#at least it's easier than water painting...

[transgaysex]

i should go to gay bars

[specshroom]

°~ A MAGE IN THE JUNGLE ~°

Includes: Use of she/her, Slimy naga dick, Size difference, strangers to...fucking? Idk.

In which: Our Mage searches the jungle for a rare species to add to her "research".

She curses as her boot clad feet catch on another root, almost sending her tumbling into the dewy jungle ground. Deciding to stop for a short break, she swats at the buzzing mosquitoes, taking her hat off to fan herself futilely while eyeing the map she bought.

The vender who sold it to her was an eccentric type, which is always a good sign in her eyes. If you're going to scam people at least commit to the whole "mysterious merchant" bit. The old hag managed to make her cough up 7 copper coin for this "traveler's essential". 

Her goodwill has not been paid back as apparently the map was more unreliable than she expected. The mage curses herself as she glowers at the useless map, trying to decipher where the hell she is.  

After a few more minutes of squinting and pointing to random places on the map, she just scrunches the flimsy paper in her hands and sets it on fire, burning it up before the embers could even reach the floor. She wasn't looking for anything any cheap map could show her anyway. 

She came here to follow an urban legend about a deadly beast that stalks the jungle. The creature has many different variations depending on who's telling the story but what is consistent is the shining gold scales adorning the creature. Stories vary widely from village to village, some say it's an old wrathful god sent down to punish those greedy enough to seek it out and some say it's a beautiful maiden with a golden tail here to bring good fortune to those deserving of it. 

Which ever story is the truth, she just couldn't hold back her fanaticism. A strange creature that apparently nobody has seen before but for some reason is being spotted closer to nearby villages more and more? That is absolutely right up her alley. 

Now if she could only find the damn thing. The villagers seemed almost relieved that someone else was going to try and find this thing, so getting information was quite easy. While the area has been narrowed down, it's still a huge chunk of jungle. At this point it would be easier if the monster just came out and tried to eat her already. 

The mage percs up when they hear water flowing and walks in that direction until she stumbles on a river. She kneels down by the waters edge, it looks pretty deep or maybe the water is just too murky to see the bottom. She hums and pulls out the flask she enchanted, fills it with water and waits for the magic to properly dispose of the dirt particles and bacteria before taking a long gulp. 

This river is wide and the water flows slowly but surely past her. She places her hand in the water, curious to see if she can see the bottom or perhaps any fish to eat. 

She softly chants an incantation, forcing the dirt particles away from her hand. This proves harder than she thought as she's never had to cleanse flowing water before. 

She leans in closer to concentrate her energy and eventually the water becomes clearer and she can see something glistening at her from the water. Is that really treasure at the bottom of the river? Could she be that lucky?

 She squints and leans closer to get a better look, the golden specs glinting in the murky water blink at her through the surface. 

She freezes and the blood in her veins turns colder than the depths of the river. 

Before she can even move a huge clawed hand shoots up from the  surface and clings onto her arm, tearing through her cloak, undershirt and skin. There's no time for a painted scream as she's pulled into the water with great force. She can feel the waters resistance against her body as it's dragged into the murky depths. 

Before this beast actually drowns her she manages to force her other hand against the current to grip onto the beasts scaly wrist. She casts the first spell she can think of, Combustion. 

Suddenly the surface of the water explodes outwards, splashing water high into the air. She propels herself upwards and breaks the surface to hover above the water. She curses and looks around frantically, she can't lose the monster now. Panicking, she summons her hat and starts chanting, willing the plentiful vines of the jungle trees to plunge into the river and search for the beast. 

When she feels a tug she wills the vines to pull the heavy struggling mass to the surface. The huge mass writhes and thrashes in its confines as it rises from the water. 

She can finally see just how massive this thing is as it fights and snarls at her. It's much bigger than any Naga she's seen before, the human half is near orc sized! The bottom half being even bigger with the long thick tail thrashing in the water below. She reinforces the vines to bind the rest of the ridiculously large tail and sets the beast down on the ground next to the river. 

When her feet meet the ground, she sighs and wills the water out of her soaked clothes. She checks her bleeding arm and sucks in a breath at how deep the gashes are. 

"Now look what you did. Fucking hell, thats deep. How long are your claws?!"

Of course she can heal it but it's such a pain. The monster on the ground hisses and spits in response. 

She takes a better look at it, or him, she discovers. His scales really do shimmer like gold with black scales painting a pattern all the way down his back and tail. His white underbelly fades into something resembling human skin as her eyes move up his rapidly moving chest. The gold scales fade into a darker black down his shoulders to the tips of his clawed fingers. Her eyes flicker to his intense stare, pure gold flickers in his irises. His drenched black hair gets in the way of his glare. 

"Wow."

She can't help but verbalise her awe. She carefully moves around him to look at him in a different angle.

"I knew you were a naga. I knew it."

She summons a book into her hand, not her spellbook but one for these special cases. She flips to a new page and licks the tip of her pencil. She crouches down to look at him expectantly,

"Do you happen to know how much you weigh? What do you eat? Most nagas are some sort of omnivorous but I'm assuming you eat mostly fish. How many fish do you have to eat to stay this size?"

She gestures incredulously to all of his giantness.

He just growls some more, quiter this time as his confusion overtakes his anger somewhat.

"Come now, I know you can understand me and I know you can speak."

He stops growling to stare at her incredulously. How could she possibly know that? The giant snake man tries to readjust but hisses again, this time in pain. She jolts up and immediately goes to assess the wound on his wrist, which is tied tightly to his back. She cringes at the red, fleshy wound she created on his body. So much for first impressions. Without much warning she immediately starts with the healing spell. This creates great discomfort for him, as his cells rebuild themselves but she knows this is better than dragging it out for longer.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

She coos at the massive man almost like he's a child or a small animal. This woman evades him. Once she's done and his wrist is good as new she springs up and clears her throat, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Sorry about that but...you did try to eat me so..."

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn't know how exactly. By the scowl on his face it doesn't look like it would be anything good. She crouches down again, peering down at him.

"Do you still want to eat me?"

He growls, nothing but hatred in his beautiful eyes as he hoaursly spits out,

"I want nothing more in the world."

"..."

The mage tries and fails to hide a girlish giggle behind her hand as she rocks back and forth on her feet. She reacts as if he'd just complemented her outfit. The Naga man pulls his mouth into a snarl and huffs in irritation, hating how this woman continues to confuse him.

After composing herself she summons her little reaserch book again, holding it against her crouched thighs to write.

"Have you actually ever eaten a human before? Be honest."

The Naga writhes in his bonds to eventually turn away from her so atleast he doesn't have to face his captor. He lies there for awhile just squirming every so often, he's already tried to cut the vines with his claws but she must have done some kind of reinforcement magic when she healed him. Damn witch.

While he devises an escape plan, he can hear scratching on paper from behind him. The mage seems to be writing quite a lot in her book. When the Naga looks back at her he catches her gaze staring intently at the intricate patterns on his back, the way the scant black scales blend with the bright gold makes for a very unique pattern.

"How much will you sell it for"

She stops sketching and looks back up at his eyes. She lets out a confused "hmm?"

This only makes him angrier.

"My hide! It must be worth a fortune! That's why you're here!"

Her gaze softens a bit, kicking herself mentally for being so unthinking towards the man. He might be big and intimidating but that doesn't mean he can't be scared for his life.

"Look, I don't want your hide. It would be much easier to just fake one anyway since nodoby knows what you actually look like. I just want to ask you a few questions and then let you get back on with your day. I'll even cook you a meal as a thank you."

The snake man is obviously skeptical, all he does is stare back at her with those gorgeous eyes.

She sighs and opens her book back up, flipping over to a particular page.

"Researching rare and perculiar creatures is a hobby of mine."

She rolls down onto her stomach and shuffles closer to the massive Naga. She leans on her elbows to show him the open page as if they were best friends at a slumber party and she's showing him her dairy.

"You're not even the rarest or most sought after Naga species I've met."

She points to a drawing she sketched of a male Naga, this one with the torso and arms of a human but the tail and head of a snake. There's a bunch of scribbles and descriptions around the drawing in a language he can't read.

"Where he's from people worship him like a god. He's a very rare species that can hypnotise someone just by looking into their eyes."

She chooses to leave out the part where she willingly let the Naga hypnotise her and use her as he pleased for weeks.

He doesn't have a response to give the mage, staring blankly at the pages as she rattles on about other species she has in her book. His skepticism somewhat dampened by these sketches of Naga just like him but with characteristics he's never seen before.

The mage notices how dark the sky has gotten, catching a few stars glinting overhead. She gets up and starts assembling the tent she brought. Pulling thick fabric out of her infinitaly deep satchel.

The Naga man just lies there watching, wondering if it would be so bad to comply with this mage. They don't seem dangerous or malicious at all but the magic they wield is still a concern. She talks to him as she works on building her temporary abode.

"Y'know, the village folk are quite nice. If you want I could talk to them, I'm sure they would rather cohabitate than live in fear of a man-eating monster in the jungle. Since you're definitely a rare species this part of the jungle could even be named as a conservation zone."

She keeps yapping stuff the Naga man doesn't care to listen to. The mage erects her shoddy little tent, does some sort of chant and then hurriedly crouches inside the small space.

She stays inside there for a while to the point where the Naga man thinks she might not return for the night. He smells something absolutely devine and realises it's cooked beef coming from inside the tent.

The damn mage walks outside with a steaming bowl of that devine smelling concoction. She stabs a piece of meat with a fork and offers it to him after blowing on it a little. She doesn't really give him time to react before poking the fork into his mouth. His taste buds are lighting up and he almost moans at the taste.

The mage grins at how he accepted her offer and stands back up.

"I just want to ask you a few questions. I'm sorry for causing you trouble but I didn't come all this way for nothing. I'm more than happy to repay you for your troubles if you just come inside."

After that she turns and walks back into the tent. As she walks away the vines binding his body loosen until they fall from his body entirely.

He's free. She's giving him an out. He could just leave.... But he can still taste the meat on his tongue. Nothing has happened to him yet so atleast he knows it's not poisoned or spiked. He turns to where the dark water of the river calls to him and turns back to the fire light coming from inside the mages tent. He sighs and hangs his head. As if the jungle itself is trying to urge him, a cool breeze blows past that seems to urge him closer to the tent.

The Naga sighs, stretches his sore limbs and slowly slithers towards the tent. He takes a deep breath before parting the fabric of the opening and crouching inside.

As he expected, the tent is much bigger than it appears on the outside. Bedding and pillows cover the floor and there is a fire with a pot over it in the middle.

The mage is humming to herself while pouring more steaming hot stew into two bowls. He sits across form her coiling his tail into a pile to sit on top of it.

She holds out a steaming bowl to him and waits patiently for him to take it. He hesitantly accepts the offer and, after watching her eat a fair portion of her own bowl, starts slurping up the meaty stew.

After the first and second serving the mage places her empty bowl aside and picks up her book. As the Naga pours himself a third helping she clears her throat, making him look up at her expectant gaze. He huffs but nods, lazing back against his tail to keep enjoying his meal. The mage gleams across from him.

"I don't know how much I weigh, I eat mostly fish and I've never eaten a human."

The mage scribbles all this down as he speaks, very pleased with his cooperation.

"How often do you shed?"

The Naga rests his arms on his tail like it's a comfy backrest. He takes a generous gulp of his stew before answering,

"...Once every season."

"So you grow moderately quick then? And you're still growing? Or do you think this is how big you'll get."

"I still shed, so I'm still growing."

The woman nods and jots that down.

"You're a constrictor type, right? No venom or hypnotising?"

He gives her a deadpan stare, as if to say "What do you think?". She gets the idea and confirms her own theory.

she chews her lip, deliberating something before she finally asks.

"Can I measure you?"

He gives her an irritated look before he slowly unwinds his tail from it's bunched up state, unfurling it out on the floor as he lies on his stomach.

The mage wastes no time springing up and pulling a rolled up tape measure out of her hat. She holds it out to him and says,

"Hold this at your head, please."

He boredly does as she asks and she carefully walks back the length of his body. He doesn't know why but he straightens his tail as much as possible while looking at her over his shoulder. When she gets to the tip of his thick tail she exclaims some numbers in a measurement he doesn't know but from the look on her face it's clearly impressive. She hurriedly scribbles that in her book.

The measuring roll disappears and the Naga goes back to his meal. He pours what's left in the bowl into his awaiting mouth before he feels a soft touch on his tail and freezes.

He slowly looks behind him at the culprit. He watches her with a predatory gaze as she hesitantly tests his patience. He watches her, as if daring her to go further and so obviously she does. She inches higher up his tail to where is gets much thicker, lightly tracing the patterns on his reptilian skin. She softly touches his golden scales as if they're fragile.

The mage gets more confident and crawls higher up his tail, getting more inquisitive and bold.

"Is the underside more sensitive?"

She asks, genuinely curious. He doesn't answer, just keeps staring at her with a look that says "Try it", so that's what she does. She looks into his eyes and slides her hand down the side of his tail towards the white underbelly.

He strikes before she can even blink. He has her on the floor coiled up in his tail as he entraps her whole body with his. She doesn't offer much of a fight besides some squirming but his tightening hold on her body forces her to still.

"Is this what you want mage?"

She says nothing, only looks up at him with those same curious eyes. He can feel her heart beat as he squeezes her rib cage, it beats steady and bold. She's not scared of him at all and that intrigues him more than he likes.

The Naga looms over her, he reaches out to grab her jaw tilting her head around to look over her face. He's tried to ignore it but he's also quite curious about her and her own species. He pinches his fingers slightly so that it makes her lips pout together before he reaches out with his other hand to take her pink tongue in between his thumb and pointerfinger. She just stares up at him, offering no resistance.

He strokes the small wet muscle with his thumb, rubbing over where it would split into two if she was a Naga like him. It's so small compared to his fingers and much warmer than he anticipated, probably due to the warm meal they just shared. He sticks his tongue out to lick the air and pauses when he smells something unfamiliar but unmistakable, coming from the Mages lower parts.

He's smelled it once before when he caught sight of a human woman bathing in the river, he couldn't help but linger in the brush and watch the human as she touched herself. He feels the same need now that he felt then, a curious burn in his stomach.

The mage struggles in his hold,

"I know you're curious too..."

She says up at him, almost hopefully. She slowly struggles her legs free to wrap them around his wide torso, squeezing him between her thighs. As he looks down at her the snake man feels her warm body heat radiating off of her seeping into his skin, the movement of her chest, her pulse. He can feel his cock poking out from the slowly parting slit on his white underbelly.

He licks the air one more time before his mouth catches hers in a needy kiss. She immediately kisses back with fever, fidgeting more in his hold making him tighten the heavy coils which only makes her let out a pleasured cry into his mouth. His tongue feels so odd on her own, it's much longer than hers and he pushes it down her throat with abandon.

His tail slithers around her body, lifting her shirt up. When she first feels his cold skin against her warm stomach she's filled with need to feel him against every inch of her skin. She struggles in his hold, kissing him with more need and trying to grind her neglected cunt against something.

The Naga huffs a laugh and watches her kick her legs helplessly.

"Do you have other clothes?"

He mumbles against her lips, she nods into the kiss.

His claws tear her pants and underwear away as if the garments were made of tissue paper, doing the same to the neckline of her shirt and undershirt. She groans at the feeling of his cold skin against hers and the humid night air on her cunt.

She feels a slick substance drip onto her pussy and groans loudly.

"Show me. Let me see."

She pleads and struggles even more. He chuckles and nibbles on the skin of her neck,

"Little thing like you should be scared. What if it's too much for you?"

His concern is real even if he's insanely turned on by this situation. Her body might not be able to keep up with her inquisitive mind.

"Try me."

She looks into his eyes with determination, he looks back. One of his hands go to stroke his growing cocks as they unsheath from their slit. She stretches to pear over his tail wrapped around her. There's two, one big cock clearly meant for insemination, the same colour as his white underbelly and a second reddish coloured one, she assumes is meant for extra stimulation. The Naga strokes the big one with one hand, both cocks have slick ooze spilling from them and they're dripping with slick which she guesses is produced from the slit they come out of.

She worms her hand over one of his coils to grip onto his tail, she whines loudly at him. She wants it inside her so bad. He chuckles at her again as more of his precum drips onto her pussy lips.

He can't deny her pleas for long and against his better judgement he prods at her entrance with his cock, rubbing the tip up against her hole.

She grinds up into him and he takes that as the go ahead to slide inside her. The slippery tip sheathes inside her rather easily, it's the rest of him he's worried about. He struggles to hold himself back from pounding the hot tight pussy squeezing around him, he truly doesn't want to hurt the Mage.

Said Mage is almost in tears at being unintentionally edged by him. She squeezes her thighs around his massive waist, squirming around as much as she can. The Naga finds he likes the way her soft naked body wriggles in his coils, he especially likes the way her thigh muscles tense and relax. His sharp claws gently caress the fat of her thighs, curiously squeezing and jiggling the fat slightly. She whines again and he decides to be merciful and slides his cock further inside her while gripping her thighs.

He's too slow, too cautious and she just can't take it anymore.

She mumbles a little spell and the Nagas body feels a sudden force pulling him closer to her making him hiss as his cock is suddenly thrusted to the hilt. The smaller cock is rubbing up against her clit delisciously and the slick coating his cock seeps out of her pussy.

"If I want you to stop, I can make you. Stop, pussying around fuck me."

He stares down at her with blown out eyes, she stares up at him so determined while still being thoroughly bound in his hold. His breathing is more ragged and a grin finds it's way on his face. He looks almost feral and it makes the mages pussy clench around him which makes him reactively thrust back.

She's spun around suddenly in his hold, his tail unwinding until her arms are free and there's one coil left around her waist. Her arms are quickly bound by his own hands, gripping her much smaller arms. He gives a hard thrust into her cunt and growls in her face as she moans back up at him.

He starts a rough pace, having thrown all cation to the wind. Her tight human pussy squeezes him so tight like he squeezes around her body with his tail. The loud wet slapping sounds his hips make against hers make everything even more erotic. His coiled tail around her grips her waist tightly and he groans when he can feel his own cock bulge against her stomach where his tail holds her.

He brings the end of his tail to wrap around her wrists binding them together while his ramming into her soaked pussy.

He speeds up even more and places his palm on top of his smaller dick, pressing it against her clit. His other hand is gripping her under thigh so hard she's pretty sure his claws have pierced her skin. The stimulation on his sensative cock makes him frantically thrust into her until he releases deep inside her. He shakes and spasms as he empties himself into her. If he was more conscious he would be embarrassed at how needy he must have looked.

His orgasm lasts quite awhile longer than she expected, she realises he must have been really pent up as his cock just keeps shooting seed into her every few seconds. The poor Naga looks exhausted when his orgasm finally ends. His eyes are closed, breathing deeply with strands of black hair fall delicately around his face. The tail around her wrists loosens and she immediately goes to pull him down into her embrace, clutching his sweaty body into her warmer one.

He hums into her neck, enjoying her warm softness. His tongue flicks out occasionally to lick her salty skin and smell her on the air.

"Did I tire you out, big guy?"

She jokes, while her hands caress the comparatively massive expanse of his back. She tries to remind herself that he might be inexperienced and more sensitive than usual, she doesn't want him to feel bad about getting overstimulated.

The Naga lifts his head from her neck, his body casts a shadow over hers as he looms over her again. He gives her a sharp fanged grin.

"Don't be so cocky, Mage."

The end of his tail slowly comes from behind to wrap around her neck as the coil still wrapped around her waist lifts her torso up high. His softening cock slips out of her dripping cunt as he lifts her up with his tail. She groans low as she feels the copious amounts of slick and spend fall from her pussy to the floor.

The naga curiously runs his thumb up the length of the mages pussy, gathering up the fluids. He feels a strange urge to keep as much of his cum inside her as possible. Careful of his sharp claws he opts to push his spend back into her pussy with his tongue, feeling the way she squirms and clenches around his forked tongue. The Naga hisses lightly in delight and smooshes his face into the fat warmth of her thigh while looking into her eyes. She peers at him with a dazed look, loving the way his tail lightly squeezes her thoat.

"I'm far from done with you."

As it turns out she didn't get to ask him many questions that night. Not that she complained about it much.

[ghouljams]

Here's Hoping Things Look Better On the Other Side Chapter 1: The Cowboy Rating: E (minors please do not interact) Words: 6k Tags: Ghost x f!reader/OC, fingering, unprotected piv sex, oral (m and f receiving), deep throating, soft sex, face riding, dangerous driving practices, one night stands, first meeting, dom!Ghost, flirting Summary: You decide to spend you last night of freedom before saddling yourself with farm work, saddling up on something else. You know what they say: Save a horse, ride a cowboy. a/n: happy 1 year anniversary to this blog, as a mark of this occasion I'm doing what I kept talking about but never had the courage for and posting the "official" Cowboy Ghost story, or at least the first chapter. If some of this looks familiar, it's because a lot of my initial posts in the au were straight from this draft

Thank you @ethereal-night-fairy for giving this a once over, you're the best ❤️

There’s plenty about small towns that you miss living in the big city. The lack of bars is not one of those things. At least your friends don’t seem to be complaining. Anything to take the edge off the hours you’d spent in the car. One of the girls laughs pushing at another’s arm, the table is littered with empty shot glasses and half drunk beers. You glance back at the room over your shoulder, eyes darting to find a tray you could pile some of this on to make the bartender’s life easier. It’s dimly lit, as all dives are, and may as well have a sign hung up boasting about how flammable it is with all the wood in here. Wood tables and chairs, wood bar, wood floor, wood walls, you wouldn’t be surprised if the mirror over the back of the bar was wood too.

Still, you’re happy to be home. You miss small town living, miss the farm. You’ve been an accountant long enough, lost the calluses on your hands and you’re ready to dive back in. You’ll have to report to your daddy’s ranch earlier than the sun once morning rears its ugly head. You may as well have some fun, enjoy your last night of freedom before breaking your back breaking horses. And lucky you it’s the start of planting season, plenty of fresh blood in the water.

It’s good timing really. You know everyone in town too well, and the last thing you need is for word to get back to your daddy that you slept with the McKennan boy or worse. No, seasonal help is the best choice for a one night stand. No one you know that knows you(or your father). You glance around the bar, plenty of faces you don’t recognize. No one interesting though. No one that seems like they’d give you anything good. Mackayla already has a hat fixed square on her head, a cowboy coo-ing at her like she’s the luckiest girl in the bar.

Your eyes hit the man hunched against the bar. An unfamiliar face, a dark black hat, and denim stretched tight over his thick thighs. He’s got a good build, broad shoulders, thick fingers that dwarf the long neck in his hand, biceps you could sink your teeth into… You can’t see his face, but there’s an air about him that screams “leave me alone”. That plus the way he keeps to himself says he doesn’t know anyone or care to. Perfect. You toss the last of your bourbon back and toss a few bucks on the table.

“I’m gonna snag a cowboy,” You tell your friends, “Don’t wait up.”

You earn a few thumbs ups, a whistle and a “get it” that makes you laugh, before turning to snag the spot next to your man in black at the bar. You lean against the bar to catch his eye, standing close as you push your chest out, and tip your head. They’re brown, you think, warm like liquor and kept steadfastly forward. Must be having a staring contest with his own reflection. There’s a mask too. A black swath of fabric with a jaw bone painted onto it covering half his face. That explains why you couldn’t get a good look at him across the bar.

“So-” You start, only to be cut off.

Your cowboy holds up a twenty neatly folded between his fingers without even looking at you, "How much is it gonna cost to get you to leave me alone?" He asks, the bass rumble of his voice making you all the more sure of your decision. You glance from the skeletal mask to the black Stetson tipped low over his eyes.

"The hat."

"Not for sale."

“Not even just for tonight?” You ask, feeling buzzed and bold as you lean against the bar. There’s the slightest turn of his head as he looks at you. The warm brown of his eye as it peaks from under the shadow of his brim hits you better than any shot could. His gaze drags over you, and you let it, feeling his eyes settle on the way you push your tits out, then trace down over your hip. Your skin prickles with warmth, your stomach fluttering excitedly. He drags those lovely brown eyes back to meet yours and hums, looking back at the mirror.

“How about a drink,” He says, motioning for the bartender.

“How about two,” You grin, his mask shifts, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges, “What are you drinking?”

“Piss,” He says, pushing his mask up enough to get a swallow of his beer. He’s funny in a dry sort of way, you’d laugh if you weren’t so entranced by his lips against the bottle. You rip your eyes off him when he pulls the mask back into place. You gotta get this man a decent drink. You press up onto your toes to lean across the bar and talk to the bartender.

“Are the Sisters still making hooch?” You ask, the tender nods and grabs two shot glasses for you. You settle back on your feet, feeling the pleasant weight of your companion’s gaze dragging over you. You wait as the glasses are filled with 2oz of the only thing you missed on the coast. Well, maybe not the only thing. A glass of crystal moonshine is set in front of each of you. Your cowboy’s fingers pinch around the sides of the shot, his hand dwarfing the glass as his other hand tugs at his mask. You both tap your shots to the bar before throwing them back. You shake your head at the burn as he lets out a cough.

“Oh that is dead,” He says, lord his voice is so thick when it’s pleased. Rumbling nicely in his throat, you’re desperate to see what it tastes like.

“So,” You draw his eyes back to your face with just one word, “What’s a Manchester boy doing in this shithole?”

He lets out a breath through his teeth, flicking the brim of his hat back to get a better look at you. His eyes make you warm all over in a way that alcohol never could. “Manchester, huh-” He motions for another shot, “You even know where that is, Princess?”

Oh the way he says it, so deep and condescending, but inquisitive, makes a shiver run down your spine. You’d do anything to hear him call you that again. Including answering his question with the minimum amount of sass.

“North of Birmingham, west of Sheffield. Do you need my footie team too before you to take me home?” You smile, tapping your refilled shot against his before downing it. His fingers hesitate on his glass as he looks at you, eyes following your tongue as you lick the last drop of moonshine off your lips. 

He reaches up and takes off his hat, settling it on your head. It’s big and warm, and sits just a little too low on you, but you don’t care, it’s his. His claim on you. He takes his shot clean, pulling his mask back up as he tosses far too much cash on the bar and grabs your hand. 

You barely get to his truck before you’re pressed against it, his hands gripping your face as he presses his lips to yours. Too eager to remember he’s gotta pull his mask off first apparently. It’s warm and cotton-y. Not that you mind. You laugh, feeling bubbly from the moonshine, as he growls and rips his mask off before kissing you again.

And oh, he’s good with his mouth. You can tell by the slide of his lips, the way he holds your face just the way he wants to. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you open eagerly for him, letting him taste the cheap sugary booze you’d been sipping before you saw him. He licks into your mouth, skimming your teeth before twisting his tongue against yours in a way that makes you shiver. His mouth is warm and wet, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. You want to hear that sound for the rest of your life. He tips your head back and back, his hat held to your head by the closed cab door as he crowds you against his truck forcing you to take everything he gives you. 

Your chest is warm and you can feel your blood pumping want through to your fingertips as you twist them into his shirt. You want to be drunk on him, want to feel your head spin as your thoughts turn to cotton. You think this is the best decision you’ve ever made. Especially when his hands leave your face to grab your hips, his leg wedged between yours. He drags your hips to grind against his thigh, all hard muscle and oh you can feel him. The hard line of his cock just at the apex of your movements. It makes all your heat drop to pool between your legs. Mm, he was absolutely a good decision.

“What am I screaming for you?” You murmur, between kisses, desperate to know your cowboy’s name. 

“Simon,” He tells you, ducking to mouth at your neck. “Simon,” he says it again, bites it into your skin, like he’s reminding himself.

“Simon,” you sigh, enjoying the way saying his name makes his hold on you tighten.

He works your hips against his thigh, his lips sucking at your neck before his teeth dig into the blooming bruises. There’s something animal and desperate in his movements, something that speaks to a man who hasn’t had a woman in a long time. Good. You want all that pent up stress, all the need, that he can muster. You make a soft noise at the twitch of your hips, the tingle of need in your own body starting to soak your panties. It’s only when you start to feel that same wetness soaking the denim scraping your thighs that Simon pulls away.

“You drive stick?” He asks, the warmth of his iris consumed by dark black. You tip your head, pull him back to brush his lips against yours. You want him to keep kissing you, his lips just on the right side of chapped and his tongue exploratory. You hold onto his face until he grabs your wrists and pulls you off. “Manual, Princess. Want you in my bed before I fuck ya.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You murmur, eyes fixed on his mouth, “I can drive stick.”

Simon pulls you away from where you’ve been plastered against the truck cab and opens the door. You squeak when he picks you up and sets you on the seat. Your eyes dart to the wet patch on his jeans, then to check out his ass when he leans down to grab his mask off the gravel. Damn.

You pull your door closed as Simon pulls himself into the driver's side of the cab, turning the ignition and switching gears. You always liked the click of the gear shift, but now the engine thrums in your blood, a heady promise of what’s to come. Simon grabs your hand from where it’s settled on your thigh to hold it under his on the gear shift. He shifts up a gear, then drops his hand to your thigh. His hand is big and warm, a bear’s paw gripping your leg, digging his fingers into your skin. You’re glad Amanda convinced you to wear a skirt.

“You shift when I tell you, alrigh’?” Simon asks, one hand sliding under the edge of your skirt as the other turns the wheel to leave the bar's parking lot. You nod quickly, your fingers tight on the stick shift as his skate across the edge of your panties. One thick finger tip drags along your sopping slit, feeling you through your underwear. He gives you the next gear and you pull the shift with a shaky hand, rushing to accommodate him, to show how well you follow directions(to not get the both of you killed if the engine stalls). His fingers don’t move, giving you space as you shift in your seat.

It’s different when you lean back against the seat again. His fingers press against you properly, teasing you through your panties with his thumb against your clit. The feeling of cotton against the sensitive bud, wet and cool from the night air, makes you whine, and push your hips towards his touch. Simon chuckles from the driver’s seat and you feel a wave of heat rush over you.

“Spread your legs love,” He orders, you’re quick to comply, going a step further to shuck your panties so he can touch you properly. After all, you’ve never been one to disregard an order that directly benefits you. Simon’s fingers touch you, spread your sticky slick folds with a pleased noise. He’s got calluses, you can feel the rough edges of them as he drags his fingers over you, and you follow the motion with a slight raise of your hips. “Eager thing, aren’t you?” Simon rumbles, you glance at him, at his lap. As if he’s one to talk.

His cock must be aching from pressing against his zipper like that. He says something you don’t hear, too busy trying to measure his bulge with your eyes. He smacks his fingers against your slit and you jerk your attention back to him. Shift down. Shift down, you can do that. You know how to do that. 

Your clit tingles when his fingers find it, still aching from the smack and desperate for attention. Simon rolls it between his fingers, pinching it enough to be felt before rubbing at it. Then he’s up and down your slit, spreading your slick as it drools from your pussy, lubing his fingers to keep toying with you. You try to keep your mind on his words, try to keep your brain from giving in to the feeling of it. He doesn’t stop rubbing just because you need to shift gears, and it drives you mad.

One thick fingers pushes into your cunt and you whine. Your toes curl as you try to force yourself down against the shallow thrusts he pumps in and out of you. The drag of his callused finger against your walls warms in the pit of your stomach. It’s more than your finger’s ever been but it’s still not enough. You want to feel the stretch of him, you’re sure you’ll need it. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit, your hips following the feeling. He pulls away just enough to add a second finger and you moan. 

The stretch is divine. Friction heat tugging at your entrance, pushing warmth through you with every pump. You do your best to fuck yourself on your cowboy’s fingers as the slick noise fills the cab of the truck. Your breathing is heavy, your whines turned to whimpers. He gives you just enough to make you eager for more. His fingers are slow and dutiful as they thrust into you, keeping you alert for his next command.

You try to reach for his cock, your fingers digging at his belt buckle. Only to have his fingers leave you, his firm hand wrapping around your wrist to put it back on the gear shift.

“Gotta be patient, Princess,” He tells you, “you want somethin’ you ask for it.”

Your fingers tighten, and you spread your legs a little wider. “Make me come,” You tell him, because you don’t think he can do it at this angle, with his eyes on the road.

“Good girl.” The praise shoots through you like lightening, your nerves on fire when his fingers push back into you. Slow and steady is gone, replaced by a pace that makes your head spin. Simon’s fingers curl, hitting the soft spongy spot near your entrance until you’re seeing stars. There’s a tightness in your belly, and a heat that washes over your cunt. He keeps his attention on your hole, your tingling clit ignored in favor of punishing your cunt for your attitude. 

He doesn’t let up when he asks you to down shift. Your brain mush, your hips squirming as your muscles try to figure out what they’re supposed to be doing. You barely manage to get down to the next gear before you’re consumed by the raging heat and tightness his fingers fuck into you. Your whimpers are full blown moans, his name on your lips as you attempt to find the brain cells to beg for him to let you come. It’s all too much, too tight. You can hear the wet squelch of his fingers louder than the blood rushing in your ears, louder than the rumble of the engine.

You feel wet, something dribbling over your cunt, as your head tips back to account for your eyes rolling. Your back arches and all your muscles shudder as Simon’s fingers work you through the slip-splash of wetness. He only slows enough for you to get your bearings. Just enough for you to take in the wetness on the dashboard and soaking the fingers he raises to your mouth. Another downshift, your eyes fixed on him more than the scenery, your tongue swirling around his fingers. 

Simon’s fingers leave your mouth to settle over your hand on the gear shift as you hit a gravel road. It’s so dark out, you could be anywhere, but Simon promised you a bed, and you don’t think a murderer would make you come before killing you. The truck is thrown into park, the engine switched off, your brain catches up just in time for Simon to open your door and pull you out. You’re tugged into a little house, and almost as quickly as the door is closed behind you, you’re set on your knees.

It’s dark in here too, but you can hear the rustle of denim, the groan of a man freeing his hard cock. You know your eyes will adjust, you’re already starting to make out the shadows of moonlight streaming in through the window, but you’re dying to see the monster you’d seen straining against his jeans. Simon’s hand finds your cheek, cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes your lower lip.

“Open your mouth love,” He murmurs, “Lemme feel your tongue.”

You follow his command too eagerly. His shadow leans over you, huge in the darkness, and his tongue drags against yours before he pulls back and spits on it. Your breath stops short, your stomach flipping as it starts to kindle a new heat. Simon’s cock slaps against your tongue. It feels heavy, uncut, the skin soft and salty. He drags it over your tongue, barely dipping into your waiting mouth, lubing himself on his own spit. Your head goes a little fuzzy at the thought. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, your cunt aching between your legs. As if he didn’t just get you off all over his truck.

It’s worth a little embarrassment for the way Simon groans at the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock. He’s heavy on your tongue, weight against your jaw as he feeds you his cock. Inch by inch, so slow you can drag your tongue over the veins that thrum under his skin. Just the taste of him makes you want to buck your hips, and you reach to settle your hands on his thighs when he hits your gag reflex. 

He stills, your fingers digging into muscle and coarse hair. You take steadying breaths through your nose before pushing your head down again. Something bright and ringing like a bell in your head is desperate to know where he stops, to feel him stretching out your throat. You have to swallow, shake your head to find the spot that doesn’t make you gag, not that Simon seems to mind. You think he likes when you pull back, gasping, so you can spit on his fat length and try again. Sucking and bobbing your head as you take him deeper and deeper is the least you can do for this man. That doesn’t mean you don’t feel a swell of pride when your nose finally buries itself in the curls at the base of his cock.

Simon’s hand comes around to cup the back of your head, holding you there. You glance up at him, his eyes shining in the low light. “Good fucking girl,” He growls out, “Just made to take my cock aren’t ya?”

You hum around his length, roll your tongue against him as best you can. His fingers grip your hair and pull you back, your spit slicking his length even with just moonlight setting the room aglow. Simon holds you at the tip, letting you circle it with your tongue, sucking and swallowing down the pre-come that drools from him. Simon’s hips buck, a soft swear dropping from his lips as you take the unexpected inch. His hand leaves the back of your head, fixing his hat where it’s started to tip off you and gripping the sides of your head. You lean back to look up at him, blinking the static of dark vision from your eyes. 

“Gonna fuck this pretty face,” Simon tells you, his voice rough, like his vocal cords have been dragged through gravel. Despite the lack of tone, you know it’s a question, one you give a short nod to.

The first thrust of his hips is gentle, testing. You breathe through your nose, let him get acquainted with your gag reflex as you get used to the in and out feeling. Simon holds your head still, inching his cock deeper into your throat with each thrust. You hold your tongue flat against the underside of his heavy length, feeling the pulse of blood, the twitch of muscle as he works himself faster and deeper. 

Your throat constricts and Simon pauses, before his hands yank you sharply, bypassing your gag and nestling you at the base of his cock. Your eyes water, your nose starting to run as your throat works around the intrusion. He stretches your throat around his thick cock, you can feel the press of him, uncomfortable but dripping warmth down your spine. Simon pulls you off, and you gasp, suck in a breath as you watch spit string between your lips and his cock. You get one good breath in before he’s fucking your face in earnest.

You whine around the fat cock testing the ache in your jaw as Simon’s hips snap against your lips. His balls slap against your chin, heavy and already pulling tight. You do your best to keep your mouth open, lips sucking at him as he moves. There’s an ache between your legs, a voice in the back of your mind that wishes it was your pussy getting this treatment. You can only imagine how deeply he’d hit you, the stretch of your lips around his cock making you prickle with ideas of the way he’d split your cunt open.

Simon pulls back with a low groan, and come hits your tongue before he’s pushing back in. You blink the tears from your eyes, swallowing as best you can as he comes down your throat. It’s a lot, enough that your hands leave his thighs to cup under your chin, waiting to catch the drool and spend that you’re sure is dripping from between your lips. Warm and bitter, you wonder what he’s been eating since he came to town, if he needs someone to put vegetables on his plate. He pulls his cock out of your mouth and you tip your head back, swallowing the hot come still on your tongue. You open your mouth, tongue out to let him see that you’re empty.

Simon is silent. Something in his shining eyes seems to mirror yours. His thumb strokes over your tongue, with a hum that makes you think he’s got something on his mind. It feels almost sweet, almost affectionate, as his fingers stroke over your jaw. He crouches in front of you, and his hands leave you, only to reappear on your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder as he stands with nothing more than a grunt. His shoulder is broad and warm under your stomach, you drag your hands up the corded muscles of his back and feel a pulse of attraction thrum through the heat simmering in your stomach. Fuck, he’s strong.

You’re tossed onto what must be his bed. You bounce on the mattress and attempt to get your bearings in the low light. Simon’s hat tumbles off your head, and you glance about in the darkness for it. The lamp next to the bed clicks on and you flinch at the sudden rush of light. The wash of warm light is too much after so long in the dark, but you’re faster adjusting to this than the darkness. Simon settles a hand on your thigh, pulling you close as he settles on the bed beside you.

“On me love,” He murmurs and you drag your eyes to his face, “wanna see when you ride my face.”

Oh. He isn’t wearing his mask. His eyes are desperate, brows drawn low to shadow the watery browns that stare at you. His nose looks like it’s been broken one too many times, and there’s a scar running across his lips that tugs a little too much of his teeth into such a pretty picture. There’s something soft to him though, something aching in the length of his jaw that makes you want to hold him close. You must hesitate, must take too long looking at him.

“Tongue still works,” He teases you, the pink muscle dragging over the split in his lip, his teeth.

“You’re awfully pretty to be wearing a mask,” You smile, moving to settle your knees on either side of his ears. (Big enough ears you think he must’ve had to grow into them) Simon hums, his hands coming to grip your thighs and pull you down against his mouth. You can see pink starting to creep over his cheeks even as his tongue drags along your slit. The thought that Simon must not take compliments easily is erased from your mind as his lips close around your clit and suck hard.

The electric feeling jerks through your body. So much time on your knees worshiping a cock that should have been splitting you open left you buzzing and now you’re getting some well deserved relief. Simon’s tongue is hot as it splits your folds, wiggling to lap at the slick you’d been drooling before rolling against your clit. Each touch to the sensitive bud sends another zap of pleasure ripping up your spine. You whimper, your chest heaving with breaths you hardly have the chance to take with the way he sucks at you. One of Simon’s hands leaves you, fishing around on the bed beside you. You frown down at him, pout really, until you feel his hat settle on your head again.

“Gotta keep your- your claim on me?” You ask, though you don’t think your tone is quite right. Simon hums under you, a groan of assent. He tips his head, dragging long strokes of his tongue over your slit. You’re too worked up already, his mouth feels like a furnace, his tongue touches you like a brand. Your hips move on their own, following the course of Simon’s tongue, your clit bumping against his nose as you grind yourself against his mouth. Your fingers hold your skirt up out of the way, you may as well be planning to shred the thing with how tightly your fingers dig into the fabric. 

Simon stares up at you, his eyes closing with a satisfied groan as you grind a little more firmly against his tongue. Having his attention on you like this makes your stomach clench. You can feel his smile, feel his teeth just graze over your clit, teasing before he’s sucking at it. You squeeze his head between your thighs, half formed praises on your tongue as you feel your muscles start to tremble from the strain of your tightening orgasm. 

The longer he licks you the less you can hear your own thoughts, too consumed by the satisfied groans and slurping sounds between your legs. Simon eats you like a starving man getting his first meal. His hands move to grab your ass, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers, and spreading you open just to feel you. Your slick is smeared over his mouth, smeared over your thighs where his stubble has dragged it across your skin. You feel wet and warm, your cunt tingling on the edge of your second orgasm of the night. His tongue wiggles its way into your hole and you break.

“Fuck me.” You whine, your words almost sobs as he shakes his head. You’re not sure if it’s a demand or simply a needy expletive. It doesn’t stop Simon from sucking your clit hard, his tongue swirling around the bud until your back arches and the tension in your stomach bleeds out in a rush of shivers and moans. Your pleasure coursing through you as Simon licks and sucks at your cunt until you’re jerking at the new sensitivity.

Simon holds your hips, drags you down to sit on his stomach, the firm muscle flexing as your legs are forced further apart by the sheer width of the man. He drags your sensitive pussy against his stomach, letting the blond hair tickle your clit. You pout, settle your hands on his chest to hold yourself steady with even when your muscles still shiver with every twitch of your hips.

His fingers grip the bottom of your shirt when you demonstrate you can grind by yourself. Simon tugs it up over your head and you happily assist in undressing. He’s quicker with your bra, unhooking the clasp before you can shrug the straps off. Simons big hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. The touch is firm, appreciative, he squeezes the soft skin and you whine.

“Lemme ‘ear it again, Princess.” Simon rumbles. You can feel his voice low in his chest. His hands drop back to your hips to guide you. You don’t need to think to know what he’s asking.

“Fuck me Simon,” You breath, leaning to kiss him. You pull your tongue over his lips, tip your head to clean your come off his face. His mouth opens to catch your tongue, pushing his own to meet yours as you dip it between his lips. His hands raise your hips, angling you to notch his cockhead against your entrance. 

You know this part, know the press of your hips down onto him, the breathless anticipation as he slowly stretches you. You must have forgotten how big he was on your tongue. You drop your head to rest your forehead against Simon’s cheek, the stretch of just his head making your eyes start to roll. His fingers stroke down your back, a comfort as you ease yourself down his length. Your every breath feels like it’s softened by a moan. The stretch of him burning against your entrance, his cock dragging against your gummy walls. You feel so tight around him you can feel the curve of his dick, the veins that line it, the ridge of his thick head. 

Your legs still shake from your orgasm. If it weren’t for Simon’s hands holding you, you would’ve sunk down to the base of his cock just from the inability to hold yourself up. You attempt to push yourself up from the way you’ve cuddled close to your cowboy, and he holds you tight. The hand which had been petting down your back presses firm between your shoulders, his other arm wrapping over your him. You wonder- and then he thrusts the rest of his fat length into you and you don’t wonder anything else.

You all but collapse on his chest, his arm tight on the small of your back, arches your hips up as you bury your face against his neck. You can feel the mattress dip where he plants his feet before you feel the drag of his cock out of you, and the sweet friction of it sliding back home inside you. You dig your teeth into Simon’s shoulder, the scarred skin dipping under your bite as he fucks up into you.

Each stroke of his cock is like a punch in your stomach. The stretch of your cunt around him, his cockhead hitting your sweet spot every time it nudges your entrance, only adds to the devastating length of him. Your eyes roll, your voice tight when you have the air to let it escape you. He hits something inside you that almost hurts with how good it feels, the electricity of it shivering up your spine and tightening your muscles. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to push your hips back into the feeling.

“Tha’s it, sweet’eart,” Simon murmurs in your ears, “Jus’ like that.”

You whine at the praise, at the groan that follows it. He keeps you held so tightly against him, your nipples dragging against his firm chest with each thrust. You try to kiss at his neck, lips parting to pant with each pull of his cock. He fills you so full and deep you can hardly think. You’ve never had anyone hold you like this, never had anyone fuck you with the same sort of intense desperation. Simon’s lips press to your temple, his hips snapping to meet your weak thrusts with the wet squelching sounds of pleasure following.

Trying to draw a full breath is too much, you moan and squeak against Simon’s skin. Your lips travel over the scarred flesh, your teeth desperate to mark, to hold onto something as your fingers curl against his firm chest. There’s nothing for you to do but hold on and let this man take his pleasure from your body. Your hips stutter, the pleasure hitting you too tightly to keep your muscles moving. The tension in your muscles doesn’t stop Simon’s movements. His groans turn to growls, his lips moving with silent praise as he pistons into your clenching cunt. 

The drag of his skin against your soft walls, the burn of friction, coupled with the deep punch of his cock drives you to the edge and holds you there. Every twitch and movement making sparks of pleasure light up your skin. Your muscles shake with the burn of contraction, the ache of being split open. Your cunt burns with desperate heat, and you snake one of your hands down to rub tight circles over your clit. It doesn’t take much for you to fall apart. Your cunt flutters, sucking at Simon’s cock as the attention to your clit shoots up your spine and melts over your muscles. You fall apart, and just as sincerely you fall against Simon’s chest, panting and whimpering his name on every stroke.

He fills you fast, his cock stilled inside your cunt as you feel it twitch. Heat fills you, burns you, marks you from the inside. Simon moans low in the back of his throat. He gives a few short thrusts, enjoying the clutch of your pussy, as you settle into the floating feeling of satisfaction. He pulls out and you feel his come drip out of your hole, sliding through your folds to pool against his softening cock.

"What is your favorite footie team?" Simon asks once he's found his breath. You yawn, wiggling to cuddle against him.

"Reds," You murmur, and hear him snort out a short laugh.

"Liverpool?"

"Can't all be Man U fans," You sigh, and Ghost thinks your voice must be like honey the way it sticks to his mind, "Someone's gotta win games."

Ghost bites down his smile, feeling the way you unspool against him. Your body going lax and your breathing evening out. Do you trust him so readily that you'd fall asleep like this? You barely know him, hell he doesn't even know your name, but here you are.

“Gonna keep you,” He tells you, it feels like speaking sin into the world, tainting this perfect thing that's fallen into his lap, but he's too greedy to care, “Not le’in’ you go, can’t.”

You don’t answer him with anything more than a half asleep hum. Your lashes flutter against his skin, your face pressed against his neck. Wrapped around him with all the comfort he could ask for. Ghost swallows, turns his head to press his lips to your temple, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and the sweat of sex. Such a pretty thing to fall into his arms so willingly. You compliment him too well, know what he wants before he asks for it. He’d be a fool to let you go. No, he’s keeping you, you’re the sort of girl men chase after with wedding rings, and he can already hear the bells ringing for him.

[atomicbland]

Just A Mirage

Hello I'm outting myself as the ──★ ˙🍓anon from @ghoulphile. Anyways they've inspired me to fall face first dip my toe back into writing and might as well share the brain rot with the class. This is my first time writing smut or anything relatively like this so any questions comments critques are welcome! I dont bite unless you want me to

pairings: cooper howard x fem!reader rating: 18+ MDNI! warnings: bondage, degradation, pet names, mentions of age gap (obviously), Cooper Howard being a jackass in general, canon typical chem use, smoking AO3 Link

You were tired, thirsty, and hungry. Your rations had been finished earlier that morning though it was not by your hand. The tall ghoul who looked like he had walked right off the set of one of those western movies with his cowboy hat, ragged leather duster, and shotgun strapped to his back had stolen the last of your food and water while you stepped away to relieve yourself. You had come back to him chewing on your stash of jerky while letting his scruffy companion, “Dogmeat”, drink straight from your water flask. You learned quickly that no matter what, he’d treat the dog better than you. He kept you on a leash, his lasso was tied around your waist and tethered to the weapon belt that might as well have been fused into his skin. Anytime you weren’t keeping pace he’d give a rough tug of the rope, causing it to bite into your belly. Argued it’s easier to keep track of you that way. 

While you lamented over the loss of your food and water and debated if hiring the old ghoul was a smart choice something catches your attention stopping you in your tracks. Along the edge of the tree line, you spot the remains of what looked like a house, bigger than any house you’ve come across. The roof and windows were still somewhat intact and something that looked like brick peeked through the vines that had taken over the structure. You felt the bite of the rope at your stomach. 

“Now, I done told you what’ll happen if I gotta tug this damn rope again…” the Ghoul threatened from in front of you.

“I saw someth-”

“You ain’t seen nothin’,” he spat. “A mirage. Just that pretty lil’ head of yours playin’ tricks sweetie.” He tugged the rope again, urging you to move along not even bothering to look in the same direction as you. 

Sweetie. Whenever he called you that you could feel the heat of a thousand rads shoot through your body, making your blood boil. 

“Maybe my mind wouldn’t be playing tricks if I still had my food and water!” You didn’t budge, refusing to play his stupid game. You were in charge, hiring him to escort you to the Old World Wall safely. 

He turned to face you, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat but his features were twisted into a scowl. “What was that lil lady?” 

He didn’t scare you. You cleared your throat. “I said. I NEED water. You don’t get any caps or vials if I’M dead!” He stays silent, still glaring. A month's supply of vials upon arrival was on the line and he knew it. You point towards the treeline. “I saw a house over there. We're out of rations and it's getting dark. Can we at least set up camp there?” 

His answer is wordless, whistling a command to Dogmeat to run ahead to the house. He gives another tug at the rope, commanding you to follow behind him, a cautious hand at his holster. 

The inside of the house was far nicer than the outside led you to believe. While everything appeared to be overrun by nature the original bones were still there. Holey yet plush couches formed a sitting area around a fire pit that recessed into the tattered wall. The floorboards creaked and moaned under the new weight as the three of you walked around making sure the area was clear. Dusty paintings littered the walls, images nearly impossible to make out in the dim light. 

“Now smoothie,” the Ghoul started, taking a quick break to puff his inhaler, “I’mma take you off yer leash and scope the perimeter ‘fore we hunker down.” 

You nod, happy to have some relief from the scratchy fibers of the rope and to get some sort of break from your freakish travel partner. Not that you didn’t hate him but the way he spoke and stole from you did wear on your nerves. All of the stupid pet names that cowboy gave you did something to you. You couldn’t place it, a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, a milder feeling of what he did when he’d make a pass at you. And despite how much he annoyed you, you found him strangely attractive. On those sleepless night when you were sure he was sleeping, you’d study his features, imagining his strong hands around you as he pulled your hips down onto his, his cock hitting your core just right making your back arch and pulling the same loud cries of pleasure you had heard him pull from others in the adjacent room of whatever hostel would allow a ghoul and his dog. 

The smell of viscera and tobacco cloud your senses, and you feel a gloved hand around the back of your neck, ripping you back to reality. “And be good for me while I’m gone.” The heat of his breath travels down your neck and straight between your thighs. 

You watch as he slinks away, stopping at the crumbling doorway—a dark shadow masking the top half of his face. “Oh and sweetheart,” he pulls a cigarette from one of the pockets of his duster, lighting it before he continued, “be a doll an’ rangle somethin’ up for dinner. Ain’t much in the mood for ass jerky t’night.” He flashes you a smile from underneath his hat before leaving, Dogmeat happily cantering after him. 

The house is larger than it looks on the inside and despite its current state of ruin, you could see it in all of its glory, like one of those fancy houses you see in the movies. People smiling and laughing around a table piled with food, dressed in the most beautiful clothes that shimmered against the light. Women with beautifully painted faces and clean, perfectly styled hair. Those movies always made you wonder about the world before the bombs, before everyone wanted to kill everyone else, before the fear of radiation. 

You find your way into the kitchen, cracked black and white tiles decorate the floor, dingy teal cabinets matching the Atomic Queen appliances hug the walls. You take care to peek behind every cabinet door checking for any food or water that might have been missed by whoever came through here last. You manage to find some unlabeled booze and canned food tucked behind the remains of some long abandoned animal nest, while it isn’t much at least you’ll be able to eat tonight. In another cabinet you find some Sugar Bombs, the box is dented and beat up but surprisingly unopened, lucky you. 

You move towards the back of the kitchen, finding yourself in a small dark room. The smell of mildew and rot is so strong your stomach would've turned if it wasn't already empty, it's so bad you couldn't bother to examine the shelves that lined the wall. You make a mental note to ask the Ghoul to check for loot, of the two of you, he had the stronger stomach to rifle through damn near anything. Pushing through the door to the other side, fresh air greets you, a welcomed relief to your lungs. The very last dregs of sunlight shine through the windows that made up the roof, tall green trees kiss the glass in a desperate attempt to break free. If it wasn't for the roof you would've sworn you accidentally found your way outside. 

With one hand on the holster of your knife you creep with the brick of the wall at your back, slowly examining the plants in front of you. You recognized a few, Daffodils, Marigolds, even Tato vines. However a majority were new to you;  large flowers the size of your head, and plants that seemed to grow from the roof. You spot some pear and apple trees with the largest fruits you’ve ever seen further into the room. As you found your way to the perpendicular wall, you noticed that it was made of a giant window. You remember seeing building plans for something similar in a pre-war book years ago, a glass house that kept the plants inside at the ideal temperature. For whatever reason the plants in this glass house were thriving on neglect, carrying on with life as if the bombs never dropped. 

BANG! 

The sound makes you drop to the ground, covering your head. Whatever it was you just hope it was coming from the Ghoul. 

Just as you're about to get up, something catches your eye. You crawl towards the brush to get a closer look, little red fruits perched on vines decorated with white flowers cover the dirt by your feet. You pluck one, rolling it between your fingers the skin is rough, yellow dots littering the surface of the red flesh. The sweet scent of the fruit travels to your nose and entices your palate you know better than to put anything in your mouth. Instead, you procure the small tin that you use to store food from your bag and fill it with the mystery fruit. 

BANG! 

Hastily you shove the container back in your bag, whatever was going on outside had you a fair bit more concerned now that you could hear Dogmeat barking wildly. You quickly get up and make your way out of the glass house, through the dark storage room, and past the kitchen. Not stopping until you've collided with a large solid mass, sending a plume of dust into the air as your ass hits the cushion of the couch. 

“You’re ‘sposed to say ‘scuse you after runnin’ into a fella sweetheart.” 

You look up, your eyes meet the dark shadow of the Ghoul's from under his hat. Yellowed teeth show through as he grins wide. You look down to see in his gloved hand are two Rad Rabbits, in the other an unopened can of purified water. Relief washes over you, knowing that your dinner would be more than just Cram and Sugar Bombs. 

“I believe a thank you's in order.” His stupid handsome grin growing even wider. Clearly proud of himself despite him having taken down much harder prey. 

You glare at him before softening, in some way, you feel like this is his way of apologizing for earlier. Any time he pissed you off he would at least make up for it with his actions. Stolen stimpak? Within the next day, you'd find it replaced along with a bag of RadAway. A few bottle caps would find their way into your bag too, when you brought it up to him he'd deny it, telling you to keep a better eye on your shit.

“Thank you,” you pause, it just dawned on you that you didn't know his name. He was the Ghoul, the Cowboy, your escort across the wasteland. But no name to attach to him. You fish for a polite title for him, and if you knew him better you would've punctuated your gratitude with a kiss, yet the older man didn't seem like one for physical contact. “Thank you, Sir.” Is what you land on. 

His smile fades as if your gratitude offends him and he tosses rabbit carcasses into your lap.

“Make sure Dogmeat gets her fair share. She found ‘em after all.” He says, patting the mutt beside him before making his way to the firepit, and lighting another cigarette. 

[akiswife1237]

AMORALITY

When the king of curses stuns himself by falling for someone who represents everything he's not.

This will be a series! I'll try to update frequently but again, tag if you want to join the ride!

tw: smut, violence, mentions of violence, angst,

true form sukuna, this also takes place in the lovely heian era

This story will kind of go backwards LOL, it starts with Sukuna being a confused simp and then it delves more into the angst hehehe

Again, I'm not religious at all so heavily religious ppl i mean no harm or disrespect! there's no specific religion mentioned as well

The sky was adorned with an intense blue, the clouds scattered all across as they hover over the blossoming flowers that have grown beautifully over time. The warm wind blew gently over the grass and you smiled peacefully as you tended to the community garden in front of the church.

Your, church.

Due to the good deeds you had done for your village and decently populated community, the people decided to appoint you as their priest. Someone who would spread the word of their god, someone who would provide wisdom and comfort, and someone who was pure.

You thought the task too heavy at first, but afraid to let down the people who relied on you, you gave in.

Things got easier over time, and you performed just as everyone expected of you; you gave them everything they needed and more. It was the least you could do for the people who adored you so dearly. 

As you continued to tend to your garden, you halted in tilting your watering can when you felt a strong aura behind you, it was so heavy that you could feel it all throughout your body, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as you froze in place.

As you fought against this unknown feeling, you forced your self to turn around, your eyes widening when you saw an absolute beast of a man standing in front of you.

He was as tall as ever, definitely taller than 6 feet, thats for certain. His well-kept and muscular body was nearly covered in what seemed to be tattoos? You couldn't tell. But what caught your eye the most was the two pairs of arms that he had, one pair was seemingly ready to strike you as the other hands on his lower arms rested against his hips. He did little to cover himself, and you didn't fail to notice the presence of a mouth near his abdomen as well.

Craning your head upward, you were met with crimson-red eyes—no, multiple crimson-red eyes staring down at you—and the pink-haired man's face wore a slight scowl.

Despite looking like a beast and a half, you couldn't deny that, despite his unique qualities perplexing you, he was indeed handsome. 

Sukuna had been busy traveling from his fruitless missions and was as irritated as ever. Though the reward had been heavy in gold and luxuries, the requests he took on were pretty much useless and resulted in him just burning the shameless town to the ground.

He needed something else to satisfy him, and fast.

As he headed north, deep in thought, he suddenly paused, a wicked grin painting his face when he remembered just what was in the town he'd be passing through.

A church.

He had heard from passerbys that the priestess's there were absolutely divine, hopeful, and represented purity itself.

He couldn't wait to ruin them. Perhaps he'd kidnap one after the mass slaughter, if he felt generous enough.

He had nearly made it to the entrance before pausing when he saw someone outside, his wicked grin only growing wider.

Perfect, his first victim.

As he drew closer, he suddenly paused when the priestess tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He now had a full view of her face, which made him freeze once he got a good look at it. 

He felt a sudden rush in his chest, his heartbeat quickening the longer he stared. The rush he felt wasn't the normal one he had; it wasn't one of adrenaline, but one of... surprise? 

He was stunned, to say the least.

He tried to ignore this feeling and drew closer to the priestess, he had his own mission after all, but he couldn't deny the foreign feeling sitting heavy in his chest.

He was now behind you and just as he was about to strike, the priest' instincts suddenly kicked in and she turned around to meet his gaze.

He scowled when he realized he couldn't come as quietly as he hoped, oh well, he was never good at being subtle anyways.

The moment your eyes met, though, he couldn't move, he felt his world slowing down and he gulped as he stayed in place, the scowl still on his face.

Your innocent eyes batted up at him with confusion and your lips parted so perfectly that it was enough to turn his brain into mush. It didn't help that the sunlight highlighted all of your beauty perfectly.

You were unlike anything he's ever seen before, absolutely breathtaking...

...What was he here to do again?

an: that's chapter one! stay tuned for chapter two hehehe, again comment to be part of the tag if you want to be updated !!

tags: @getossluttt @busyreader17 @scarasluvvr @unknown5029 @koshii-meji @genderfluidnuggettt @sterzin

[writing-havoc]

HII! HOW ARE YOU? Okay so i have a kaz brekker x reader request but it's kinda meh but i just can't stop thinking about it. And it's kinda similar to your fic 'high' (my favorite piece of media EVER)

So fem!reader (or gn whichever is easier for you<3) drunk and makes fun of the way kaz talks and his hair and the way how he's really bossy. (I would so call him emo king) and he's just trying to get her to take a bath (be a fish) and rest.

Please please don't feel pressured you can just ignore this. Don't forget to drink water. Have a nice day or night love youu<3

Loverboy

♡ Summary: Kaz comes and fetches you after you have a bit too much to drink. Getting you to bathe and rest for the night is a little more difficult than he remembers.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Alcohol, Nudity (not smut)

♡ WC: 3.5k

Hello hello!!! Thank you for your request <3 I'm doing pretty alright thank you for asking. I hope you're doing okay!

I loved being prompted to expand on this and experiment with how it would go. To be honest that's also one of my fav pieces of work that I've done, and I'm glad someone else holds the same joy for it that I do!

Anyway, here it is!! Hope you enjoy it anon, ly <3

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

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"Oh for Ghezen's sake just put one foot in front of the other." Kaz nipped, pushing just a bit harder on your back.

Your head was lolling back and to the side, unwillingly looking at the stars. Yet your eyes remain half closed, barely a fraction of your pupil visible in the moonlight. A smile is painted on your face the whole time, lips chapped and cracked from dehydration. "'M tryin' Kaz. But my head is just, so heavy and the stars 're so pretty."

"I know I know- hold on to the cane- the cane!"

He shouldn't have let you have those last few drinks, but unfortunately you batted your little lashes and made the same little promises you do after enough time has passed for his memories to become just a little bit muddled and forget how far from the truth your promises are.

You'll say you'll be fine. You'll say you'll get home safe. You'll say you'll see him soon.

But you can't really fulfill any of those. So he at least has the foresight to stay with you, or to have someone else stay with you and come get him when you down more than your promised two or three.

And he makes a big deal out of it, saying all these things and talking like he's annoyed with you, but really?

He's not.

Not as much as he thinks he should be anyway. If he had heard anybody else complaining as much as he does in his own head he'd stuff his own glove in their mouth and tell them to deal with their inadequate relationship elsewhere.

But it's him, and it's you, and it's different.

You're not like them. You're not violent or a verbal tyrant or negligent.

"Did I ever tell you..." You start, then chuckle to yourself when you straighten up and sway around. "Did I ever tell you that kin'a remind me of a cat with your hair slicked back like that?"

You're,,, silly. And he feels silly saying that but you are. It's the perfect word to describe you when you get like this. Light jabs at the things you like about him, your feet walking to a rhythm in your head that makes you stop and go and speed and slow at random, laughing at the most mundane things.

"I don't believe you have, no." You definitely have. But he allows you to repeat it.

The Slat is wonderfully empty as he opens the door. Only a few people occupy the tables off to the side, but they're just as drunk as you are, and he doubts they can see this far from their drooling.

"Come on." He leads you over to the stairs. "Up we go."

You lean on the rail, shaking your head, smile gone. "Mh-mhn. I can't." You continue to shake your head, eyes closed. "Your leg is bad."

Silly.

"Good observation. Your legs, however, are fine, if a bit wobbly. Up you come." He tries again to coax you up, to no avail. You lean on the rail more, even pushing into it.

He forgot how much you resemble an ox when it comes to getting you to do something. It's like you contain this ability to just plant yourself anywhere and stick no matter the force that's pulling or pushing you.

"Your leg is bad. I can't go up."

"My bad leg does not effect your ability to walk up the stairs." He says as gentle as possible.

"But it does."

He sighs. "Could you explain to me why that is?"

Your bottom lip pushes out just barely, eyes opening and looking at him through your lashes. It's a look that would have any man in Kerch on their knees, he's sure of it. "Need your help."

His heart sunk. "Just grab the railing and my cane, dove. I'll take my good leg up first."

You analyzed the stairs, scrutinizing them. "Promise?"

"You know I don't make-"

"Promise?" A hint of anger bubbled in your tone, the same firmness in your eyes when you snapped your head to look at him.

He takes a deep breath. "I promise."

And just like that you were ready to ascend the stairs. You grabbed the railing, clumsily reaching out for his cane which he gave readily.

Even in your drunken state, you knew exactly which stairs creaked and which ones were just this side of broken. You skipped a stair, glaring at it as Kaz ascended with his good leg first, then continued with your usual lax expression.

He tried to step with his bad leg, but you immediately backtracked and held his cane firmly, holding him back as well. "You promised." You bit out.

"I did." He switched back, good leg going up, slowly edging you along. "It just slipped my mind."

"Nothin' slips your mind." You pouted, begrudgingly ascending when the cane went too far to hold close.

"Important things," he corrected. "Important things don't slip my mind."

You yanked on the cane, making him look at you. "You're important."

And he... doesn't know what to do with that.

Of course in whatever realm you were occupying he'd be important. He's important for a lot of things. His businesses, his club, whatever constitutes as leader of the crows.

It's not that he thinks he's not important. He just forgets to take into account that with you, he's important in the little things too.

Pointing him where to massage on his leg when it's giving him trouble, bringing him fresh tea when he tries to drink the day old stuff pushed to the corner of his desk, at least reminding him to sleep when the clock reaches two bells in the dark hours.

And right now, when you force him to take the pressure off his poorly healed shin.

"You're right." He confirms, helping you to the top of the stairs. "I am. Now come on."

When he began to lead you to his room, you groaned and stood in place. "Noo. I don' wanna fish."

His mouth struggled to stay in a line, corners quirking up. "You have to fish. You're sweaty and you smell like alcohol."

"I's a good smell."

"You gag in the morning when you smell it."

"Hogwash, you walking shadow."

He tugged you along, walking ahead of you and up the stairs to the attic. His help wasn't much needed here with how narrow and more secure the steps were, but you needed the extra hand to coax you up and towards your inevitable bath.

His office was dark, the only thing preventing the room from being cast in complete darkness was the street lights outside pushes a faint yellow glow through the window.

A lantern was stored in a bookcase next to the door for this reason. He clipped his cane onto his belt and hooked a finger under the handle, giving you little assurances that he wasn't going to let you fall while he navigated the room he knew by heart.

He parked you by his makeshift desk, guiding your hands to the desktop for some leverage while he rustled through a cabinet for the matches.

Immediately you were enthralled with the fire. Nina thinks you were an Inferni in your past life, and he finds the idea hard to not believe as he watches your once droopy eyes widen and follow the ball of fire in his hand as it lights the lantern.

He closes the shade, putting out the match and watching you smile as the whole room lights up.

"So bright." You whisper, as if it's your first time seeing fire.

He shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the back of his chair. "Very. Don't touch it."

You pout, taking your hand away. "I don't know what you're referring to."

He takes the lantern from where it rests on the desk, unhooking his cane and walking to the bathroom. "Come take your bath."

"'Come take your bath'." You mock him. "You're a bossy bossy man, you know that?"

He can't see you as he hangs the lantern on a hook, but he knows your hands are on your hips and your head cocked to the side. You always became so sassy when the initial fuzziness seems to wear off.

"It's what im paid for." He calls, swirling the basin of water he had filled up before he left. It was only expected that you should get a bath tonight, and he didn't want to wake anybody now of all times to come and fill it up.

"Youre not getting paid right now."

He didn't have any soap. He used up all of his last time and you usually keep yours tucked in your room, eager to hide its existence from greedy hands.

Just water will have to do, since he doesn't trust you to not fall asleep in the time it will take to go to your room and retrieve yours from your spare set of shoes.

He exits the bathroom, coming face to face with you. "I should be with how I'm ordering you around right now."

He waves you over, and it seems at this point you're becoming too tired to really fight back. You shrug off your outer layers, leaving them in a pile on the floor that you attempt to kick to the side. It's seems you think that you did away with them well enough, but really you just kind of spread them around.

That will have to come later, he thinks, and then puts a hand on your bare shoulder as you take off your shirt, throwing it over the side of the basin. Your pants come off and are thrown at its base, shoes somehow already off in the time span it took to check the tub and come retrieve you, socks following.

"You can keep your undergarments on if you'd like." He says, resting his cane against the wall.

"Oh don't get shy on me now, Kaz. You've seen me naked at least a dozen times." You look back at him, a shit eating smirk on your face.

He's thankful for the warm lantern light to obscure the warmth creeping up his neck and nipping at his ears. "Only because we end up in situations like these. It's more efficient to just get you clean now than have you complain in the morning and almost throw up in the tub."

You moan, the sound throaty and like gravel. "I don't wanna be a fish."

"You dont have to be one for long. Just a few minutes until you're clean."

"Can' be clean if there's no soap."

"We can at least get most of the grime off. Come on, one leg over the other."

Slowly, you climb into the tub, Kaz helping you get in with minimal sloshing.

And now comes the hard part.

His gloves are made of leather. He can't dunk and soak them in the water and expect them to be fine later.

They come off quicker than last time, but just as shakey. He puts on two pairs of cloth ones he's kept in here since the third time this happened, when it became apparent that this would happen again and several more times after.

Once they're on he flexes his hand, feeling the cold unforgiving waves slosh at his knees and lick up his thighs.

It's not the same. It's a bath. It's you.

"Can you get your body?" He asks, though. Because as much as he'd like to be of some help here he can't help but need to touch you the least amount as possible.

You think it over, stretching out as much as the tub allows before nodding. "M'yeah, I can do it."

He hands you a rag, watching it sink under the water and become several shades darker.

He turns around and allows you to do your thing, but knows your routine from when you, Nina, and Jesper had a heated debate about which order to wash your body in.

You'll wash your neck and chest first, digging into your collars bones and over your shoulders, then do you arms, followed by your torso and around your back. Then you'll scrub at your legs, moving to your face, then your waist, then your feet.

It'll take about ten minutes to go over every part, scrubbing in places you think have the most grime, and all the while having your shampoo already scrubbed into your hair so that you can rinse everything out all at once.

But you're tired and drunk, and he doesn't know how far you'll make it down your list until you eventually get frustrated or too exhausted or both.

He listens to the water in the tub move as your scrub yourself beneath its surface. A throaty hum emanates from your throat, a tune oddly familiar to the song that plays in the club filling the room.

Every once in a while you'll sigh, the water halting. He'll lean back and ask if you're alright, and you'll hum and get right back to scrubbing.

It's fifteen minutes before you say anything.

"You alright t' do my hair?"

His stomach churns, acid bubbling at its entrance.

"Ill be fine."

He turns, gesturing with his finger for you to lean your head into the water.

There's a pause before he reaches into the cold depths, wondering if he actually /will/ be fine.

When you look at him, eyes rimmed in red and glassy, he scrounges up whatever stability and modicum of the word "cope" he has and dunks them in.

Immediately he finds your hair, burying his fingers between the strands and finding your scalp.

It's hard to feel anything besides temperature with these gloves, and your head is practically burning against the cool water.

You're definitely cold. He can tell by your flushed cheeks and the way you curl your arms around your waist, goosebumps littering your arms. Yet you remain warm under his touch.

He watches the little hairs on your arm wave in the bath current as he scrubs, almost hypnotizing in their back and forth movement as you move to let them rest against your thighs.

But it's not enough.

He's scrubbing your hair, trying so hard to just focus on the grime under his fingers as his hands make the cold water slosh. The feeling is oddly familiar to the waves coating his hands as they dunk half under as he clings to blue flesh.

But you look at him, and your giggle is like little bells that keep him above water, just for the moment.

"You know what you look like?" You ask. "You look like- oh, what's that new style they got goin' on?"

He has no idea what you're talking about. Fashion trends are far beneath his radar unless necessary for a job.

You snap your fingers, pointing up at him. "Emo!"

That makes his eyebrows raise. Because he is familiar with Emo, because a bunch of kids called him that when they were out much past their bedtime. They found it necessary to shout it at him while he was passing by, laughing as they ran into an alleyway.

"I don't think that's accurate." He manages to get out, dunking your head a little further to cover your ears and get the wisps of hair in front of them.

"It's sooo accurate." You draw out your o's, blinking slowly and out of sync. "Emo king."

He sighs. "Whatever you say, little fish."

You pout, moving away from him and turning belly down, chin dipping into the water. "I thought I was your dove."

Again, thankful for that warm light. It makes his stomach feel all twisty the way you say "your". For just a moment, he let's himself smile, really smile, and puts his chin on his hands. "You are. But right now, you're a fish."

You huff, turning back and putting your head within reach. "Okay, mister emo cat."

He sighs, beginning to scrub at the parts of your scalp that he already got but feels he needs to do another once over for. "I am neither emo nor a cat."

"Tell that to your hair, loverboy."

Loverboy.

He scoffs, taking his hands from your hair. "Your hair's done. Get out so you can dry off."

You laugh at your accomplishment, sitting up and scrunching your hair as he discards his wet gloves on a towel rack and dries himself off.

Honestly, loverboy? He's not some lovesick puppy. Loverboy applies to those who are unfathomably whipped, wrapped around their partners finger and touching at all times. It has no place being in the same sentence that his likeness occupies except to say that he is not a 'loverboy'.

He hands you a towel as you get out of the tub, heading to his closet to fetch you some of his clothes.

"An old one, please?" You yell out to him.

"I know." He calls back.

If he can help it he replaces his button ups every few months. But you like the ones that are just around that area of wear and tear. In your words, they "ain't tight and smell like him. Win win."

He doesn't bother with pants, but grabs a pair of his underwear for you to change into instead that he knows you'll find more comfortable.

As he limps back to the bathroom, he halts as he analyzes his thoughts and actions.

Fuck. Maybe he /does/ deserve the name Loverboy.

The realization almost makes him groan and sit down on the floor right then and there.

Can't he just carve his heart out? Isn't that what the poets and song writers do?

Alas, he is neither a poet nor a musician. So he will instead take the long way out, and bring you his clothes and get you into into his bed before the third bell chimes.

He hands you the clothes, watching your face light up for a moment before he exits to his office to clean up the mess you made.

The beak of his cane hooks under your coat, dragging it up and into his hand which he then throws onto the chair. You hate getting it off the coat rack, half the time pulling it with you when you take your coat back. So he sets it here for now, and takes your shoulder bag and shoes and organizes them around the chair just as you usually do.

"I think I found my new look."

He turns around, seeing you trying to pose against the wall. It's supposed to be sultry and sexy, but it definitely does not read that way with your soaked hair, stiff back, and uncooperative limbs.

"If you think so." He nearly chuckles, taking his gloves from your hands and slipping them onto his own, and then retrieves the lantern from the bathroom. "Come to bed."

Thankfully, you seem to love the idea of the bed. It doesn't take much to lead you to the little nook he calls his bedroom. He hooks the lantern to the wall as your body slumps onto his partially eaten sheets.

"Mmm." You hum, smile hidden under your squashed cheek. "Warm."

"Doubtful." He jabs, unfolding a blanket at the foot of the bed and draping it over you.

"It really is. Should try it sometime." You poke at the space beneath your eye, tongue sticking out.

He assumes you're referencing the eye bags that have taken permanent residence on his face, to which he rolls his eyes and hikes up the blanket to cover your back. You hate the cold creeping in.

If you wake up cold in the morning, you will be cold for the rest of the day. And unfortunately for you, you have a job in about six hours.

The less you have to complain about, the better.

"Ill try it later." He promises. "For now, you need it more."

You mumble something, but with the way your eyes are drooping he figures you're not even aware you said anything at all.

As you doze off, he half sits on his nightstand, and watches your breathing begin to slow and even out. It's loud at first, but eventually you grow quieter and quieter, muscles relaxing as you sink into his hard mattress.

Your hair is thrown about everywhere, still wet from your bath, and you'll need Nina to remove a kink in your shoulder in the morning. But for now, you're calm, and safe, and that's enough.

He takes a deep breath, just the same as you do, and then sighs.

"Goodnight, little fish." He mumbles, and then stands, off to collect the ingredients for a hangover tonic and catch up on paperwork.

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Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

[hillbillyoracle]

How to Create Downtime Menus

As a lot of my posts are, this one was inspired by a conversation with my partner. She seemed to think some of my ideas were helpful so I thought I'd write them up and share them here.

I use a combination of these ideas to do two things - redirect myself when I get stuck doomscrolling/freezing/obsessing and redirect myself when I'm stuck on the "must be good, must be productive" hamster wheel and can't seem to stop doing chores until I'm fucking exhausted or have pushed/hurt myself. Knowing you need to stop is one thing - knowing what to do instead is another.

Not all of these will work for every person at every time. Pick one or two that seem interesting and give them a whirl.

Habit of the Month

This is a small habit I can do in about 5-10 minutes a day. These are sometimes habits that I want to audition for my lineup or just want to focus on as a way of rebooting a given area of my life. Physical habits have been things like stretching, a walk, putting on moisturizer, drinking water, making tea, etc. Emotional habits have been things like stream of consciousness journaling, bullet journaling, recording myself venting, etc. Spiritual habits have been things like meditating, altar work, reading sutras, tarot readings, etc.

If I'm stuck in a loop and I haven't done that task yet, it serves as an easy win that feels moderately meaningful to accomplish. This is easier to do than longer or less interesting tasks.

Side Quests

These are little challenges I'd like to accomplish that are 100% fun and completely optional. They are specific and can me completed within a given time frame - usually a month. They usually aren't the most meaningful to keep them more fun and so I'm not letting myself down if I don't opt to complete it.

They've been things like:

The Minor Expert Challenge - read three books in one subject

The Kanopy Critic Challenge - use up all of my Kanopy credits that month

The Regal Freegal Challenge - download all the albums/songs I can on Freegal that month

The Monthly Playlist Challenge - create a playlist of the month where each song represents something about each day of that month; like a playlist diary

The Reverse Tarot Draw Challenge - pick/list a tarot card you best think represents each day of a given month or other time period; like a tarot card diary

The 100 Words Challenge - learn 100 words in a foreign language

As you can see, I prefer things that are pretty low energy friendly so I can work on them on days I'm super tired. Just little chronic illness things.

Alphabet Lists

I use these for my cleaning routines actually but I also have been trying them with my downtime. The way it works is you list out the alphabet and choose one self care or hobby task you'd like to do for each. They don't have to start with the same letter, it just serves as an easy way to limit how many you pick and keep track of what you've done. It's satisfying to cross off the whole list.

Tasks I put on these are things like

A - paint my nails

B - crochet a charity hat

C - write 5 letters for Letters Against Isolation

D - send a letter to a friend

E - play a solo rpg

F - play a solo board game

G - complete a puzzle

etc

They're fun tasks I'm not currently doing as often as I'd like but chill enough that it doesn't matter when precisely I do them more often. I try to pick tasks that are roughly 30 minutes to an hour long though some definitely take longer. I like to complete these roughly monthly but I try to complete a whole list before I start it again. Anything I just did not feel like doing and kept skipping gets scratched out and I rewrite a new list with new item to replace those. And I start again.

Whenever I'm like ugh I don't know what to do with myself, I try to pick at least one thing on the list and give it a try for 5 minutes. If I don't like it after that I can just put it away and pick something else.

10x10

10x10 lists are a different take on a similar idea. It's a list of 10 things you'd like to do at least 10 times in a given time period. Mine tend to be on the seasonal or annual timescale but maybe you're intense and prefer a monthly one. If I don't complete them in a given time period, I just continue with it until I'm done. Better to complete it on an altered timeline than not at all.

For me these tend to be slightly bigger tasks that take a little more planning or energy. I'm not totally sure why I use them this way since you could definitely use them for smaller tasks but that's just the space they occupy for me.

So examples of what would be on my list would be things like:

Grab a hot chocolate from the coffee shop (x10)

Complete a PokemonGo event (x10)

Have a spa night and watch a movie (x10)

Do something extra nice for my partner (x10)

Try a new game (x10)

Find a geocache (x10)

etc

Filing up a little 10x10 grid is pretty satisfying. Much more so than anxietying myself into my bed for the equivalent amount of time.

Seasonal Bucket Lists

I really enjoy making these though I really struggle with the current season (Spring) given my allergies. There's this idea my partner has told me about in DBT where you try to recall positive moments to help "build a life worth living". I think seasonal bucket lists are really good at helping with this for me. I look back on the seasons I made these lists way more fondly than the ones I didn't.

They generally center on seasonal activities I don't want to miss out on. So for summer that's stuff like going for a night swim/skinny dip, getting 5-10 good cloud photos, playing a yard game (like cornhole), seeing a street concert, etc. I also try to take pictures of those (if they don't already involve them) so I can reflect on them later and enjoy the residual happiness.

Conclusion

The point of these isn't to overwhelm you with options. It's just to have enough ideas prepped that you can find something no matter your energy level or time you're working with.

Remember - rest and enjoying yourself is necessary for human health. Folks how get good rest and experience flow states more regularly tend to heal better. People who spend time on what they enjoy are often more enjoyable to be around.

It's never a waste of time to make yourself happy.

[renegadeguild]

Edible Book Day 2024

the appetizers

A Commonplace Snack by Daemonluna

A collection of tropes and other ephemera, rendered in nori and rice paper. Sewn with a glass sweet potato noodle, ornamented with cilantro and lime.

This is how we roll (bamboo slips) by anonymous

This is the first book I have made since joining Renegade. I didn't think I'd get to make books and eat them too.

The (Not Actually) Matzah Plague Board Book by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie

10 Plagues by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie. Illustration by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie. Writing and Binding by Noodle. Materials: Gluten Free Matzo Substitute, fruit roll ups, fruit by the foot, sour belts, licorice, fruit rolls, sour sticks, cumin, water.

a fluffy breaduation by Sandy Kitty Bindery

i do not regret anything... except maybe the dentist bills ;)

Pancake Scroll by Zhalfirin

This was a lot easier than I had anticipated. A bit bland because I wasn't sure what I'd do the painting with and therefore didn't season the batter. It goes really well with a side of salmon and soy sauce though.

the mains

the iron chef secret ingredient was lasers by Lark

lasers are friends not food.

6/10, at least I chose turkey this year.

The Count of Monte Cristo by Thunder (Dragon's Thunder Press)

This was my first book bind ever. The case is French toast. The 2 signatures are each made of 3 omelet folios, and they're sewn with mozzarella string cheese strands. The end pages are each a slice of prosciutto, and they're pasted in with raspberry fruit syrup. Finally, the titling was done with black icing.

Sandwiches (And Books) Are Beautiful by Velvetwastaken

The ‘book’ ultimately failed to be readable as such due to a betrayal by the onion binding. But it tasted amazing, and thus I think still encapsulated the spirit of edible book day: good books are meant to be devoured.

and of course… … the desserts!

Mistakes were Marbled by anonymous

I baked a strawberry cake with buttercream icing. The buttercream set a bit too quickly for the marbled effect to work, and attempts to fix it caused structural damage, resulting in ... this. I would like half-points for retaining good flavor, despite appearances.

Brandy Snaps by Lottie

Brandy snaps for the pages, strawberry laces for thread. Complete with two weaver’s knots to tie the strawberry laces together

Book Cookies by six

Sadly not fully functional books - the cases are rigid sugar cookies baked into various open forms. The pages are edible wafer paper marked up here and there w/ an edible ink pen and the frosting quite tasty! Experimented with two different sizes and various page configurations. Fed some of them to various Renegade members. There were no fatalities.

Titles are overrated by Zhalfirin

I'm still baffled this turned out the way it did.

It's a delicious little baumkuchen chonker (app. A6 in size and about 6cm thick) cased in chocolate powdered marzipan.

Don't forget to vote for your favorite! And check out last year's winners here.

[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 08

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: slight implications of verbal abuse

Words: 3381

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashion @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani

A/N: Hi everyone! I just wanted to thank you all for the continuous support this story is receiving once again. This is a more serious chapter so i hope it won't be boring for any of you!

If you have anything you would like me to include in this story, ideas, prompts.. just DM or comment under any of the posts, and I might include it in some of the upcoming chapters :) I have a few nice ideas in mind already, but I'm open for new suggestions

Thank you for everything. Take care of yourself please. ❤️❄️🪽

Previous:

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Picking the cardboard box back up, the alpha took the few strides between him and the living room. It wasn't heavy by no means, but it still was quite full. 

He felt his heart break a bit once again because of you. He hoped that if you really would stay with them how they so wished for, considering how quickly you and they got attached, it would get easier somehow. But Taehyung also knew more than well, that it was not going to be today. 

The apartment you lived in was quite small, even if it was for you only. The small corridor that lead to the entrance had two doors on each side, one leading to a small tiled bathroom and the other to the living room.

Your small kitchen was also cramped in the space, even if you had only a few things filling the cupboards, it was just not enough space all together.

There was a small old looking brown couch, some of the fabric already tearing apart. There was a lot of your belongings just laying loosely around, many of your books and notebooks, different sketchbooks, paintings, clothes or blankets. 

Placing the box next to his oldest packmate, he opened the lid once again, the light puff of dust coming out. Jin passed him a glance, but soon turned his eyes back to you. 

Namjoon was crouched on the floor, looking at some of your work, a drawing you made a few months ago in his hands. When Tae called his name he turned to look at him though. 

„Come look hyung.” He murmured, already turned to the box once again. 

With a few of the other packmates littering towards him too, they all watched closely. The alpha pulled out a old blanket, that smelled lightly of different beta and alpha. 

Bringing it to his nose, he smelled it a bit before he nudged it towards the others. After taking only a small wift of the aroma, Namjoon knew that they weren't able to prolong the much needed discussion for any longer. 

„Okay, let's talk. Jin, wake her up.” The packalpha sighed, before he took a seat on the ground. The wood felt cold on his legs. Soon the others followed, Jungkook and Jimin also coming back, being lead by Hoseok from the bathroom they were looking at earlier.

Shaking you awake, after a few minutes you were finally looking at least a bit lucid, your eyes still bleary but present with the soft shine they always held.

With Jin placing you on the couch besides him, he went to get a glass of water for you. Handling the tall cup to you, he watched closely as you took a sip. 

„Drink some more sweetheart.” He said gently, his eyes warm and soft. Gulping down the cold liquid you gave him the cup back. The alpha also sat down on the ground before you, all the packmates gathered by now. 

Namjoon was the first to speak, not being able to hold on with how you were looking away constantly. You were obviously nervous and stressed, it was so easy to tell. 

„Okay pup. Let's talk about some stuff now, yea? If it gets too much you just have to say and we will stop right away. Do you understand?” His eyes never wavered, keeping the eye contact with no problem. 

Nodding a little, you squeezed at the hoodie sleeves you were wearing. Hearing the packalpha's teeth click, you looked back at him quickly.

„Use your words baby. This is important.” 

„..yea I understand alpha.” You mumbled, averting your eyes back to the floorings right after. 

„Okay. Good girl. Can you tell us about yourself some more? We can ask about stuff easier after.” You could feel all their eyes on you. It didn't feel too uncomfortable because of that, the gazes soft and caring. 

„..yea. My name is L/N Y/N, and I'm a student here in Korean national University of Arts. I just started my Junior year this September. My major is fine arts. I don't actually come from Seoul; my family is half Japanese, so I grew up for most of my life there. I moved to Seoul about three years ago. I was raised speaking both languages.”

It was quiet for a second, with all the alphas watching you closely. You were nervous, sure, but they were just watching closely for any sort of breaking point that they might stumble upon accidentally. You seem okay so far, though.

„You said you didn't have a pack earlier in the mall to me and Jimin. Did you mean your family pack?” The question stung a little; you felt sad that you had to talk about this once again. It was a sensitive topic for you.

„Yes, my pack disowned me about two years ago. We got into a bad argument and it just ended not too well.” You could sense that they wanted to know much more, questions they felt like they couldn't ask: „My family pack is very traditionally thinking; I have a beta mother and an alpha father. My grandfather was also an alpha; he was a pack alpha until he passed away a few years ago.”

Your voice was soft, but even when it shook a little bit, they could see that whatever wounds you had taken earlier were well in the healing process.

„My grandfather was raised in Seoul, and he also met my grandmother here. When she left, in her last will, she wished to be buried here since her happiest memories were kept in the city when she was still younger. She would tell me about Seoul sometimes.”

You could feel heaviness in your chest. It was complicated to remind yourself of people that were no longer around, but your memories were fond and sweet, so the small tear that escaped your eye was just for the good memories you wouldn't be able to continue for now.

Jungkook was quick to lean in, his thumb brushing over your cheek comfortingly, before he pulled away soon. He didn't want you to dwell on any upset feelings at the moment; they knew that this talk was more than important.

„So when my grandfather also passed away, he wanted to stay with his mate even after death. His body was buried with her, so we came here three years ago to attend the funeral. With the pack alpha passing, the right to become the pack alpha was automatically given to my father, so he started to lead the pack.

Me and my parents never got along too well in general. It was just always really complicated; we would argue a lot over stupid things.

I wanted to pursue the arts; it was the time when I had to decide if I would drop the chance of my next education or go for it, and I just really wanted to at least try. Because, I dunno.." You mumbled, sniffling a little. Watching your lap, you played with your fingers.

„Time doesn't hear if you ask it to wait. I just have this feeling in me; I know what my purpose is, and even if my subgender makes it complicated for me, I can feel it. My parents didn't truly understand this, and they never will, I think.

It's normal for omegas to not really work in general, and if so, it's easy jobs that don't require much stress. They supported me in getting at least some sort of job, but my father never thought of art being one.” Taking a deep breath, you continued on.

„We used to argue about this a lot—too much, in fact. So after the funeral, we were staying in Seoul in memory of my Grandfather. We stayed for about four months, and we visited a lot of places in Korea that he and grandmother loved the most. It might sound sad or something, but it was really just nice.

We didn't travel basically anywhere before that, and so this was a really welcomed change for once, even if it was because of a sad reason. My grandfather was always really sweet and nice to me and I have a lot of good memories with my grandparents.

But as the visit started to come to an end, we had to go back home to Japan. My older brother and sister both worked there, and my father and mother ran errands there too, so it was only natural for us to come back eventually.

Me and my father got into a terrible argument one of the last nights in the hotel room; it was j-just bad. I don't remember everything exactly, but trust me, it wasn't anything new or ni-nice." With your soft voice growing smaller and smaller with every word passing through your lips, you took a look at the pack before you.

They all seemed collected and calm, but the strong scent in the entire room told a completely different story. There was a strong aroma of anger, sadness, and guilt. Deciding to just rip off the bandage you continued.

„I was banished after that. My whole family left with the first flight in the morning, and I was left on the streets for a few days.

Eventually some people noticed, and it was brought to the attention of the international management of pack affairs, and since I didn't have any associations with anyone here at that time, my father was required by law to get me safe housing and send me monthly payments to assure my wellbeing.

It took a long time for me to settle down here, but eventually, with the help of a few people, I got to this apartment and started my studies. I live off the month-to-month payments I receive, and my family also pays for the schooling. They wouldn't if they didn't have to, though; you can trust me on that.”

Sitting up, you rested your back on the back of the couch, pulling your knees to your chin. The packmates didn't speak for a few seconds, and you allowed all the information to just sink in for now.

„That's terrible little cub. I'm so sorry.” You looked at Hobi; since he sat right at the foot of the couch, he took hold of your palms quickly, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. There wasn't much for them to say; the damage was already done.

Sighing, Namjoon realised that this was worse than what he expected. He wasn't so sure what he expected, but when you were led to his packhouse doorway, your body small and fragile, shaking with sobs and whimpers, he grew attached so fast.

Now that he knew what caused it, he felt anger pulsing through his veins, his teeth clenching harshly. A pack banishing an omega? In a foreign country? This was just unbelievable.

„Pup, my sweetie. That's a terrible thing they did; you understand that well, right? That it's not your fault.”

„I mean, it is my fault. I should have just gone along with their suggestions and stopped being so difficult. It must have gotten just too stressful for my family.” You answered, looking into the pack alpha's eyes. He only furrowed his brows. He was about to speak, before he was interrupted.

„Bullshit kitten. None of that is true; a good pack will always support what you want to do, whether it is risky or not. It doesn't matter; a good pack will protect you no matter what; that's what's important.” He looked over your form closely. You could smell the anger coming off Yoongi in waves, so you just didn't argue.

„Tell Alpha now, what happened at the mall when me and Jimin met you? What happened at the pharmacy with the prescription?” He never got an answer, and so with all of them being there to talk everything out now, he wanted to know.

They didn't have much time to talk about anything so far, and since you weren't able to speak well back then either, on their way to the packhouse, the two alphas decided that it would be for the best to just wait for you to tell the others too.

Just because you talked about something during Omega drop, it didn't mean that you wanted them to actually know.

Your fingers shook a little as you gripped Hobi's warm palms tighter.

„I went to the doctor earlier this week; I needed to get on different h-heat suppressants; the other ones just weren't go-good. I got a presc-ription for the pharmacy, and so I w-ent, but I couldn't get the medicine because I do-don't have a packalpha.” Your lips shook, stammering over a few words as you were reminded of the overwhelming memory.

„Wait, wait, wait, babycheeks. Heat suppressants? Why are you taking those? Can't you just take a break from school for a week?”

Turning to look at Taehyung, you couldn't help the dry chuckle that left your throat. It felt a little humorous with how his thinking went.

„No, I can't. I go to a school for all second genders, and there are no compensations for ruts or heats. It's normal for everyone to take strong suppressants. Plus, the time I would miss is just way too much. It adds up quickly.”

„Okay.. that's still absolutely unacceptable. And that you need a packalpha for the medication too? Since when are they doing that? That's so stupid.” Throwing his head back, Jimin loudly exhaled. What's been going on with the government lately?

If a pack's omega would start taking heat suppressants, it would be most definitely discussed before hand. Plus, it was really unusual for a mated omega to even take those; why would they need them?

„It's just to keep them safe. Calm down, Chim.” The pack alpha said He didn't really understand the new rule either, but he never really had to worry about stuff like this.

„Do you still have the note? Can I take a look, little pup?” Continuing on, Namjoon talked again. Nodding lightly, you mumbled about it being in your jacket pocket still.

With Taehyung carrying it back almost immediately, he handed the now pretty crumbled piece of paper to his packalpha. Reading over it, his frown only deepened.

„Little one, who's your doctor?” With Jin and Taehyung staring over his shoulder, their expressions too darkened up.

„His name is Seung Kyu; I think his number should be written somewhere on the paper. Why?” You could feel yourself getting nervous; was something wrong?

„Don't worry your tiny head about it for now, okay? Alpha will deal with it; I'll just go make a call. I'll be back soon, baby. Stay with alphas for now.”

Standing up tall, he walked over to you, the prescription still in hand. Fishing his folded phone from his pocket with his other hand, he softly caressed your temple, scenting you just the slightest.

Only able to nod, you watched him walk towards the entrance, listening to the door shut behind him. Your attention was quickly pulled back to the other alphas.

„Kitten. Tell us, what would you like to do now? You have school tomorrow, right? We have to go to the studios in the morning.”

For a second, you weren't sure what you really wanted to do. You knew that the process would start with courting, but even then you were still a little confused about the whole thing.

„I'm not too sure, I--.. I have school on Monday, yeah, and I'm not so sure how the whole courting process goes by. I'm sorry.” You mumbled, looking down once again.

„Don't apologise for this princess. Don't be ashamed of this.”

„Yea, it's all okay, sunshine. The whole process of welcoming you into the pack starts with courting. You know what that is, right? When we show you how good of a pack we are, how well we can provide," Nodding along, you listened to the alpha before you.

„After that, if you are still interested, we will take you in as a part of our pack, so you would move to our packhouse. Then we can move on further with things, but you don't have to worry about that at all for now.”

Understanding things better, you agreed. „I wouldn't mind with the courting process. I'm not sure what I have to do for it, but I'll try my best.” You answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

The bright, large smile Hoseok gave you warmed up your heart quickly, making it beat just a little quicker. The previous sadness and frustration that smelled foul and filled the room earlier was quickly changed for a much better scent, bright and sweet, happy and healthy.

„You don't have to do anything, cub. It's all on alphas now. You just have to rest a lot, and we will take care of everything, sweetheart.” Jin said while watching you fondly.

A knock sounded from the doors, and Taehyung stood up quickly, opening the entrance for the packalpha.

Stepping in, the agitation that had been so suddenly switched came back in full force.

„..Absolutely not; I'm not allowing that, Taehyung-ah, and you know it. Let's just talk later.” His voice was louder than usual, but when he saw you sitting with both of your palms cradled in his older packmates hands, Namjoon calmed down.

Sitting back down on the floor, he turned to his packmates. „What did I miss?” Acting as if he hadn't almost stormed the apartment, the packalpha tried to calm down as quickly as possible.

„Y/N agreed on us starting the courting officially.” The youngest beamed, his smile wide and bright. He seemed particularly excited about this. Jungkook, too, grew fond of you very quickly and already had many plans on how to impress you in the few upcoming days.

With deep dimples showing, Namjoon also smiled softly at you. His eyes closed up a little, and he felt very happy with that information. Even if he discussed it with you earlier, he still couldn't help but be happy you didn't change your mind, even with the other drop you had that his pack partly caused.

„So nice of you, pup, to give us a chance like that. I'm very proud. Well then, would you like to spend the night at the packhouse again?” A little stunned at the sudden invitation, you felt shy but happy.

„We will take you tomorrow in the morning with the car kitty; when do your lessons start and end?” The gummy smile was something that would take too long to get used to.

„At 8. Tomorrow I end at 16, but I can take the bus home, so it's alright.”

„No babycheeks, that just won't do. One of us will take you, or we will send someone for you. Come on, pack up now, sweet baby.” Pulling you up, Hobi hugged you close to his body for a minute or two.

Being followed by a few of the alphas, you pulled out your backpack and started to put a few of your things in it. You found the phone between your bedsheets and took the charger for it and a few essentials.

Changing in the bathroom before leaving, you also took your clothes for tomorrow's lessons. Helping you fold them, Jin placed them in a plastic bag so they wouldn't get tossed up too badly.

„Pup, how about some stuff for nesting? We can start getting your room situated if you want. Would you like to take some things, little one?” Looking over to Namjoon, he held up one blanket you had lying around.

„I don't nest that often, but... I can try again, I guess."

„Hm? What do you mean you don't nest often?” All the men were listening in by now as you took a seat on your bed.

„I don't know, I just never really have much time to do it, I guess."

Approaching you, Yoongi stood before you. „That's not healthy, kitty. How about we get you some new blankets and pillows? I saw a new bedding store open up close to our house. You'll definitely love to nest kitten; it's exactly what a small kitty like you is bound to want. Alpha is very sure; you trust me, right?”

Not mustering up the courage to do much else but nod, you shyly smiled to yourself. Tucking your chin downward, you felt Yoongi's fingers caress the top of your head softly.

„Good girl.” 

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Next:

[ash5monster01]

Learning to Love Part 2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 2.1k

Part 1 ←→ Part 3

Masterlist

You and Rafe had spent the better part of the week getting to know each other. He would come to bar after work, pester you to leave until you caved, then you’d find yourself on some sort of adventure whether it was sneaking onto the beach after hours or just watching a movie in his apartment. There was no denying you were attracted to him but at least you both had established some sort of friendship. You had actually come to enjoy his company and you assumed he enjoyed yours too. Even Mila and Randy had come to enjoy him, liking how he brought out the leisure side of you. Considering all you ever do was work. They liked that you finally found someone that could pull you away to enjoy yourself. Too bad it wasn’t real.

That’s why when he shows up to the bar at seven o’clock on the dot as always, it takes no persuading from you to grab your bag and join him on the other side of the bar. His hand slides easily into your own, smirk worn proudly on his face, and you almost hate how simple all of this is. How he has become such a natural part of your routine in only a short time. It makes you realize how much harder this will be when it has to end. So you push away the feeling of despair, ignore the confused looks from customers, and tell yourself to worry about this another day.

“Have anything in mind for tonight?” Rafe leans down to whisper in your ear over the loud music in the bar. You try to ignore the shiver that crawls down your spine as you look at him.

“Not particularly” and this response paints a devious smirk across his features as he leads you out and to the same truck he’s been helping you into all week.

“Good because I have an idea” he grins at you once in the drivers seat and the minute he turns out of the parking lot you have a pretty good idea on where he was taking you.

It’s not a far drive to the beach which is where you realize he is taking you. The moon is almost full tonight, illuminating the black water in a white glow. You’ve discovered Rafe has a soft spot for the beach, you have an inclination it has something to do with his childhood. Yet you never bother to ask and follow him onto the dark beach instead to provide some company for him. You realize he was even prepared for this as he lays the blanket on the soft sand and helps you down to the ground. It’s when he joins your side you decide to speak up.

“Felt like the beach tonight huh?” you smile at him and Rafe’s eyes cast over you, so dark in the night but glimmering with admiration. Friendly admiration.

“Sometimes I forget how much I miss it. Before being this important person I was once just a kid who spent every day itching to get out on the water and surf” you see the pain in his eyes, the confusion, and if you were closer you’d know what to do to comfort him. Sadly he was still just a stranger, someone you had known for a week.

“We can surf sometime, I’m not very good but I enjoy it nonetheless” you tell him and what you don’t expect is the smile that cracks across his face.

“You’d go surfing for me?” you roll your eyes at his teasing tone but smile at him anyway.

“Sure you big dope” you tell him and he smiles before leaning back to lay in the sand. The stars reflect in his eyes and you find yourself imagining a life where Rafe could like a girl like you for real, to look at you with those same stars in his eyes, and choose you above anyone else. In fact, you wished there was any world that was possible.

“It’s crazy how fast you can go from caring about the things you like to what others think of you” the words he utters holds weight he doesn’t understand. You assume for the both of you. Rafe went from caring about things like surfing to pleasing others, the same way you went from enjoying life to hating what you had been dealt. Hating what you looked like and the outcome of that. Trying so desperately to change, to lose the weight, and in the end know that maybe you’d never trust someone for liking you as skinny if they never knew you when you were fat. It would always be there in the back of your mind, wondering if they’d have been here if you stayed the same.

“If it helps I think everyone does. You lose those little kid goggles and get thrown into the real world. Hence why middle school is so scary” you tell him, laying beside him and praying he doesn’t notice the way your breasts expand across your chest, the way your chin doubles due to the position change, and how your stomach sways to whatever side you lean towards. It’s the position that had those boys making beached whale jokes, is this position that makes you vulnerable and unattractive to most.

“I want to be carefree again. I forgot what it was like to live my life for myself and not others” he tells you and you nod, eyes scanning over the big dipper in the sky, the waves slowly crashing in your ears.

“We can do that too you know, this agreement between us doesn’t have to be just dating. We can help each other enjoy life again” you don’t know why you suggest it. You’re already nervous about the agreement you have going on, the last thing you need is another clause. There’s just something about Rafe Cameron that can’t keep you away.

“I’d like that, which brings me to my next thing” you turn your head to face him, eyebrows furrowing at his sentence.

“Next thing?” you question and his head rolls to face your own, palms resting across his stomach.

“I have a work event tomorrow night, I was hoping you’d attend” this has you sitting back up, heart rate accelerating at the thought of this finally becoming public. Had a week been enough for you to be convincing? After all your friends were convinced, Mila ecstatic for you. This was Rafe’s work friends, professional people.

“Wow, um yeah” Rafe sits up beside you, hand falling to your shoulder.

“I know it’s soon, I didn’t think it was a date event until today. I figured I should probably bring my fake girlfriend” you nod and he can see the nervousness in your eyes but just like the first time you both met he sees that fierce strength behind them. The will to not let anyone undermine your power.

“I’ll go, just tell me a time and dress code” you find yourself saying and he smiles which you return until that hand on your shoulder is running behind your hair and pushing it from your face.

“I was thinking we should kiss” this has you gaping like a fish, brain actually malfunctioning over his words.

“Kiss?” he doesn’t miss the fear that floods your features and he vaguely wonders what kind of emotional damage a person would have to have to react like this over a kiss. Something he had done a hundred times but has an inkling you’ve only done a few.

“Yeah, I know you said not a lot of PDA but I’m a touchy person. Those guys know that and I figure if I show up with a date I’m not affectionate towards they’ll catch on” you let his words settle in, try to let them ease your comforts. He watches you swallow away your nerves before adding on. “I figured our first kiss will be better to have in private then there”

“So a practice run?” you ask and he knows this is you trying to convince yourself of this, that something as simple as a kiss couldn’t be real.

“Yeah, work out all the kinks and stuff” and this has you snorting in laughter which makes him happy to know he’s lessened the pressure on you.

“Yeah, so hopefully we don’t smash noses or something” you tease back with a laugh but the laugh is cut short when his hand presses against your jaw, fingers curling behind your neck. You suck in a sharp breath as you prepare for what he’s about to do. You’re repeating over and over in your head this isn’t real but when his thumb slowly brushes across your bottom lip you find it to be useless. Rafe has bewitched you in every way a man can to a simple girl like you. Which means you’ve already broken the contract, a rule you made. A rule you’ll never admit to breaking in just a week.

“Ready?” and he knows you can’t answer but over the week he has also gotten to know you and if you didn’t want this you would say it.

So he leans forward, watches how your eyes flutter close and for a moment admires how God damn pretty you are before reaching his face to your own. You shudder against him when his lips just barely brush yours and his hot breath fanning across your face has your stomach doing somersaults. Finally he closes the gap, lips closing around your bottom lip before opening and moving in sync with your own. You desperately want to grab onto him but this isn’t real. It’s practice. So after a few beats and the most mind numbing kiss of your life he pulls away with a soft smile and you vaguely wonder how he looks so calm when he just kissed you stupid.

“See, nothing” and your stomach drops, butterflies killed. Rafe turns back to the water, not realizing what he just said had ruined it. You needed to get better at reminding yourself there is nothing to ruin. It was practice, practice that felt all too real and reminded you of exactly why this agreement was dangerous for you. You loved big, not fake.

“If you’re having me come to this dinner thing I do have something to ask” you muster up the nerve to say and he turns his attention back to you, lips a little swollen and eyes glossed over. He looks like a boy who’s just been kissed and for the first time you realize there doesn’t have to be feelings for him to look like that.

“Anything” he tells you earnestly and you stretch your fingers across your legs, feeling a bit silly for asking.

“Could you come to my apartment one of these nights? Mila has been bugging me about how we’re always at your place and never at ours. I figure if we were dating it would make sense for you to come over to mine too” you say and he nods while he takes to thought what you’ve just said.

“Yeah, that’s sounds fine. We could have dinner with Mila a night” he says and you smile to hide the nervousness of him agreeing. This wasn’t nerves for your feelings towards him, this was nerves over your best friend getting close enough to notice this might possibly be fake.

“Thank you” you tell him and he smirks his signature smirk and wraps an arm around your shoulders as his eyes cast back out and over the waves. To the naked eye you look like a real couple, staring gazing on the beach, and in the silence you pretend you are because you can keep yourself from ever telling Rafe how you feel but at least you have this. Pretend, something to hold you over for the rest of your life, because if you never had this for real you surely wouldn’t now.

So tomorrow when you officially start this agreement between you two, you make yourself promise to be prepared for the end. At then end of the day you agreed to prove a point but that wouldn’t take forever. Rafe will soon have to leave and marry the girl of his dreams and the girl you could only wish to be. Tomorrow was practically the end already but at least he was yours in some sense of the word for only a moment. A moment you would cherish forever.

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[ghouljams]

Okok idk if you’ve done anything for könig for the medieval au but I can think of no better role for him than the royal executioner. Given a wide berth by all as he is technically forgiven for his job of killing, but beheading a bound prisoner is hardly the stuff of legend, it doesn’t inspire the same awe in folk. König helplessly enamored with a soft maiden reader and well aware of the blood on his hands so he skulks after her, a looming shadow she can’t seem to shake.

I know there's another writer who has an executioner König that I fucking adore, which has made me hesitant to write him in that role. However it's such a good fit for him. My sister is very upset that I made König a hunter and not an executioner, and I have another ask about König being a king put up for our lovely Princess's hand in marriage(Ghost's big mad about that, ahhhh act 2).

But yeah I like König being big and scary, gotta keep the nasty boy nasty. So I'm gonna write something for executioner König

It started so simply, so plainly, that it could hardly even be called unremarkable. Forgettable, was perhaps the better word. König is sure you must have forgotten it, at least.

Executions are an exact science. If you can call it that. There is a certain way that things must be done to ensure that death has been achieved. Rule one: No drinking on the job, not after last time. Rule two: Always aim for the center of the neck, severing the spinal column ensure the pain doesn't last past what is needed. Rule three: Do not hesitate, self explanatory. Rule four: There will always be a lot of blood, it's best to get out of the way quickly once the ax has hit its mark.

König had been washing his hands of said blood in one of the water spouts around town, when he first saw you. Your eyes wide with fear at the sight of him. You looked like the sunset, something painted by the hands of God himself, so soft and radiant as you turned and fled. He looked after you a moment longer than it took you to disappear around the corner before going back to his grim work. He stripped off his mask to rinse the blood from that as well.

This was treated with wax, the blood and water sliding from it much easier than it did his calloused hands. He could never get all the blood off on his first attempt. Maybe he should wear gloves, but he could never feel the ax as well and leather stained. He ran one short fingernail under another to clean the congealing blood out and stopped. König turned to look down at you, your hands clasped together tightly, your eyes still sparkling with fright.

You held your hand out to him, and he tilt his head to look down at it curiously. The familiar scent and off-white color of soap, just a little piece of it resting on your palm. He was careful taking it from you, shaking the water off his hand before plucking it from your palm. Despite his best efforts to prevent you the displeasure a small puddle of red tinged water formed where the soap previously sat.

"Thank you," He mumbled, turning back to his work so he didn't have to see you wipe your hand off.

"I'm sorry," You told him, in so unfamiliar a tone he didn't think he'd ever heard one like it. Pity was something he was used to, executioners were often looked on with some form of it, but this- this wasn't pity. He turned to ask what you were sorry for, but you were already gone. Quick on your feet. Like a little rabbit.

You're jumpy like a rabbit too. Cute. Actually that part might be on him. You may have forgotten your kindness --did you forget? he hopes you didn't-- but König certainly didn't. He's keeping an eye on you. Moving unseen isn't exactly König's strong suit, but he can do it with the right motivation. Motivation like following you around town. He just wants to see you. Wants to see you smile and laugh and hear your sweet voice. Wants to see you interact with normal people without fear in your eyes.

He has to be careful though, the last few times you noticed him you tensed up. Breath held and hands clenched like that might prevent him from seeing you. Sweet scared little thing. Was it the blood on his hands that scared you? The violence he enacted? Was it his size, his strength, the heat of his gaze? Do you imagine his hands on your soft skin like he does?

Well, maybe not like he does. Your imagination is likely less... appreciative than his, more violent. Too bad.

That's exactly why he has to steal these glimpses of you. He doesn't want to frighten you, although you are beautiful even when you look on his in fear. You're so much more without him. To think music could ever sound as sweet as your laughter, that the sun could ever shine as bright as your smile. He tips his head to watch you, a wonder of divine creation, terribly kind in your every movement.

You crouch to help an older woman pick up a basket of heavy produce, wave off her thanks with a smile and settle the goods on a nearby stall. You pull a child out of the way of a cart, and wave at the driver without a speck of malice. Your kindness is rewarded in turn, an extra few apples for your coin, a warm slice of fresh bread for your walk, people stop you to chat with friendly smiles and kind words.

And yet. And yet he never sees you with anyone. Never sees you walking arm in arm with a friend or a lover, even a parent. You're alone in your crowd of kind acquaintances.

He can't follow you when you leave town. There aren't enough places to hide, not enough corners to stay shadowed behind. That doesn't stop him from watching you as you walk down the road. You don't go far, just far enough to find a comfortable place on the stone wall lining one side of the dirt path. You settle your shopping basket on the ground beside your feet and finally look back at him.

König's breath seizes in his chest. You're still so tense as you stare at him, as you unclench one of your tight fists and pat the wall next to you. He glances behind him to see if there's perhaps a friend of yours he'd missed. No, when he looks back you're still staring just as fiercely determined at him as you had been.

He's cautious with his approach, nervous as the way your eyes track his, your head tipping to accommodate his height the closer he gets. Until he's stood in front of you, your wide eyes still blinking up at him. You pat the wall again, wordlessly asking for his company.

"Are you hungry?" You ask when before he's barely sat down. König pauses, watches you bend to pull an apple from your basket. "You've been following me all day, you must be." You pull a knife from your pocket to slice the fruit and König holds out his hand.

"Let me," He tells you. You hesitate, staring at his -clean, he swears they're clean, he'll never dirty yours again- hands. You settle the apple in his rough palm and offer him the knife. König shakes his head, and grips the apple between his hands, twisting it sharply to break it neatly in half. He offers you one.

"Thank you," You offer him half of a smile, take the offered half and bite into it. Clean enough to touch your lips, König thinks. Or maybe you just don't care about the stains. "It's lovely out isn't it?" You make quiet conversation.

"You are," He breathes, and you bite your lip, your smile blossoming around your best intentions to stop it.

Maybe you were alone for him, to give him the space to get close to you. A rabbit baiting the big bad wolf.

[ellalalala]

🎲 <333

Aaa mootie! I'm sorry it took me a while! This is entirely self indulgent, hope you don't mind :)

39. A tentative kiss

kiss roulette

"The rain is letting up. We should be able to head back to the city soon."

You gave a soft hum in response. Disappointment bubbled in your chest at his words; you'd found endless enjoyment in this moment shared with Dainsleif, all but forgetting about the rest of your worries.

The soft pitter-patter of the rain, accompanied by Dainsleif's steady breathing at your side soothed you more than you could confess. Moments like this were rare - the bustle of your daily life didn't allow for any peace - thus you wanted to savor it for as long as you could. Besides, when was the last time you had gotten to be with Dainsleif uninterrupted?

You looked through the gaps between the trees above your head, and saw the sky painted light grey. Water droplets fell on your skin, though they mattered little. The woods provided you with decent shelter and you had nothing to complain about.

Your eyes fell on Dainsleif. To your surprise, he had been gazing at you all along.

"Are you cold?" He asked. Dainsleif tentatively reached out to caress your face whilst you stared, mesmerized.

The feeling that you had known him in another lifetime followed you even now; it was easy to imagine a different version of yourself admiring his visage, smiling at the mere thought of him. Was it just your imagination, that hopeless romantic inside you?

"You're freezing."

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts. "Oh. I didn't even notice..."

Dainsleif pursed his lips before making a move to remove his cape, to which you shook your head.

"What about you?" You asked.

"I'll be alright," he said, "the cold no longer affects my body the way it affects yours."

You chided yourself inwardly for forgetting as Dainsleif removed his cape and draped it around your shoulders. In an instant, you were enveloped in his smoky scent; the cape did very little to warm you but, at the very least, it made you feel as though you were wrapped in Dainsleif's arms - to which nothing could ever compare.

His hands lingered on your shoulders.

"You should have dressed in warmer clothes," Dainsleif murmured, not without fondness in his tone. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hear a word he said when he stood so close, when you could feel his warm breath on your face. "I will brew you some tea once we return. It would be a shame if-"

You interrupted, chuckling softly, "I won't get sick, Dain. There's no need to worry."

The corners of his lips just barely tilted upwards and Dainsleif offered you the tiniest of smiles - even that was enough to fluster you. You fought the urge to avert your gaze shyly.

"It's better to be safe than sorry," said Dainsleif. He turned his head for a moment and your gaze followed. The rain had ceased, leaving dew-laden grass in its wake.

The disappointment inside you that had laid dormant made itself known once more, clouding your joy with bitterness; this moment would end, you would return home side by side and then, come morning, Dainsleif would leave for another journey with naught but a promise to return as soon as he could.

It was easier to accept your fate than to dwell on it.

"Alright," you mumbled, stepping aside. "We should get going."

But then Dainsleif called your name, softly, almost unsurely, and you immediately came to a halt. Your eyes found his - brilliant pools of sea blue that entranced you, willed you to see only him.

"What is it?" You asked curiously, watching as Dainsleif approached you once more, taking your hand in his. He gave no warning before closing his eyes and pressing his lips to yours in a most gentle kiss.

Dainsleif kissed you slowly, savoring the taste of your lips like he would never kiss you again. You had never known that something as simple as this could be so sweet; you pitied those who had never known Dainsleif's tender touch, reveled in the fact that you were the only one who would ever know him like this. Sweeter than all the dandelion wine in the world - Dainsleif was yours.

He broke the kiss and smiled.

"Let's go home."

[softshuji]

Izana has never done this before.

Not the shopping, not the pushing the trolley, and definitely not the preparations for a new home. And if you asked him perhaps two years ago, you'd never have seen him dead pushing a silver trolley packed to the brim with food and homeware, clicking his tongue in faux annoyance when you wander off to look at something else, his hand now cold with the breeze that comes from the absence of yours in it.

And maybe, just maybe, he'll stop to look at a small coffee press, a frying pan set, a chopping board that somehow he can envision hung up on the wall in the kitchen, and he'll take it down to look at it- as if it's fascinating, as if it's all so new. Truth be told, his nerves are fried from the anxiety, all these new things you're exploring together, all of the newness and novelty that seems so foreign and so welcoming at the same time. Maybe it's the stress of moving that has him jittery, the first time you'll be sleeping under the same roof for longer than a night- or maybe it's you, and his willingness to not be a disappointment, to live up to something he knows you would want of him, even if you never mention it.

Because truth be told again- you never do and he wishes sometimes you would. Mention when you're angry, upset, disappointed in him- more willing to chastise him. He would feel less guilty perhaps of being so in love with you.

'Hey,' you say now, handing him a set of small white towels and holding up a set of very extremely cliché "his" and "her" cream and grey bathrobes. 'What do you think? Cute right?'

He raises an eyebrow quizzically, steering to the side of the walkway to rearrange the contents of the trolley, the white towels now primly stacked on top of the sealed set of pink and blue mugs and plates, daisies painted onto the ceramic because 'they're cute Izana! Can we please get them?' and he never has the heart to say no to you like that, and any other time too, when you're always so diligent and good to him- in all the ways he asks and even those he doesn't either.

'"His and Hers" is kind of typical isn't it?' he says and scrunches his nose, in the way you like and he knows you like, even though he's already decided that maybe matching bathrobes is not such a bad idea anyways. He is yours and you are his after all. Cliche things suddenly seem a lot less of an issue with you.

You tut under your breath and move to lift them on top of the towels anyway. 'You are no fun sometimes,' you say with mirth and tuck the matching bathrobes underneath the towels and a pair of fluffy white slippers now sitting neatly on top.

You move to hold his arm then, your gloved hands now intertwined again, a soft smile gracing him that he tries to return, albeit awkwardly, setting for a squeeze of your hand while he pushes the trolley on. You rest a hand on your tummy then, over your coat, your cheeks puffed with the effort to keep up and he slows to a gentle walk, fishing the water bottle from your handbag slung over his other shoulder and handing it to you while he runs his thumb over the wedding ring on your finger.

You like that it's this easy, that it's so natural like this, that almost two years later, you have no qualms or reservations about your decision to marry. It has not been easy and he was always open about that fact- that he was dangerous in the entirety of him, that your relationship would be unconventional to say the least. But you find that loving him is as easy as breathing, easier in fact- and you wish he knew it more, wish you were more able to be honest about how much he's changed you, for better or for worse that is. You had not considered happiness to be on the cards previously. But maybe with him it's a possibility.

'Are you alright love?' he says, a hand now rubbing at your back, eyes furrowed in concern, a tilt of his neck to watch you dab at your lips with the corner of a tissue.

'i'm okay,' you say with a hand on his wrist, a dizzying wave that passes as quickly as it comes, and him coming back into focus again, murmuring praise against the shell of your ear, hair tucked behind and gently moved free of your neck.

'We can go home if you want to.'

'No, it's okay. I'm having fun 'Zana, I don't want to go home just yet.' And you manage a watery and placating smile that he returns easier this time, adjusting your coat with a squeeze of your hand that he lifts to his mouth to press a subtle kiss to.

You move on, products here and there, a murmur of assent or a shake of his head that you roll your eyes at- especially when you take it anyway and he sighs, a playful chuckle as he bends to rearrange the order of the trolley as he follows you ambling down the aisle.

'Oh I just remembered, the coffee table!' you exclaim, your hands coming together in surprise.

'Hm?'

'We need a new one. The last one was too small remember?'

He backs up, cranes his neck around the corner towards the home appliances section, the frown melting when he sees them on the far side of the department store. 'I think they're over there Love.'

And you walk together, slowly, an arm around his, your hand squeezing at his bicep with a girlish giggle, a flippant comment about how he looks 'so sexy and hot today' that he hates to admit still makes him flush this many years later.

Or maybe he doesn't hate it and just likes to pretend to. Because when he thinks about it really- the future in which the two of you are not together, the future in which you go through these motions with someone who isn't him, sharing a bed, sharing a home, a baby with a man who isn't him, and the sweat breaks out instinctively across his forehead with a anxious thump of his heart against his ribs. He likes that you're his, that for all his faults, he has this one saving grace, an angel maybe, all for himself.

'How's this one?' you say, gingerly touching the mahogany wood, a dusting of shiny gloss that you catch your reflection in- a scarf pulled up to your neck and a hand on your tummy, hand gliding along the gilded edges.

He comes up behind you, the swing of his hair kissing at your earlobe. 'Mhm it's nice, but not sturdy enough.'

You turn, a quizzical frown, a softened pout. 'Not sturdy enough? What do you mean?'

And he kisses your cheek, discretely, a brush of dry and soft lips against the apple of your cheek, a little cold, a little pallid to the touch. 'I think you know what that means don't you love?'

He watches the realisation settle across your eyes, your jaw slackened and a teasing smirk pulling at the corner of your upturned lips, the blossom of heat now licking at your neck as it always does when his voice drops with subtle innuendo. 'You're a very bad man Izana.'

'I've definitely heard worse.'

And you shake your head, a smile fighting across your lips, a squeeze of his hand as you move on and you love him like this. So carefree, so natural, so in his element here where the claws of the world can no longer touch him, where everything feels right and a little less scary.

Where he is yours as he always is.

Reblogs appreciated!

Bye I was feeling sad so :// I love my pookie

[nymphofnovels]

How to Make Replicas of Your Own Teeth: A Cosplay Toothtorial

This is a method to safely use a molded mouth guard to make duplicates of your own teeth without destroying a potentially expensive piece of dental equipment. Everything that goes into the mold—clay and mold release aid—must be nontoxic/edible so you can wash your mouth guard at the end of the process and continue to use it as normal. 

Benefits: No mold-making or casting experience required Lightweight end result Adds a truly personal touch to your project :)

Downsides: Must own a molded mouth guard/retainer End result can be fragile and needs proper sealing for durability

Supplies

Molded mouth guard/retainer (referred to as “mold” from here on)

Cornstarch

Soft/fluffy brush

Non-toxic white air dry clay (I used Crayola Model Magic)

Craft knife

Jewelry wire (I used 20 or 22 gauge)

Pins/yarn needle/any various household implements you can sculpt or smooth small details with

Acrylic paints and a variety paint brushes

Clear glossy top coat (I used Mod Podge (satin) and UV Resin)

Prep

Brush or otherwise clean your mouth guard if you haven’t already, especially if there’s build-up.

If you’re using your container of cornstarch for cooking, set aside a small container specifically for crafting. No accidental cross-contamination here!

Dip your fluffy brush into cornstarch and brush into your DRY mouth guard. Lightly coat the entire mold and distribute any clumps. This coat of cornstarch will make it easier to remove your teeth from the mold.

Molding

Firmly press clay into the mold so that approximately half is in the mold, half is sticking out for root sculpting. Make sure there are no air pockets or you won’t pick up the details. 

Use detail scissors/craft knife to cut away excess material and indent to mark out the divisions between teeth as visible on the gum lines (see above)

Reference a tooth diagram like the one below and separate out the roots for each tooth. Front teeth tend to have 1 leg, middle teeth have 2 legs, and some molars have 3+. I personally found that my limit was 2 roots. Sculpting 3+ roots on a single tooth was more difficult and more fragile than anatomical accuracy was worth. 

Demolding

You can demold immediately after sculpting or wait up to an hour. The faster you remove the teeth, the easier they are to reshape. The longer you wait, the more they resist unintentional denting BUT the more touch-ups you'll have to do to clean the edges between teeth.

Gently lift the full row of teeth from the mold. If it won't release when you tip the mold or or push at it, try using a pin to stab one of the end teeth and use that to pry up the teeth. The rest of the row should follow. If they don't, try repeating for the other side. If they're still not lifting, set aside to dry and try again ~15-30min later.

Gently cut apart the u-shape into individual teeth.

Press raw cut edges in and smooth with various tools, like a yarn needle. Use a craft knife to help trim off any excess clay.

Touch-ups

In the case of air pockets or if you accidentally remove a root, wet some clay and use a very small amount to fill in gaps or add on roots. Don't forget the water! It makes the clay stickier and smooth out better. This is where tools come in handy, wet clay sticks less to smooth objects than your fingertips!

Once repaired, set aside any wet pieces to dry for at least 15min before doing any more sculpting work.

Set all teeth aside to dry for several hours on a wax paper or other non-stick surface. Make sure it's not textured or it will leave an imprint on your teeth!

Flaws like the chip on the top left tooth and the cracks on the middle bottom teeth are great candidates for smoothing out with a little extra clay.

**PAUSE HERE AND CLEAN YOUR MOUTH GUARD**

I personally like to rinse it out with water and clean it with a dissolving denture cleaning tablet to make sure it’s fully sanitized. It also doesn’t hurt to properly brush the mouth guard to make sure there’s no clay or cornstarch residue stuck in the crevices.

Holes

Test a tooth to check if it’s dry to the touch and doesn’t immediately deform to your touch. If it’s holding shape, you can move on.

Bore a hole into the tooth with a pin or jewelry wire. Consider how you want them to hang. A) For the central dangling teeth on Harrowhark’s choker, I punched holes as close to the tip of the root as possible without tears, perpendicular to the teeth so I could hang them on jump rings directly from the center brooch. B) For the teeth intended for Harrow’s tabard, I punched two sets of holes parallel to the jaw to prevent teeth from flipping around. One set just under the tooth cap, approx. 1/8in down, and one set about the same distance from the roots.

Once a hole has been punched with a pin, wiggle it around a little to open the hole or thread it on a piece of jewelry wire.

Leave teeth on a piece of wax paper or strung on a thread/wire to dry for ~48hr (or as recommended for your clay).

Painting/Weathering

Mix a small amount of yellow-brown paint with water to create a wash (middle palette above). Paint all of your teeth with this first to establish a base color and help define any hairline cracks.

Paint with less diluted yellows and browns (right palette above). Refer to photos like the below for reference (try searching "teeth" and "archaeology"). NOTE: The root tends to be darker and more weathered than the main tooth because it isn't protected by enamel.

Dry brush ivory or white mixed with some yellow/brown onto the tooth cap to bring out highlights.

Finishing

Your air dry clay teeth and paint job will need a top coat for protection. I highly recommend a glossy clear top coat to give the look of enamel. Below is a comparison of the two sealants I used, but there's many more options out there!

UV Resin (Left) Pros: Harder/more durable Cures faster Cons: Need to work during daylight or use a UV light Harder to get a thin even layer Requires more set up and safety precautions

Satin Mod Podge (Right) Pros: Can be applied with a brush Air dries Cons: Takes longer to dry Teeth tend to stick together unless kept below room temp or kept from touching each other (I solve this by storing unused beads in an old pill bottle in the fridge. Yes it's cursed and Yes I've had comments from my housemates.)

As mentioned earlier, thread teeth on a wire or pin down to dry. This method also works well to set up for spray painting a clear coat.

Now, go forth and enjoy everyone's reactions when you tell them that you're wearing your own teeth! :D

[raayllum]

Anyway time to talk about the 6x03 poem:

As many others have speculated judging by the map, Captain Skall made her way to Hook named after her, and then "as east she sailed into waters so deadly and cold" in the Frozen Shards, her ship eventually being stuck and meeting her doom there.

With that out of the way, I want to talk about other pieces of info, why this might be the poem for 6x03 specifically, and where I think Skall may fit timeline wise:

"From the isles without name" makes me think of the Independent Isles in between Evenere and Katolis.

"sailing north, she called herself free" makes me feel feral with Callum (and Rayla) doing the same in hopes of freeing Callum from Aaravos' grasp by destroying the prison

"Through forests and flowers, past the uneven towers" clearly symbolizes Katolis, indicating that Skall lived once most of the human kingdoms had been established, and thereby post-Exile/Exodus.

"Skall hungered for glory, she wanted a story / they’d tell it long after she died". Routinely we see a desire for glory / worthiness / power described as hunger ("Hungry for knowledge and power" / "But that small taste left some humans hungry—starved, even—for a better path. An easier path. And thus Elarion became the birthplace of a new form of magic, a shortcut to primal power: dark magic"). This also comes into seeking a legacy.

"So with winter wind’s blowing / she sailed north, forgoing / a man who’d have made her his bride". This is where we see the poem take a more negative slant in a few ways. The first is winter, wind, and north, setting up a future unfortunate turn of events. This is also the first mention of Skall having something else in her life other than adventure and something she had to subsequently abandon. While the end of the poem is much more on her side of feelings, "forgoing" does mean "renouncing; sacrificing or giving up" something that is more positive.

"Alone in the cold, yet ever so bold" again adds to the more negative feeling the poem is building, as boldness is in the contrast with "alone in the cold" that's overall negative and maintaining a bit more of an upkeep. Likewise, we see the return of the wind with an even more negative connotation in wailing in the following stanza: "And oh, winter wailed / as east she sailed / into waters so deadly and cold". We see the return of cold but also the change into things being 'deadly' (although there were still hints of danger earlier, as 'bold' indicates).

"Then came the ice, and trapped in its vise" The cold finally catches up to her, and we see ice return as a form of entrapment (2x06, 3x08, 3x09, 5x04, 5x06, 5x08). Most interestingly, "vise" is a tool with closable jaws for clamping things. Maybe the ice is magical, or the jaw of a great (the dragon we've seen in the trailer) creature?

"And while she found peace / she wished that, at least / she’d told him she loved him, always". While the poem ends on a somewhat bittersweet end (at death but at peace), we do see that Skall died with a final regret to the man she could've wed but left instead.

Or you could say, a last wish.

Either way, the poem paints a rather grim journey: going North didn't hold the same freedom and achievements that Skall hoped for, and instead led to entrapment, separation, and death.

That said: there's a few Rayllum-y things I think we can glean from this poem, for starters:

1) The episode will likely have a strong focus on Callum and Rayla sailing to and/or through the Frozen Sea on whatever ship they're planning to use to get there. This leaves 6x02 "Love, War, and Mushrooms" more open to either explore other plot lines or another pit stop in their journey (like say, the Silvergrove)

2) The poem itself has pretty clear Rayllum parallels, specifically in TDP's continual gender subversion of the women who puts other things above her romantic relationship, even if it's likewise seen as a sacrifice. Rayla left Callum in order to protect him/the world from Viren, even if that meant damaging their relationship, and Skall puts her desire for glory and adventure over presumably a more settled married life at home. (Excuse me while I scream over "forgoing a man who'd have made her his bride.")

3) The poem likewise has some parallels to Rayla's "Dear Callum" letter specifically. There are wishes expressed of the leaving party, a desire to have made feelings more plain that Callum reiterates in 5x04 when they think they're about to die ("I hope you know—" "I know"), and most notably, a parallel to the always mention:

she wished that, at least she’d told him she loved him, always.

But, if it does—if you feel that soft aching—know that that piece of your heart isn’t missing. It’s not missing at all, Callum: I’m carrying it with me! Always. I love you. I love you so much.

4) All this bodes quite well for 6x03 being an episode with a big Rayllum moment in it — perhaps even their Big "You Finally Came Back" Talk — especially since there's not much else to (presumably) happen on a ship if they're just travelling somewhere (and not being pursued this time).

Episode Speculation (a summary / misc thoughts)

Callum and Rayla travelling to the Frozen Sea

Big Talk happens

+ potential love confession / reaffirmation?

They reach the other end of the Frozen Sea

Maybe fight the big dragon from the video game teaser we see with Rayla (like Skall, she has literal hooks = blades) whose guarding or in their way to the Starscraper? Could account for the jaws and maybe the ice

One of them is worried and/or has a moment of thinking the other person is hurt/injured bc of said dragon fight?

Maybe some Aaravos backstory in his lost love (although like I said, I don't think it's Skall exactly — I still think the likeliest names are Elara-adjacent or Kalik)

Episode Title Speculation (in about this order):

The Frozen Sea

By River and Sea

Always (this would be my personal favourite and i would never stop screaming)

[badcaseofcasey]

Steddie Soulmate/Met as Kids AU - Part 2 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: I'm so blown away by the positive response to this - I'm still kind of a newbie to the steddie fic world. Thanks for reading, and I'm glad you're enjoying this AU as much as I am!

Steve turned, looking for the source of the voice and finding a young kid with big brown eyes and a buzz cut, two sword-like sticks and a hopeful expression on his face.

“There aren’t any dragons here,” he said back, confused a bit by the other boy’s words and the sensation on his side.

“Sure there are!” The boy gestured at the air around them. “There can be dragons anywhere we decide there are - and I say there’s one coming out from the trees over there!”

Steve found himself instantly sucked into the other boy’s magnetic energy. Steve’s friends didn’t often want to play like this - they preferred sports to make believe - but Steve was ready to fight dragons wherever this boy said there were dragons.

Steve reached out a hand to take the stick sword that the other boy was offering him and smiled.

“What’s your name?”  the boy asked.

“Steve,” he replied, then remembered his mom’s lessons on etiquette. “And yours?” 

“I’m Sir Eddie!” he said. “And I dub you-” the boy tapped each of Steve's shoulders with his stick - "Sir Steve! Come on, let's go - the dragons are getting away!"

They spent the afternoon fighting imaginary dragons, protecting their imaginary villagers and defending the imaginary land they’d sworn to protect, until Steve’s nanny stood up and looked over at him for the first time since they arrived and announced it was time to be getting home.

“I have to go,” Steve said. “My parents are getting back tomorrow, so I have to make sure my room is clean.”

“Oh, okay,” Eddie said, shrugging his shoulders and looking sad to say goodbye. “Well, I had lots of fun - maybe we can play again tomorrow if my uncle says it’s okay!”

“That would be awesome,” Steve agreed enthusiastically. He couldn’t get enough of how fun it felt to be around this other boy who seemed to follow his imagination wherever it took him.

Of course, Steve never ended up seeing the boy at the park again. His parents were back in town, so his visits to the park had stopped for a while - at least until they left again. But he never forgot Sir Eddie or their afternoon of fighting dragons. When he got older and learned what the words on his ribs meant, he told exactly one person - his new nanny, a different one than the one that had been with him that day - but she quickly shut him down as soon as he started to tell her about the boy from the playground.

“Mr. Steve, this world isn’t always kind to boys who got their words from other boys,” she said in a hushed tone. “There's nothing wrong with it - but this is a secret you should keep to yourself, just between you and me, until you know it’s safe to share.”

Steve nodded seriously. This nanny was relatively new, but he trusted her - she had never gotten mad at him, not even when he had spilled the cup of water from his paints.

So he had kept it to himself, but he had also kept the memories of the other boy - his soulmate - safe. It was easier just to lie about it than to try and explain what had happened.

Until of course, Sir Eddie made his way back into his life - just as dramatically as he had the first time.

Part 3

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