#absolute dubious animations

[qualityrain]

I think its cute that joshua finds neku entertaining considering he agrees w neku that he never found anybody fun to be around. unfortunately this is to nekus detriment. sorry sewer god thinks its fun to fake his death and put u on the spot to decide the fate of shibuya

[howlettsdoll]

‘sweatin and moanin’

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ logan howlett x f! reader

thinking about logan in heat/with ruts x reader who’s ovulating … ohhh my god !!

content warnings ;

unprotected piv, size difference, heat/ruts, dubious consent but it’s very slight okay, cumming inside

the air between you two is thick and heavy as logan’s cock stretches you to the hilt like nothing else.

the sloppy mess and smell of pure, primal driven need also clings to the air — as well as the lewd, squelching sounds of him pounding into you: pulling delicious moans from both your bodies.

even after going like this for more times than you can count, both you and logan are anything but tired. and the reason for that?

logan’s in heat. all you could feel all week was him pressing up against you, whether from behind or in front, anywhere, anytime — just trying to get some friction. and as much as it pained you to shove him away each and every time, you didn’t want to risk anything in public.

however when he gets you to himself in his room, you two are all over eachother like rabid animals. he’s biting at your neck, big hands pulling at your clothes and nearly tearing them apart; not that you cared — all you wanted was to get dicked down, as your sex drive had spiked all week too.

and logan could tell. his already heightened senses only peaked when he was in heat: causing him to sniff you out from far away even, the sweet scent of your pussy dripping for him was enough to drive him to find you no matter where you were. and when he did, best believe he’ll drag you somewhere just to toy with your pussy.

“ah, look at her. always a sloppy mess for me, ain’ she?” he’d tease, lips hovering right over your neck as his hand had started to make it’s descent to slip into your panties, fingers already dragging lazy circles over your clit.

it was always a messy combination.

even in the mornings, when logan would wake up first, he’d notice you still asleep and slot his knee between your thighs and up your little short nightdress — nudging you awake by rubbing his knee against your clit through your already damp panties. by the time you’d wake up, you’d feel his warm cock already pressing against your folds, wake up to the sight of him on top of you, his arms pressed on either side of your pillow. “this okay, doll? m’ sorry, i couldn’t wait..” he’d grunt, voice still rough and tired, but you nodded in silent agreement — needing this just as much as him and feeling as he then sunk his cock into your wet, eager walls no problem — a groan leaving both him and you.

when you would wake up first, it was a little different, as you’d find yourself spreading your thighs to get onto his with a little whine. you rocked your hips against his thigh needily, awaking the man easily. he’d wake up to feel your heat rubbing up against his thigh.

“mm.. well look at my pretty princess, grindin’ like a lil puppy all over me—..” his tired voice would finally speak up as he registered the situation in his mind, his cock already starting to strain against his boxers. it made you whine for more, as his big hand shamelessly pulled your hand onto him to palm his cock — the beginning of a morning you two knew would last all afternoon.

and when i mean anytime, anywhere, i mean it. the man’s practically a dog, a dog in heat if you may. he’s absolutely rabid when in heat and will look for any excuse to get you someplace private just to get some release.

sometimes, you feel like you can barely keep up, with the way he’s manhandling you and shifting your position so he can get the best friction on his cock — for example, you could be on your back and this man, with his godforsaken huge hands, will shamelessly turn you onto your stomach and hold your head down against the pillow, slipping into your sweet pussy from behind to slam his cock against that spot he knows has you seeing stars, from the way your words turn into jumbled whines and moans.

and from that, he could also easily turn you back over into a mating press. his favorite. he’d most likely be like that for a while, until he empties his cum into you and has you doing the same all over his cock, before sitting back and starting to pull you onto his lap to ride him for another orgasm, a repeat of all week all over again.

[witchywcmans]

TOO SWEET. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ after accepting his new title, your moments alone with laios start to become a rarity. it was hard for him to find time, making him long for the days in the dungeon with you. and now, the kisses between you two were quick and desperate, until one night...when a very tired laios just can't seem to ignore you. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ cunnilingus + fingering, praise, size kink, reader on top, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, yearning + sexual tension, laios and reader haven't boinked in a bit, monster facts as dirty talk ofc, confession, mentions of dubious consent in 5th paragraph (from when the winged lion switched into laios's body). nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.4k

song inspiration ━━ howl, florence + the machine / oil & water, pvris / love story, taylor swift

author's note ━━ THIS ONE-SHOT CONTAINS MANGA SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING OF DUNGEON MESHI! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! okay, part 3 (and final part) of my laios series is here! like the other parts, this could be read as a standalone, if you want. my plan for part 3 was to make it vague in case ppl who haven’t read the manga want to read it, but that kinda went out the window. I highly encourage everyone to read the manga if you want more of the story, it gets so interesting! I'm a SUCKER for a knight x ruler ship, so that's what you're getting in this!! I've enjoyed writing this little connected series so much and it really pushed me to start writing reader one-shots! if it hadn't been for all the ppl in the dungeon meshi fandom who read my work, I probably wouldn't have started this. this anime + manga has become one of my absolute favorites!! I hope you guys enjoy this! ps: don't worry, I will be writing more laios in the future 😉

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

After what felt like years, all was right in the world when the Island’s dungeon was destroyed and the Golden Kingdom finally rose from the sea. You had gotten to know Laios – in more ways than one – throughout your journey inside the dungeon, which had left you terrified at some points, especially when you almost lost him. But it hadn’t surprised you when the people had declared him King of a land that was thought to have been perished 1000 years ago. With everything he sacrificed, Laios – the devour of monsters, the destroyer of demons – was the only right person to rule.

With the help of Marcille, Senshi, Chilchuck, and even more friends met along the way, Laios was advised thoroughly as he undertook the stresses of establishing the Golden Kingdom once again. He had to deal with villager problems, instituting the economy, and keeping an eye on the monsters that took residence in surrounding lands. He watched them from his bedroom window on the farthest tower of the castle, admiring the beasts that warded off any threats to the kingdom. But his passion had become the production and preservation of food throughout his land, specifically in regards to magic and monsters. He made sure not one person in the Golden Kingdom went hungry, even if it killed him someday.

Most days were spent researching with his advisors or sitting in the throne room, listening to villagers' pleas for more building materials, better water, or whatever else they came up with that day. Laios made sure to listen to every ask, but he had to admit – just talking to people was exhausting. He never regretted his decision to become King, but sometimes … he longed for the days in the dungeons, tearing into whatever monster they cooked up that night, fighting alongside you, holding your hand or kissing you … tasting you.

Like your former party members, you had taken up residence in the castle as Laios’s chief knight and sworn protector. It made sense, given the fact that you had saved him with your crossbow on several occasions in the dungeon. You frequented by his side, except when he was in his own chambers. You led him to meetings, walked with him through the streets of the kingdom, protected him if any threats arose. Ever since you took up this mantle, your moments alone together had become rare. There had been one night: after Laios was safe and sound in the walls of the castle … that you shared his bed with him, tears streaming down your face because you had been so worried for him, but it didn’t matter anymore now that he was safe, and healing, and pounding into you so hard that it left you both gasping for air. Besides that, the only encounters you had alone were fleeting, consisting of swift, passionate kisses and rough squeezes in dark corners. You two hadn’t been intimate in any sense of the word since … well, since the Winged Lion was defeated. 

Just the memory of the demon made you shiver. You remembered when the Wing Lion had switched into Laios’s body and granted his true desire to become a monster. Before trying to escape the dungeon, he had tried fooling all the party members that he really was Laios and he almost fooled you. You recalled the way he had tried to kiss you – probably devouring your own desires right from your mouth – and how his hands so eagerly tried to slip underneath your skirt, finding you already aching and ready for your lover, just needing to be touched after being so distraught over Laios’s wellbeing. But you recognized the foreign contact from a mile away, and you had pushed him back, screaming at the Winged Lion to bring back your Laios.

You shook yourself out of the memory as you walked Laios back to his bed chambers that night. His stomach was full from dinner, but he was also worn out from a long day of meeting with his advisors. Marcille had really chewed into him about something today, but you weren’t sure of the reason. Holding open the door to his room for him, you caught his tired, lingering gaze before he disappeared inside. You swallowed hard, stationing yourself outside his door, your fingers on the handle of your sword. Nights like these were hard. They were lonely. It was just you out here, manning the King’s chambers, with nothing but the memory of his mouth between your legs or his groans echoing in your ears. 

His half-lidded eyes tonight had you reeling, squeezing your thighs together as you tried to forget about how much you wanted him. It had been almost two weeks since he last kissed you. And that kiss had been quick, desperate, two people colliding in the small, unlit closet used by the maids.

Your hand enclosed around the hilt of your sword, and you nodded at two other guards walking past. If you kept losing yourself to daydreams like this, there was no way you’d be focused enough to protect Laios from an immediate threat. That’s what mattered after all: the King’s protection … the King’s protection … the King. Surely, it wasn’t wise to be so entranced with the new King of the Golden Kingdom as his sworn sword. And again, you understood why you were picked. But it was nights like this where you really wished you had just been … his lover. Hell, you’d even survive with just being a lady of the court if it meant no more secret meetings in closets.

You could’ve dwelled on this predicament for hours, if the door to the Laios’s chambers wasn’t opening.

You turned immediately, your hand on the hilt of your sword going tight. But it was just Laios, leaning against the open door and rubbing at his tired eyes. He had shed his fancy clothes for a nightshirt and loose-fitting drawers. His hair had grown a bit longer, and he refused to cut it out of spite. The way it was sticking out right now, pushed back slightly by his hand … you swore you could feel your knees buckling.

“Your Grace?” You greeted, remaining professional, until you saw that look in his eyes again. That tired, lingering gaze. Full of want, and care, and desperation for another body against his.

His eyes crinkled, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at your call. “Please, do not feel the need to call me that at this hour.” He then held out his hand, beckoning you closer.

Swallowing hard, your eyes flicker down the barren hallway before taking his hand, letting him lead you inside his bed chambers. This was the moment you’d been waiting for so long. His movements were calculated, deliberate, as he slowly shut the large door. You unhooked your belt and scabbard, setting them by the door. As you turned to him, he was already in front of you, helping you take off your armor. His fingers were slow, not in a hurry, as he fiddled with the metal fasteners. He struggled with some clasps, muttering under his breath, and you laughed softly. Each piece was set delicately on the ground, and then he was lifting off your chainmail as if it weighed nothing. You sometimes wondered how you were able to walk around with such heavy material every day since taking up this mantle.

Finally, you were left in nothing but your clothes beneath the armor: a loose red tunic and suede trousers. The relaxed nature in his eyes vanished, replaced by an intense hunger, mirroring the stance of a wolf. Laios was rushing towards you, pushing you against the wall, and pressing his mouth onto yours. You matched his desire tenfold, winding your hands into his hair as you kissed each other with desperation. His fingers fisted into the sides of your shirt, pulling you against him, while his tongue prodded into your mouth. He groaned immediately. All this time without tasting just a bit of you had him weak in the knees. He’d never go this long without kissing you ever again.

“It’s been weeks,” he muttered between kisses. Gone was the monster-obsessed adventurer who saved you from turning into a sea serpent. He’d been replaced by a King who yearned for your touch the second he saw you every morning.

“Since we last kissed,” you corrected as he pressed your back even further into the cold, stone wall. His lips broke away from yours, leaving a trail of spit connecting you two. You exhaled, “It’s been months since we were alone for longer than two minutes.”

“I know,” he sighed, now nuzzling his cheek against yours, “and I’m sorry. All I want to do is go back to the dungeon … with you. It’s just … there’s no time, and I’m so tired.” His mouth then dragged to the shell of your ear, and you shivered when his hot breath ghosted over the side of your face. “But the way you looked tonight at dinner … I don’t know … it was the way the wine made your face red … no matter how tired I was, I had to have you tonight. I missed you so much.”

You were sure that your cheeks had to be as flushed now as they were at dinner. Just his kiss alone had you wet, already wrapped around his finger. “I missed you too, Laios.”

He hardly gave you a second to continue before he was kneeling in front of you. He couldn’t wait; there was this fierce longing in his eyes that only you could cure. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your trousers as he muttered, “I need to taste you.”

Despite his desperation, he did take a moment to admire how soaked your underwear was, how he had always been the one to cause this. You looked down at him and he looked up at you. With long, expert fingers, Laios tugged your underwear down along with your trousers. Your pussy was absolutely dripping, like a goddamn faucet. A whine escaped his lips, hungry for a taste, and he spread your folds just slightly to see the wetness gather. There were just about a thousand monster dishes he enjoyed, but nothing – absolutely nothing – compared to how delicious you were.

Laios didn’t even give you time to step out of your pants and underwear. He was grasping your hips and burying his face between your legs, pushing you right back against the wall. You choked on a moan, even though you both knew you had to be quiet, but you just couldn’t help yourself. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder to give him better access, and when he finally got the first few drops of you on his tongue, he damn near started crying.

You were exquisite. You were too sweet. Sweet like Dryad fruit.

Grinding your hips against his tongue, you whined out his name and realized how badly you had needed him in this way for weeks. Your hands found purchase in his hair, tugging his face deeper into your pussy. He lapped at you, absolutely ravenous, groaning when more slick entered his mouth. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked harshly. His fingers dug into your hip, surely bruising you, while his other hand wrapped around your leg and pushed them even further apart. 

“Missed the way you tasted,” he muttered before flicking your clit with his tongue. “I could do this for hours.”

You let out a shuddering breath, already hazy from his touch. “Why don’t you then?”

“I want to,” he chuckled, all awkward and blushing. Just the sight of him looking up at you with those pretty eyes while licking a stripe up your pussy had you gasping. “Tomorrow. I promise. I just need to be inside you tonight.”

His promise for tomorrow had your heart fluttering. You both were going to make time again, but he also had more plans for you tonight. This wasn’t going to be just two minutes in a closet. Thinking of him stretching your walls with his girth, pushing into you after all these weeks of yearning for him, of touching yourself whenever you could because you just missed him so much … it all made you start to buck your hips against his tongue again. You knew how much he loved that. You physically felt him smile against you, sucking on your clit once again as he prodded one finger inside your tight warmth.

Your eyes rolled back once he found your g-spot, curling his finger and beginning to pump in and out. “Fuck, Laios, I –”

“Needed this so badly,” he confessed, swirling his tongue around your increasingly swollen clit. His cock was straining against his drawers, precum seeping through the thin fabric, but he wanted you to cum on his tongue first. It’s all he’d been dreaming about. “Needed you.”

“I needed you too,” you whispered, and then felt him add a second finger inside of you. You bit the side of your hand, muffling your moan. “So good – fuck. Doing so good, Laios –”

Your body was starting to shake, your walls clenching around his fingers. Laios was relishing in your taste, teasing your clit in the most delicious way. You were so, so close and he needed this so much and so did you and before you knew it, you were crying out into your hand again. Your pussy went tight as his fingers curled into your g-spot and you came all over his waiting tongue. Laios whimpered when he finally tasted your release, pushing his face as much as he could into your pussy, almost suffocating himself. He licked at you, making sure he got every last drop, and when your hips finally stilled, he pulled his fingers out of you with a wet pop and lapped at the excess.

Sweat ran down your brow as you settled against the wall, trying to calm your breathing. When you opened your eyes, Laios was getting to his feet and towering over you. His hand clasped around your jaw and gave you another bruising kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. It was like he was trying to devour you, to mold both of you into one so you could be together forever.

Carrying you over to the bed, he set you down on top of the blankets and finally tugged your pants and underwear from your ankles. You laughed together when he realized that he had gotten so excited he forgot to rid you of these. "Sorry," he said, setting them down in a pile.

You couldn't help but smile when you noticed the blush on his cheeks. "Missed me that much, huh?"

His face went even more pink. "Stop embarrassing me when I'm trying to seduce you."

He pulled his nightshirt over his head, and before his fingers could grasp the hem of your tunic, you were pinning him with the brute strength he forgot you acquired in the dungeon. "You don't have to do much to seduce me, Laios," you whispered in his ear, making him shudder.

Now underneath you, you straddled Laios's lap, feeling how hard he was in his drawers. He looked up at you in shock, like you were an offering from the Gods, as you lifted your tunic off and dropped it to the floor. His breathing stilled, watching the way your breasts heaved, and his cock was practically begging for release. 

You leaned down, pressing your mouth to his throat, placing sloppy kisses on areas that made his breath hitch. This was the new King of the Golden Kingdom under you, trembling from just your lips on his skin. He was wrapped around your finger just as much as you were wrapped around his. Dragging your lips down, you kissed his chest before finally swirling your tongue around one of his nipples. Laios muttered expletives under his breath as you wrapped your lips around his nipple, pinching his other one. His whole body was becoming tense underneath you, his straining erection poking against your backside, but you kept teasing him.

At the end of the day, you were always there for your King.

Once both his nipples were taut and wet from your expert tongue, you leaned back up to his face and kissed the corner of his mouth. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, cupping your face so tenderly. “Laios, I just want to be extra sure. Do you want to …?” Your question hung heavy between you two, but recognition flashed in Laios’s eyes. You nuzzled the side of his face and added, “I know you’re tired. I don’t want to keep you up if you’re that exhausted.”

“I’ve been thinking about this – about you – for weeks,” he said, his eyes filled with need. “I want this. I want you.”

You stared at him, absolutely melting at the sight of that dopey grin on his face once again, the one you loved so, so much. Now you were blushing, unable to not giggle when you saw that grin. You traced the curve of his mouth with your finger, and he bit down on the top of it unexpectedly, making you both laugh. This is why you loved Laios: everything was so easy with him.

Wait, love. Is that was this was? The burning feeling in your chest whenever he was near. The way you couldn’t help but smile whenever he did, or how you always laughed along with him. The natural disposition to protect him, whether it be from demons or people. The way you could so easily melt under his touch, under his kiss. It had always been there, staring you right in the face … love.

Feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest, you finally moved so he could push down his drawers, and his hard cock sprang free. Precum leaked from the blushing red tip, dripping down his shaft and onto his stomach. You adored how pretty his cock was, how easily he could stretch you out with his girth. He liked the way you looked at it now, how you praised him. It took a couple of times, but he eventually stopped being embarrassed about his size around you. He still liked to give you monster facts as he fucked you sometimes – as a treat.

Laios’s hands settled on your hips as you lifted yourself, positioning yourself above his cock. You wrapped your hand around his shaft to get the perfect angle, smearing his precum and making him hiss. “Did … did you know,” he said, voice strangled, “the maximum speed of a Red Dragon is approximately – oh, fuck – 60 kilometers per hour?”

“Mhmm …” You hummed, finally lowering yourself with his help, sinking down onto his cock slowly. Once he slipped a few inches inside your warm, wet walls, you both gasped. You placed your free hand on his chest and encouraged, “Tell me more, Laios.”

“Gods …” He breathed out, feeling your body quiver above him. “I … uh – fuck … people have theorized that changelings – shit – use their ability to change living things in order to propagate their species – fuck, almost there –”

You both let out a breath of relief once he was finally seated inside you. Laios sat up, tugging you more against him, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You stayed there for a moment, adjusting to his size once again, clinging to him as he kissed your cheek and murmured how you took him so well. You’d probably never get used to how big he was, but he filled you so nicely, so completely. After making sure you were comfortable, Laios decided to take the reins and began moving you on his cock. You whimpered after the first pass, and he had to grip your hips so tightly just to stop himself from going overboard, wanting to make this last just a little while longer. Each roll of your hips had you mewling as his cock curved inside you, brushing your spongy g-spot. His fingers dug into your skin, rocking you back and forth, grinding your already oversensitive clit against his pelvis. 

Burying your face into his neck, you let him start to bounce you on his cock. He groaned, feeling himself throb inside your tight heat. Everything about you was perfect: from the way you fit him inside of you so nicely to the way you whined against his skin, begging for more. He was thoroughly obsessed with you. It was a miracle that it took him so long to initiate with you after the Golden Kingdom had risen. He found himself thinking about your touch, about your taste, more often than not. And the way you smiled at him, your laughter sounding like wind chimes in a busy street market … he knew how deep his feelings went, farther than he expected. He was the King but you were the one who brought him to his knees every time.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he groaned, biting and sucking on the side of your neck. “You always feel so good … so warm …”

He started thrusting up into you when his arms got a little tired, and you let him simply take control. There was so little control he had in his life now, especially since he was being watched almost all the time, so you’d give him this – you’d give him you. And gods, did it feel good to just melt into him, to not be his sworn sword, just for a little while. Right now, you two were just lovers, desperate to soothe each other’s ache.

The expansive bedroom was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and moans echoing off the ceiling. Your arousal oozed out with each roll of your hips, dripping onto the lavish blankets befit for a King. But neither of you seemed to give a damn as his nails created crescent shapes in your hips, and you squeezed around him so much that he choked on a whimper. With your face nuzzling the crook of his neck, you carded your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly and eliciting another sound from him.

“Did you also know,” he began in a strained tone, “fuck – wargs have no fear of monsters larger than themselves – please, fuck – not even … not even dragons?”

“Are we still doing that?” You snorted, lifting your head from his neck.

He laughed along with you, and now you both were looking into each other’s eyes as he thrust up into you, hitting the best spots. He leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, moaning at the way you squirmed. His tongue moved to lick up the valley between your breasts, almost animalistic, before his mouth was grazing yours and his eyes were burning into you like melted gold. You clung onto him tighter, your chest flush against him, and you knew then that this wasn’t just fucking anymore. Laios was making love to you and you were making love to him and – fuck, he was going to make you cum so hard to make up for the past few weeks.

You were creating an absolute mess on top of him, just a blabbering heap of moans and whines, eyes locked on his as you rode him into oblivion. “I’m gonna cum,” you mewled, unable to keep your voice level. Your fingers tugged on his hair again, and he responded by downright slamming you up and down his thick cock.

“I know. It’s okay. I know.” One of his hands left your hip to reach in between your bodies, where you both were linked, and two fingers began to circle your clit. You hissed, back arching even more into him. Your vow to be quiet long forgotten as he teased your ache. “That’s it … there you go.”

Laios knew his strength, and it was certainly showing it off tonight. He was rocking your hips on his cock – so close to release – while rubbing your clit in tight circles. His sweet nothings in your ear had you crying out his name, and after a few more messy passes, you were cumming around him. You were shaking like fresh mandrake in his arms. Your walls squeezed him so tight that it only took one more thrust up into you before he was emptying himself into you. He came with a lewd groan, his hands falling to his sides and leaving you to bounce yourself on his cock through his release. Eventually, when the wave after wave of pleasure settled between you both, you slumped against him and breathed heavily. And he just held you, burying his face in your neck and licking at the bites he left on your bruised skin.

When you lifted your head to kiss him, he surprised you by rolling you onto your back, his soft cock slipping out and leaving you feeling empty. He kneeled at the end of the bed and spread your legs wide open, letting your combined releases spill out. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and the anguish in his tone stunned you. “It’s been weeks, and I just … I need you.”

As soon as the word, “Please,” left your lips, he was diving in again, spreading your folds with two fingers. He licked a long stripe through your pussy, gathering your releases on his tongue. He didn’t care that he was tasting his own cum; all he wanted was this – you. He lapped at you, still starving for your taste, and the way he had you cumming again was slow, calculated. Laios edged you, teetering you on the brink of release, before his hunger got the best of him. And when you came again on his tongue, it felt long and relaxing, like a weight had been lifted off you. Warmth seeped from your aching pussy and onto his tongue. He drank his fill, relishing in your sweetness.

Laios rose back on the bed, curling against your side like a tamed dire wolf. His arms slotted against you, pulling your naked front against his once again. His hand lifted to your cheek, pushing strands of hair behind your ear. Your noses brushed against each other, and he finally kissed you, slowly and passionately. There was no desperation left in him. It was replaced by the steady rhythm of his heart next to yours. 

“I love you, Laios,” you blurted in the softest voice you could muster. Once you realized what you said, you didn’t dare open your eyes to see his reaction. You simply felt him, his lips hovering just over yours, and then he hummed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and your eyes opened to watch him. That dazed grin appeared once again, making your insides twist and your cheeks tinged pink.

Laios practically giggled and pecked your lips just to soothe your nerves. “I’m not sure how to handle you like this,” he joked, finally making you laugh with him. “Usually, you’re the one making me nervous.”

“I just …” You shook your head. “I was afraid you wouldn’t say it back.”

“I thought it was obvious that I’ve been in love with you since we first met,” he said in that straightforward tone of his. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones and he smiled. “Seems like I’m cooler than I thought.”

You chuckled, hitting his chest and making him fall back onto the bed. You were sitting up slightly, propping your elbow and resting your chin in your hand. Laios was looking up at you like you put the stars in the sky. Both of you knew, instinctively, that a King being intimate with his sworn protector was typically frowned upon. Neither of you truly cared, but the opinions of his people had to matter. He was a new King after all, and every move of his would be scrutinized. Which left him with one option.

Lacing his fingers with yours, he said, “We should get married.”

Your brow furrowed. “That seems a little rash.”

It was your gut instinct to deflect, to push him away, even when you scooted yourself closer to him. But you couldn’t deny that this had been in the back of your mind, shoved in the dark corners when you thought it might be too crazy of an idea. The first time it popped into your brain was when you saw Laios’s monster form lying helpless on the ground. His body was deteriorating, blood seeping out from every crevice of the three-headed creature. The Winged Lion had been defeated, but you couldn’t stop the wail that erupted from your mouth as you took in Laios’s monster body, reeking of death and despair. You remembered running from from the tower, taking one of the heads in your arms, and crying, your tears soaking the fur. 

But then you and Marcille found him amongst the trees of the island, where Falin’s body had been frozen and resting against a boulder. From the moment his eyes met yours, you had no doubt that this was your Laios. And he was okay. He was tired, but he was okay. You didn’t think you could shed any more tears, but then you were running towards him, wrapping your arms around him, and he was burying his face in your neck and – gods, that had to be when you knew. With the relief flooding through you and his arms embracing you … you knew then that you wanted to be with him forever. You didn’t want to see him in harm’s way ever again. You would kill – again and again – for him. You would be by his side as long as he would have you. You loved him. You wanted him. Forever.

Laios snorted, bringing you out of the memory. “Rash? After how long we’ve known each other?” His tone grew serious. “I trust you with my life. That’s why I named you my sword. But I don’t want to go weeks without you ever again. I love you – I’m in love with you – and I know that I don’t want anyone else by my side.” He squeezed your fingers in his own. “I want to marry you. And then, we can be together freely with you as my Queen and sword sword.” He then paused, thinking. “We can do that, right?”

You laughed. “You’re the King. You can make your own rules, but …” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip for a moment as you mulled over his words. “Are you sure you want to marry me?”

“I’ve never been more certain about anything.” He then tapped his chin, feigning curiosity. “Unless you want me to marry Marcille? It would certainly be a loveless marriage, but she can be friendly when she isn’t advising me.”

Shaking you head, you flicked his arm. “Not sure if your sister would appreciate that. Or Marcille, for that matter.” Not even magic could force those two apart. They would love each other until the end of time.

Your eyes narrowed now. “Are you actually proposing to me without a ring, Your Grace?”

The formality made him cringe, but then his face relaxed as he stared up at you, taking in your beauty. You were the most beautiful like this, vulnerable and bare with your hair jutting out at every angle and your lips swollen from kissing him. But he’d reckon you were beautiful in every light. He couldn’t help but also think back to when you found him by Falin’s crystalized form, how it felt to just hold you again after such an egregious fight. Your warmth had seeped into him, reminding him of home. You were home. And that was when he knew, too, that he wanted to be bound to you. 

Laios brought your joined hands to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles. “Once the sun rises, you will get a proper proposal. I’ve always been a man of my word, haven’t I?”

And that he was. Because the moment you stirred awake the next morning, still sleeping in his bed, you opened your eyes to find Laios, King of Golden Kingdom, kneeling at your bedside. He held out a ring to you, eagerly awaiting your response. Once your eyes adjusted to the light and you saw his golden doe eyes, his big grin, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Of course, you said, Yes.

[rawjutsu]

YOU'RE SO PRETTY :3 p1 of the ":3 with benefits" series

pairing: college aged loser yuuta x college aged lesser loser freader

summary: yuuta :3s his way into some pussy

cw: unprotected sex, objectification, mild degradation, dubious enthusiasm, hentai references, loss of virginity, the tags make it sound a lot worse than it rlly is

you’re one more “mommy pls sit on my face” away from setting your phone on fire.

every time you open hinge, it’s the same photo getting all the attention: the cosplay pic. it was meant to be pg-13, sure—but between the school uniform blazer fighting for its life and your very intentional push-up bra, you’re not exactly shocked by the thirst. just exhausted.

“let me see em 😍”

“damn ur tits could cure my depression fr”

“mommy?”

“pls ruin me 🧎🧎🧎”

you sigh, aggressively pressing the little “x” next to every like. the app is one second away from being deleted, until a single comment stops you:

“you’re so pretty :3”

…what the fuck?

you blink. then blink again. is this bait?

you click his profile, expecting the worst, and are met with a guy who looks like he just rolled out of bed after crying over a studio ghibli film. his hair’s messy in a kind of hot way, dark bangs falling over his eyes. his profile pic is just him awkwardly holding up a peace sign, next to a cropped-out friend with green hair. you clock the dark circles under his eyes immediately. he looks like he hasn't slept in 36 hours. he’s kind of cute.

prompt: "two truths and a lie?"

“i’ve been to africa. i have a cat back home named rika. i’ve never cried during an anime.”

you match and reply.

“thank you :)”

you shift in bed, suddenly very aware of how dry your texting game is. you’ve never dated, never been in a relationship. technically, you’ve never even had sex. unless fingering yourself to doujinshi counts. probably not.

still, you send:

“you’re pretty too :)”

instant reply.

“oh my gosh thank you :3”

“i would be so honored if i got to kiss you :3”

oh god.

somewhere, your best friend is cursing herself for not warning you about men who use emoticons like “:3”. because three days later, you’re in his twin xl dorm bed, and everything is spiraling.

...

yuuta's panting like he just ran a marathon, eyes wide and locked on your tits as he jackhammers into you like he’s trying to win a prize.

“fuck, your pussy’s so warm—so pretty—oh my god—feels so good—”

the bed is creaking. you’re folded like laundry. there’s an unopened cup ramen on his desk vibrating with each thrust. he’s got your legs hooked over his shoulders and your brain is doing olympic-level gymnastics trying to process how this soft-spoken guy who said “:3” just days ago is currently rearranging your guts like it’s his life's mission.

and yet—he looks so tired. his bangs are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and those dark circles? even darker now. like he hasn’t slept since you two matched. and despite looking like he could collapse at any moment, he's somehow still going. and talking.

“your tits are unreal i’m gonna die—fuck—can you feel how good this is for me?”

you groan. not from pleasure, but because your eye just caught the anime poster on the ceiling. a busty anime girl in a microscopic bikini is bending over, ass out, cheeks flushed, pussy print visible. you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry.

he moans. you flinch. he misreads the whole situation and starts palming your boobs like they’re stress balls, pinching a nipple with such confidence you wonder if he’s actually done this before or if he just watched a lot of hentai and decided that was enough.

your phone buzzes from his desk. it’s your best friend.

how’s your hinge date?

you close your eyes.

you really should’ve deleted that stupid app.

taglist: @isagistar sttaejoon-blog

a/n i absolutely did not write this from personal experience.

[devotedfem]

«Alice in wonderland»

Synopsis: You were so bored you could die, but then a white rabbit caught your attention, you chased it until you fell into a rabbit hole. The rabbit turned into a cute man with doe eyes, saying odd things like; you came back, late to Jimin's tea party, the mad hatter that was waiting for you.

Jikook x f. Reader

5.5K words.

Genre: Alice in wonderland au | yander-ish.

Tags: Inspired by Alice in wonderland, captivity, naive reader, polyamory relationship, obsessive behavior, dark Jimin and Jungkook, they are whipped for reader, bunny hybrid Jungkook, mad hatter Jimin, delusional Jikook, fantasy, re-telling, plot twist, smut, dubious consent.

From the series masterlist; Hush.

Navigation Masterlist.

Permanent taglist.

You were sitting under a tree in the backyard of your aunt's country house, trying so, so hard to pay attention to her words, but failing when a butterfly flies near your aunt with its beautiful blue wings taking your attention away.

“Y/n, would you please pay attention to your lesson?” She sighed deeply, arching a brow and stopping reading aloud the history book.

You smiled at her sheepishly, feeling guilty for being caught not paying attention. It’s just that the book was painfully boring and long, you felt like aging while listening to tedious old stories.

“Sorry auntie, but how can you expect me to pay attention to a book with no pictures in it. The stories are so boring, at least there should be a picture!” You exclaimed feeling frustrated. It’s not like you didn’t want to pay attention to your lesson, it is just that it was hard for you to listen to something so boring.

Your aunt sighed again, shaking her head at your words as if she was dealing with a petulant child.

“Y/n, you’re a grown woman now, you can’t live in a fantasy world forever reading fairy tales. You have the privilege of having an education as a woman, don’t waste it.”

And her words cut deep enough to shut your mouth. She was right, you were now of age, in the perfect stage for marry. But your aunt was kind enough to help you to get an education first. She was ahead of her time and you admire her for that, so the last thing you want it’s to disappoint her.

“Sorry,” you muttered softly, hugging your knees towards your chest.

Guilt flashed your aunts’ eyes, but she kept reading to you the history book without another word.

You stayed quiet listening to her voice telling you stories about dumb and greedy wars, and gradually your eyes closed falling into a deep nap, resting against the tree drunk, unbothered to the world around you. You dreamed about a world that it was just yours, where everything works in the opposite way to the real one, ruled by nonsense and silly laws.

What it is, wouldn’t be there, and what it isn’t, would be there.

And then a thud noise snapped you abruptly out of your sleep. Your frowned and blinked confused at being awaken from a deep slumber, noticing that you were alone in the backyard, still resting against the tree.

And suddenly, a beautiful and fluffy white rabbit wearing a mini waistcoat, stands before you, holding a clock and looking straight at you. You couldn’t believe your eyes; you were completely shocked. Maybe… you were still dreaming…?

“I’m late! late! Late!” It speaks in distress, pointing and shaking its watch. He sounded like a male rabbit.

You gasped and widened your eyes taken aback. Animals don’t speak, that was absolutely impossible, but you have just witnessed the impossible in that moment. And when you pinched your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming, the white rabbit fled away without giving you the opportunity to ask him questions.

You immediately ran after the rabbit, following him through the woods that were near your aunt’s house. The animal was annoyingly quick, but that didn’t stop you from trying to chase after him.

And then you watched how the fluffy animal entered a rabbit-hole, disappearing from your sight. You got curious, kneeling near the border of the hole, holding yourself by settling your hands on the edges to stare down into the deep void.

And then you slipped, falling right into it. You go down quickly, screaming when the opening of the rabbit-hole above you turned into a blue dot until it disappeared completely and became a pitch-black sky.

But then, suddenly, you were going down in a very unnatural slow way. You frowned, floating in the air and feeling light as a feather as you fell. In the dark tunnel appeared objects out of nowhere, things like books and jars filled the mud walls. You grabbed one book thrilled by curiosity, forgetting immediately your fear from seconds ago, widening your eyes impressed by al the impossible things happening around you. You gasped when a piano came from below, leaving aside the book to play the instrument, but you couldn't do much besides play a key because you kept falling down.

You dropped from the slow spell, falling abruptly onto an arm-chair full of leaves cushioning your fall. You shook the leaves out of your dress, watching your surroundings with uncertainty.

“Where on earth I am?” you muttered to yourself, staring at the odd hallway ahead of you.

For a moment you thought you died when you fell into the rabbit-hole, thinking that maybe this was a kind of limbo between life and death. But some fluffy animal pulled you out of your racing thoughts.

“Wait!” You screamed at the rabbit, but he ignored you, running away faster.

You ran after the rabbit, coming into a round hall with many doors. The animal was nowhere to be seen, you supposed that it might entered one of the many doors, so you tried to open them, but they were all locked.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” You asked in a loud tone, but the only thing that greet you was the echo of your own voice. Your chest sting with fear, you felt trapped.

But then you saw a table with a small key sitting on top of it. You picked it up with a grin, happy to be out of that strange hall. You tried the key on a few doors, but it didn’t open them, too small for their locks, but then you tried it on a mouse-size door, and it fit, opening the little door that shows a huge garden at the other side.

But how would you go through it if you’re too big to fit in? You wanted to cry from frustration, walking towards the table to throw the key on it. But now there was a bottle that says “DRINK ME” that appeared out of nowhere, you frowned watching your surroundings for anyone who put it there, but you were alone. You shrugged, drinking the liquid until the last drop, gasping with fear when you started to shrink to the size of a mouse, the table stood huge and large above you, and your dress was now too big for you to use, you tore a piece off to use it as a new dress.

Thankfully, the key dropped from the table when you knocked it while shrinking, falling to your side on the floor. You picked it up and used it to open the small door, stepping through it and being greet by a fantastical and whimsical world, everything looked so bizarre but so oddly beautiful, it was otherworldly, it was magical just as you imagined a fantasy world would look like.

The garden has tall flowers that loomed over you, speaking and talking between themselves, wearing human faces. They were gossiping about you as if you weren’t there listening to them.

“She’s so different,” said one red flower, looking down at you with contempt.

“She has grown up so well! Jimin and Jungkook will be happy to see her!” Said another one.

You frowned confused, what were they talking about?

“Excuse me, where am I? I’m looking for-“

“I don’t think she’s the real y/n, this girl must be another person,” said the red one, making you widen your eyes.

You asked them questions, but they ignored you.

Thankfully, in front of you appeared a pair of twins, they looked a little bit uncanny but human enough for you to trust them.

“Hi! I’m y/n, I’m looking for a white rabbit, have you seen it?” You asked them, and they looked to each other with a devilish grin, making your stomach churn.

“Is it really her?”

“Nope, ‘don’t think so, the real y/n wasn’t this dumb.”

“Hey,” you said crossing your arms, feeling uncomfortable by everyone here speaking about you in such way.

“Are you following a rabbit?” Asked the twin from the right, you nodded at him.

“Why?” Asked the other.

“Just because,” you replied, starting to walk away, but they followed you.

“You’re going backwards! That’s not the direction, here, forward is backward, and backward is forward, hello is goodbye, and goodbye is hello,” explained one of the twins, spinning your mind with confusion.

“Uhm, I’ll keep that in mind, thank you. I must be going. Goodbye, I mean, hello?” You said hesitating, but the twin nodded, waving a hand at you and staying behind with his brother.

“The rabbit’s name is Jungkook! He’s tall and has huge eyes!” One of the twins yelled at you from behind before you lost sight of them.

You walked for a long time, until your legs got tired. You were so confused of which direction you should take. In this world the right path took you to the left, and the left to the right. It was all so confusing.

And then you watch it, the rabbit from before now looked like a human man. And how did you know it was him? Because he was dressed just like the rabbit, and the tall man has cute doe and large eyes, walking in circles and watching his clock with worry. You ran towards him.

“Hi! I mean, goodbye! I was looking for you, you were the rabbit from the meadow of the upper world!” You greeted him with a smile, but he only frowned at you.

He was so handsome that it took your breath away for a second, but his knitted brows made you feel unease, maybe it was a mistake following a stranger down here.

“Goodbye? Who are you and what are you talking about?”

You grimaced with a blush, the twins were just teasing you, who in their right mind says goodbye when greeting someone? You felt dumb.

“I’m y/n, I followed you here from the upper world, when you were a… rabbit,” you muttered softly.

His doe eyes widened, and something intense and dark flashed on them, but it disappeared as fast as it came.

“Oh, I never thought you would come back. We’ve been, I mean, Jimin has been waiting for you. Come with me.” He didn’t even ask you before gripping your wrist to pull you away with him, almost dragging you. If you didn’t know better you would say that he holds you as if he was scare that you would run away, but why would you do that?

Also, he must be confusing you with another y/n just like the twins and the flowers did, because you never came to this place before.

Jungkook brought you to the backyard of an old and weird house, there it was a large table with a worn-out looking tea set on top of it, the tea party looks gloomy, the tablecloth seemed threadbare and the wooden chairs were almost rotten. A pretty man with a big red hat was sag in a chair at the head of the table, staring into space with a lost gaze.

Jungkook’s grip on your wrist tighten a little, making you frown.

“Jimin, she’s here, our, I mean, your y/n,” Jungkook announced between teeth, with his heavy and serious gaze fixated on Jimin.

The odd man named Jimin bolts upright immediately, standing up from the chair and walking towards you with large steps. You shrink a little into Jungkook, feeling intimidated by the intense and crazed eyes of the man approaching you. He stood inches in front of you, invading your personal space and staring intently at you with a bright smile, so different from his gloomy mood from seconds ago.

“Is… is it really you, y/n? Did you really come back to us?” He gushed with a shaky voice, looking stunned by your mere presence, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes.

“Yes, I’m y/n, although I don’t remember coming here before,” you muttered, averting Jimin intense eyes.

He gripped your chin to make you look up at him. Adoration flashed his dark eyes.

“It’s okay my moon, we can make you remember,” he said with a devilish grin. He grabbed your other hand to pull you away from Jungkook, but the latter didn’t let you go, looking at Jimin with a stern and warning gaze instead.

“Calm down Jimin, don’t scare her away. She just arrived here,”

 Jimin clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on your had, but that creepy expression goes away immediately, being replaced by a bright and teasing smile.

“Oh come on Jungkookie, don’t be a party pooper. I just want to catch her up on all the things she missed when she was away. Do you want to join my tea party?” He asked you softly, looking a little vulnerable this time, as if he was afraid of your rejection. You felt sorry for him, so you nodded and let him drag you away from Jungkook.

Jimin sat again at the head of the table, and you were about to sit on a chair next to him but he didn’t let you, gripping your wrist to pull you towards him and sit you on his lap instead. You shriek taken aback by his blatant and shameless gesture, who does he think he is to sit you on his lap? He’s just a stranger you just met!

“Hey!” You yelp, trying to stand up but Jimin’s tight grip on your waist didn’t let you.

“Jimin!” Jungkook’s strident yell made you flinch, even though his anger wasn’t directed at you. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asked this time more calmly, taking notice of your frightened state. But Jimin pay him no mind, looking at your dress with curiosity instead.

“She used to sit on my lap all the time, we’re just catching up, I have no ill intention,” he replied nonchalant, playing with the fabric of your improvised dress.

You frowned and parted your lips offended, you don’t remember doing such thing with him, and even if that was true, he should’ve asked you first.

“Excuse me? I don’t remember doing such improper thing with anyone, you’re so rude and shameless-“ you were interrupted by his giggle.

“I don’t remember you being this decorous, aren’t you so cute and silly?” he beamed at you, and you were distracted by his sweet and bright smile for a second, it made his eyes turn into crescent moons. But you shook those thoughts away.

“And I don’t remember you at all, so could you please let go of me?” You said between teeth.

Jimin’s smile fell, and irritation flashed his gaze.

“Wouldn’t you like to remember though? To know the wonders of this world? If so, then stay still,” he whispered the last words into your ear like a warn. You gulped with fear, glancing at Jungkook with dread sinking in your stomach, but the latter said nothing, crossing his arms and looking at Jimin with murderous eyes.

“If you don’t leave her alone right now Jimin, I swear to god I’ll have you choking on your cold tea,” he threatened with dark eyes fixated on him. You flinched again; you didn’t like the tension growing between them.

But Jimin looked collected, not affected at all by the threat.

“Oh really? Are you willing to lose her again? To bring back our grief and mourning?” Those words were enough to disarm Jungkook, whose eyes flashed with deep hurt, he inhaled sharp as if Jimin’s words were a weapon aimed at his hurt.

You watched with shock how Jungkook sat right next to you two, saying nothing and averting your eyes, drinking the tea he was going to use to drown Jimin a moment ago. You wanted to laugh bitterly to his face, did he really give up by just words?

Your mind was racing with thousands of questions. What did Jimin mean by all that? Why do they think that they already know you when that was not true? You’ve never been here, and never met them before. And what does Jimin mean by grief and mourning? If it was true that you knew them and you were having amnesia, then it doesn’t make sense to use the word mourn, because you never died.

Nothing makes sense, and you felt like having a headache.

“Hey hey, none of that my moon. It’s time for the tea party not to overthink,” he said softly, stroking your cheek gently with his thumb, “also, where did you get this dress? It’s so unique, I like it.” Your cheeks heated by his compliment, feeling self-conscious of your clothes.

“I made it myself with what was left of my dress,” you muttered without giving further explanations, drained by all that was happening.

Jimin hummed, playing with the fabric again, he almost looked mesmerized by your dress.

“It’s just like you, rare but pretty.”

You cleared your throat, uncomfortable by his words. You squirm a little on his lap, stopping at Jimin’s sharp intake of breath.

“Careful there, my moon,” he whispered near your neck, with his hot breath brushing your skin and making you shiver. His hands gripped tightly your waist to stop you from moving, you didn’t understand at all what you did wrong, but Jimin sounded affected so you stayed still.

You look up and notice Jealousy flashing Jungkook’s eyes, his shoulders looked tense and the grip on his tea cup seemed tight. Why does he look so angry all the time? Jimin also notices, giggling at the latter.

“Don’t be like that bunny boy, she’s also yours.”

You widened your eyes, gasping at his audacity.

“I am my own person!”

“Of course my moon, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jimin said gently, looking at you with puppy eyes, calming you down a bit.

You crossed your arms, looking straight ahead, ignoring them like a petulant child.

Jimin started to telling you about all the things you missed out from wonderland, like how he planned to take down the reign of the evil queen of hearts just because she hurt you once, and how he learned to customize new hats. All while Jungkook refill your cup of tea, giving you sweet treats from the table. The tea didn’t taste bad, the sunlight was warm, and Jimin’s voice was surprisingly soft enough to make you feel comfortable on his lap. Jungkook’s pretty eyes never stayed away from you, studying your expressions as if he wanted to make sure you feel comfortable all the time.

It was nice, it made you forget for a moment that you needed to head back home.

“Uhm, Jimin I need to come back home, but I promise to visit you again, I want to hear more about this world,” you said gently, and you weren’t lying, you wanted to come back but you knew deep down that you shouldn’t, because this man even though is charismatic, is also mad.

A mad hatter.

Jimin’s grip on your waist tightened until it bruised, making you wheeze in pain. Jungkook’s eyes widened with genuine fear at your words.

“No.” Jungkook’s trembling voice took you by surprise, you frowned at him, and he looked embarrassed, clearing his throat and averting your gaze. “I mean, it’s too late, we’re worry that you get hurt again. And I know you don’t remember, but believe me when I say that is for your own good, wonderland it’s dangerous at night.”

His words were enough to make you shrink into Jimin’s chest, who happily kept you into his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“He’s right my moon. Jungkookie can walk you tomorrow to the hall that leads to the rabbit hole. We just want you to be safe,” he whispered gently into your ear, his words were sugar coated, sweet enough to convince you.

“Fine,” you sighed, only because you genuinely don’t know your way back to the rabbit hole. And no matter how much you wanted to run away, they were the only people you can “trust” for now.

You sleep that night in Jimin’s and Jungkook’s house, their place was a cozy cottage, full of tea cups and carrots hidden under the rut. Talking animals such as hares surrounded their home, watching you with their little heads tilted, you noticed the curiosity in their eyes.

They took you to a room at the back of the house, which according to them it was already yours before you disappeared from wonderland. You started to doubt yourself, believing that maybe you were here before and you just forgot about this world. But you knew that wasn’t true, because the clothes in the closet didn’t belong to you, they just weren’t something you would wear. The stuff, the books, the things in this room; none of it belonged to you.

And you were now more than sure that you weren’t the person they thought you were. If that makes sense.

The issue was, that you didn’t stay just for a night, you stayed there with them for a week. At morning they always offered you to see a part of wonderland, distracting you from going to the rabbit hole. One day they brought you to a huge caterpillar that looks wise and that throwed smoke to your face, watching you with surprise, saying stuff like; is it really you?

You wanted to say no so bad, but you didn’t want to make Jimin and Jungkook feel bad. You got used to them, to Jimin’s silly behavior and Jungkook’s protective gaze. You started to have fun every time Jimin customize you a new dress, with his brows knitted in concentration when he was sewing your clothes.

He made you a pretty dress one afternoon, this one was blue and it reached below your knees, what caught your attention was the white apron, which according to Jimin made the dress look even prettier.

You noticed Jungkook’s gaze darkening when you wore the dress, and you felt uncomfortable under their intense stares. Why were they looking at you like that? But you forgot about that when Jimin took you to another tea party, this time with new and funny people that made you laugh a lot.

You were under a spell of wonders and fun, not worrying about coming back to your home. Until one night.

You watched a strange cat emerging from thin air at your window, making you gasp and widen your eyes in shock. Who was that cat? You opened the window, watching how the animal was floating and twirling in the air, with a mischievous Cheshire grin curling on its mouth.

“Aren’t you a surprise? I didn’t know the dead could come back,” it teased with a devil glint in its eyes.

Your stomach churned with dread and your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t like its words.

“What?” You whispered with a trembling voice.

The cat’s grin widened.

“I can see that you’re not y/n, at least not Jungkook’s and Jimin’s. You’re her impersonator, you look like her, you’re named like her, but you’re not her,” he spoke the last words darkly, its grin looking sinister now.

You gulped your fear down, feeling like all of your doubts and fears had come true.

“What- what happened to her? How did she die?” You clenched your fists, fighting with the urge to run away.

“They killed her, not directly, but with their obsession. They scared her away, making her stumble upon the red Queen who cut off her head.”

Your heart stopped at the cat’s words, your head spined and you felt dizzy with the sudden urge to throw up. You always knew they acted weird around you, but you didn’t know the reason behind of their odd behavior, you didn’t know how deep their obsession run.

You have to get out of that house, right now.

You didn’t glance back at the cat, opening softly the door of your room, watching your surrounds with your senses heightened. When you were sure that no one was around and that the boys were sleeping, you step out of the room, with your feet bringing you silently to the front door of the cottage. Your heart was pounding and your hands trembling when you tried to turn the knob door, but it didn’t bulge.

The door was locked.

You inhaled sharp, closing your eyes to calm yourself down. You need to find the key.

“Going somewhere?” Jungkook’s deep voice make you shriek in horror; you turned around with a hand over your chest.

“You scared me,” you said instead, trying so hard to not avert your scared eyes.

Act normal.

Jungkook arched a brow, humming and walking towards you with slow steps, watching you intently.

“Where were you going at this hour? We already told that it’s dangerous out there at night.”

“I just wanted some fresh air, I wasn’t going far from here,” you simply said, trying to act nonchalant, hiding your trembling hand behind your back. Jungkook noticed.

“Fresh air?” He asked lowly, clenching his jaw and standing inches away from your body, looking down at you with anger flashing his doe eyes. “You wanted to escape, don’t lie to me.” His voice trembled with rage, and his eyes looked crazed, scaring you.

“I- no, that’s not true! I was hoping for you to take me to the hall the day after tomorrow anyway, I don’t miss home, I am always bored back there,” you muttered, trying to calm your pounding heart.

Jungkook gripped your shoulders, something dark and terrifying flashed his eyes. His breath was getting labored, and you could hear his own heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“I promise not to be like Jimin, I told myself that I will mourn you- her - ‘till the day I die. I prayed to God to bring y/n back from the dead. But then, you didn’t come back as the same person, you… you wear her face, her voice and you share the same name, but you’re not her, aren’t you?” His voice broke at the last words, staring at you with despair and grief. His bottom lip wobbled and his doe eyes swelled with tears.

You felt bad for him, so, so bad.

“I’m so sorry for your lost Jungkookie, I- I really am, but I’m not her honey. You should honor her memory by letting me go, by letting her rest,” you whispered softly, putting your hands over his and stroking them gently, looking up into his eyes with empathy. You grew fond of him over the past days, so you felt really sorry for him.

Tears streamed from his eyes at your words, and you wiped them away with your thumb, making Jungkook close his eyes and rest his cheek on your palm, opening them to watch you with deep emotion.

“You’re right, I should take you to the hall before Jimin notice, because he will lose his mind, more than he has,” he said letting go of you, opening the door and waiting for you to get out.

You smiled at him grateful, feeling relieved that at least Jungkook was being rational about this situation. The real danger was Jimin, not him.

It was silent when you two were walking, and Jungkook filled the quiet with his voice.

“I really miss her.”

You curled down your lips, feeling bad for him again.

“Can I, can I ask you how long has it been since she… passed away? If you don’t want to that’s okay,” you said carefully.

He didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, and you thought that he wouldn’t answer you, but he did.

“20 years.”

You stopped walking, widening your eyes.

“What?”

“Time in wonderland works different from the upper world,” he simply said, not stopping his walk. You followed him behind.

The time passed and you still didn’t see the door that leads to the hall, the one that was close to the speaking flowers.

“Are we close?” You asked, hugging yourself at the cold.

Jungkook only hummed at your words, staring into space with a lost gaze.

“Did you know that the other y/n was in wonderland just for two days?” He said out of the blue, you shook your head but he didn’t look at you. “But it was enough to fall for her. I thought I’d forget her face and voice, until you came, all pretty and bubbly. You remind me of her, but you’re different, and you stayed longer too. You’re sweet and innocent, keeping us company and never leaving our side even though we didn’t give you space, I love that about you.” His eyes were blank and empty, and his voice was thick with emotion, making you frown with unease.

“What are you talking about? And how long it’ll take us to get to the hall? I don’t remember it being this far,” you said walking slower, studying Jungkook like a hawk.

He just shrugged.

“What I’m saying is that we fell for you too, you think that this is just our grief talking for us, but is not. You were here longer than her, you were- are - tender and sweeter than her. Jimin is already obsessed with you. We never had company that stayed with us so long, except you.”

He turned around sharply, making you stumble into his wide chest. His gaze was dark and fixated on you like a predator, making you shiver with primal fear.

“Jungkook, you don’t know what you’re saying, I’m not her!”

“I know! That’s why we want you, we won’t let you go after what happened to her, we want you as much and more than we ever wanted her!” He yelled with his crazed eyes and his vein popping on his neck.

He was losing his mind.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered with a trembling voice.

He smirked.

“So are you, we all crazy here,” he sneers, holding and trapping your body against his chest before you could run away.

You squirm in his grasp, screaming, biting his shoulder, crying for help and kicking your legs, but it was pointless. His iron grip on your body didn’t ease at all, standing tall and strong as a rock holding you against his chest with his buff arms, constricting you like a piton snake. You cried so much you ended up hoarse, at some point you felt Jungkook’s hand stroking softly your hair but you ignored him, distracted by the sound of steps behind you.

Your stomach turned with fear and dread by the voice of Jimin.

“Good job Jungkookie, I knew you wouldn’t do the same mistake with this y/n. Let’s bring her back to our home, shall we?” Jimin’s voice sounded too calm and relaxed for your liking, turning your blood ice with primal fear. The flight and fight instincts pounding through your veins.

Jimin was the calm before the storm.

They dragged you to the cottage, forcing you into a chair and tying your wrists and ankles with a thick rope. You look up at them with hatred, feeling hurt and betrayed by Jungkook. The latter averted your eyes, standing behind Jimin.

Jimin dragged another chair across the floor to straddle it, facing you and resting his arms on the backrest without taking his piercing gaze away from you, pinning you under his stare like a predator ready to pounce. You squirm feeling intimidated by his dark eyes boring into you.

“I think we should punish her by keeping her tied up for many, many days. All pretty and bound for us to play as we please, what do you think Jungkookie? Should we?” He asked Jungkook while looking straight into your eyes.

“You can do whatever you want but don’t hurt her,” muttered the traitor.

Jimin smiled like the Cheshire cat.

“Then let’s teach our girl some manners, running away like that from your host is so rude. You’ll learn how to treat us right, how to love us as we love you.” Jimin’s voice was thick with dark emotion, leaning forward to look at you with crazed and angry eyes. His knuckles turned white by how hard he was gripping the backrest of the chair. “Untie her and bring her to our room Jungkookie.” Were his words before Jungkook did as he said, lifting you to carry you to their room as if you weight nothing.

In your way to Jimin and Jungkook room, you watched the Cheshire cat floating outside the window, smirking at you and mouthing the words; I told you.

You were so fucked up, trapped in this world with two delusional men.

But there will be always another day and another chance to escape, you just hope you don’t end up like the other y/n, but maybe that fate is better than to end trapped under their house, for the eternity.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

Taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @deluluisdasolulu @uniquecutie-puffs @Marrylouise @livingformintyoongi @captainhoook @asillysimp @devilzliaison @zephyrdawn @kvstjwonnie @yoongilovescats @bammbi-jeon127 @jerdafuck @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @polarnightmyg @acherry04 @lizziekitty @catlove83 @itlover8000 @shailari

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT CAVEMAN SIMON AND VILLAGER READER.

synopsis: spring has come, and with it the time for sacrifices to someone, who lives far from people and scares everyone who pokes their noses into the forest, and what could be better than bribing the one you fear, so you were chosen as the one who will bear all the gifts deep into the forest.

cw: fluff, comfort, smut, possible dubcon, story set not in modern time and might be unrealistic, not based on real knowledge about cave people, possible ooc simon since he's a caveman, virgin reader, mentions of cannibalism (not in action), biting, licking, groping, simon is rough around the edges, pet names, cunnilingus with dubious consent, simon is inexperienced, male and female intimacy, many mentions of bare flesh, overstimulation, crying, aftercare, kinda kidnapping. pairing: caveman simon ghost riley x villager fem reader

author's note: this idea was born from an absolutely spontaneous conversation with @suimon, and i'm grateful to her, because without her encouragement i wouldn't decide to write such an interesting story, which is kind of new for me, but i still hope those who will read it enjoy, it's my first attempt on writing this kind of plot, that ended up being 4.5k words.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. ��𝘰3. ˑ༄

long melted snow, allowing fresh green grass to break through the once dissipated white fluff of snow, bright flowers decorating endless meadows and forests surrounding the village exactly along the perimeter — all this brings with it spring, warm weather, fresh juicy fruits and vegetables, and after them the time for a sacrifices.

behind the forest clearing, where the trees become thicker and seem to be getting darker, lives one whose cave, the exact location of which not many people know, are afraid to approach, and you never heard the exact answer, the exact reason, but everyone was afraid of this place more than fire, but were justified by a man who was frightening to the point of trembling, as if they had seen a living ghost.

naturally, you had never seen him, and you treated his stories as if they were fairy tales — an attempt to intimidate the kids from going too far during walks, nothing more, or so it seemed to you, until you were chosen as the one who would go to him with the onset of spring with fertile gifts, an attempt to appease the so-called monster, which terrifies the entire village with its very existence, and you couldn’t understand why you should go to the one you’re afraid of, and also with gifts?

but one way or another, it was not in your authority to refuse the election of the head of the village and the people, so you were dressed up in the best dress from your meager wardrobe, the white fabric flowing to your feet seemed as soft as silk, an absolutely light linen, diluted a wreath woven from fresh, sickly sweet flowers, and in your hands a basket of the freshest fruits and vegetables, with a rope on your wrist, a thick plexus leading to the neck of a good, well-fed cow, the devil knows what he will do with the poor, as you would think, animal, but one way or another — your task is to give, even if you looked the most appetizing here.

walking through the forest is difficult, especially when, of all the attempts to navigate, you only have — “go straight ahead and stop when you see the cave„ and the only thing left to do is to listen, periodically stop when the cow bends down to nibble fresh grass, and then walk again until feeling of dull pain in the legs, due to the fact that making your way through trees and large branches with almost bare feet is uncomfortable, a little painful, and you have to pick up the white dress in your hands so as not to get it dirty, trying to maintain a festive look as possible, not drop the basket, and still get to this damned place.

more and more doubts creep into your head, maybe no one lives there at all, or does, but it’s just a wild animal, and villagers just couldn’t see it in the dark clearlier?

but it’s hard to believe that in the thicket, which every time becomes darker and denser, in which there are more and more bushes and broken branches, and somewhere where there are even tree trunks lying — someone really lives, and while thoughts are wandering around your head like a prodigal wind, and the path completely disappears under your feet, you finally reach the right place, meeting your eyes with a stone cave, assembled from stones in a stable structure, sprinkled with greenery, moss and tree trunks.

really someone’s abode, albeit open, and looking as if it could become your undoing.

even the poor animal seems to be enveloped in fear, the cow bursts into a loud moo, resting her hooves on the ground, and with all due respect, you cannot push such a weight behind you, but you will not let her escape, tying the poor thing by a rope and to a tree trunk nearby, allowing her to calm down a little, to be distracted by tufts of grass, while your gaze rushes forward into the darkness of the cave, and your legs tremble slightly.

— “well.. here i come, cave man, huh..„ slips from your lips encouragingly to your own self, although your voice trembles, but you cannot return to the village with the same full hands, and in any case, you will most likely be sent again after this, damn old people, so the only way is forward.

the branches crunch under your feet, it seems to you, until you notice glimpses of animal bones, and it’s as if you are tugging from the inside, your step immediately quickens, and you practically stumble, clutching the basket to your chest and swallowing nervously, saying in your mind over and over — “it doesn't belonged to someone, it doesn't belonged to someone„ but it didn’t get any easier, as if the deeper you went, the more terrible it became, there was only pitch darkness ahead, not planning to make way for you even for a second, so you walk, almost blindly, closing one eye and making your way with the other.

— “is.. is someone there? hello??„

your voice echoes against the stone walls, but it becomes clearer under your feet, and a little brighter ahead, so you continue to walk even despite the dead silence, step by meek step, getting out to the center of the cave, where the walls become wider, and your eyes get used to darkness, letting small details immediately scatter before your eyes — some kind of wooden cabinet, a small rectangular table with a single chair, and above it a shelf with plates, everything is just like in your own house in the village, however, the bed is not very similar to the usual one, full of skins, located quite low, and you hesitantly step deeper, saying

— “hey?.. i'm, uhm.. i mean no harm, hello? someone?„

your voice sounds a little quieter, patient, as you walk to the table and allow yourself to place that same basket on it, carefully adjusting it along with the vegetables and fruits mixed in it, before moving away, smiling at the more welcoming composition, besides, it decorated a small surrounding emptiness, you even forgot for a while that you were in a cave, you felt comfortable, until the moment you turned around, noticing a dark figure in the corner that turned around sharply, and you screamed uncontrollably.

a large, massive figure in the very corner of the cave turns to face you, demonstrating its immensity and body, hidden under only one piece of fabric, vaguely reminiscent of pants, but what catches you, or rather scares you, is the skull attached to his face, and the skull would be less frightening if it belonged to an animal, but the shape was human like, separated from the back and leaving only the front, somehow attached to a dark piece of fabric stretched over the man’s face, showing the world only his sunken, dark eyes.

simon overreacts to the sound, furrowing his brows and clenching his hands into fists that hang on either side of his wide hips, not liking it when someone barges in uninvited, especially like this, but watching you shake like a cornered rabbit , he softens, and at the same time resolutely begins to walk in your direction, without warning, which makes your heart jump right up to your throat and back into your chest when you calm a bit inside, but still take a couple of steps back from approaching figure.

— “uh, h-hi? i'm sorry, i must scared you.. i-i screamed pretty loud, yeah?„

you babble, the words fly out of your soft lips hastily and with an attempt to justify yourself, and he freezes, breathing somehow displeasedly through his nose and causing his bare chest to heave, but still, he grumbles somehow approvingly, tilting his head to the side, as if having mercy on you and giving the opportunity to justify yourself, and you don’t dare to miss it.

— “uh, i was sent from village, you know, not far from here! i brought you some fresh vegetables and fruits, and cow.. you know, that does moo„ the words come out in one breath, while you spin around, pointing first at the basket that suddenly appeared on his table, then towards the exit, talking about the cow, telling him about it as if you were talking to a child, as if mistaking him for a completely savage, and simon squeezes out a rough, dry laugh, crossing his burly arms over his wide, scarred chest, cutting off your explanations

— “i know what a cow is„

his voice is hoarse, tart like coffee beans on the tongue, and you stop, taking a deep breath.

simon has already realized that you are from that stupid village full of fools who take him for some terrible animal, but instead of the usual fear like in other people’s eyes, in yours he sees some doubt and sincere guilt, like in a child’s who was scolded by his parents, and this causes amusement in his gaze, a flutter in his light eyelashes

— “i'm, sorry.. it's just, the villagers acted like you are some kind of wild animal, and i.. i thought..„

the words get confused in your head and on your tongue, one way or another, you, even if not for long, believed to the words of the people living in the village, believed that he was less human than many, now trying to justify his honor and your words, standing under his gaze and trembling as if leaf in the wind, your legs shook as you squeezed them together, feeling his strange, ardent gaze where your plush thighs began behind the thin fabric, and goosebumps ran down your skin as his lips stretched into a wide, wild grin.

you stand before his eyes like a prettiest gift, a prey — you are shaking like a little rabbit, or a newborn doe, as if your legs are about to lose control of your weight and collapse on the stone floor, even though a carpet of someone’s skin lies under your feet, he wouldn’t want you to return back to the village in a deplorable state, or maybe you yourself were sent as a sacrifice?

he doesn't know, because you look incredibly attractive and alluring in that light outfit with just panties underneath, the silhouette of the fabric of which he can see on your hips before his gaze goes up to where your round, soft breasts are hiding under the finest cloth, and up to the strands of your hair, decorated with a wreath of fresh flowers, he knows it by the sweet smell and by the fact that he has already seen such in the forest, and simon has never tasted people, has not eaten human flesh — but looking at you, at the softness, at the sweetness, maybe he should give it a try?

— “i never tasted human flesh before„ words roll off his tongue in advance of rational thoughts, a rich baritone from the thin line of pale lips behind the fabric of the mask and the shape of the skull where he licks them like a predator.

and you are theprey, the one which trembles and whose eyes widen when you hear his unexpected speech, wild, causing the blood in your veins to freeze and your legs to obey the instinct of escape, and you take off from your place, turn around on the thin sole of your sandals and move your body towards the exit and impenetrable the darkness from which you came, which previously let you in — and will no longer let you go without the permission of its owner.

you can’t even hear simon’s steps behind you, because of how adrenaline is pumping in your ears and blood echoes like white noise in the background, as his figure wraps around yours like a shadow and pulls you, he clings to the light fabric with dirty fingers and squeezes with a heavy weight around your waist, first with his fingers, then with his hand, heavy bonds that drag you into the air and there’s no point in even twitching your legs, he immediately turns you around in his arms, places your soft flesh in his palms, relishing in the softness, warmth, fingers greedily kneading the soft, supple skin between his fingers on top of the now slightly stained fabric, pressing you into a cold stone wall as you close your eyes tightly.

your body is trembling, you’re waiting for the touch of someone else’s teeth on your body, a sharp flash of pain, surrendering to the clutches of creeping death in the guise of a person without resistance, having resigned yourself in advance, even on the threshold of this cave, even when the dark, densely trees swallowed you in the depths of the forest, but no pain comes, no sensation of rough, sharp teeth in the skin, just his hands that slide from your butt, where he shamelessly touched you, to your hips and thighs, tracing the skin and bones over your dress, forcing you to twitch, squeezing your legs together.

something inside you is twisting shamefully hotly, curling into a coil in your lower abdomen and setting all your nerve endings on fire, you still don’t look, your eyelashes and eyelids are trembling, and simon takes pleasure in your instinctive fear, akin to the animals he mercilessly catches in the depths of the forest, kneeling in front of you just as he once knelt in front of them, but you were distinguished from a dead animal by your vitality, sweet aroma, soft warm body which he wanted to taste until greedily accumulating saliva in his mouth.

— “pretty„

he growls low from his throat, causing you to flush with a flash of blush, your fingertips prickling nervously, it seems that he’s saying this from a sadistic point of view, not really to you, rather than to your body, to what he will eat, and you refuse to look at the eyes of your fear, even when rough, calloused hands run along your legs until he lays them on his broad shoulders, lifts up the dress that gets in the way, exposes the skin to your thighs and carelessly leaves them rumpled to dangle there, when his bare mouth pierces your skin and licks.

your eyes immediately widen following the hitching breath that flies through your parted lips, and you look at him, this beast, this man, standing in front of you on both knees, and even between your legs he seems immense, but strangely tender, when he licks and gently bites a path to your thighs along the soft flesh, pressing his nose into it, you see it’s slightly crooked form briefly, the black fabric falls to cover everything except his mouth, which greedily tastes you like no one has ever tasted.

his dark eyes meet yours fleetingly, yours are frightened, his are peaceful and satisfied, the corners of his lips rise forward and spread on his face, and you feel every movement of his lips on you in dangerous proximity as he crawls higher and higher, settling between supple thighs with his head, sticking his nose and mouth into a place that attracts him with sweetness and wetness, a small sticky spot on the thin fabric, into which he buries himself greedily, opening his mouth wide and licking the fat stripe along your panty clad pussy, burying his nose in your twitching clit and grinning at the reaction of your body, as well as at the quiet, ringing moan that arose from the depths of your throat.

the light, thin fabric gets wet from the amount of saliva in his mouth, mixing with the moisture that is released from your hot, bothered pussy, causing the gusset of your panties become almost transparent, as simon buries himself deeper, without asking, he just takes it, squeezing your thighs until there is a slight, uncomfortable pain burning on your skin, as your legs kick forward and attempt to squeeze together because of the new sensations that you don’t understand, didn’t experienced before, but he’s not going to let you escape just yet, but you squeak, a shushed, soft sound, which makes him soften nonetheless.

simon's gaze studies you through his light eyelashes, he sees the conflicting emotions on your face, how your chest is heaving, how moisture collects on your lash line, threatening to release and turn into tears, so his arms wrap around and squeeze your legs a little more carefully, stroking the soft skin with awkward, uncertain circular movements of his fingers, he hasn’t interacted with people for a long time, especially in the moments like these, when his face is buried between your thighs while he laps lightly against your panties.

fear slowly leaves your body along with rational thoughts, you lose your vigilance in the hands of a stranger, a person who shamelessly touches your private parts, but touches you so well, so carefully, igniting that warmth in the bottom of your belly more and more each time and allowing you to twitch, squirm as much as it possible while being held half in the air, thus only pushing your hips forward, towards his wet mouth, and shuddering with pleasure and new flashes when his nose nuzzles harder into your little clit, making your toes curl, and he growls.

— “so sweet„

comes out as a muffled growl, and you don’t know if he’s talking about you or your pussy, but he licks you more actively, making your folds stick to the absolutely wet fabric of your panties, while he slurps and sucks your folds and clit, his movements are messy, uncertain, he's been isolated from people and any contact with them with his own hands, but that doesn't stop him from having a taste, as his tongue runs between your folds and he continues to tease you with slow, exploring movements.

you make more and more unusual to yourself sounds, quiet moans, breathy mewls, wet squelches that he swallows whole as your hands find support on his head and you dig your fingers into his mask, as you grow more and more impatient in your movements, just in time when simon gets tired of this unnecessary, wet piece of fabric, a barrier to the sweetest fruit and nectar in his life, so he bares his teeth and clings to the waistband of your underwear, helping himself with his fingertips and tearing them away down your legs, exposing your fluttering, wet hole to his hungry eyes and mouth.

the mere sight leaves him swelling with hardness in his pants, and your gaze catches on the silhouette of his cock, leaning heavily against his meaty thigh and bulging against the thin fabric, one little sight had you swallowwing nervously before your eyes roll back from the sharp contact of his bare lips with your bare cunt, he swipes his thick tongue once, twice, licking your wet folds and slurping your juices as an endless source of quenching his thirst, he licks and licks until you begin to lose yourself in how long you've been in this position, where your folds and clit swell, and simon just presses himself unexpectedly deeper before suddenly diving in further.

a loud sigh and a whiny moan spread through the cave, his tongue curls at the tip, when he accidentally, but with pressure, pushes your folds apart and into your fluttering hole, his tongue flattens against your entrance, before licking and thrusting inside, into the warmth of your velvety walls that tighten around his muscle right there, and he growls with satisfaction, akin to a muffled purr, moving his head up and down, smearing his entire jaw and lips in your slick, surrendering fully to your softness and warmth.

every movement of his tongue inside leaves you trembling, your legs intuitively spread apart further along his broad shoulders, your hips find a natural rhythm and constantly buck forward with every lick of his fat tongue against your walls and his sucking on your clit, noticing what reaction it causes in you and trying to hear more of your absolutely innocent, wanton squeaks and moans, enjoying the knowledge that you act and feel this way because of his actions, so he presses his knees into the stone floor harder and leans forward further.

your stomach twists more and more, and you push his face away from you with sharp, broken whimpers, when his tongue touches your spongy spot again and again, your body seems to be engulfed in flames, your spine arches away from the wall, resting your entire weight on his face and curling over him, breathing loudly and shakily when the tip of his tongue thrust rapidly, abusing your sweet, spongy spot with his hungry, drooling mouth.

he only grunts as you lean your full weight on him, continuing his assault on your throbbing and clenching hole, alternating between grazing his tongue against your folds and clit, or thrusting his muscle deep inside your core in fast, albeit languid movements, just until your loud whimpers and hoarse mewls echo against his stone walls, and your stomach twists and turns as your body convulses in an unexpected feeling of sudden orgasm, cunt clenches and pulsates around his tongue, letting go of your sweet slick and milky cum for him to have, covering his chin and mouth in the huge amount of liquid that he actively drink and lap up, opening his mouth wide and licking you clean, drinking till the last drop.

simon doesn’t stop, as if not knowing the line, which he doesn’t really know, continuing to run his tongue against your slit and cling to your hole, as he sukles on your clit, your whole body is buzzing strangely, your head begins to ache from the endless pleasure and overstimulation that his actions and touches bring, making everything between your legs swell and tingle, you desperately claw his bare back with your hands, adding to the scarred canvas of his flesh, trying to push, resist, but he doesn’t care, right until a loud sob escapes your lips.

he reacts instantly, making something close to a questioning grumble before retreating slightly between your legs, licking his thin lips around the edges and all your fluids on your thighs, you hang on him like a sack of potatoes, trying to grab his back with your hands and at the same time not allowing him to move away from you normally, quietly, pitifully sobbing, which cause him to growl, and with a rough grip of his wide hands on your hips, unhook you from him.

simon holds you more carefully, more gently, his hands are still shamelessly squeezing and pawing your hips, going down to the swell of your plush ass, touching the skin and also pulling down your dress to cover you and provide you with the minimum comfort possible in your position, where your panties lie torn on the floor, and endless salty tears flow down your raw, cowered in slight blush cheeks, and he feels even more sympathy for you than all the times before, frowning his light eyebrows and pursing his lips.

— “don't cry..„

he mutters in frustration, carefully releasing one hand from under your butt to carefully wipe the wetness of tears from your cheeks, while you sniff your reddened nose, your head and body pulsating with a strange surge of fatigue, there's still an uncontrollable throb between your legs, and the very thought of this feeling makes you sad, as your eyelids gradually get heavier with a dissatisfied whine escaping from the depths of your throat.

— “shh„

simon whispers quietly, shamelessly moving his face closer to yours to lick your wet cheeks, making you frown and grimace, resting your hands weakly on his shoulders before he gently begins to rock you in his bulky arms and press you against his chest, changing your position so that he supports you under your knees and your back rests comfortably on his thick bicep, curling up, and you no longer care about everything that happens.

you were in a comfortable, floating state between sleep and consciousness, not struggling or scratching like most of the little preys he meet, allowing him to carry you carefully away from the far wall and to a place that vaguely resembled a human bed, full of soft animal skins and located closer to the floor, on which he lays you down and immediately wraps you in the warmth of various furs, fleetingly touching the top of your head while carefully stroking your hair, reaching to the already slightly tattered wreath with flowers and throwing it away somewhere, to which you don’t even react, on the contrary, you cuddle in response to his touch with your head and face.

this makes him chuckle hoarsely, a sound that makes your skin crawl, but he carefully lays you down more comfortably and strokes your warm cheek, going down to your shoulder and drawing the same awkward circles here with the tip of his finger until you are taken into deep sleep, first with your mind, then with your body, allowing your eyes to close and plunge into darkness in a place unfamiliar to you, going limp and burying your nose in fur that smells sharply of musk, something tartly foresty and reminiscent of him, plunging you even deeper and further in viscious sleep, following the rough whisper, that is contrasting with his careful, soft touches.

— “sleep well, my pretty sacrifice„

simon mumbles practically under his breath, his dark eyes following every flutter of your eyelashes and the sigh that slips from your parted lips, before making sure that you are in a deep sleep and getting himself up from his haunches, the movement is accompanied by a slight crunch of bones and a grumble from his lips, he looks around his own cave, a torn, damp cloth lying on the floor, a wreath with scattered petals and a basket with some sort of offerings on the table, which he will use later.

for now he rests his hands on his hips, licking his slightly dry lips and looking at the prominent weight between his legs, resting against the fabric of his pants and responding with warm, tingling arousal and slight drippling moisture, but he will take care of this later, for now, simon will collect all the unnecessary garbage from the floor and get it as far away as possible, and then take care of the cow you brought with you from the village, even if he doesn't prefer to use meat from someone else's hands, he can definitely let it pass now, because he will need to persuade you to stay with him, as soon as you wake up.

simon will not allow something like you to escape, he has denied himself contact and warmth for too long, and now, having touched the forbidden fruit, he knows one thing for sure — he will never let it go again and will not refuse it, so you are in his abode for a long time.

[supremefloof]

episode 6 thoughts: DANG

Shang Chao is one of the characters of all time. spoilers below! this post is also very long.

THESE DANG ENERGY DRINKS ARE IMPORTANT! This shot is symbolic of something!

these could be "Electro Energy" brand drinks (the brand mentioned later to show how Yang Cheng E-soul is costing money for Mighty Glory).

Is that a "no. 8" or a "no. 0"? 8 would make sense but there's problems with that, those being -> 1. is E-soul still rank number eight here? and 2.:

the trailer shows that this drink belongs to X, with the character presumably meaning 1,0, or some really sadistic way of writing X. (secret, even more sadistic evil third thing is that that's like, a three or something and the timeline is fucked). the drink NEXT to it belongs to E-soul (maybe those are electro energy). So, maybe this drink means that E-soul is X in Year 36. ofc, we have no idea what time this trailer takes place.

it looks like this stupid extremely hard to read borderline secret code font (/hj) is going to be a frequent occurrence! hopefully somebody with more dedication than me can decode it fully at some point.

background ads continue to be very intriguing. where exactly does this take place? we got "langley & co booksellers", "malibu surf shop", alongside chinese signs. probably a lot are just easter eggs but very fun!

In the interrogation room, I really interpreted YC's animated flashback sequence as a panic attack.

he's stuck on two ends from "nothing" to "way too much". He doesn't feel he belongs on either, and yet he's self-internalized a bunch of stuff at the same time. he's like lin ling on trauma steroids.

I like Xia Qing (i think thats her name?) better than I thought I would. girl knows what she wants and drops hints! she's also the most normal well adjusted person I've seen in this entire show.

i really, genuinely for the love of god hope those criminals weren't telling the truth about YC hiring them. If time travel theory is real I'm flipping a table. I dislike time travel theory but I can't put my finger on why.

SHANG CHAO IS SO SUSPICIOUS. even including what happens to him he shows up at exactly the right time with exactly the right stuff. He's weirdly super invested. I don't think he's evil but I think we are going to see his motivations/backstory in the next episode (and yes. singular next e-soul episode). we still don't know why Pomelo/you zi was kidnapped!!

Some guesses are that he really wants to differentiate himself from his dad, which is why he jumps at the chance to market Yang Cheng.

or yk. he's gay. who knows

OG E-Soul. first of all, YEESH he just trains shirtless covered in scars and doesn't wear anything under the suit 😭interestingly, he wears a mask all the time but doesn't care about his agent/manager/General Business Blonde Guy seeing him train shirtless and armless.

blonde dude got some nerve talking to this guy like that when he's one-arming like 200 pounds in front of him 💀

he seems unconcerned with whether people trust New E-soul, because nobody could mistake the two. this really lines up with the idea that he's old as Dirt and did some insane feat.

However, Mighty Glory doesn't see it that way because it's about money. TBHX absolutely is providing commentary on capitalism and the commercialization of heroes. (ie. an old symbol of institution brought down by the new age and adapted into something else that matches the ideas of the time) The contrast of a living legend like E-soul and his relationship with Mighty Glory + the media made me feel like Mighty Glory built itself around him with dubious implications for his opinions on the matter.

E-Soul hasn't fought people in a while! so my theory that he's retired is right so far.

ENLIGHTER!!!!! this felt like a crossover cameo but logically the episodes are only a few years apart. Enlighter seems like a big deal here though! Did he used to be higher ranked a few years ago and fell off in Lin Ling's era? ...why did he snap. that's not going to be important is it. brainrot brainrot

TBHX is also for sure highlighting how the transition into the digital age is effecting the Trust System, saying how E-soul had to do so much more work than YC. I wonder how the nuances of the Trust system were different before the spread of the internet. TBHX is a modern show, set in modern times and made to be extremely relevant to current world issues!

our running ideas about Trust seem spot-on so far. YC is getting a fraction of E-souls power. meaning E-Soul is really, really powerful! even though he's not doing anything right now.

SURVIVORS GUILT, PT 2. the similarities between the traumatic events of Yang Cheng's childhood to now are insane. holy shit poor guy

is someone gonna get dramatically shot every episode????? why??? at least Moon is not unique in this regard. hide your side characters nobody is safe 😭

twenty tumblr notes on this shot being wayyy too significant for my emotional health

I DON'T TRUST THE TIMELINE. I DON'T TRUST THE TIMELINE. E-SOUL PV IS SO INSANELY STRANGE.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

May 27th

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1. Hello, how's you. I'm looking a fic, it was a one-shot and meet bad. Lan Wanji lost A-yun at the mall during Christmas 🎄. They saw a CCTV footage of Wei Wuxian walking with A-yun and they thought he kidnapped him. It was all a misunderstanding. They end up coparenting A-yun. Thank you

FOUND? I know what my heart wants by yakuso5u (Not Rated, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Father LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Accidental Child Acquisition, Domestic, Slice of Life, Christmas references)

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2. Hey am looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian switches places with the úntame version of himself due to a talisman and finds out that that version of himself and lan wandgi are not together @fanficlover-novels

FOUND? Key Differences by pupeez4eva (T, 5k, WangXian, Humor, Dimension Travel, Crossover, Drama!WWX meets Novel!WWX, Public Confessions, Post-Canon)

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3. please help me to find this one fic. It was a time travel fic where only wwx goes back to the past. But the unique part is wwx is in his older body & with that he clears the burial mounds by himself & then he lives there, many people know about this & started calling him yllz and one day bc everyone thinks that this yllz is a diety they start to sacrifice someone. One day qhj sacrifice lwj, but wwx doesn't want him after that qhj dies, kid lwj fell in love w/yllz Nhs knows yllz from his father

FOUND? Practical Mythology by metisket (T, 17k, WangXian, Time Travel, YLLZ WWX, myths and legends, apparently the burial mounds has to fix everything itself, zombie farm collective, accidental deities, Families of Choice)

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4. Looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian is a jiaoren/merperson and saves Lan Zhan via emergency transformation. From what I recall, LZ was thrown into a river or lake by Wen soldiers, tied and weighted so he'd drown. WWX found him, and didn't have a way to free him from the weights, and had to transform him to keep him alive. Slow transformation. Just gills at first, but no way to stop it once started, so LZ had to stay underwater while they escaped. @shiroookamitoko

FOUND! A Kiss You Can't Breathe Without by ElvenQueens (M, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Merpeople, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Fall of Lotus Pier, Animal Transformation, Creature Fic, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drowning)

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5. Hello can i ask for help searching a specific fic? its a modern au and wangxian are friends with benefits, its lwj pov and hes pining hard. wwx got into a car accident that left him in long comatose and jyl kindly invited lwj to sit beside his sickbed and wait for wwx to wake up. lwj comes everyday after work, after wwx wake up lwj volunteered to bring him home and they confessed to each other

FOUND? Almost Lover by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 37k, Wangxian, modern, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, a bad thing happens to WWX, LWJ gets very sad, Hospital Scenes, Dubious Medical Science, pining for the person you’re fucking, Friends With Benefits, friends who come together stay together, learning to use our words, there are also rabbits, Traumatic Injury, mention of past WWX/WQ)

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6. hello! do you know which fic is this?

"does anyone know which wangxian fic had the problematic breakup and wwx got w some other dude and had a baby w blue eyes or smth" i found a wangxian divorce fic i wanna read but istg if it’s THAT one-

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7. First of all, thank for all your work!!! I'm searching for a fic and I can't remember clearly the scenes, just that wwx, I think, created a book of interpretation of lwj's reactions paired with short description of what it means and lsz and ljy use it to interpret what lwj wants to say. I think it's like that. Thank you!!!

FOUND? Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, gen, Fluff and Crack, [Podfic] Important Distinctions by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

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8. I'm absolutely going batty trying to find this fic! It's Wangxian, but not central to the boys in that it's in Jin Zixuan's POV & he kills Wen Xu with a Yu blade while pretending to be hunting for deer on behalf of Mme Jin(?). (it's not the unbearable pain of being seen antho by meyari, but similar in tone.) Basically, JZX turns the fate of the entire war on its ear, bc he is competent. Help, please!! (and thank you!) @thelima-aka-chickwriter

FOUND! 🔒 Moments of Revelation by meyari (T, 133k, ChengSang, WangXian, XiYao, POV JC, Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Character Death, not anyone we care about, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Chronic Pain, Chronic anxiety, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Chronic Mental Health Issues, Assassination, renamed MY, Families of Choice, Unreliable Narrator(s), Demonic Possession)

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9. Hello, I'm looking for a fic, I remember there was a battle between Wei Ying and the Lan clan and Wei Ying wins, and spares Lan Zhan. Then Lan Zhan spends 2 weeks (or more) day and night burying all the dead then collapses from exhaustion. He is saved by Wei Ying and treated by Wen Qing but spends a good time bedridden with an inability to raise his arms. That's my only memory. Thanks in advance :) @wesenyr

FOUND? help is on the way by Vamillepudding (M, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, LWJ Needs a Hug, Fairy Tale Elements)

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10. Hi sorry, can you help me find a fic please!

It's a wangxian dom/sub universe. The author had originally posted the fic on another website, and then uploaded it to AO3. They recently made the fic a mystery fic, so idk if anyone can find the original post or a download of it 😭

It was a dom lwz and sub wwx, with lwz being in a relationship with mo xuanyu but he takes in wwx to help train him. It endgame wwx, with mo xuanyu being okay with wangxian being together. It also has slight wwx/jgy at the beginning but it's nothing serious. @i-swear-we-were-okay

FOUND? backfire (🔒squidgewolrd link) by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, WangXian, WangYu, one-sided XianYu, MingYu, Modern AU, Biologically Determined Dom/sub Roles, BDSM, Bad BDSM etiquette, Sadism Masochism, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Self-Harm, BDSM as a Form of Self-Harm, Minor Character Death(s), Arson, Shades of Black Widow WWX, Extremely Dubious Consent, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Normalized Homosexuality and Bisexuality, Normalized Polyamory, Nonsexual BDSM, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Pining WWX, Jealous WWX, Touch-Starved WWX, Professional Dominant WWX, Sex Worker WWX, Gentle Dom LWJ, Mean Dom LWJ, Oblivious LWJ, Past WC/WWX, Minor JGY/WWX, Mentioned WWX/Others, Emotional Infidelity, Angst with a Happy Ending, Endgame Wangxian, MXY Also Gets a Happy Ending, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note) I think is for #10, their non gift fics are on their website

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11. Excuse me? But could you help me rediscover the fanfic series where the first fanfic story starts with Wei Ying from the modern era in a T-shirt, basketball shorts, and tennis shoes (with a plastic grocery bag of energy drinks) chances upon Lan Wangji at Cloud Recesses. In the time of the novel post Sunshot Campaign. So the mystery is about why Wei Ying was brought into the past. (Spoiler Alert: It's about soulmates)

The second story of the series is about how Wei Ying and Lan Wangji split time between the modern era and the Cultivation era. There is an incense burner scene where Wei Ying gets to seduce Lan Wangji at their first meeting with his bare legs in his basketball shorts. Another is about Lan Wangji getting jealous about Wei Ying using his dildos from before their relationships.

Would you please help me with this? I hope you have a great day. @kaitou-cure-prism12

FOUND? Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

FOUND? Dramaturgy by slex (slexenskee) (T, 62k, WIP, WangXian, Isekai, Canon Divergence, modern!wwx, Bisexual disaster WWX, not intentionally a fix-it AU but definitely a fix-it AU, Transmigration, Identity Porn, Computer Science)

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12. hi! is it true that there's a Wangxian fic based on the k-drama 'Whe Life Gives You Tangerines'?

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13. I have a specific fic I'm looking for! It was wangxian modern AU, where wwx and a-yuan were somewhat in hiding. Nmj/nhs and the wen siblings (I think) knew what was going on and were helping them. Wwx moved around a lot to avoid detection until one day wwx meets lwj and falls in love and doesn't want to leave. I didn't read far enough to learn what exactly they were in hiding for, but the tags I remember made it seem like a wwx whump fic. I know it's not a lot to go on but I appreciate any help! Thank you! @scienceontheweekdays

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14. Looking for a fic where wwx stumbles upon a cave and find a big egg in a nest and after releasing he might lose his life if the parent of the egg came back and found him there, but before he could escape, comes back, wwx try to reason with it only for the dragon to start sniffing him and circling around him then-- yeah papapa happens. (Can't remember if wwx was human or fox, also not sure if he actually saw an egg or just a nest but I'd say he did see both)

FOUND? Magic Carpet Ride by ariskamalt (E, 6k, WangXian, Human WWX, Dragon LWJ, Virgin WWX, Dubious Consent, Rimming, Blowjobs, Anal Sex, Shapeshifting, Double Penetration in One Hole, Telepathy, Creampie, Mistaken Identity, WWX's LWJ slutification, PWP)

FOUND? 🔒 To Hatch a Mate by Missty0foxx (E, 15k, WangXian, Alternate Universe, Canon Era, Dragon LWJ/Fox WWX, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Love at First Sight, LWJ Has Two Penises, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Masturbation, WWX Self-Lubricates, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Anal Sex, Double Anal Penetration, Belly Bulge, Creampie, LWJ Has a Biting Kink, Cock Warming, Nesting, Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mild Blood, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LWJ & WWX Have a Breeding Kink)

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15. Hi, I’m looking for a fic I read a while back and unfortunately I remember very little of it so I don’t even know where to start looking for it. LWJ is the emperor or prince and WWX has been sent to him as a concubine (i think) by the Jiangs but LWJ is not aware that his concubine is WWX, I think he is under the impression that WWX is missing or dead… I remember WWX coming into the throne room and LWJ being chocked that his concubine is WWX. I think A-Yuan had a hand in WWX showing up there or something. Sorry I know it’s not much to go on but it’s been living rent free in my mind for a while now. Thank you @unlimitedsparks

FOUND! True Gold Fears No Fire by defractum (nyargles) (M, 82k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Ancient China, Wuxia, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Identity Porn, Mutual Pining, Emperor!LWJ, empress!wwx, Eventual Happy Ending, Misunderstandings)

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16. Hi Mods! i am looking for a Modern AU fic where WWX is dead for a moment and he wakes up in the mortuary? and there was some kind of investigation becouse magic could have been used in him? he was living with the wen siblings or was in close contaac with them. thats all i can remember (sorry for my bad grammar i am not a native speaker) @nashajtc

FOUND? 🔒 care by everbrighter (T, 35k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Resurrection, they have a son, Family Bonding, Getting to Know Each Other, Past Character Death, Mutual Pining, Kid Fic, Sexual Tension, (between lan yuan's pining dads), Modern with Magic) The Sudden Nature series specifically the 7th work is very similar to this ask

FOUND? 🔒 Swing From the Gallows and Wave by NyxNuit (E, 126k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, They're not 'cultivators' they're Exorcists, Murder Mystery, does this count as crack?, featuring my attempts at humor, demon hunter AU, general amounts of absurdity, cameos from other MXTX characters, Major Character Undeath, the typical pining we expect from WangXian, Not a Slow Burn Tho, the usual gratuitous music references, and gratuitous pop culture references, Sexual Content, featuring Yunmeng Bros reconciliation)

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17. Hi can u help me find a fic? its a modern setting au with fwb wangxian and pining lan zhan. weiying got into a car accident and lan zhan took care of him by invitation of jiang yanli, weiying was in a coma for a long time but lan zhan dutifully waited on his hospital bedside everyday then after weiying wake up he took him and care for him. and confessions ensue. thanks! @heizelberry

FOUND? Almost Lover by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 37k, Wangxian, modern, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, a bad thing happens to WWX, LWJ gets very sad, Hospital Scenes, Dubious Medical Science, pining for the person you’re fucking, Friends With Benefits, friends who come together stay together, learning to use our words, there are also rabbits, Traumatic Injury, mention of past WWX/WQ)

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18. Hiiii! Hope you're having a great day! I'm looking for a fic where LWJ is sent to kill the YLLZ without knowing it's WWX. I believe it was an one-shot. Thank You in advance!

🔒 Caught me by surprise by Say (G, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Love at First Sight, YLLZ WWX, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Cute, No Angst) he was sent to apprehend YLLZ not necessarily kill him. There is another one where Lan Zhan is dressed as a dancer and then literally tried to sword fight wei ying , im looking for it now.

FOUND? hidden faces by sarahyyy (T, 1k, WangXian, Alternate Universe, Mistaken Identity, Mild Hurt/Comfort, wwx probably wasn't found by jfm or taken into the jiang sect here, so he grew up on the streets and wandered into the burial mounds at some point, and p much grew up cultivating on resentful energy etc etc, still helped take down wrh still helped take in wen remnants though)

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19. Looking for a fic, Niè Huaisang POV, crack-ish. Journal entries of his side of the novel, he has a handful of people helping him with his schemes. I read it a few years ago and apparently did not bookmark it. He eventually curses that he’s going to have to marry his most capable assistant and become chief cultivator. @any-mouse

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20. I was hoping someone knew of a fic where WWX reincarnates/ressurects as a fox kit? It's fairy recent to his death and he is reborn as part of a litter of foxes near Cloud Recesses. He hunts or plays with the rabbits and is found by LWJ and A-Yuan. There's mention later that his fox mother may have gained spiritual awareness due to the proximity of WWX's spiritual energy. I can't really remember more. Thanks in advance! @yilingweiclan

FOUND? Pin the tail on the fox by RMoonberry (Not Rated, 40k, WIP, WangXian, fox wwx, Reincarnation, Good Uncle LQR, WWX is too attractive huli jing, Light Angst, LXC is very naive, WWX and JC's reconciliation, the family feels, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, WWX is pampered, Typical Canon Violence, i think, Spirit Animals, Shapeshifter, Canon Divergence, white hair wwx, Non-consensual drug use., historical inaccuracy., mythical beasts, Implied Torture, Inaccurate use of medicines)

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[swordsmithofgondolin]

Ok so I don't usually get involved in fandom discourse or anything like that but the amount of racism and appropriation in the MDZS fandom has pushed me to my limit, so I'm doing this. This is for fans of both The Untamed and Mó Dào Zǔ Shī.

AUs are cool! I write AUs! Fanfiction is a labour of love and people should write whatever they want, but we have to be respectful of the culture that what ever we are writing fanfiction came from. But people write the most absolutely insane stuff. Historically, it is incredibly frequent that other cultures will steal the parts of Chinese culture and innovations and technology, and then use it while not giving any credit to Chinese people and being racist. This happens all the time today! (It is also what happened to Wèi Wúxiàn. The Cultivation clans hated him, killed him, killed his people, but he was brilliant and they used his brilliant inventions while being absolutely awful to him). If you want to write a Selkie AU, use characters from an Irish story or write Song of the Sea fanfiction. Or use similar stories from the Chinese mythological canon. There are so many Chinese myths about doomed love and animal transformation! Don't even get me started on the angel and demon christian bullshit AUs. I know that a lot of translations of MDZS use the word "demon" to translate either mó or yāo creatures, but they are vastly different from christian demons. This also gets into the other bizarre things that people write with Wàngxiàn's relationship. So many people in this fandom only like it because they want to write dubious consent stuff so they take these incredibly well-written characters with a very loving and trusting relationship and just write...the most out-of-character stuff to appeal to their own sexual fantasies. This ties into appropriation, using these Chinese characters with no regard for their culture or even for who they are as people! This is something that has happened to Chinese culture for centuries, and it is most definately a form of racism! Also, I cannot stress enough how much sex is not the only thing in Wàngxiàn's relationship. Their relationship is mostly about love, trust, shared interests, safety, and sex is just a small part of it. Also, kinks don't define people. Wàngxiàn feel so safe together and trust eachother so much that they are able to share their weird kinks with eachother, but their kinks aren't them. I have a lot more to say about this and the Incense Burner chapter, but that's not what this post is about. I will note something about characterisation, though - Wèi Wúxiàn is not the feminine twink that we make him. He's scary, he's powerful, he fucking killed someone by making her swallow a chairleg. He's terrifying. And his "feminine" qualities actually read a lot more like characters such as Né Zhā or Sūn Wùkōng from Chinese mythology. Also just the concept of "feminine" or "masculine" qualities is sexist and transphobic and terrible. I love gnc Wèi Wúxiàn and I often draw/write him wearing skirts and stuff, but that clothing isn't feminine and I have a lot more to say about this but there isn't time! He's a complicated and very interesting character, not just some western character type that you find on a chart in a middle school English class. Don't even get me started on the characterisation of Lán Wàngjī... Also, I've seen people writing meta about MDZS with Japanese culture and terms. East Asia is not a monolith! Japan has stolen so much Chinese culture and treat Chinese people awfully! Just watch anime to see the racism, and do reaserch about WW2 to learn about the awful things that they did to China and China's ecology and environment and China's people! But most importantly, MDZS is Chinese! Don't write meta about it as if it's Japanese!

The thing that pushed me over the edge to writing this is how so many fanfic writers just take the MDZS characters and put them into settings of mythologies from other cultures, or modern AUs, because they just...don't want to do research about Chinese culture and mythology or don't care enough to do so. This is racist! Y'all need to just take a minute to read the Dào Dé Jīng or Zhuāngzǐ or Wǔjīng or something!

The most prominent way that this misunderstanding of Chinese culture, particularly Dàoism, presents, is how people write/talk about Wèi Wúxiàn's ghost path. An important part of 道 is that there are many, many different ways to define it. Many different paths one can walk. There's also the earlier definition of 道 as a path, a course of discipline and cultivation and study, and the later definition of 道 as something ironic to the original meaning, the opposite of a defined course. The important part is that there are many different cultivation paths, many different 道. We need to read or watch more xiānxiá, rather than just MDZS! The point here is that Wèi Wúxiàn's ghost path is just another form of cultivation, another 道. A brilliant one, too! It is a very effective and kind and empathetic way to deal with all of the jiāngshī/stiff corpses. And his ghost path does not harm his body. I am so tired of it being something that harms him or that needs to be cleansed or something. If you want Wèi Wúxiàn to have health stuff, give him a disability! You can even use my disability headcanons if you want! I headcanon that Wèi Wúxiàn has Reynaud's, POTS, and EDS, and Lán Wàngjī has POTS, Scoliosis, and Lupus. If you have questions about writing these disabilities, you can mention me in a post or something to ask about Reynaud's, POTS, and EDS (I have these, so I can answer questions about them). For other disabilities, just tag them. There will definately be someone in the disabled community here who will be happy to answer questions.

This fandom is so clogged by racism that Chinese people and members of Chinese diaspora are being pushed out of the fandom because we are drowning out their voices and silencing them. Listen! Listen to Chinese people and members of Chinese diaspora! We have robbed them of a fandom that belongs to them and their culture!

Links to some Dàoist texts (there are a lot more that you should totally read and I don't even know if these are good translations or anything but I'm tired right now and my fingers are not happy that i am typing so much because EDS is like that so I'm only going to put these two but I might add more later) -

[burningcheese-merchant]

Yes,more please!

More Yandere Beast stuff? At your service, three short headcanons for each one

SHADOW MILK

Has one specific Pure Vanilla puppet that he treasures and never brings any harm to. It's the most well-crafted and detailed one of all. He calls it his Mini Silly-Vanilly and he makes it and the puppet he also made of himself kiss and do NSFW things

Tries to be A Bro™️ and help his fellow yanderes win over their respective loves. He eggs them on when they feel like ranting and raving about their love lives (or maybe he just likes gossip and drama idk), helps mastermind courting plans, gives romantic advice of dubious quality, solicited and not (mostly not). His help gets mixed reactions. Tough crowd :/

Already planned their wedding way in advance, but keeps making changes because he's always hit with new inspiration (making them playfully chase each other all the way up the stairs of the Spire of Truth and Deceit, and publicly executing their enemies in increasingly ridiculous ways are staying put, though)

ETERNAL SUGAR

Got Shadow Milk to make her a Hollyberry body pillow. It's nice, but she ended up tired of it really quickly. She wants the real Hollyberry to snuggle and squeeze and use as a pillow. (She still uses the body pillow though)

Would very much like to steal Holly's dresses and wear them herself, even if they might not fit. Would also like a lock or two of her hair to put in a necklace, or make into a bracelet, or weave into the strings of her harp (wtf lol)

Has mastered dozens of love songs on her harp, both written and composed by others and by she herself, all to be played and sung to Holly. A significant portion of them are very dark and unsettling, but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care

MYSTIC FLOUR

Once thought of the concept of playing "strip Go" (like strip poker, just with Go) with Dark Cacao. No one has ever seen her turn so red before. She immediately barricaded herself in her room and did not come out for almost a whole week

Keeps replaying that moment where he was beaten and on his knees and she was caressing his cheek, tempting him to look up and into her eyes, in her mind over and over and over and over and over and over again. It has practically tattooed itself to the insides of her eyelids. She can't make it stop nor does she want to

Ends up wandering along the exact same path through the mountains that Cacao took while he was lost and alone whenever she leaves the Ivory Pagoda. Some deranged part of her insists that she might find him again if she keeps looking, and the other, equally deranged parts of her seem to agree...

BURNING SPICE

Absolutely fucking loses his shit if and when any of the Wild Spices speak ill of Golden Cheese at all. He can roast her all he wants, but the second anyone else tries, he 180s to "KEEP MY WIFE'S NAME OUT YO FUCKIN MOUTH" mode

Is so out of his goddamn mind that he's already attuned himself to both Golden's aura and her scent, so he can literally track her and hunt her down like a ravenous animal no matter where she goes. He is a predator in the truest sense of the word

Also often fantasizes about marrying Golden, like how Milk wants to marry Vanilla. But what he thinks the most about is the wedding night... and the night after that, too. And the night after that. Every night is going to be their wedding night, once he gets his hands on her... Every single fucking night

SILENT SALT

Keeps trying to write White Lily letters and poems detailing his feelings. They keep coming out wrong (aka they are extremely long and rambling, not to mention fucking weird and creepy), so he keeps throwing them away and starting over repeatedly

Has considered learning magic to impress Lily, but can't get the hang of it. (Has also tried to brew a love potion for her, but can't get the hang of that, either)

He never takes that helmet off, but his stare is nevertheless so damn pointed and downright oppressive that Lily can sense whenever he's watching her, even if he's dozens of feet away and she can't even spot where he is. He comes out when she asks him to, at least...

[nyrrwrites]

〴 📘 — AU!𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣!𝙇𝙤’𝙖𝙠 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 : @jioohyo @bambithewriter @rivatar @sunofpandora @xylianasblog @ikeyniofthetayrangi @plantgirliewholovespandora @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @pandoranbean @literallynpbody

𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚢 : @cafekitsune !!!

Subject that human!Lo’ak doesn’t like ?

MATH. ANY type – algebra, geometry, calculus, precalculus – human!Lo’ak might be shit at it

Or rather, people THINK he’s not very good at it — geometry, algebra, calculus, precalculus, anything math related — and he even believes that he is not good at it because he just lets others’ opinions get to him

It isn’t precisely that he doesn’t like the subject - it just has too many numbers, strategies, and – letters???

I’m sure he’s the type to think once he sees letters involved in an equation that he will be very, very dubious and not at all try to solve it.

“Why can’t you just let numbers have their own category and leave the fucking alphabet out of it bro-”

HOWEVER, if he does try, he comprehend and is actually very good at it.

Very smart, just people think him to not be “Neteyam smart” that it pisses him off, drains him, then he doesn’t give a shit in trying anymore

Leave the poor guy alone though, he tries his best and is VERY INTELLIGENT.

… I see Lo’ak being into video games — try tearing the guy away from a game console.

Human!Lo’ak is that guy during gaming nights—loud, animated, and absolutely relentless. He’ll trash-talk like there’s no tomorrow, but he’s the first to cheer everyone up if they lose.

From COD to Minecraft and Fortnite and NBA2k24 and Roblox and Mario Kart 8 Deluxe

it is freaking WAR when the entire family plays Mario Kart.

Just imagine that. Paint the picture, folks.

Don’t want to? Fine, I’ll more than gladly paint it.

I think while Neytiri thinks and finds video games to be stupid, she overhears Lo’ak saying she just sucks and is scared to lose.

It may be war with the entire family playing, but it is scorching HELL when she’s playing only against him.

Even Jake sheds a sweat, and he’s already out of the round.

Kiri, who didn’t really want to play to begin with, actually perks up a bit while sitting on the sofa, even cheering and siding with her mom

Tuk would be that one person who doesn’t know who to cheer for so she’s cheering for them all —

Best believe momma Neytiri is gonna beat the shit out that game though.

And a rolling on the floor while sobbing Lo’ak too after savoring her victory.

Jake is so proud to call her his wife akakkssklksls

Oh, and COD, call of duty, is definitely his father-son bonding time with Jake. They’re a badass duo when playing a match— it’s like the one of the rare times that they’re on the same page and Jake’s giving him compliments back to back—

Prides himself with all them compliments, even rubs it in Neteyam’s face who would just smirk and roll his eyes but let his little brother have his enjoyment

Human!Lo’ak probably teaches Tuk how to play video games —

While he’s doing his own thing she probably goes into his room and plays on his computer or X-box.

Tuk will definitely get him to play other games like Stumble Guys or download apps on his phone that he pretends not to like but secretly plays them on his own.

tuk : “hey how did I get 1st on the leaderboard??”

She’s not complaining tho —

Also, plays Roblox a LOT with Tuk, Kiri, and if Neteyam is not busy with his own thing, even him.

Group chat between the Sullys, Spider, Ao’nung, Tsireya, and Rotxo.

When they all play roblox, it gets wild.

Human!Lo’ak definitely gets banned for a week from the dumb shit he be saying with Ao’nung — even sometimes Neteyam.

“Mom, you’ll never believe why Lo’ak got banned from [👠HEELS baddies]”

“Kiri, shut up! — ”

One time invited Tsireya to play rainbow friends with Tuk

Tsireya would be sobbing as to why her crush / boyfriend and his little sister play such things —

Human!Lo’ak is intelligent— VERY intelligent but like … chooses not to use that intelligence quite often and wounds up in trouble?

Definitely let’s intrusive thoughts take over.

He’s washing the dishes, holds a spoon, stares at it for awhile before putting it under the water when already knowing it’s gonna create a whole frigging waterfall.

Human!Lo’ak is very goofy — this very natural charm that’s almost so ridiculous?

But, human!Lo’ak has the best sense of humor, naturally funny — can make one laugh with anything.

If he heard someone try to crack a joke that’s not exactly funny, he pats them in the back and just gives them a small smile and laugh. “Bro— you tried.”

Acknowledges the joke though, because he know how it feels to be in awkward situations and how it feels to go by ignored.

And if he heard someone make a joke that makes someone uncomfortable or is just something mean and stupid, he looks at them with a ‘wtf’ stare, or looks at them as if they’re high and tells them to shut up.

Definitely had an Xxxtencion phase, a Captain Underpants phase, a Dog Man phase, and a Rocket Raccoon phase.

Human!Lo’ak tries and pretty much is caught up with the latest rap music — he vibes to it.

Give this guy some Afrobeats — he thinks he’s the shit

Human!Lo’ak would be randomly bursting to song in Neteyam’s perplexed face or Kiri’s annoyed face while Tuk sings along with him and makes the identical face Lo’ak makes.

I’m certain human!Lo’ak discreetly listens to K-Pop.

Kiri and Tsireya — even Rotxo gets him into it.

“What’re you guys even listening to? This is so lame.”

Meanwhile, his AirPod is blasting ‘Cherry bomb’ by NCT 127 —

Oh my gosh, Kiri would be listening to “House of Cards (Full Length Edition)” in her room and Lo’ak could come in to ask her some random ass shit while the main part of the song is playing, and he could be getting into some body rolls to go along with the song’s rhythm.

Meanwhile, Kiri’s just sobbing in the corner because of the meaning behind the song — (iykyk)

Very much The Neighbourhood and Chase Atlantic coded.

Even Bryson Tiller — he can vibe to SZA too.

Definitely yells the lyrics to her SOS album — especially Open Arms to Tsireya as he holds her face in hands, singing Travis Scott’s part to her.

Meanwhile poor cutie is just confused but is allowing him to express himself in however way he needs to, lmao

Sprinkles of Bruno Mars and Coldplay. Ali Gatie, Arctic Monkeys and MANESKIN too in his taste of music ( just my opinion —)

Human!Lo’ak loves snacks and always seems to have a stash of chips, candy, or homemade treats. He’s also the one who combines weird flavors (“Trust me, it’s good!”) and gets surprisingly defensive about his food experiments.

I also feel he can be one of those guys that can eat 5 cheese burgers, yet also remains shockingly toned and fit?

While going to the gym is somewhat a priority for him, he might skip leg day here and there. ( regrets it tho, Kiri could make fun of his skinny legs. Even Neytiri tries to feed him more.)

Human!Lo’ak enjoys adventure. Growing up close to the land (thanks to Jake and Neytiri’s influence), he has a deep respect for the outdoors.

I think while he enjoys his video games and playing sports ( see him doing basketball and baseball. Would even try soccer ) he likes departing from that for a bit and wants to go exploring.

Wether it be around the neighborhood, a random Walmart, the park, forest, hiking

He has a hobby for photography has a secondhand camera that he takes everywhere, snapping candid photos of his adventures, friends, and the moments that matter to him.

His photos are raw and authentic, capturing life in a way that reflects his love for the untamed.

He’s the type to go to the park and walk with siblings ( spider included ), friends, and while you’re down the path you’re supposed to be following, and if there’s a deep forest to the side he’d definitely be the one to suggest — more so already be doing — to go down there and check out if there’s anything interesting.

He hears a branch break? He’d either be, “nope, why’d you make me do this” or, he’d hold it together and tease the others if their scared when he’s the one secretly crapping himself —

Sensitive.

Human!Lo’ak is definitely sensitive, but chooses to mask the hurt with something harsh or very, very teasing when it’s actually a jab of an insult.

Human!Lo’ak has a loud laugh and loves making others smile with his antics, but he sometimes uses humor as a shield for his insecurities.

He hides the fact that he feels like he doesn’t quite fit in anywhere.

Human!Lo’ak might cry when he’s angry or very frustrated. The browns of his eyes become more clear and their shape more prominent — he looks so much like Neytiri when this occurs.

When human!Lo’ak is alone and he trips over air, he definitely laughs to himself and gives himself a face smack.

Human!Lo’ak’s room is a chaotic blend of random posters, discarded clothes, and half-finished DIY projects. Despite the mess, there’s an undeniable charm to it—it feels alive and uniquely his.

Eats cereal out of the box and drinks milk out of carton — Neytiri smacks him for it while getting Jake to scold him ( even though it’s Jake that taught him how to do that when he was little and ever since has always done it —)

Human!Lo’ak wears the necklaces Tuk makes for him — pretending he doesn’t like them and makes the excuse that they don’t go with his fit, but, he still wears it because why would he not?

At some point him along with the rest of his siblings, including his parents, have matching jewelry because of Tuk

Human!Lo’ak has a phase where he wears Kiri’s old magnetic earrings before she got her ears pierced because he was too scared to get his own pierced.

Eventually he goes and gets them pierced with Kiri who’s getting, like her fourth piercing on her ears —

Human!Lo’ak messes with Kiri just for fun, but he likes hanging out with her — won’t admit it to her of course , but if anyone else bothers her, he’ll beat their behind — no matter if they’re 10 times bigger than him.

Definitely gets introduced to customizing his shit because of Kiri.

From his sneakers to his backpack, Lo’ak loves personalizing his belongings with graffiti-style art, stickers, or patches. Everything he owns reflects his bold and creative personality.

Human!Lo’ak sings at least one of Taylor Swift or Britney Spears’ songs very randomly — or if he hears Tuk singing a Disney song, he’d get into character and dramatically sing along — even if he hears Kiri softly singing to herself, he’d do the same too.

Gets into character, gets a little sassy and does these hand waves.

( kiri definitely records Lo’ak without him noticing and later on sends it to the gc they have with their other friends)

Oh my gosh I’m sure him and Spider had the idea to start a band and join the army, including Neteyam when they were between 7–10

Neytiri, despite thinking Spider might be some kind of bad influence on her kids, allows this — she even records them ‘performing’ when they’re just really banging shit and singing God knows what —

They look so goofy when they try playing soldiers, they’re wearing Jake’s and Quaritch’s old clothes that’s too big for them, but it’s adorable

Human!Lo’ak looks very happy, jumping over Neteyam’s back as his big brother smiles largely and freely, while Spider’s head is hooked beneath Neteyam’s arm with a two-front teeth gone smile, and Kiri’s in the back using the camouflage gear as a way to blend and connect with nature —

Human!Lo’ak is not used to physical touch.

He somewhat shrinks away from it, unless it is from someone he is 100 percent comfortable with.

Physical touch is not a major thing I think is included in his family. Unless it’s something grand.

HOWEVER, I do think when it’s an s/o, he’d like the idea of them being around.

Not entirely PDA, but he would have their arms ‘accidentally’ bump into one another while walking side by side, or s/o catches on, and just lets their arms touch at all times.

100 percent a hopeless romantic.

Human!Lo’ak has a soft spot for love stories, even if he’d never admit it.

He’s the type to scribble cheesy lines in his notebooks and go all-out for someone he cares about, like creating a mixtape or planning a starlit picnic.

Human!Lo’ak was definitely dropped by Jake as a child, so many fucking times to the point where Neytiri did not allow Jake to grab him.

Neytiri dropped him once too though— that was Lo’ak’s fault for squirming too much though, Jake never let her hear the end of it whenever Tuk was born and she was hesitant to let him hold her.

Human!Lo’ak fell off the bed a lot during his nap times as a toddler

Definitely almost accidentally always bangs his head against something 😭

At this point, do not be surprised if he’s in the state of memory loss

Human!Lo’ak definitely let’s put a random screech of anger after doing something that’s so frustrating for a long time

Human!Lo’ak is a magnet to stray animals — they’re practically drawn to his energy.

He’s the type to bring home stray dogs or befriend the random raccoon that keeps raiding the trash.

His family often rolls their eyes, but most definitely find the whole thing amusing.

Tuk goes to school and flexes that her brother is King of Animals —

Neytiri ensures her kids remain connected to their heritage, and human!Lo’ak appreciates it more than he lets on.

He wears small tokens or bracelets that symbolize his culture and finds solace in its traditions, even when he feels out of place.

Human!Lo’ak dreams big, even if he doesn’t know how.

Lo’ak often talks about grand ideas—traveling the world, building a better future, or making a name for himself.

He doesn’t always have a plan, but his enthusiasm is infectious.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Frev appearance descriptions masterpost

Jean-Paul Marat — In Histoire de la Révolution française: 1789-1796 (1851) Nicolas Villiaumé pins down Marat’s height to four pieds and eight pouces (around 157 cm). This is a somewhat dubious claim considering Villiaumé was born 26 years after Marat’s death and therefore hardly could have measured him himself, but we do know he had had contacts with Marat’s sister Albertine, so maybe there’s still something to this. That Marat was short is however not something Villaumé is alone in claiming. Brissot wrote in his memoirs that he was ”the size of a sapajou,” the pamphlet Bordel patriotique (1791) claimed that he had ”such a sad face, such an unattractive height,” while John Moore in A Journal During a Residence in France, From the Beginning of August, to the Middle of December, 1792 (1793) documented that ”Marat is little man, of a cadaverous complexion, and a countenance exceedingly expressive of his disposition. […] The only artifice he uses in favour of his looks is that of wearing a round hat, so far pulled down before as to hide a great part of his countenance.” In Portrait de Marat (1793) Fabre d’Eglantine left the following very detailed description: ”Marat was short of stature, scarcely five feet high. He was nevertheless of a firm, thick-set figure, without being stout. His shoulders and chest were broad, the lower part of his body thin, thigh short and thick, legs bowed, and strong arms, which he employed with great vigor and grace. Upon a rather short neck he carried a head of a very pronounced character. He had a large and bony face, aquiline nose, flat and slightly depressed, the under part of the nose prominent; the mouth medium-sized and curled at one corner by a frequent contraction; the lips were thin, the forehead large, the eyes of a yellowish grey color, spirited, animated, piercing, clear, naturally soft and ever gracious and with a confident look; the eyebrows thin, the complexion thick and skin withered, chin unshaven, hair brown and neglected. He was accustomed to walk with head erect, straight and thrown back, with a measured stride that kept time with the movement of his hips. His ordinary carriage was with his two arms firmly crossed upon his chest. In speaking in society he always appeared much agitated, and almost invariably ended the expression of a sentiment by a movement of the foot, which he thrust rapidly forward, stamping it at the same time on the ground, and then rising on tiptoe, as though to lift his short stature to the height of his opinion. The tone of his voice was thin, sonorous, slightly hoarse, and of a ringing quality. A defect of the tongue rendered it difficult for him to pronounce clearly the letters c and l, to which he was accustomed to give the sound g. There was no other perceptible peculiarity except a rather heavy manner of utterance; but the beauty of his thought, the fullness of his eloquence, the simplicity of his elocution, and the point of his speeches absolutely effaced the maxillary heaviness. At the tribune, if he rose without obstacle or excitement, he stood with assurance and dignity, his right hand upon his hip, his left arm extended upon the desk in front of him, his head thrown back, turned toward his audience at three-quarters, and a little inclined toward his right shoulder. If on the contrary he had to vanquish at the tribune the shrieking of chicanery and bad faith or the despotism of the president, he awaited the reéstablishment of order in silence and resuming his speech with firmness, he adopted a bold attitude, his arms crossed diagonally upon his chest, his figure bent forward toward the left. His face and his look at such times acquired an almost sardonic character, which was not belied by the cynicism of his speech. He dressed in a careless manner: indeed, his negligence in this respect announced a complete neglect of the conventions of custom and of taste and, one might almost say, gave him an air of ressemblance.”

Albertine Marat — both Alphonse Ésquiros and François-Vincent Raspail who each interviewed Albertine in her old age, as well as Albertine’s obituary (1841) noted a striking similarity in apperance between her and her older brother. Esquiros added that she had ”two black and piercing eyes.” A neighbor of Albertine claimed in 1847 that she had ”the face of a man,” and that she had told her that ”my comrades were never jealous of me, I was too ugly for that” (cited in Marat et ses calomniateurs ou Réfutation de l’Histoire des Girondins de Lamartine (1847) by Constant Hilbe) 

Simonne Evrard — An official minute from July 1792, written shortly after Marat’s death, affirmed the following: “Height: 1m, 62, brown hair and eyebrows, ordinary forehead, aquiline nose, brown eyes, large mouth, oval face.” The minute for her interrogation instead says: “grey eyes, average mouth.”Cited in this article by marat-jean-paul.org. When a neighbor was asked whether Simonne was pretty or not around two decades after her death in 1824, she responded that she was ”très-bien” and possessed ”an angelic sweetness” (cited in Marat et ses calomniateurs ou Réfutation de l’Histoire des Girondins de Lamartine (1847) by Constant Hilbe) while Joseph Souberbielle instead claimed that ”she was extremely plain and could never have had any good looks.”

Maximilien Robespierre — The hostile pampleth Vie secrette, politique et curieuse de M. J Maximilien Robespierre… released shortly after thermidor by L. Duperron, specifies Robespierre’s hight to have been ”five pieds and two or three pouces” (between 165 and 170 cm). He gets described as being ”of mediocre hight” by his former teacher Liévin-Bonaventure Proyart in 1795, ”a little below average height” by journalist Galart de Montjoie in 1795, ”of medium hight” by the former Convention deputy Antoine-Claire Thibaudeau in 1830 and ”of middling form” by his sister in 1834, but ”of small size” by John Moore in 1792 and Claude François Beaulieu in 1824. The 1792 pampleth Le véritable portrait de nos législateurs… wrote that Robespierre lacked ”an imposing physique, a body à la Danton,”supported by Joseph Fiévée who described him as ”small and frail” in 1836, and Louis Marie de La Révellière who said he was ”a physically puny man” in his memoirs published 1895. For his face, both François Guérin (on a note written below a sketch in 1791), Buzot in his Mémoires sur la Révolution française (written 1794), Germaine de Staël in her Considerations on the Principal Events of the French Revolution (1818), a foreign visitor by the name of Reichardt in 1792 (cited in Robespierre by J.M Thompson), Beaulieu and La Révellière-Lépeaux all agreed that he had a ”pale complexion.” Charlotte does instead describe it as ”delicate” and writes that Maximilien’s face ”breathed sweetness and goodwill, but it was not as regularly handsome as that of his brother,” while Proyart claims his apperance was ”entirely commonplace.” The foreigner Reichardt wrote Robespierre had ”flattened, almost crushed in, features,” something which Proyart agrees with, writing that his ”very flat features” consisted of ”a rather small head born on broad shoulders, a round face, an indifferent pock-marked complexion, a livid hue [and] a small round nose.” Thibaudeau writes Robespierre had a ”thin face and cold physiognomy, bilious complexion and false look,” Duperron that ”his colouring was livid, bilious;  his eyes gloomy and dull,” something which Stanislas Fréron in Notes sur Robespierre (1794) also agrees with, claiming that ”Robespierre was choked with bile. His yellow eyes and complexion showed it.” His eyes were however green according to Merlin de Thionville and Guérin while Proyart insists they were ”pale blue and slightly sunken.”  Etienne Dumont, who claimed to have talked to Robespierre twice, wrote in his Souvernirs sur Mirabeau et sur les deux premières assemblées législatives (1832) that ”he had a sinister appearance; he would not look people in the face, and blinked continually and painfully,” and Duperron too insists on ”a frequent flickering of the eyelids.” Both Fréron, Buzot, Merlin de Thionville, La Révellière, Louis Sébastien Mercier in his Le Nouveau Paris (1797) and Beffroy de Reigny in Dictionnaire néologique des hommes et des choses ou notice alphabétique des hommes de la Révolution, qui ont paru à l’Auteur les plus dignes d’attention… (1799) made the peculiar claim that Robespierre’s face was similar to that of a cat. Proyart, Beaulieu and Millingen all wrote that it was marked by smallpox scars, ”mediocretly” according to Proyart, ”deeply” according to the other two. Proyart also writes that Robespierre’s hair was light brown (châtain-blond). He is the only one to have described his hair color as far as I’m aware. 

For his clothes, both Montjoie, Louis-Sébastien Mercier in 1801, Helen Maria Williams in 1795, Duperron, Millingen and Fiévée recall the fact that Robespierre wore glasses, the first two claiming he never appeared in public without them, Duperron that he ”almost always” wore them, and Millingen that they were green. Pierre Villiers, who claimed to have served as Robespierre’s secretary in 1790, recalled in Souvenirs d'un deporté (1802) that Robespierre ”was very frugal, fastidiously clean in his clothes, I could almost say in his one coat, which was was of a dark olive colour,” but also that ”He was very poor and had not even proper clothes,” and even had to borrow a suit from a friend at one point. Duperron records that ”[Robespierre’s] clothes were elegant, his hair always neat,” Millingen that ”his dress was careful, and I recollect that he wore a frill and ruffles, that seemed to me of valuable lace,”Charlotte that ”his dress was of an extreme cleanliness without fastidiousness,” Williams that he ”always appeared not only dressed with neatness, but with some degree of elegance, and while he called himself the leader of the sans-culottes, never adopted the costume of his band. His hideous countenance […] was decorated with hair carefully arranged and nicely powdered,” Fiévée that Robespierre in 1793 was ”almost alone in having retained the costume and hairstyle in use before the Revolution,” something which made him ressemble ”a tailor from the Ancien régime,” Thibadeau that ”he was neat in his clothes, and he had kept the powder when no one wore it anymore,” Germaine de Staël that ”he was the only person who wore powder in his hair; his clothes were neat, and his countenance nothing familiar,” Révellière writes that Robespierre’s voice was ”toneless, monotonous and harsh,” Beaulieu that it ”was sharp and shrill, almost always in tune with violence,” and  Thinadeau that his ”tone” was ”dogmatic and imperious.”

Augustin Robespierre — described as ”big, well formed, and [with a] face full of nobility and beauty” in the memoirs of his sister Charlotte. Charles Nodier did in Souvenirs, épisodes et portraits pour servir à l'histoire de la Révolution et de l'Empire (1831) recall that Augustin had a ”pale and macerated physiognomy” and a quite monotonous voice.

Charlotte Robespierre — an anonymous doctor who claimed to have run into Charlotte in 1833, the year before her death, described her as ”very thin.” Jules Simon, who reported to have met her the following year, did him too describe her as ”a very thin woman, very upright in her small frame, dressed in the antique style with very puritanical cleanliness.”

Camille Desmoulins — described as ”quite tall, with good shoulders” in number 16 of the hostile journal Chronique du Manège (1790). Described as ugly by both said journal, the journal Journal Général de la Cour et de la Ville in 1791, his friend François Suleau in 1791, former teacher Proyart in 1795, Galart de Montjoie in 1796, Georges Duval in 1841, Amandine Rolland in 1864 (she does however add that it was ”with that witty and animated ugliness that pleases”) and even himself in 1793. Proyart describes his complexion as ”black,” Duval as ”bilious.” Both of them agree in calling his eyes ”sinister.” Duval also claims that Desmoulins’ physiognomy was similar to that of an ospray. Montjoie writes that Desmoulins had ”a difficult pronunciation, a hard voice, no oratorical talent,” Proyart that ”he spoke very heavily and stammered in speech” and Camille himself that he has ”difficulty in pronunciation” in a letter dated March 1787, and confesses ”the feebleness of my voice and my slight oratorical powers” in number 4 of the Vieux Cordelier. In his very last letter to his wife, dated April 1 1794, Desmoulins reveals that he wears glasses.

Lucile Desmoulins — The concierge at the Sainte-Pélagie prison documented the following when Lucille was brought before him on April 4 1794: ”height of five pieds and one and a half pouce (166 cm). Brown hair, eyebrows and eyes. Middle sized nose and mouth. Round face and chin. Ordinary front. A mark above the chin on the right.” Cited in Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de république (2018). Described as beautiful by the journal Journal Général de la Cour et de la Ville in 1791 (it specifies her to be ”as pretty as her husband is ugly”), former Convention deputy Pierre Paganel in 1815, Louis Marie Prudhomme in 1830, Amandine Rolland in 1864 and Théodore de Lameth (memoirs published 1913).

Georges Danton — Described as having an ugly face by both Manon Roland in 1793, Vadier in 1794, the anonymous pamphlet Histoire, caractère de Maximilien Robespierre et anecdotes sur ses successeurs in 1794, Louis-Sébastien Mercier in 1797, Antoine Fantin-Desodoards in 1807, John Gideon Millingen in 1848, Élisabeth Duplay Lebas in the 1840s, the memoirs (1860) of François-René Chateaubriand (he specifies that Danton had ”the face of a gendarme mixed with that of a lustful and cruel prosecutor”) as well as the Mémoires de la Societé d’agriculture, commerce, sciences et arts du department de la Marse, Chalons-sur-Marne (1862). As reason for this ugliness, Millingen lifts his ”course, shaggy hair” (that apparently gave him the apperance of a ”wild beast”), the fact he was deeply marked with small-poxes, and that his eyes were unusually small (”and sparkling in surrounding darkness”), while Chateaubriand instead underlines that he was ”snub-nosed,” with ”windy nostrils [and] seamed flats.” Mercier writes that Danton’s face was ”hideously crushed.” The former Convention deputy Alexandre Rousselin (1774-1847) reported in his Danton — Fragment Historique that Danton developed a lip deformity after getting gored by a bull as a baby, had his nose crushed by another bull, got trampled in the face by a group of pigs and finally survived ”a very serious case of smallpoxes, accompanied by purpura.” In 1792, John Moore reported that ”Danton is not so tall, but much broader than Roland; his form is coarse and uncommonly robust,” while Vadier claims that Danton possessed a ”robust form, colossal eloquence,” the anonymous pamphlet that ”he was very strong, he said himself that he had athletic forms,” Desodoards that he ”held the nature of athletic and colossal forms,” Chateaubriand that he was ”a vandal in the size of Goth” (don’t know who he’s referring to), Pierre Paganel (in Essai historique et critique sur la révolution française: ses causes, ses résultats, avec les portraits des hommes les plus célèbres (1815)) that he was of an ”enormous stature,” while the pamphlet described him as a ”gigantic orator” whose voice ”shook the vaults of the hall.” René Levasseur in 1829, John Moore, Millingen, Paganel and Desodoards all agreed with this, the first four writing that Danton possessed a ”stentorian voice,” the latter that he had ”a very strong voice, without being sonorous or flexible.” In her memoirs (1834) Charlotte Robespierre claims that ”[Danton] did not at all conserve the dignity suited to the representative of a great people in his manners; his toilette was in disorder.”

Louis Antoine Saint-Just — In Saint-Just (1985) Bernard Vinot writes that Saint-Just’s childhood friend Augustin Lejeune recalled his “honest physiognomy,” and that his sister Louise would evoke her brother’s ”great beauty” for her grandchildren (I unfortunately can’t find the original sources here). The elderly Élisabeth Le Bas too stated that ”he was handsome, Saint-Just, with his pensive face, on which one saw the greatest energy, tempered by an air of indefinable gentleness and candor” (testimony found in Les Carnets de David d’Angers (1838-1855) by Pierre-Jean David d’Angers, cited in Veuve de Thermidor: le rôle et l'influence d'Élisabeth Duplay-Le Bas (1772-1859) sur la mémoire et l'historiographie de la Révolution française (2023) by Jolène Audrey Bureau, page 127). In Souvenirs de la révolution et de l’empire, Charles Nodier (who was twelve years old when he met Saint-Just…) agrees in calling him ”handsome,” but adds that he ”was far from offering this graceful combination of cute features with which we have seen it endowed by the euphemistic pencil of a lithograph,” had an ”ample and rather disproportionate chin,” that ”the arc of his eyebrows, instead of rounding into smooth and regular semi-circles, was closer to a straight line, and its interior angles, which were bushy and severe, merged into one another at the slightest serious thought that one saw pass on his forehead” and finally that ”his soft and fleshy lips indicated an almost invincible inclination to laziness and voluptuousness.” How would you know what his lips were like, Nodier. In Essai historique et critique sur la révolution française (1815) Pierre Paganel writes that Saint-Just had ”regular features and austere physiognomy.” He describes his complexion as ”bilious” while Nodier calls it ”pale and grayish, like that of most of the active men of the revolution.” Similar to Élisabeth’s description, Nodier writes that Saint-Just’s eyes were big and ”usually thoughtful,” while Paganel instead writes they were ”small and lively.” Saint-Just was of ”average height” according to Paganel, but ”of small stature” according to Nodier. According to Paganel, Saint-Just had a ”healthy body [and] proportions which expressed strength,” while Saint-Just’s colleague Levasseur de la Sarthe instead wrote in his memoirs that he was ”weak in body, to the point of fearing the whistling of bullets.” Finally, Paganel also gives the following details: ”large head, thick hair, disdainful gaze, strong but veiled voice, a general tinge of anxiety, the dark accent of concern and distrust, an extreme coldness in tone and manners.” In Lettre de Camille Desmoulins, député de Paris à la Convention, August général Dillon en prison aux Madelonettes (1793) Desmoulins jokingly writes that ”one can see by [Saint-Just’s] gait and bearing that he looks upon his own head as the corner-stone of the Revolution, for he carries it upon his shoulders with as much respect and as if it was the Sacred Host.” In Histoire de la Révolution française(1878), Jules Michelet claims that Élisabeth Le Bas had told him that this portrait, depicting Saint-Just as having ”a very low forehead, [with] the top of his head flattened, so that his hair, without being long, almost touched his eyes,” was similar to what he had looked like.

Jacques-Pierre Brissot — The following was documented after Brissot had been arrested at Moulins on June 10 1793 — ”height of five pieds (162 cm), a small amount of flat dark brown hair, eyebrows of the same color, high forehead and receding hairline, gray-brown, quite large and covered eyes, long and not very large nose, average mouth, long chin with a dimple, black beard, oval face narrow at the bottom” (cited in J.-P. Brissot mémoires (1754-1793); [suivi de] correspondance et papiers (1912)). In Journal During a Residence in France, from the Beginning of August, to the Middle of December, 1792 John Moore described Brissot as ”a little man, of an intelligent countenance, but of a weakly frame of body” and claimed that a person had told him that Brissot had told him that he is ”of so feeble a constitution” that he won’t be able to put up any resistance was someone try to assassinate him.

Jérôme Pétion — described as ”big and fat” (grand et gros) by Louis-Philippe in 1850 (cited in The Croker Papers: the Correspondence and Diaries of the late right honourable John Wilson Croker… (1885) volume 3, page 209). Manon Roland wrote in her memoirs that Pétion ”had nothing to regret physically; his size, his face, his gentleness, his urbanity, speak in his favor” as well as that he ”spoke fairly well,” a descriptions which Louis Marie Prudhomme partly agreed with, himself recording that Pétion ”had a proud countenance, a fairly handsome face, an affable look, a gentle eloquence, movements of talent and address; but his manners were composed, his eyes were dull, and he had something glistening in his features which repelled confidence” in Paris pendant le révolution (1789-1798) ou le nouveau Paris (1798). In Quelques notices pour l’histoire, et le récit de mes périls depuis le 31 mai 1793 (1794) Jean-Baptiste Louvet reported that, while on the run from the authorities after the insurrection of May 31, the less than forty years old Pétion already had a white hair and beard. This is confirmed by Frédéric Vaultier, who in Souvenirs de l'insurrection Normande, dite du Fédéralisme, en 1793 (1858) described Pétion during the same period as ”a good-looking man, with a calm and open physiognomy and beautiful white hair,” as well as by the examination of his mangled courpse on June 26 1794, which states he had ”grayish hair” (cited in Charlotte de Corday et les Girondins: pièces classées et annotées (1872) by Charles Vatel, volume 2, page 154.

François Buzot — according to the memoirs (1793) of Manon Roland, he had ”a noble figure and elegant size.” In the examination made of Buzot’s body after the suicide there is to read that he had black hair (cited in Charlotte de Corday et les Girondins: pièces classées et annotées (1872) by Charles Vatel, volume 2, page 153)

Charles Barbaroux — his son wrote in Jeunesse de Barbaroux (1822) that ”nature had richly endowed Barbaroux; a robust and large body; a charming, fine and witty physiognomy.” In 1867, François Laprade, who had witnessed Barbaroux’ execution as a thirteen year old, recollected that ”he was a brown man - that is to say he had brownish skin, black hair and beard, reclining figure” (cited in Charlotte de Corday et les Girondins: pièces classées et annotées, volume 3, page 728). Valazé’s daughter did in her old age too describe Barbaroux as very dark, with black hair, black beard and large black eyes. According to her, he was ”excessively beautiful,” with well-defined lips, beautiful teeth and fine, delicate features, so much so in fact that colleagues would often joke about his beauty. Cited in Ibid, volume 3, page 728.

Marguerite-Élie Guadet — According to his passport (cited in Charlotte de Corday et les Girondins: pièces classées et annotées, volume 3, page 672): ”height of 5 pieds, 5 pouces (176 cm) middle sized mouth, black hair and eyebrows, ordinary chin, blue eyes, big forehead, thin face, upturned nose.” According to Frédéric Vaultier’s Souvenirs de l'insurrection Normande, dite du Fédéralisme, en 1793(1858), ”Guadet was a man of fine height, meagre, brown, bilious complexion, black beard, most expressive face.”

Joseph Le Bon — his passport description (cited in Louis Jacob, Joseph Le Bon, (1932) by Louis Jacob, volume 1, page 63) gives the following information: ”Height of five pieds six pouces (178 cm), light brown hair and eyebrows, high forehead, average nose, blue eyes, medium-sized mouth, smallpox scars.”

Claire Lacombe — the concierge of the Sainte Pélagie documented the following about the imprisoned Lacombe: ”height of 5 pieds, 2 pouces (168 cm). Brown hair, eyebrows and eyes, medium nose, large mouth, round face and chin, plain forehead” (cited in Trois femmes de la Révolution : Olymps de Gouges, Théroigne de Méricourt, Rose Lacombe (1900) by Léopold Lacour)

Charlotte Corday — according to her passport, ”height of five pieds one pouce (165 cm), brown hair and eyebrows, gray eyes, high forehead, long nose, medium mouth, round, forked (fourchu) chin, oval face.” (cited in Dossiers du procès criminel de Charlotte Corday, devant le Tribunal révolutionnaire(1861) by Charles-Joseph Vatel, page 55)

Prieur de la Marne — a passport dated October 1 1793 gives the following details: ”age of 37 years, height of 5 pieds 5 pouces (176 cm), blondish brown hair and eyebrows, receding hairline, long nose, grey eyes, large mouth.”

Maurice Duplay — ”height of 5 pieds 6 pouces (179 cm), blondish brown hair and eyebrows, receding hairline, grey eyes, long, open nose, large mouth, round, full chin and face.” Descriptions given in 1795 and cited in Les deniers montagnards (1874) by Jules Claretie.

Jean Lambert Tallien — Both a spy report written in 1794 found among Robespierre’s papers and Mme de la Tour du Pin, a noblewoman who met Tallien in late 1793, describe Tallien’s hair as blonde. Mme de la Tour du Pin adds that said hair was curly and that he had a pretty face.

[twistedheartsclub]

Pinned Beneath Him Male Mechanic X Reader

⚠️ Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of obsession, stalking, kidnapping, non-consensual sexual situations, psychological manipulation, physical violence, and dubious consent. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Please do not read if these topics may be triggering or distressing.

It was the kind of town where dust clung to your ankles and everybody knew your business before you did. Quiet, sun-bleached, always humming with cicadas and the low growl of trucks. Y/N didn’t plan to stay long. Just long enough to settle her late aunt’s affairs and figure out where the hell she was supposed to go next.

But the old truck had other ideas.

It gave out on a backroad just shy of town—shuddered, hissed, and died in the heat like a wounded animal. She coaxed it down the road in neutral, heart in her throat, until she spotted the garage: Walker’s Auto, paint peeling off the sign, metal doors thrown open to let the heat spill in.

Inside, a man was working on a car that looked older than sin but ran like it was sacred. He had his back to her, bent over the open hood—broad shoulders glinting with sweat, tan skin streaked with oil and grease. Shirt tied around his waist, black tank top hugging every line of his muscled frame. He looked like he belonged to the heat—mean and golden, all hard edges and rough hands.

She stepped closer, heart thudding.

“Excuse me?” she said softly.

He didn’t look up.

“Closed.”

“I—I know. I’m sorry. But my truck just died and I—”

“I said we’re closed.” He straightened finally, tossing a wrench into a tray. His eyes met hers—and she felt like she’d been struck. Dark eyes, sharp jaw, days-old scruff, and a mouth that looked like it only ever smirked or scowled.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said, quietly, trying not to flinch. “Everything else is shut down.”

He stared at her for a long beat. Then looked past her at the steaming mess of her truck outside. He huffed a sigh, muttering something under his breath.

“Jesus. Fine. Pop the hood before it melts into the damn asphalt.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind, sweetheart.”

And that was how she met Cal Walker—grumpy, grease-stained, absolutely carved out of stone. He barely spoke to her while he worked, just grunted and cursed under his breath, sweat dripping down his temples.

But she saw it—the way he glanced at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. The way his jaw clenched when she smiled at him.

He got the truck running, barely. Told her she’d need to come back. Told her not to drive it more than five miles or she’d blow it to hell.

Then he walked back into the garage without another word.

She brought him a pie the next day. Just to say thank you.

And that’s when it started.

The town was called Cedar Rock, but there weren’t many trees. Just dry hills, winding roads, and one main street lined with fading brick buildings that looked like they hadn’t changed since the 1950s. A diner. A barber shop. A bait-and-tackle store no one really needed anymore. And of course, Walker’s Auto—right on the edge of town like it was daring anyone to bother it.

Y/N had only ever been there once before, years ago. Her aunt Miriam had moved there for “peace and quiet” after a messy divorce, dragging her younger sister with her. Y/N remembered visiting in the summers, always itching to leave by day three. Too hot. Too slow. Too many eyes.

Now she was back for the worst reason—Miriam had passed suddenly. No warning. No goodbye. She’d left behind a modest home at the edge of town, a mountain of books, some old records, and a town full of people who acted like they’d known Y/N her whole life.

They didn’t.

But that didn’t stop them from butting in.

There was Mrs. Callahan, the nosy neighbor who brought over dry cookies and even drier gossip.

“So sorry about Miriam, honey. But between you and me, she was never quite right after that man left her. Maybe it’s good you’re here now. You can clean things up.”

And Rhett, the flirty cashier at the general store, who asked if she needed “a strong pair of hands” to help move furniture. His breath smelled like chewing tobacco and desperation.

Everywhere she went, people smiled too wide, asked too many questions, and called her “sweetheart” like it was her name.

“You stickin’ around?”

“What do you do again?”

“You seeing anyone?”

She lied. Often.

Y/N wasn’t planning to stay. She worked remotely as a digital illustrator—did book covers and concept art for indie authors. It paid the bills, gave her freedom. She could work from anywhere… but God, she missed the noise of the city. The coffee shops. The trains. The strangers who didn’t look at her like they already knew who she was.

Her sister, Ava, was supposed to arrive the next day. Loud, sharp-tongued, city to the core. Y/N was counting the hours. Until then, she stayed low, tried to keep to herself.

But the truck was acting up again.

So back she went to Walker’s Auto, fingers crossed, jaw tight.

This time, Cal was sitting outside the garage in a folding chair, smoking a cigarette like it owed him money. Boots planted wide, tank top soaked with sweat. He saw her pulling up and didn’t move. Just watched.

She parked. Stepped out.

“It’s doing that thing again.”

“No shit,” he said, flicking ash to the ground. “I told you not to drive it.”

“I had to pick up a delivery from the post office. It’s kind of important.”

He stood. Slowly. Walked over, looking her up and down like he was checking for damage.

“That pie you brought yesterday,” he said, squinting at her. “Was it supposed to taste like soap or was that a mistake?”

Her mouth dropped open. “What?!”

His mouth twitched. Almost a smile.

“I’m kidding. It was good. Real good.”

She blinked, caught between offense and shock. “You’re an ass.”

“Yeah,” he said, opening the hood. “I’ve been told.”

He’s under the hood again, hands deep in her engine, grumbling like he’s arguing with it. Y/N leans against the fender, arms crossed, trying not to stare too long at the way his back flexes every time he moves.

“So what now?” she asks after a beat. “You fixing it, or giving it last rites?”

Cal pulls his head out from under the hood, wiping his hands on a rag. “Needs a part I don’t have in stock. Gotta order it. You’ll be outta wheels for a couple days, maybe more.”

She sighs. “Of course.”

He eyes her. Then, after a long pause, says, “You got places you need to be?”

“…Why?”

“I can drive you.”

She blinks. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Didn’t stop me from eating your pie,” he shoots back, that same flicker of a grin threatening the corner of his mouth.

“…Y/N,” she finally says, slowly. “Y/N L/N.”

He nods once. “Cal Walker.”

A handshake might be too formal, too stiff for the heat between them. But he pulls out a phone, taps it once, then holds it out. “Put your number in. I’ll text when the part gets here. And if you need a ride—”

“I’ll owe you,” she finishes, narrowing her eyes a little.

“Damn right you will.”

But there’s no menace in it. Just something… curious. Interested. Like he’s trying to figure out what kind of storm just blew into his shop.

She hesitates, then takes the phone and types her number in. A moment later, hers vibrates with a text: “Cal – grumpy mechanic, don’t block me.”

She smirks, despite herself. “Grumpy is an understatement.”

“You city girls always this mouthy?”

“Only when we’re right.”

He watches her, the smile ghosting again across his face. “You said city—where from?”

“Chicago.”

He whistles low. “Your aunt ever tell you she made the best damn cornbread in this state?”

Y/N pauses. “You knew her?”

Cal nods, leaning against the truck beside her. “Yeah. Miriam was a hell of a woman. Smart. Tough. Didn’t take shit from anybody. She helped me out when I first started this place.” A pause. “Sorry she’s gone.”

The air softens between them.

“…Thanks,” Y/N says quietly.

He nods once more, eyes back on the engine like he’s hiding from something.

Two days later,

A blue car kicks up dust in the driveway. Y/N’s on the porch in cutoffs and a loose tee, hair up, sketchbook balanced on her knees.

Ava steps out of the car like she’s arriving for a magazine shoot—sunglasses, iced coffee, and attitude.

“Jesus Christ,” she says, shielding her eyes. “It’s hotter than Satan’s ass.”

Y/N laughs and runs down to hug her. Ava hugs back, then pulls away to eye her up and down.

“You look like a local. What the hell happened to you?”

Y/N grins. “I met a mechanic.”

Ava pauses, takes off her glasses. “You slept with a mechanic?”

“No!”

“…Yet.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but her cheeks warm.

Ava arches a brow. “What, is he hot or something?”

Y/N tries not to smile. “He’s—he’s rude. And weird. But yeah. He’s also built like sin and has forearms that could bench press a car.”

Ava whistles low. “And here I thought this was gonna be boring.”

Y/N laughs. “Oh, it’s still boring. But it’s getting…interesting.”

The next afternoon.

It’s early evening when Cal pulls up to the house in a beat-up black pickup that growls more than it drives. He doesn’t text first. Doesn’t call. Just shows up like he owns the dirt under his tires.

Y/N’s on the porch with Ava, drinking lemonade and sketching. Ava’s wearing sunglasses and a smirk, scrolling on her phone.

The truck crunches to a stop. The engine shuts off.

Y/N’s heart skips. “That’s him.”

Ava lowers her glasses, eyes narrowing as she watches him climb out—tight jeans, oil-stained shirt, rolled sleeves, sun-kissed skin, and those arms. He looks like trouble in human form. And he’s walking toward them with that slow, heavy step that says he’s not used to being interrupted.

“You weren’t kidding,” Ava murmurs. “He looks like a one-man demolition team.”

Cal stops at the foot of the porch, eyes flicking between them. “Truck’s ready,” he says simply. Then nods to Ava. “You the sister?”

Ava flashes a practiced smile. “That’s me. Ava. And you’re the mechanic with the bad attitude?”

Cal lifts a brow. “Guess I am.”

Y/N gives her a look. “Ava…”

“What? I’m just being friendly.”

Cal’s eyes stay on Ava for a second longer—measuring, unamused—but then they shift back to Y/N, and something softens. “Brought the keys,” he says, holding them out. “Did a little more than I said I would.”

“Oh?” Y/N asks, standing to take them.

“Figured if you’re gonna be stuck here, you should at least be able to leave when you want.”

Ava raises a brow. “Romantic. In a caveman kind of way.”

Cal doesn’t look at her. His eyes stay locked on Y/N. “I’ll swing by next week, make sure it’s still running smooth. And your brakes—don’t trust ‘em just yet.”

Y/N nods. “Thanks. Really.”

For a second, the air gets heavier—like something wants to be said but neither of them says it.

Ava fans herself. “This is cute. You two got a whole Jane Austen-in-a-garage thing going on.”

Cal finally glances at her again. “You always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m bored.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“I don’t do entertainment,” Cal says coolly, turning back to the truck.

“Oh, honey,” Ava calls after him, “I wasn’t talking about you.”

The driver’s door slams. The engine roars to life. But before he pulls away, he gives Y/N one last look through the open window—something unreadable in his eyes.

Then he’s gone, dust rising behind his wheels.

Y/N lets out a breath. Ava sips her lemonade, looking smug.

“God, I love watching men squirm.”

“You’re going to scare him off,” Y/N mutters, cheeks warm.

Ava grins. “If that man gets scared, I’ll buy a church hat and call myself polite.”

The days pass slow. Hot sun. Lazy fans. The house creaks like it remembers more than it should.

Y/N and Ava spend their afternoons sorting through their aunt’s things—dusty records, yellowed books, notes scribbled in the margins of cookbooks. Every drawer holds something sentimental or strange. Miriam had been a little witchy, a little wild. She wrote letters she never sent. Kept love poems in a tin under her bed.

The girls laugh, cry, and argue through it all. But there’s an ache under the surface—waiting for the lawyer’s call to read the will. Waiting to know what their aunt really left behind.

And everywhere they go, the town has something to say.

At the diner, waitresses whisper when the girls walk in. At the gas station, old men tip their hats too slow. At the general store, Rhett smirks when he says, “Heard you’ve been spending time at Walker’s. He’s not the friendly type, y’know.”

Y/N ignores most of it, but Ava eats it up. She teases Y/N constantly.

“You’re a hot topic now,” she says one afternoon, tossing another stack of papers into a donation box. “The city girl who came back with legs, lips, and an oil-stained guardian angel.”

Y/N throws a sock at her.

Then the invitation comes.

The Cedar Rock Summer Social. A town dance held in the square, string lights, barbecue, live music, cold beer.

“Your aunt went every year,” Mrs. Callahan chirps when she drops off another pie. “She was always the best dancer. Real heartbreaker in her day.”

Ava’s already pulling up outfit ideas on her phone. “We’re going,” she says firmly. “You need to wear something soft and accidental. Like you just rolled out of a dream.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone,” Y/N lies.

Ava smirks. “You already are.”

That night, the square glows like magic.

Y/N wears a simple sundress—dusty blue, soft and fluttery at the edges. Her hair’s pinned half-up. Lip gloss catching the light. She feels nervous for reasons she refuses to name.

Ava looks like she walked off a runway—red dress, cowboy boots, daring grin.

They walk through the crowd, greeted by too many hellos, and then—

Y/N sees him.

Cal.

In a clean, fitted button-down. Dark jeans. Boots polished. Beard trimmed just enough. Still rough around the edges, but God, he cleans up good. Like someone took all that smolder and gave it shine.

He doesn’t see her at first—he’s leaning against a light post, watching the music quietly, sipping from a cold beer. But when he does see her—his eyes track her like he’s bracing for impact.

And he doesn’t look away.

Y/N’s stomach flips.

Ava leans in and murmurs, “You’re welcome.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. Yet.”

Later, when the band kicks into a slow, swaying rhythm, Ava nudges Y/N toward Cal.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Oh yes, you are. Either you walk over there, or I will.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I will. And I’ll ask him to dance myself, in that low sexy voice that always works.”

Y/N glares, red creeping up her neck. But Ava’s already pushing her forward.

She stumbles a little, stops a few feet from him. Cal’s brow raises slightly.

“You look different,” he says.

“So do you,” she fires back. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the grease and attitude.”

His mouth twitches. “Still got the attitude. Just left it in the truck.”

The music swells. People are dancing. The moment hovers.

Y/N hesitates, then blurts, “Do you… wanna dance?”

A beat.

Then, slowly, Cal sets his drink aside. Takes a step closer.

“I don’t really dance,” he murmurs.

She starts to nod, backing off—“It’s okay—”

But then he reaches for her hand.

“Didn’t say I wouldn’t try.”

When he touches her, it’s not like anything she expected. His hand is warm, rough, but his grip is gentle. Protective. They sway under the lights, surrounded by murmurs and soft fiddles.

And somewhere between his arm around her waist and the sound of his breath near her ear— Y/N realizes she’s in trouble.

Because her heart is beating too fast. Because she doesn’t want to pull away. Because Cal Walker smells like smoke and cedar and something else she could get addicted to.

And when their eyes meet—his gaze steady, unreadable—

She realizes she might not just like him.

She might really like him.

The song is slow. Soft. The kind of old tune you only hear at small-town dances or on your grandparents’ radio. The crowd sways, some couples close and lazy, others just barely moving.

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest, her free hand lightly resting on Cal’s shoulder—but it’s his hand on her waist that does her in. It’s firm. Possessive. Like he wants to pull her closer, but he’s holding back.

And their hands—God—he didn’t just take her hand politely like a gentleman. He intertwined their fingers. Like it meant something. Like he wasn’t planning to let go.

His thumb brushes the side of her hand in slow, unconscious strokes, sending heat racing up her arm.

“You’re not from around here,” he says, voice low. “That obvious?”

“You stick out,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to her mouth, then back up. “Not in a bad way.”

She swallows. “You… been here your whole life?”

“Most of it,” he says. “Left for a while. Came back. This town’s a pain in the ass, but it’s mine.”

A moment passes. The music hums on. His gaze stays locked to hers.

Then he says, “How old are you?”

The question catches her off guard. “What?”

“Your age,” he repeats, not letting her go. “You look young. Not a kid. But young.”

She hesitates. “Twenty-five.”

He’s quiet for a second. “Yeah. That tracks.”

“What about you?”

He smirks. “Older.”

“Cryptic.”

“Thirty-four.”

Y/N raises a brow. “That’s not bad.”

“You were expecting worse?”

“I don’t know. You give off serious grumpy-old-man energy.”

That pulls a low chuckle from his chest. It’s the first time she’s heard him laugh like that—real, unguarded. It does things to her.

Then his voice drops, a little rougher.

“You got a boyfriend back in the city?”

She blinks. “No. Why?”

“No reason,” he says, eyes dipping again, thumb still stroking her fingers. “Just wondered what kind of idiot would let someone like you go.”

The words hit like a punch wrapped in silk. Warm. Intimate. Dangerous.

She doesn’t know what to say. Can’t look away from him.

“You ask all the girls you dance with questions like that?” she tries to joke, her voice a little shakier than she wants it to be.

“I don’t dance with girls,” he says. “Just you.”

The space between them gets smaller. His hand slides just a little lower on her waist. Not indecent—but just enough to make her breath catch. Just enough to make her feel it.

“You cold?” he asks, voice like smoke.

“No,” she whispers.

“Good.”

Because he’s not planning to let go yet.

The song winds down, soft chords fading into the clatter of applause and laughter. Couples begin to drift apart, breaking to get drinks, cool off, or sneak kisses behind food trucks.

Y/N steps back, just a little. “Thanks for the dance,” she says, voice quiet, a little breathless.

But Cal doesn’t let go right away.

His hand lingers on her waist, rough palm warm through the thin fabric of her dress. His other hand still holds hers, fingers still locked, and when he leans in—just a little—he brushes his lips against her cheek.

Not too close to the mouth. Not too far either.

Just dangerously in-between.

“Anytime,” he murmurs. And then he lets go.

The absence of him is immediate.

Y/N turns just in time to see Ava materialize, practically buzzing. She shoves a plastic cup into Y/N’s hand. Something cold and fruity.

“I could see the heat from across the square,” Ava grins. “You were practically glowing.”

“It was just a dance,” Y/N mutters, cheeks burning.

“Mmhmm. And I’m just your sister,” Ava says, sipping from her own drink. “You gonna pretend you didn’t like that?”

Y/N doesn’t answer. She just takes a long sip. Her lips still feel warm.

Then someone else approaches.

He’s cute in that polished, local, “still lives with his mom but has a good smile” kind of way. Button-up shirt. Fresh haircut. Hands in his pockets like he’s trying to play cool.

“Hey,” he says, looking straight at Y/N. “You wanna dance?”

Y/N blinks. She wasn’t expecting that. She opens her mouth to say no, gently, politely—

And then her eyes flick toward Cal.

He’s across the square again, leaning against a post, beer in hand. His head is turned toward a friend who’s talking to him—but his eyes?

Locked on her.

There’s no smirk. No playfulness. Just that deep, unreadable stare. His eyes say: I dare you.

And suddenly Y/N’s heart is in her throat.

It would be so easy to say no.

But then Ava nudges her hard in the side. “Go,” she whispers. “Don’t be weird. He’s cute.”

“I don’t—”

“Y/N. It’s one dance. Move your feet, Juliet.”

Y/N gives one last glance to Cal. Still watching. Still unreadable.

So she forces a smile, nods at the new guy, and lets him lead her back to the dance floor.

His hand is light on her back. He talks a lot. His cologne is too strong. His rhythm’s a little awkward. But none of that registers.

Because the whole time, she’s looking for Cal.

And when she finds him again, leaning back now, one boot crossed over the other, beer to his lips—he’s not smiling.

There’s a shadow in his expression now. A chill behind those hot dark eyes. Something possessive.

Something that says: You think I won’t take you back the second I want to?

And Y/N?

She feels it. All the way down.

The song drags on, too slow for how stiff the guy’s hands feel. Y/N shifts, trying to stay polite, but she’s hyper-aware—of his grip inching lower, of how he leans in a little too close to talk over the music.

And she can feel it.

Cal’s eyes. Somewhere behind her. Watching.

The guy chuckles nervously. “You uh… you new in town or just visiting?”

“Just here for my aunt,” she says softly, trying to shift her body without making it obvious. “She passed recently.”

“Oh. Damn. Sorry. That’s rough…”

His voice trails off because suddenly—Cal is there.

Standing just behind her dance partner. Silent. Still. And too close.

The guy turns mid-sentence, and freezes.

Cal’s not saying a word. He’s not even frowning. His expression is neutral—casual, even. But the energy is suffocating. He’s taller. Broader. And he’s looking at the guy like he already knows where to bury the body.

“Everything good?” Cal asks, voice calm. Smooth.

The guy swallows. “Y-Yeah. I was just—uh—just saying hi.”

Cal tilts his head. “That so?”

Y/N can feel the tension bleeding into her skin. It’s quiet, but deadly. Her partner takes a step back.

Then, as he’s turning to walk away, Cal does something only she sees:

A hand—flat, fast—pressed hard against the guy’s lower back. Not friendly. Not visible to the crowd. But the guy stumbles a little as he walks away, eyes wide. He doesn’t look back.

Y/N just stares.

Cal turns to her like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just threaten someone with a touch.

“You looked uncomfortable,” he says. No apology in it.

“I was fine.”

He raises a brow. “No. You weren’t.”

Before she can say anything else, Ava reappears—laughing too loud, flushed from dancing, holding a cup in each hand.

“Ohhh my God,” she slurs lightly. “Y/N, this DJ is playing Backstreet Boys. Get your ass over there, we’re time-traveling.”

She hands her a drink, clearly her second or third. Maybe fourth.

Y/N pulls it away. “Are you kidding me? I drove.”

“Pfft, so? I’ll crash at the house. You can stay for a bit—loosen up.”

“You’ve had way too much—”

“I’m fiiiiiine,” Ava purrs, then promptly disappears into the crowd again, drink sloshing.

Y/N stands there, tense, annoyed, her hand still holding a sweating plastic cup she didn’t ask for.

Then Cal leans in.

“Come on. Let me take you home.”

She looks at him. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His tone dips lower. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself tonight. Especially not with her like that.”

Y/N glances around—people laughing, drinking, dancing like they’ve got nowhere to be. She could stay. Could walk home. But her body’s already leaning toward him.

“Okay,” she says, voice quiet.

He doesn’t smile. Just nods once. Leads her to the truck.

Only… he doesn’t take her to her aunt’s house.

They pull out of town, passing familiar turns. Y/N watches the road, confused.

“This isn’t the way back,” she says.

“Nope.”

She tenses. “Where are we going?”

“My place,” he says, casually. “Closer. Safer.”

She turns to him. “You could’ve told me that.”

“I figured if you didn’t trust me, you wouldn’t’ve gotten in the truck.”

And the worst part is—he’s right

The truck rumbles to a stop outside a modest, one-story house set back from the road. Wood-paneled, metal roof, gravel driveway. A garage off to the side, lights off now. Everything is quiet, too quiet—except for the buzz of crickets and the hum of electricity in the air.

Y/N steps out and follows Cal up the porch steps, her shoes crunching against the old wood. He unlocks the door with a heavy keyring, pushing it open without ceremony.

“Come in,” he says over his shoulder, already walking in like she belongs there.

She steps inside slowly. The air smells like cedar, motor oil, something masculine and woodsy. Not dirty—but lived in. The living room is all worn leather, flannel throws, a couple old records scattered near a player. Tools on the counter. A knife on the coffee table.

Y/N slips off her shoes at the door, barefoot against cool wood floors. She tucks her arms around herself.

It feels too quiet. Too intimate.

But Cal?

Cool as ice.

He tosses his keys into a bowl, heads into the kitchen like this is routine. Opens the fridge. “Want a beer?”

She hesitates. “…Sure.”

He tosses her one underhanded. She barely catches it.

He leans back against the counter, popping his own open. She cracks hers with a soft hiss and takes a small sip. Cold. Bitter.

“You always bring girls home this easy?” she asks, trying to mask her nerves.

He smirks. “You’re not easy.”

That shuts her up.

He watches her over the rim of his bottle. Eyes sharp. Curious.

“So,” he says slowly, “you ever been in love?”

The question punches the air out of her lungs.

She looks away. “What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one.”

“…Once. Maybe.”

He takes another drink. “You ever get your heart broken?”

She nods, slowly.

“Ever break someone else’s?”

“Probably,” she says. “But I didn’t mean to.”

He steps closer. Casual. Still holding his drink.

“You with anyone now?”

“No.”

He tilts his head. “How many people you been with?”

She bristles. “That’s private.”

“I know,” he says softly. “That’s why I’m asking.”

She exhales. “Three. That matter?”

His eyes flicker. Something dark. “No.”

A beat.

“…Fewer than me,” he admits. “But I haven’t touched anyone in a long time.”

She meets his eyes again. Something tight and breathless coils in her chest.

And then he’s closer. Inches.

He reaches up—slowly—and brushes a strand of hair from her face. His fingers trail down her jaw, calloused but gentle. Her breath hitches.

Their eyes lock.

Then his gaze drops—to her lips.

And he leans in.

The kiss is soft at first. Testing. Tasting. He’s careful. She’s frozen.

But then she exhales—and kisses him back. Her beer forgotten, she sets it down blindly on the counter, arms wrapping around his shoulders as if something inside her cracked open.

His hands slide down to her waist, grip tightening.

And in one smooth motion—he lifts her.

She gasps against his mouth, legs instinctively wrapping around his hips, arms around his neck. He walks, steady and sure, past the couch, down the short hall.

To the bedroom.

The door shuts behind them.

The door clicks shut behind him, soft but final. The room is dark except for a lamp in the corner, casting a golden glow across worn wood, thick sheets, and shadows dancing on the walls.

He doesn’t set her down.

He just presses her back against the door, their mouths crashing together again, hotter now. Less careful. His hands roam—strong, calloused palms dragging down her sides, gripping her thighs, squeezing her like he’s memorizing the shape of her.

Y/N whimpers when his teeth catch her bottom lip, tugging just enough to make her feel it. Her hips rock forward instinctively, and he groans against her mouth—low, rough, like he’s holding back something wild.

“Been thinkin’ about this,” he mutters against her neck, “since you walked into my garage in that damn sundress.”

His teeth find her throat—bite, not just a kiss—and she gasps, clinging tighter.

“You smell sweet,” he growls. “Soft little thing… I knew you’d melt in my hands.”

He walks them to the bed, tossing her down onto it like she weighs nothing. She hits the mattress with a soft gasp, hair spread around her like a halo—but her eyes? Glazed. Wanting. His.

Cal peels off his shirt, slow and deliberate, muscles rippling. She watches him like he’s carved from heat and sweat and sin.

Then he climbs over her, straddling her hips, fingers finding the hem of her dress.

“This pretty thing,” he murmurs, pushing it up inch by inch, “how wet are you in it right now, sweetheart?”

She squirms. Breathless. Embarrassed. Turned on.

His palm slides between her thighs—and when he presses his fingers to her panties, he growls low in his throat.

“Fuck. You’re soaked.”

Y/N whines as he rubs slow, steady circles over the fabric—teasing, never enough. His other hand slides under the dress, up her belly, to her bra.

“Can I mark you?” he asks, voice dark velvet. “Can I make you mine?”

She nods—barely a breath.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” she whispers.

He leans down—mouth hot on her collarbone, then her shoulder—then her breast. He bites. Sucks. Leaves a dark mark just above the lace edge. And another. And another.

She’s panting now, writhing beneath him.

“You’re mine tonight,” he growls against her skin. “No one else gets to touch you. Look at you. Think about you.”

His fingers slip beneath the soaked cotton of her panties—and she moans as he finally touches bare skin.

His fingers slide beneath her panties, slow and deliberate, until they find the slick heat between her thighs.

“Goddamn,” he growls, voice thick. “You’re dripping, baby.”

Y/N arches against him, mouth open, breath coming fast as his fingers stroke her—teasing, circling, dipping inside just to pull back out again. It’s maddening.

“Cal—” she gasps.

He cuts her off with another kiss—deep, hot, tongue sliding against hers while his thumb finds her clit and presses. She cries out into his mouth, and he grins against her lips.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “Let me hear it.”

He pulls her panties off with one strong tug, rips the bra from under her dress with barely a flick of his wrist. She’s laid bare beneath him—flushed, panting, legs spread—and he just watches her for a beat, eyes drinking her in like he’s memorizing every inch.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters.

Then he’s on her again—mouth everywhere. Kissing down her chest, biting her soft skin, leaving dark bruises on her breasts, her ribs, her thighs. She writhes beneath him, hands tangled in his hair, moaning his name like a prayer.

When he slides two thick fingers inside her, she gasps—hips lifting off the mattress.

“Cal—oh my God—”

“You’re gonna come for me first,” he says roughly. “I’m not even getting inside you until you fall apart on my hand.”

He curls his fingers just right, rubbing deep, his thumb rolling over her clit with perfect pressure.

It doesn’t take long.

Y/N shatters with a cry, her back arching, her thighs clamping around his wrist. He keeps going, slow and steady, dragging it out, watching her tremble beneath him.

When she finally sags back against the bed, boneless and whimpering, he leans down and licks her slick off his fingers.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he growls.

Then he strips the rest of the way—jeans, boxers—and she sees him.

Big. Thick. Hard. Veins running down his shaft like sin carved into flesh.

Her breath catches. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He smirks. “Not tonight.”

He spreads her legs again, crawling between them, lining himself up. He pauses—just a moment—pressing the tip of his cock against her soaked entrance.

“You sure?” he murmurs.

“Please,” she whispers.

He thrusts into her in one slow, thick push—and they both moan. Deep, guttural. She clutches at his shoulders, gasping as he stretches her wide, fills her completely.

“Jesus, you feel good,” he groans into her neck. “Tight little pussy—fuck.”

He starts to move. Deep, slow strokes at first. His hips grind against hers, dragging delicious friction over her clit. Her nails dig into his back. She’s already close again.

Cal gets rougher. His hand wraps under her knee, pushing it up toward her chest. He drives into her harder, deeper, his breath hot against her ear.

“You’re mine,” he growls. “Say it.”

“Yours,” she gasps.

He slams into her.

“Louder.”

“Yours, Cal—yours!”

That snaps something in him.

He fucks her like he’s claiming her—biting her shoulder, sucking marks into her throat, holding her down with one big hand against her belly while the other grips her throat just enough to make her feel it.

She comes again. Harder this time. Screaming his name.

He follows with a groan, hips stuttering, holding deep inside her as he spills hot and thick. His teeth sink into her collarbone as he rides out his orgasm, growling her name like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

Morning.

The sun’s peeking through dusty blinds. Y/N stirs beneath heavy covers, skin sore, marked, and still humming from the night before.

She’s in his shirt—massive, soft, hanging off one shoulder. She stretches, her thighs aching deliciously.

Cal’s already up. Shirtless, jeans half-buttoned, tugging on boots by the door.

He looks back when he hears her move—and grins.

“Sleep alright, sunshine?” His voice is low, teasing—but there’s a glint of something darker behind it. Possession.

She sits up, rubbing her eyes. “Barely. You didn’t exactly let me rest.”

He chuckles. “You didn’t complain.”

She blushes and looks away. “Where’s my dress?”

He walks over, leans down, one hand cupping the back of her head as he kisses her—slow, lingering, deep. Like he’s reminding her who put her in his bed.

Then he pulls back, eyes locked on hers.

“I’m takin’ you home,” he says. “But don’t think for a second you’re done with me.”

Y/N’s aunt’s house. Late morning. The sun is way too bright for someone who got absolutely destroyed the night before. Y/N slips through the front door barefoot, wearing her wrinkled sundress and Cal’s flannel jacket thrown over her shoulders.

The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

She tries to creep past the living room, but Ava’s voice cuts through like a knife.

“Well, well, well,” Ava drawls from the couch, still in pajama shorts and an oversized tee, coffee mug in hand. “Look what the cat dragged home.”

Y/N groans. “Not now.”

“Oh no, we are absolutely doing this now.” Ava grins, propping her feet up. “Is that his flannel?”

Y/N glares. “I wasn’t gonna walk barefoot in my dress like a walk-of-shame fairytale character.”

“So you admit it was a walk of shame.”

She sighs, collapsing into the chair across from her. “Can you just—don’t make this worse.”

Ava sips her coffee with a sparkle in her eye. “Alright, alright, I’ll be chill… after one very important question.”

Y/N lifts a brow. “…What?”

Ava leans in, eyes wide, voice stage-whispers: “Please tell me you used a condom.”

Y/N covers her face with both hands. “Oh my God.”

A beat of silence.

Ava gasps. “Y/N.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You didn’t?!”

“He was—ugh, I don’t know, it just—happened!”

“Girl,” Ava groans, flopping back dramatically, “these small-town men are always raw-dogging. That’s why Mrs. Kellerman has seven kids and looks like she hasn’t slept since 1992.”

Y/N groans into her hands. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“Oh, it is not. You got absolutely ruined by a hot mechanic. You’re glowing. I’m just making sure you’re not glowing with twins.”

“I’m going to scream.”

Ava smirks, clearly living for it. “You should at least get brunch out of it. Maybe a ring.”

Y/N throws a cushion at her. Ava catches it like a pro.

“Okay, okay, I’m done… for now.”

They sit in silence for a moment. Then Y/N, still curled up in flannel, mutters, “…Wanna do dinner tonight?”

Ava’s head tilts. “You cooking, or are we being classy with gas station wine and frozen pizza?”

“I’ll cook,” Y/N says, “if you promise not to bring up the phrase ‘raw dog’ ever again.”

“No promises,” Ava says with a smirk, “but I will bring dessert.”

That evening, dinner at the house.

Y/N cooks something simple but good—pasta, garlic bread, salad, wine. Ava "helps" by dancing around the kitchen to 2000s pop and drinking more wine than she pours into the glasses.

The front door creaks open. Y/N looks up—heart skipping—just in time to see Cal step inside. Clean jeans. Fitted henley. Beard freshly trimmed. His usual brooding energy wrapped up in something just charming enough to survive dinner with Ava.

Y/N hadn’t invited him.

Ava did.

He walks over, gives Y/N a once-over that makes her glow, and says, “Smells good.”

She mumbles a flustered thanks.

At the table, things are... chaotic.

Ava’s halfway through her second glass, going off about town gossip, weird neighbors, and Cal’s “grumpy hotness.” Y/N hides her face while Cal just eats like none of it phases him.

Then Ava leans in, wine-drunk and grinning. “So, Cal… you got a hot brother too, or are you the whole damn bloodline?”

Y/N nearly chokes on her drink.

Cal lifts a brow, lips twitching into the smallest smirk. “No brothers. But you couldn’t handle two of me.”

Ava cackles. “I don’t know, I’m pretty strong.”

He glances at Y/N, eyes sharp with heat. “You’d be surprised what you can or can’t handle.”

Y/N kicks him under the table. He doesn’t flinch.

Later, the dishes are stacked high in the sink. Y/N’s washing, humming quietly, trying to calm the storm still simmering in her chest. She hears Ava turn on the TV in the next room, half-tipsy and stretched out on the couch.

Cal moves beside her, grabbing a towel to dry.

“I could’ve done this tomorrow,” she murmurs, trying to focus on the water and not him. “You didn’t have to help.”

“You cook, I clean. Fair trade.”

She hands him a wet plate. He brushes her hand on purpose.

It happens again. And again.

Then—a shift.

She’s leaned slightly forward, reaching for a dish, when she feels it—

His cock.

Hard. Pressed right against her bottom. Just enough to feel the shape, the size, the intent. Not by accident.

Her body stiffens.

“Cal,” she says softly, warning in her voice.

But he doesn’t move away.

Instead, his hand slides around her waist. Slow. Sure. Then the other comes next, still damp from the towel.

He leans in close, breath hot against her ear.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about last night,” he murmurs.

Then, in one quick movement, he turns her—hands on her hips—and lifts her up onto the edge of the counter. Her legs fall open around him instinctively.

“Wait—” she gasps.

But his mouth is already on hers—hot, hungry, filthy. His hands slide under her dress, gripping her thighs, thumbs brushing the soft crease where her hips meet her core.

She moans, head tilting back, fingers tangled in his shirt.

His cock grinds against her through his jeans, slow and heavy.

“Cal,” she breathes, “we can’t—Ava’s right there.”

“She’s out,” he growls. “TV’s up. She won’t hear.”

He pulls his jeans down just enough—hard cock springing free—and pushes her panties aside.

He thrusts into her in one smooth stroke, hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the moan that rips from her throat.

“You missed this, didn’t you,” he grits out. “This pussy’s still fuckin’ wet for me.”

He pounds into her—rough, deep, making the whole counter shake. She claws at his back, biting her lip to stay silent.

When she comes, her body jerks—tight, shaking—clamping around him until he growls and follows, burying himself deep.

They breathe hard in the dark kitchen, the smell of soap and sex thick in the air.

She finally whispers, dazed and wrecked, “…Next time, wear a condom.”

He leans in, kisses the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then her lips.

“Sure,” he murmurs. “But I won’t promise I’ll stick to it.”

Time Skip: One Week Later

The lawyer is still dragging his feet.

Some "delay in the estate paperwork," whatever that means. Ava called it "small-town disorganization with a hint of secret conspiracy." Y/N didn’t laugh. Not really.

The house is half-packed now. The girls have boxes stacked in every room, bubble wrap everywhere, and half-finished coffee cups forgotten on windowsills. They’re ready to leave—ready to go back to the noise, the smog, the chaos of the city. Somewhere safe. Somewhere familiar.

But something keeps tugging at Y/N. A weight she can’t explain.

Maybe it’s the way Cal’s been showing up every day, like clockwork—dropping by with food, touching her lower back when Ava’s not looking, whispering things that keep her up at night. Or maybe it’s the silence in her aunt’s room—the room she’s been avoiding.

That Afternoon

Ava’s digging through the old cedar trunk at the end of Miriam’s bed, tossing out scarves, dusty photo albums, ancient candles.

Y/N’s in the hallway, boxing up books, when she hears:

“Uh… Y/N?”

Her sister’s voice sounds… weird.

Y/N walks into the room, wiping her hands on her shirt. “What?”

Ava’s holding something. A small leather-bound notebook, worn soft with age, and an envelope tucked inside.

The envelope says Y/N’s name. In her aunt’s handwriting.

“Where’d you find that?”

“Stuffed inside one of her old cookbooks,” Ava murmurs. “The one you were obsessed with when we were kids.”

Y/N takes the letter slowly. Her fingers tremble as she unfolds it.

The Letter

My sweet girl,

If you’re reading this, then I’m gone. I hope you’re okay. I hope you came with Ava, that you didn’t come back here alone. And I hope you’re safe.

There’s something you should know about Cal Walker.

He helped me fix this house after the divorce. He was kind. Quiet. A little too quiet. But I didn’t think anything of it at first. Until I started noticing… things.

Photos going missing. Your name coming up too often. Questions about your life in the city. About your job. Your routines. Your looks. At first, I thought it was protective.

But then I found the letters.

Old ones. From when you were still a teenager. Letters to me… about you. I kept them. They're in the trunk.

Y/N… he’s been watching you longer than you realize. I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want to scare you. I thought maybe he’d moved on.

But if he hasn’t—if he’s still around—you need to be careful. He doesn’t just want to protect you. He wants to own you.

Y/N’s hands are shaking. Her chest feels tight. Ava is staring at her, pale.

Y/N whispers, “Where are the letters?”

Ava opens the notebook.

Inside are three folded pages. Yellowed. Creased. And written in Cal’s handwriting.

Y/N's vision blurred with unshed tears. The weight of her aunt's words pressed heavily on her chest. Ava, sensing the gravity of the moment, placed a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder.

"We need to get out of here," Ava murmured, her voice laced with urgency. "Pack our things, leave tonight."

Y/N nodded slowly, the reality of the situation sinking in. "But what about the lawyer? The estate?"

"Screw the lawyer," Ava snapped. "Our safety comes first. My car's in good shape; we'll manage without the truck."

Determined, the sisters moved swiftly, gathering their belongings with a newfound urgency. As they packed, Y/N's mind raced, piecing together moments and interactions with Cal that now took on a more sinister hue.

Evening

The horizon was painted in shades of crimson and gold as Ava loaded the last of their bags into the trunk. Y/N took one final look at the house that had once been a sanctuary of childhood summers and family gatherings. Now, it felt like a cage, its walls whispering secrets she wished she'd never uncovered.

Sliding into the passenger seat, Y/N fastened her seatbelt, her hands clenched into fists. Ava started the engine, the car humming to life, ready to put miles between them and the shadows of the past.

As they pulled away, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of unseen eyes watching, a chill crawling down her spine. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: they were leaving Dodge, and there was no looking back.

Later That Night – Somewhere on the Road

The highway stretches out before them, long and dark, flanked by open fields and flickering street lamps. Ava drives with one hand on the wheel, music low. Her other hand holds a gas station coffee like it’s a lifeline.

Y/N is silent in the passenger seat, curled up with her knees drawn close. Her phone’s screen glows faintly in her lap—silent. Waiting.

She’s holding one of the letters.

The paper is soft, yellowed with age. The handwriting is unmistakably Cal’s—strong, deliberate, just a little rough around the edges.

The First Letter

Miriam, She came to visit again today. Y/N. She’s older now. Grown into herself. Beautiful. Not just in the way she looks, but the way she moves—like she doesn’t know how the world leans toward her without realizing it. Like the gravity around her is different.

She asked about my truck. Smiled when I showed her the rebuilt engine. That smile stuck in my head all night. It’s still there.

You said not to write about her. That I should let her be. But I can’t.

I’m not going to hurt her. I just want to protect her. Keep her safe. Keep her mine. And if she ever comes back here for good… I’ll be ready.

She doesn’t belong in the city. She belongs here. With me.

— Cal

Y/N’s stomach twists.

She flips to the next page.

The Second Letter

I saw a photo of her on your fridge. She cut her hair. She looked tired.

Does she know how beautiful she is when she’s tired? Does she know how much she needs someone to take care of her?

I don’t like the men she dates. I looked one of them up. Banker. Pretty boy. He wouldn’t know what to do with her. Wouldn’t know how to touch her, or how to make her feel safe. She needs someone strong. Someone who’s not afraid to take what’s his.

I’ve been fixing the spare room. Just in case.

She’d be happier here. Eventually, she’d see that.

Y/N’s hands shake.

There’s a third letter.

She doesn’t read it right away.

Because—her phone starts to buzz.

She looks down. CAL WALKER.

She lets it ring. Ignores it.

It rings again. And again. And again.

Her hand hovers. Ava glances over. “Is that him?”

Y/N nods silently.

“You better not answer that.”

“I won’t.”

The phone goes quiet.

Then—a text.

Where are you?

Then another.

Y/N.

Then another.

Answer me.

She doesn’t move.

But something inside her feels like it just snapped.

Highway. Still dark. Still nowhere.

The dashboard glows dimly. The hum of the road is the only sound until Ava speaks—sharp, low.

"He's not stopping, Y/N."

Y/N’s staring at the phone. More texts flood in:

You shouldn’t have left.

Come home.

It’s not safe out there.

Answer me or I’ll come find you.

Her breath shakes as she clutches the last letter—still unopened, folded tightly in her hand like it might bite her. Ava glances at it, then back to the road.

“That the worst one?” she asks.

Y/N nods, barely.

Ava jerks the wheel and pulls off the road into a gravel turnout, dust kicking up as the car rolls to a stop under a blinking gas station sign long out of service.

“We’re reading it,” she says. “Right now. You need to see what else he’s hiding before he shows up on the fucking road.”

Y/N hesitates.

Then unfolds the letter with trembling fingers.

The Third Letter

I watched her from across the street today.

Not close. Just... enough.

She had no idea I was there. But I know her patterns. How she walks. When she stops to tie her shoe. When she takes that dumb little sketchbook out at the café. People walk right past her like she’s just another girl.

They don’t see her. Not like I do.

She belongs to me, Miriam.

And if she ever comes back here, I won’t make the mistake of letting her go again. I’ll be gentle. At first. She’ll understand, eventually. She’ll be grateful.

Because no one will ever love her like I do.

Y/N covers her mouth with a shaking hand.

Ava’s face goes pale.

“Oh my God. He’s been stalking you for years.”

Y/N nods, heart hammering.

Her phone buzzes again.

A new message.

You really think you can leave?

She drops the phone like it burned her.

Another buzz.

You’re mine, sweetheart. You don’t walk away from me.

“Fuck this,” Ava mutters, throwing the car into drive. “We’re going straight to the city. No stops. We’ll find a motel later, lock ourselves in, get new phones, whatever it takes.”

“Do you think he’s following us?” Y/N whispers.

“I don’t know,” Ava says tightly. “But if he is, we’re gonna make it real hard for him to catch up.”

Y/N stares out the window, heart pounding, letters clutched to her chest.

But in her gut?

She feels it.

That cold, crawling certainty.

Cal knows exactly where they are.

3:02 AM – Ava’s Apartment, Chicago

The city’s quiet in that eerie way it only gets when the night is almost over. When everything’s still except the occasional whoosh of a late cab or the hum of the fridge.

Y/N stands in the doorway of Ava’s guest room, arms wrapped tight around herself, still wearing the same clothes from the road. Her hair’s messy. Skin clammy. Her eyes look hollow under the yellow streetlight pouring through the blinds.

Ava’s already sprawled across her bed, phone on the nightstand, shoes kicked off. She hasn’t said a word in twenty minutes. Just… breathing, watching the ceiling. One hand still gripping her keys.

Neither of them really slept on the way back. They took turns behind the wheel, taking corners like they were being followed. Because maybe they were. Or maybe fear just made it feel that way.

Y/N lowers herself onto the bed slowly, like her bones aren’t hers anymore. She curls up in one of Ava’s oversized hoodies, but she’s cold.

She closes her eyes.

And he’s there.

Not in the room. In her mind.

Cal. Between her legs. Whispering in her ear. Biting her skin like it was his. The way he looked at her like he already owned her. That first slow kiss in the kitchen. His hands gripping her thighs, her throat, her hips. The sound of him growling her name when he came inside her—raw, deep, and shameless.

The way she wanted it.

The way she let him.

Y/N sits up suddenly, choking on her own breath.

Ava stirs. “Hey—hey. You okay?”

“No.” Her voice is barely there. “He touched me like he knew me. Like he always had. And I let him. I let him take me like I was already his.”

Ava’s eyes soften. She sits up too, wrapping an arm around her.

“You didn’t know,” she says firmly. “You didn’t have all the pieces. He played you, Y/N.”

“I liked it,” Y/N whispers, tears building. “That’s the worst part.”

“Liking something doesn’t make you responsible for someone else’s manipulation. He hid this from you. He hunted you.”

Y/N shudders, curling into Ava’s side.

“But what if he comes here?”

Ava tightens her grip. “Then we call the cops. We change your number. We tell everyone. We don’t let him take another inch.”

Silence.

Then Y/N, barely audible: “I don’t think he wants just inches. I think he wants all of me.”

Her phone buzzes.

She forgot to silence it. The name on the screen?

No Caller ID.

Y/N doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move.

But the screen stays lit until the glow fades to black.

A Few Days Later 

Ava didn’t waste time. By noon the next day, she was on the phone with a detective friend—Detective Reyna Cruz. Blunt, sharp, all business. Within hours, Cruz was at the apartment, taking statements, reading the letters, staring at Cal’s name like she already knew trouble when she saw it.

“He’s got no criminal record,” Cruz said as she flipped through her notepad. “But that doesn’t mean he’s clean. Men like him—quiet, helpful, devoted—they know how to hide obsession in plain sight.”

They filed a restraining order. It wouldn’t hold forever, not if he stayed quiet, not unless he did something big. But it was a start.

Ava changed the locks.

Y/N changed her number.

They bought cameras, set up alerts, and even took turns sleeping on the couch.

But no knocks. No shadow in the hall. No Cal.

Not yet.

Weeks Pass

The days stretch out soft and uneventful.

Y/N returns to her art, to her job, to the comforting noise of the city. She drinks her old coffee. Takes the train again. Falls back into the rhythm of anonymity—where strangers don’t stare too long, and no one looks at her like they know what she looks like when she cries.

She even begins going out alone. Not far. Just enough to breathe.

She’s working again. She’s smiling again. She goes to lunch with Ava, texts old friends, reorganizes her kitchen, listens to music too loud.

The nightmares come less often.

The bruises faded.

Sometimes, she thinks about the way Cal kissed her, and she hates herself for remembering it fondly. Sometimes she wonders if it was all fake—or if part of him really thought it was love.

But Then…

The first weird text comes at 1:47 AM.

No number. Just a message:

Still taste you on my tongue.

She blocks it.

Two days later, a call from a random number. No voicemail. Just silence when she answers. Like someone breathing too softly.

She brushes it off.

Then a text, later that week:

You looked pretty in that sweater. The gray one.

She hasn’t worn that sweater since yesterday.

Her throat tightens.

She wants to believe it’s just paranoia. That she’s overreacting.

But when she turns her head at the coffee shop window, just for a second, she sees a man across the street.

He’s leaning against a post. Not moving. Not on his phone.

Just watching.

And when she blinks, he’s gone.

The Next Morning

Y/N stares at the message on her phone again:

You looked pretty in that sweater.

She hadn’t worn it in a photo. Not recently. Not publicly.

But she scrolls through her old posts anyway. Tries to find one where maybe—maybe—she had the same one on. Months ago. Years ago. Something to explain it.

She finds one. Over a year old. Same sweater. Her face is barely visible in the selfie, mostly coffee and a croissant. But it’s enough.

“That’s it,” she tells herself. “He’s just online. He’s not here.”

But she doesn’t believe it.

Still, she says nothing to Ava.

That Afternoon – The “Date”

It’s not even a real date.

Just coffee with Jordan—a coworker from her freelance team. Friendly, harmless, a little flirty, but nothing serious. He’d been helping her on a project, and this was just their first time meeting in person.

They laugh over overpriced lattes. Jordan leans in when he talks. Compliments her hair. Offers to walk her home after.

Y/N says no. Politely.

But her smile lingers longer than it should.

She doesn't know across the street, under the shadows of an old alley awning, Cal is watching.

Cal, in the Dark

He sees her laugh. He sees the way she touches her necklace when she’s nervous. He sees the man—sitting too close, saying too much, looking at her like he has the right.

That’s his girl.

He fed her. Held her. Fucked her. He marked her body with his teeth and name. She was soft in his bed. She moaned for him.

Now she’s pretending none of that happened?

Worse—she’s replacing him?

His fists clench in his jacket pockets. His jaw ticks. His chest feels like it’s going to split open.

She needs reminding. She’s not free. She never was.

That Night – 1:11 AM

Y/N’s apartment is quiet. Ava’s out of town for a weekend conference. Y/N double-checked the locks. She lit a candle. Turned on soft music. Her favorite movie plays low in the background as she lays on the couch, trying to unwind.

She feels proud. Confident again. Even… maybe ready.

She doesn’t notice the unlocked window. The one in the bathroom, barely cracked from earlier when she aired it out after a shower.

She brushes her teeth. Rinses her face. Slips into an old tee and cotton shorts. Her phone is already charging.

She turns off the light.

She climbs into bed.

Pulls the blankets over herself and exhales.

Then— a hand. Over her mouth. From behind.

She screams, but it’s muffled. Her body is dragged back, strong arms locking around her, one around her waist, the other pressing tight to her mouth.

“Shhh,” a voice growls into her ear. Low. Familiar. Final.

Cal.

“You’ve been very, very bad, sweetheart.”

Her scream dies under his hand—rough, calloused, clamped over her mouth with the same hands that once stroked her hair and held her waist during slow dances. Only now they don’t feel safe.

They feel like iron.

Y/N thrashes wildly, kicking, scratching, bucking—but his body doesn’t move. He’s solid. A wall of muscle and heat. She can feel his thigh pinning her down—hard, heavy, and wide as her hips. His breath fans over her ear, hungry and dark.

“Did you miss me?” he whispers, lips brushing her cheek. “’Cause I missed everything about you.”

She writhes harder, screams again, but he only tightens his grip—arm clamped around her middle like a belt.

“Shhh,” he growls, lowering them both to the bed, pinning her beneath his weight. “You’ve been out there pretending. Playing house. Laughing with other men. But that’s not you, is it?”

He nuzzles against her neck, inhaling her like a memory.

“No,” he murmurs, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw. “That’s not my girl.”

Y/N spits under his hand, jerks her head violently, but he catches her chin and forces her still.

“God, you’re so difficult when you’re scared,” he growls, his body pressing tighter to hers—hips locking hers in place. “But I like that. I do. Makes it more fun when you give in.”

His thigh grinds between hers and she sobs into his hand, trying to twist out from under him. Her nails rake his skin. Her legs kick, desperate.

He grunts when she lands a hit, but it only fuels him.

“You’re still soft under all that fight,” he mutters, his hand sliding low over her stomach. “Still mine. Still mine.”

She shakes her head violently, tears spilling.

His lips ghost her ear. “Shhh. I’ll be gentle, baby. I’ll remind you how good I make you feel. You remember, don’t you? You remember how I stretched you open and made you beg. You’re already wet for me—”

“NO!” she screams under his hand, thrashing so hard she almost breaks free—

But he snaps.

Suddenly his palm leaves her mouth, and she gets half a cry out before his hand slams down again—across her face.

Her vision flares.

She gasps—shock, pain—and then—

Darkness.

Later – Somewhere Else

She comes to slowly.

The air is colder. Rougher. It smells like sawdust and oil.

She’s lying on something soft but unfamiliar.

Blankets. A cot?

Her wrists are tied in front of her with something thick—shop rags. Her legs are free. For now.

And when her eyes finally adjust—

She sees him.

Cal. Sitting in a chair across from her, watching.

His elbows rest on his knees, forearms flexed, hands still streaked faintly with grease. His eyes are calm—but underneath? Something wild.

He smiles, almost tenderly.

“There she is,” he murmurs. “Home.”

[merakiui]

JADE MUSHROOM DILDOS????? THE SENTIENT DOLL PROMPT?? WOULD SOME MORE DETAILS! WHENEVER I TRY TO RUN, THE TWEELS ENSNARE MY ATTENTION AND HEART BY WRAPPING THEIR LONG AND SLIMY TAILS AROUND IT <333

(Fem darling)

Although they're nerds... Maidenless, pathetic (absolutely adorable) I still adore the trope of suave and sleek on the outside, handsome and reliable (yet dubious) Jade, wild and free Floyd who wants to get freaky.. They're what the freshmen of NRC aspire to be. Charismatic and enigmatic.

Yet when behind closed doors, both of them are absolute loser virgins. Nerds who haven't lost their first kiss. Nerds that simply can't admit to liking the prefect~ They're always bullying darling cause it's "fun".

It's not like they could ever harbour feelings for a lil shrimpie! That's ridiculous! Their sex doll? Pfft! Doesn't resemble that shrimpie at all! (This reminds me a little bit of that onna hole series but the difference being that, darling doesn't feel it.)

They're just in complete denial aren't they? They both hide the sexdoll they have, Floyd doesn't know that Jade has one that's nearly the same, Jade doesn't either. Despite them having their own respective ones, their interpretation of darling is totally different! The dolls aren't literally alive, but when they're shoving their cocks, darling's moaning along with them.

When they're in a horny daze, the doll comes to life. (Like in Tatami Galaxy if you happen to know! Difficult to explain but I hope this made sense anyways (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) )

Floyd interprets darling as completely inexperienced, and really docile and responsive. Whimpers a lot and has this shimmery look in her eyes. (Another example of sex dolls in this instance would be Interspecies reviewer, it's an ecchi anime but I needed inspo ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ)

"N-no Floyd don't lick me there! Hyaaah! No! Floyd! Floyd-senpai! Nghh!" The pseudo darling whimpers and moans even if his performance is utterly sloppy! A darling that can unravel faster than him (who cums prematurely, wayyy too quickly! Too quick for an athlete!)

"Senpai's too big! You can't!" The cliché subby H-manga character that's catered to loser incels like him. Babbling way too quickly. (Realistically, it takes wayyyy more work to dumbify a person, a quick cummer would never get a real lady to reach that point of babbling in five minutes. Better luck next time, virgin eel!)

Jade interprets darling as someone that's bratty and just as passive aggressive as him. Darling usually wouldn't bother in engaging with Floyd since it doesn't change what Floyd's going to feel about doing his chores. Floyd is just such an unreckoned force, darling always does his bidding to shut his whining. Jade on the other hand is occasionally negotiable.

When the prefect is doing part time in the lounge, Jade's always attempting to break that patient exterior of hers just for his own amusement. (Cuz this loser does not know how to flirt.) Unlike the other staff who immediately lose their tempers and quit within the end of their contract, the prefect always smiles back at him. Giving Jade backhanded compliments, retorts that aren't explicitly rude. The prefect is resilient after all, she successfully negotiated with that stubborn tako for a fat check at every end of the month. This slimy eel can't just push her down so easily!

Darling will never back down, this check has given her and Grim more than just stale bread and leftovers for meals! Jade is sleek and cunning, but Prefect is not an idiot! Jade has met his match for backhanded comments and sly forms of insulting. Saccharine "service" smiles, never a frown on darling.

Jade wants to break that resilience. Something he can't have in reality.. A bratty darling that's easy to manipulate. A bratty darling who messes up her responses. He wants the prefect to feel shame. He wants her to fall for his figurative traps. He wants to utterly humiliate her just like how he did to all the employees that were subject to his bullying.

"Fuck you Jade! Fuuugh!" Insults just turn into moans as he erratically fucks his 'darling', it's not the prefect! It just coincidentally looks like her! The real prefect would never utter a single cuss, she has an image to uphold, but this doll right here? So utterly lewd! So bratty and potty mouthed. So vulgar! What a harlot! A horny harlot that's starved of cock! Jade's cock, a brat that gets trained into being an absolute shameless harlot, stripped off any form of dignity. Stripped off that elegant facade. So utterly dirty and below him.

For as long as those two don't work on their actual plans to get their hands on the real darling, they're left with the sad reality of cumming into lifeless caricatures of the real prefect. (They have zero rizz, they just keep fucking up their flirting attempts and opportunities.)

It would be even funnier if they read the doujins Idia makes. The MC is oddly familiar, can't think of who it resembles... Oh well, it gets the junk junkin!!!

I wanted a bit of a different trope for darling and the tweels! I hope it was good to read, Mera! I don't see a lot of Floyd pacifying darlings. (Maybe I haven't been looking in the right areas.) I just love a dynamic with Jade where he isn't as sleek with rude innuendos as he thought. Someone finally matched his passive aggressive freak!!

Always remember to prioritise yourself over content creation! It's quite easy to neglect the little things like hydration! It's been way too long since I last sent you an ask <3

Xoxo, Izuna.

꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

IZUNA...... IZUNA!!!!! GRABBING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS!!! AAAAAAA THIS IS SO MUCH MORE THAN JUST A GOOD READ. THIS WAS BRILLIANT AND SO DELICIOUS AND AN ENTIRE FIVE-STAR MEAL!!!!!

(๑﹏๑//) I'm eating so incredibly good with this omg,,,, the different interpretations of darling for each eel is so yummy. Aaaaa Floyd would absolutely have a thing for being called senpai,,, it just sounds so lovely coming from your mouth... Floyb with his cock-drunk and no-thoughts-in-head-other-than-cum doll and Jade with his brat of a doll who fights him until the very end when she's unraveling beneath him....... so good. orz orz orz

They're both such losers!!! T_T getting off with a doll while imagining it to be the real you even though the spell breaks when they're no longer horny,, >_< aaaaa so maidenless!

That line in the beginning of your ask regarding mushroom dildos... 👀 there are so many thoughts in my mind... Jade is a freak when it comes to his mushrooms!!! You just happen to be his favorite darling to test these things on. <3

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack the NSFW Platformer

Imagine if Sunny Day Jack was a NSFW platformer game instead of a NSFW visual novel.

Content Warning: This post is full of smut with a sprinkle of yandere horror on top for a bit of spice. I know it goes without saying with a title and opening line like that, but I like to cover my bases.

You know about NSFW platformers, right? The MC runs around doing the usual platforming gameplay stuff, but whenever they get hit, the enemies have sex with them. I've never been a big fan of the implied dubious/non-consent aspect of those kind of games, plus there's some mixed signals here. I mean, getting hit is what you try to avoid in those games, yet the fail state becomes the reason why we play NSFW platformers in the first place. Even without the discomfort of dubious consent, that seems kind of backwards to me.

I know that we're here to watch the MC have sex in kinky creative ways when playing a NSFW platformer, but I think the concept can be improved. Enthusiastic consent makes everything a hell of a lot sexier you know. Why not have the game be centered around a scenario where MC is just as eager as the player to go down to pound town?

Instead of enemies being the source of the lewdness like usual NSFW platformer games and inserting dubious/non-consent, the player can instead choose to summon Jack at any time for some enthusiastically consenting spicy fun. Consent is baked into his character, and we all know that he's always ready to show his sunshine lots of love anywhere at any time. It can even be the game's healing mechanic.

Yes, I know it might lessen the challenge of a platformer game when you can heal yourself at any time at the press of a button, but the point of NSFW platformer games is just having an excuse to watch the MC get railed. I prefer my thinly veiled excuse for sexy times to be consenting, thank you very much.

Jack could even use the various level settings and backgrounds as props for different animations. He could also have different initial commentary depending on how injured the player is.

Jack: Oh my gosh, Sunshine! Don't worry, I'll help you feel better right away. Just relax and let me take care of you.

Jack: Oh dear, that looks like it really hurts. Leave it to me, Sunshine, I'll make sure you forget all about it in no time at all.

Jack: My poor, Sunshine. Here, let me kiss that booboo all better for you. And I think this spot could use a kiss too. And here too. Can't forget here either...

Heck, the player can summon Jack even when their life bar is full.

Jack: Sunshine, you don't seem to be injured. Why did you call...? Oh... I see, you're not hurt, you're just aching for my love right now, aren't you?*amused, throaty chuckle* That's okay, you know I'm always ready to make you feel absolutely amazing. Come here.

Jack: Oh? Not ready to say goodbye yet, Sunshine? *chuckle* That's okay. You know I'll never get tired of showing you just how much I love you. We can make love as many times as you like.

And other such commentary, plus smutty comments during the act itself as Jack heals MC thoroughly with his love~!

The cutscenes don't necessarily have smut, but a lot of flirting and banter between Jack and MC. Mostly just bonding as a couple and enjoying each other's company for some fun character interaction. Also he gives tips on beating the upcoming boss.

The yandere part comes in when MC loses all their health bar. Instead of a game over, while MC is unconscious on the ground, the screen starts to glitch and Jack's sprite appears, now distorted and terrifying. The background itself starts to warp in unsettling ways, growing darker and the colors more muted.

Jack: *glitchy and angry* I know you wanted to deal with things yourself, Sunshine... but I just can't stand back and watch these monsters hurt you anymore.

Cue creepypasta-esque distortions and the horrors.

Then boop, everything pops back to normal in a snap, the screen cleared of enemies, and MC slowly wakes up, confused. Jack, now back to normal, kneels beside them, helping them up as he cuddles them close. He's a bit shaken up and clingy.

Jack: Easy now, Sunshine. I know you want to get back up and try again as soon as possible, but you need to rest and let me heal you first. That's it... just let me take care of you. I'll make you feel so, so good.

Jack: You've worked so hard for so long and you've been hurting so much. I might not be able to fight in your place, but I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. I love you so much, Sunshine.

There's probably no lives system, not unless dying too many times makes Jack totally snap to yandere mode, resulting in a bad end. Though, really the "bad" end is him convincing MC to abandon their quest to keep making love to him endlessly. It's just an excuse for more sexy times with some yandere spice on top.

In that case, each time Jack goes yandere mode, he's a bit scarier and kills off more enemies in the level. Like the first time it's just the screen they're on, then each time spreads the effect beyond the surrounding screen. It'd leave for some creepy moments of MC running through an empty world until they find enemies again.

Of course, Jack is clingier each time he heals MC back to full health, with more possessive, needy, and downright desperate dialogue until finally he can't take it anymore.

Jack might be able to heal MC at any time. He might be able to rescue them when they're in trouble, but he just can't watch them hurt themselves anymore.

Jack: I'm sorry, but this is for your own good, Sunshine.

At this point Jack takes them into a pocket zone that they can't escape from. Maybe Cloudy Town themed with some faintly warped colorful scenery. The bad end is just him convincing MC to forget about continuing the quest. After all the pain they've been through, they just decide to give in. Endless sex with their lover, even when he's in scary yandere mode is soooo much better than the pain of dying repeatedly after all.

Jack: There now... isn't this better? You don't have to hurt anymore. You don't have to fight anymore. All you need to do is feel. Feel the way my hands caress you. It feels so good, doesn't it? You don't have to hurt or ache anymore. You can just focus on my hands, my lips... my cock...

Jack: Oh, Sunshine. My precious, perfect, beautiful Sunshine. You don't have to worry about fighting anymore. Just forget about all about that silly quest. Forget about anything else. None of it matters anymore. All you need to do is focus on me and how I make you feel.

Jack: That's it, Sunshine. Take my cock, just like that. Oh God... It feels so good. It... it's better this way, isn't it? We don't have to leave if you don't want to. It can just be you and me. It can just be me pounding my cock into your pretty holes... kissing every inch of your aching body... making you scream my name. I can make you feel like this forever.

Hmm... really, Jack's dialogue might be a lot more unhinged, yandere, and demanding than that by this point in a bad end, but eh, you get the gist. Regardless, MC makes it clear to the player that at this point they're done fighting and only want to feel good with Jack now.

Naturally the good end also involves sexy times with Jack. Victory sexy times. I mean, this is a NSFW game. Sexy time scenes are the entire point. And you know Jack will want to celebrate his sunshine's victory the best way he knows how - a gratuitous full screen CG sex scene.

Contrasting with the bad end, the good end is softer, more loving.

Jack: You did it, Sunshine! Oh, I knew you could.

Jack: Now that you've saved the day, it's time for some well earned rest. You can relax and let me take care of you from now on. *seductively* After all, a hero like you deserves your reward, don't you think?

Jack: That's it. Oh, Sunshine... my brave, mighty hero. You're so beautiful, so courageous. You're so wonderful.

Of course there'd be more exchanges between MC and Jack in the dialogue. Banter makes the intimacy more fun after all. This post is mostly just ideas from off the top of my head as they come to me.

Speaking of endings, I can think of at least one secret one in this kind of game. It's mostly for the hardcore gamer crowd who likes a challenge. In this case, if the player never gets hit and never summons Jack for sexual healing, the ending scene is a just a bit different. Jack still appears during cutscenes to banter with MC and encourage them like usual, but he gets just a little pent up by the end of each level. Maybe even dropping hints how they shouldn't be afraid to rest sometimes, and he's always ready to show them just how much he loves them.

By the time the player beats the game, Jack is just ready to burst. He's just so messy and needy and overwhelming MC with praise as he gives them their reward.

Jack: Oh fuck, Sunshine. I need you so, so badly. I can't wait anymore. Please... please...!

Oh, also, any enemies on the screen probably stop what they're doing to watch while Jack is healing MC, so we get bonus exhibition kink. It might even result in some different positions/animations as Jack intentionally puts on a show when there's other characters around to see. And maybe some leaning on the 4th wall since he's showing off sexy times to the player.

Knowing Alice, she wouldn't be summoning Jack for sexy fun healing times unless there were no enemies on screen. She'd summon him even when fully healed sometimes too, since his love heals more than just her body~

If an enemy projectile would hit the MC while they're in "healing" mode, the attacks are deflected. Like it gets interrupted by Jack's supernatural powers with some yandere hints or something. Or all enemies freeze completely, attacks disappear, and everything becomes a show of Jack healing MC. I dunno. This is just a bunch of silly ideas I'm giving off the cuff. I'd have to put more thought into the details if I was to make this game a reality.

If I had the spoons to program and animate a 2D platformer, I'd be tempted to take a crack at this kind of super self-indulgent smutty game, or at least make some mock screenshots. Of course, I'd have to use Alice as the MC, since there's no way I could create every permutation of MC if they have a sprite visible on screen for sexy times.

Hmm... maybe a character select screen to choose between Alice, Arthur, or Ace... Though that'd still be a ridiculous amount of different sprites to animate in various positions of sexy times with Jack.

Sadly, since I simply lack the spoons for such an undertaking, the world will just have to settle for this ramble. Maybe I'll inspire someone to take a crack at it. Maybe I'll just write a short story full of game tropes and shameless smutty OPT indulgence someday. Who knows?

In any case, I hope you enjoyed this spicy game concept of Jack repeatedly seducing MC while they try to save the world or something in a video game platformer.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[imarson404]

Maybe a hot take but I PERSONALLY don’t buy into the whole ‘Wammy’s house was a child detective puppy farm’ idea. Mainly because we aren’t told nearly enough about Wammy’s house outside of that one scene with near and Mello (thanks ohba and obata 😐) but also because a lot the stuff that we do see doesnt really give me that impression? Strictly speaking with the main anime/manga you have the existence of Matt and Linda right off the bat. Matt first of all because hes said to be the 3rd best at Wammy’s house, 3rd in line it be L , and yet hes fine to just… say nah, I don’t feel like it? He never really seems all that pressed tbh imo. And as for Linda, we know that she’s an exceptionally talented artist who is in multiple galleries across England, and Wammy’s appears to have facilitated that. She wasn’t grabbed off the streets as an orphan and forced to become a child detective. It doesn’t seem like any of them were. What Matt and Linda seem to show us is that none of them were ever forced to be detectives or the next L or whatever, it was just an option. (Once again, from my perspective in the animanga purely) The core of Mello’s very personality is to be competitive, of course he went for it. Near was exceptionally smart and good at puzzles in the same way that L was. In the one scene taking place at Wammy’s in the anime, it’s clear that Roger really didn’t want them to do this alone. He tried to hold back from telling them that L didn’t pick (cough cough because he knew Mello’s inferiority complex would lead him to believe that meant he had lost) and tried to convince them to work to whether before Mello stormed off alone. Not downplaying the fact that a 14 year old was able to storm off alone but the fact is that we DONT KNOW what happened after that. Theres so much context that we don’t know. Discussing other canons, the L files tells us outright that L WASNT FORCED TO BE A CHILD SLAVE DETECTIVE BY WATARI THE MOMENT HE WAS BROUGHT IN. He just solved puzzled and went on his computer until he was 14, at which point he found ‘something more interesting than any puzzle he’d ever solved’ and moved on to crimes. Again, not to take away from the dubious ethics of a 14 year old solving crimes but it isnt like Watari sat his 8 year old ass in front of a dead body and told him to figure it out. And the (dubiously canon adjacent?) LCtW also suggests that Wammy’s house was a place that facilitated genii of all types, not just the crime solving ones, for example the biochemist (i think) K. Now facing LABB. I can absolutely see why people look to this as definitive proof that Wammy’s house is evil, especially with what Mello talks about regarding ‘Watari wanting backups’ and A’s suicide. Those are both valid points which are very bad. My issue here is just that whats written in LABB doesnt always match up with other canons (theres also the whole issue of Mello being a potentially unreliable narrator but that’s an entirely different matter). For example, it claims that ‘when Wammy’s house was first founded Watari was experimenting with making new L’s’ which doesnt line up with L being taken to Wammy’s house in the manga and anime and basically every other canon, where Wammy’s precedes L. Even Dn 13, which takes LABB as canon in its timeline, also includes the L files which shows baby L being taken to Wammy’s and eventually discovering detective work. overall it’s all about weighing one canon against the over and making your on conclusions, and I prefer to believe in the canons which suggest that while it was flawed, Wammy’s house was not an actively evil child detective factory with an evil overlord running it. now, everything I’ve just said is MY PERSPECTIVE. I’m not bashing anyone for believing any which way, I really don’t care. I just felt like explaining my point of view on my blog (because I like compiling evidence and putting forwards an argument bc I find it fun. Yes I did like debates in class how could you tell