh, its you" treatment when you show up at your brother's tavern is just like. a lil awkward situation that kaeya himself should get over without any effort on diluc's side and he should just ~realize~ that he's still part of the family lol. and ppl justify it like "well we don't know how diluc actually feels, he probably feels guilt (anon message) and wants to reconcile". which like. so we don't know, but kaeya is supposed to figure out and reach out AGAIN, when diluc at any time could've just told him that he's welcomed.

and now in kaeya's hangout we learn more about their childhoods which tbh hurts diluc even more. like how are we gonna be pretending that diluc cares about kaeya when he returned to mond and found his baby brother, who was apparently the sweetest gentlest child in the world, his loyal shadow for entire childhood, couldn't lie, was taking punishments for diluc, and see him now becoming a high functioning alcoholic with brazenly unhealthy persona of liar and manipulator, and like NOT get worried and try to reach out. which i don't think it was hoyo's intention, they just wanted to add the tragic sweetie uwu to kaeya's characterization, but they did not think how it reflect on diluc in global context

so now diluc's characterization flip flopped in several directions, and he doesn't really has an arc or plotline going. he's kinda just there now, more of symbol than character, and hoyo just writes whatever they want for him without any regard for any previous lore

#rhine talks #diluc

[andromedaexists]

WUPDATE: Desecrate

𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟼𝚝𝚑 || 𝙱𝙴𝚃 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙸 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙾𝚃

sorry for stepping away for a few weeks, there were a couple things happening in my life that required my full attention!

BUT I'M BACK!!! (a lil bit late BUT THAT'S OKAY) and I come with news!

I was accepted into Lavender Con! It's a new book convention in Washington, DC that's coming up in June! I will be attending as an author with 2 days of signing time for Call Me Icarus! I will also be bringing a couple proofs of Incorrect Eyes, I might even give them out as ARCs!!

Incorrect Eyes is entering revisions! I stopped working on it for a few weeks to let it ruminate while some alpha readers looked at it. Not all of my readers have come back to me at this point, but I have enough feedback that I want to start working on it and get it rolling!

Desecrate is entering re-writes! I have a decent amount written from last spring when I used Desecrate as my final project for Starting A Novel. Since then, I have changed a lot of things including the entirety of Kit's personality, so the story is going into full re-writes!

I have a new project on my plate! I had the idea for a cozy fantasy that I would love to work on in the background as a way to sort of decompress from my heavy hitters (a.k.a. my stories about: rebellion & revolution, paranoia & body horror, and the deconstruction of religion & religious trauma). This is a background work so I don't wanna talk too much on it, but i'm very excited about it!!

I think that covers most of what's going on! I spent a lot of time developing a (nearly 10k word) plot outline for desecrate and we're going back in from square one!

But I know y'all are here for the snippies:

snippies are going to be a little bit different moving forward now that the news of tumblr feeding our posts to AI has come out. I've already opted out of this happening again, but just in case tumblr is a soulless corporation (it is), I am still going to remain cautious. That means the snippies I share will now be from early drafts of my stories and will not be the same as they appear on page. They might also be shorter! but I don't want to stop sharing all-together

from desecrate:

Kit feels emotions thick in the back of his throat as he walks through the home. Everything has been left untouched, covered by a light layer of dust from the year of vacancy. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have a lot to move in, there isn’t much room left. “Whoa, are these all you?” Benny asks from across the room. Ah yes, the Kit wall. His mother had installed it in the house before they moved to the city, leaving his papa here alone. It’s the far wall of the living room and it’s filled with hundreds of photos, all of him from the time of his birth up until the day they moved about a decade ago. Kit walks over to join Benny just as Father Isaac comes up behind them, resting his hands on their shoulders (Kit & Benny are shoulder to shoulder w/ father Isaac between then but behind them family portrait style). His eyes scan over his youth photographed before him. Pictures of him as an infant in the frilly dresses his mom made him wear, pictures from every year of ballet he did, pictures from ever sport he ever participated it. “Oh my God!” Benny gasps. “Kitty, you never told me that you were a cheerleader?” In her hand is a picture from 8th grade, the year before they moved. The year before kit’s life changed. A pang of sadness resounds through Kit’s heart as he looks at the picture. He was happy, truly happy then. He misses those much simpler times when he didn’t know who he was but that didn’t matter, that didn’t stop him from doing what he loved to do with the people he loved.

TAGLIST

@lockejhaven @mr-writes @eleanordaze @flowerprose @starlitpage @dogmomwrites @annetilney @ceph-the-ghost-writer @inkspellangel @outpost51

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#desecrate wip #wip update #writing #writeblr #wip excerpt #wupdate #adult fantasy #religious fantasy #andi writes

[magic-is-something-we-create]

2023 recap + 2024 plans

i wrote 261,200 words in 2023; 172,500 of those for Whispers, 88,700 for Goddess-Touched!

i read 16 books to completion, beta'd for an additional 2, am currently reading 3, and got partway through 5 others before having to put them down.

i maintained my streaming schedule with only a handful of emergency-related exceptions, and drew, uh, a shit ton over the course of the year!

writing goals for 2024:

fix Echoseers (full stylistic rewrite, along with some plot tweaks)

finish the first draft of Goddess-Touched (and edit it hardcore as well)

work on as-yet-unnamed book 4 of tms

fix up Whispers with the added feedback of beta readers

start querying Whispers (i'll look into self publishing down the road if i don't end up finding an agent. the way my brain functions i must cling to the hope of not having to market it myself tooth and nail for the time being)

POTENTIALLY. if my brain fixates on it. write the script for The Lost so that i actually have something to work with to make the comic happen

one of my offline friends is starting to get into writing, and im hoping to help them through some of the early rough patches and potentially co-write a thing with them!!

i completely dropped the ball on the weekly writing updates so im gonna try and get back to that on wednesday. and potentially get back into the weekly ask games!

non-writing goals for 2024:

youtube. i want to make speedpaints and worldbuilding videos and shit. ive already made the basic animation stuff to have a lil sona to do the gesturing for me and i know how to make videos i just havent done it in a While

twitch!! i want to stream a bit more often because its fun and if i let myself branch out into video games as well as art itll be easier to do that. u might see me streaming in the evenings sometime soon. (psst im not streaming this weekend as im still doing a shit ton of holiday/social stuff but the weekend of the 13th ill be back to both patreon and twitch baybee)

SPEAKING OF i want to get my shit together enough to do like. monthly short story releases for my patrons/ko-fi members. early access, that is, so if i post one in january, it'll be posted here a month or two later for all to see/read

i want to read as many books as i did in 2023, if not more! im also considering adding book reviews/thoughts to youtube or patreon/ko-fi perks

my weekend hiatuses aren't going anywhere. having time where im not actively engaging with tumblr + don't feel obligated to do Anything online has done wonders for my mental health and i highly recommend it. focus mode on my phone and leechblock on desktop has helped so so so much

and that's all i'm sharing here!! i hope 2024 is a better year for all than the last <3

#braindumps.txt #writing update #aboutthewarlord #2024 goals

[nights-at-crystarium]

I also hope people don’t think “is this a haurchefucker main blog out of sudden”, he just needed help in the tournament and I happened to be the one willing to unleash my simp cannons for him at this given time. The tournament also inspired me to draw more haurchexarch that I already shipped since last year as a fun sidething. Their chemistry’s just going brrrrr and making me weak.

As for my personal relationship with Haurche as a character, I love him as much as I love Feo Ul, Alisaie and, drumroll, Aymeric. I think a lot about them since they’re all prominent in Fragments, even if they take years to fully blossom. The main plot’s all figured out, I’m just refining it at my leisure and bursting with secrets untold. I might have gone too hard on avoiding any comic spoilers at all though, with how I never drew Aymeric and let him lose that round 1 in favor of Haurche (I voted with my brain, not heart! I thought Haurche’s meme power could carry him further in the poll and, look, it really did), but he’s my fav chew toy. You’re in on a secret now :3c

The two elezen are an extremely popular wolnpc choice, so it shouldn’t even sound that shocking, especially with Vivi and his *waves vaguely* preferred pastime before the ShB events. However, I’m putting a lil spin on the way Vivi interacts with them, that will leave you feeling horrible and hating him and possibly me as well. Or maybe being impressed. Up to you. ShB is his redemption arc, stuff that happened before built him up as a person, and there’s quite a bit to cringe at. I like to say that I’ll always explain why he acts the way he does, but never excuse.

Okay sorry for all the rambling, my anxious ass just wanted to clarify that, if a character other than cat appears in my art, it’s not random and that I deeply care about them, ‘s all. 🖤

#vivien rell #nextlvl rambles #own: next lvl #text post #haurchefant greystone #haurchefant de fortemps #aymeric de borel

[misc-obeyme]

BARBATOS COOKING COMPETITION!! YES!! Also I’m glad you reminded me of his gardening! Maybe he also gives you access to increasingly rare crops? He’ll send those seeds to the store for them to sell! Like once you get the money for beehouses and they get built, you unlock flowers and fruit trees, so you can harvest Fancy Honeys.

That, and you know in farm sims there sometimes tend to be little sprites or fairies? Like the one example I can think of are the Junimos in Stardew Valley. Little D’s?? MC, Sol, and Babbs are the only ones who can see them. It’d make sense for Solomon to see them, but Barbatos could potentially be a bit supernatural too. Like how some SoS/HM games feature a Goddess too and the fairies/sprites are her aides, maybe Barb chose this particular city’s farm plot for Dia’s vision bc it’s his home and it could use some touching up while his true Eldritch Fae God Form heals? Maybe BABBS is the Dessie that lived in the pond! Idk lmao I tend to get too deep into plot aspects.

Another thing I thought of thanks to your response is maybe, under some supervision, Luke sets up a little “Lemonade Stand” on weekends, or once a month/season (depending on the game’s time mechanics), and he sells super special items, like SUPER HEALING treats, bouquets (which could be a dating prerequisite for your chosen bachelor/ette), and perfumes (A special animal friendship thing/monster repellant?) Asmo would DEFINITELY be there as sort of just a place for him to be, like how villagers/datatables in farm sims have schedules. Perfume is one of Asmo’s fave gifts so it’d make sense!

SPEAKING OF! What kinds of things do you think would be considered fave gifts? Like certainly Beel would love meals, but I feel like you’d need to upgrade MC’s little personal shack with a kitchen in order to make your own meals instead of spending the little money you make on the random meals from the cafe, making gifting Beel meals an actual challenge And there’s obvious other gift things others would like. Lucifer would love coffee (or maybe a variety of coffee beans you can grow), Simeon loves honey, and Solomon would love things that could be considered potion ingredients, among other obvious gifts we already know from the og game. But what Farm Life things would you gift the less farm-inclined characters like Levi and Mammon? Definitely ore and gems for Mammon, but that’s the only thing I can think of to gift him. And maybe… Uh… Boiled Egg. For Levi. Bc he snake… >->;

On another note, what would the “Marriage Token” of this world be? 🤔

(I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS!!! Festivals, competitions, town map, game mechanics… I think too much HNDVEHNUSRKHD)

Oh my gosh I LOVE the idea of Barbatos as the Goddess who lives in the pond and the Lil Ds as his attendants!!! And in some games, the Goddess is a secret marriage option, so you could still marry Barb lkasdflksdf. I love the idea of him just pretending to be a butler so he can get his strength back by living on the land that is his home! And he gets stronger the more the town is revived, as MC fixes things up and unlocks areas and what not!

YES to a seasonal Luke Lemonade Stand that is so cute!! Like you gotta get what you can while it's open otherwise you'll have to wait a whole year in game to get that perfect seasonal bouquet for your true love!! Of course Asmo would be all about the perfume, he's straight up there to shop lol.

Okay okay so the gifts is an interesting thing to consider! Usually there's at least one meal preference for each character and then after that it kinda varies depending on interest. So as you said, for Beel it might be that his all time favorite gift is some fancy meal. Like if it was a cheeseburger, you'd have to be able to get all of the ingredients which could be a lot. Whereas coffee for Lucifer would just be coffee beans and maybe milk. But usually they also have other options that give you a little less friendship, but are easier to make/obtain. So I would think Beel would be okay with being given stuff like crops that haven't been cooked into anything, too. Then when you've got a kitchen and so on, you can cook things that'll increase friendship more.

I think it's kinda like some marriage options are meant to be more difficult, so their gifts are harder to obtain?

But I think you're right for Mammon - definitely ore and gems. Shiny stuff lol! His only food option is ramen, of course. In some games, you can find old coins from mining, so if you ever get one of those, I think he'd like that, too. He also likes clothes and such, so maybe fabric?

Levi feels impossible lol. You can't exactly gift him manga. I like the boiled egg option. Maybe he also likes fish? Shells and stuff you can find on the beach?

Asmo would like flowers and perfume. I think Belphie would like things like wool and fabric, but also milk 'cause ya know cows. But I'm having a little trouble with Satan. I mean you can't just give him an entire cat. And I don't think you'd be able to give him books, either. Then again, Satan is known for liking animals in general not just cats. So maybe you could give him any animal byproduct and that'd work?

Ohhh the marriage token... hmm. Well I've seen the blue feather, a ring, a pendant, and a comb as options before... so like my first thought is a black feather. But then there's also the Ring of Light though that's kinda Lucifer specific. I think it would be interesting to involve pacts somehow, but that will only work for demon characters. It could just be a standard ring situation or a feather, but the color changes depending on the character. I'm not sure though!

Ahhh now I wanna play this game so bad lol!

#seriously it sounds like a lot of fun #obey me #obey me nightbringer #dread-bard #misc answers

[imaginespazzi]

Hi bestie 🥰

Sorry it took me a lil while to check in but I wanted to make sure I formed some sensical thoughts after reading part 1! Although, this might actually all be non-sensical because I’m still reeling from it all and I’m nowhere near as articulate but anyway, here goes (side note: am I listening to if the world was ending while writing this? you bet I am):

WOW WOW WOW, the beginning? My heart broke immediately and as the biggest angst fiend, I was like oh- this- this is gonna be immaculate I already know.

And of course it was. OF COURSE IT WAS.

The photos of them on the wall?? And Paige’s realisation of how much she fucked up cos Azzi never once let go even though Paige ignored her for a WHOLE FUCKING YEAR!!!

The flashback to when Azzi broke the UCLA news to Paige; yeah you ATE that. I know you said you might take inspiration from my suggestion and that’s pretty much how it played out in my mind, only your version was a hundred thousand times better- like the talent is just unmatched.

Paige’s first reaction being “BUT YOU NAMED YOUR DOG STEWIE!!!!” Is so fucking real lmao, I laughed and cried.

Nika standing ten toes down for her twin always, I respect it.

And Jealous Paige? Yeah my favourite trope fr ✊ (also the fact that she already got jealous of carol of all ppl?? lmao, i can't even imagine how she'd react to seeing Azzi with someone that's actually into her 😭)

And then the ending?? You’re sick for that cos see now that’s all I’ll be thinking about until we get the next part (making your fics my roman empire? it’s only fair)

Thoughts on what might come next (which you should totally ignore if it's not what you have in mind bcos again, your brain >>> my pea-sized brain):

Imma need Paige to suffer a lot bit LMAO, like sorry to her but girlie deserves to pay for freezing out princess FOR A YEAR.

Like I know that’s the love of your life Azzi babygirl, but you better make blondie work. beg. grovel.

I also feel like Azzi’s teammates wouldn’t be so accepting of Paige straight away? They’d be super protective of Azzi cos like that’s pookie, who wouldn’t be?? And they were the ones who witnessed just how much she was hurting during her freshman year and how often she waited for a call that never came, so yeah Paige really gonna have to prove herself 😌

Anyhooo, to sum it up, you outdid yourself and then some bestie. Your stories genuinely give me the best escape from reality and I cannot express how thankful I am for you taking the time and effort to write masterpieces like that for us.

Oh finally, the tagline for the story being "everything changes, except the ending" - pure genius, in my humble opinion.

Until next time 💗

-🙋‍♀️ (I’ve decided to fully stick to this as my signature)

Hi bestieeee, I'm so, so, so, glad you liked it. Like I wanted everyone to like it of course, but you especially, it's very important to me that you like it.

Bestie, you helped so much with how Azzi would reveal it/Paige's reaction, like so much of that is your brain work, I just put it into words and I'm glad it turned out how you imagined it.

Lmao I wanted Paige's initial reaction to be so random and I was like WAIT, how is she going to bring a dog named Stewie to UCLA (again more proof that it was always gonna be UConn for her).

Jealous Paige is my favorite version of Paige because it's a) really fun to write and b) really hot to imagine. And it's only going to get worse for her.

Nika needs to be team Paige because I fear Azzi's teammates are about to be menaces to her and not in a good way.

I was actually gonna end it with Azzi running out and then have none of the stuff outside but I think it was important for them to have that conversation and I wanted them to kiss teehee

My current (loose) summary for the next part in terms of plot is "Azzi goes on a date and Paige goes insane" so trust bestie, blondie will in fact suffer. 😈

Always so happy to see you babe, come back with more suggestions or just to ki-ki whenever. 💗💗💗

#ask #fic talk #UCLA ANON LOML FR <3