#my god the themes surrounding these two go so hard

[mr-president]

“Yeah. I do.”

[mo0nfairy]

Any chance of some nsfw with guard puppy leon pls? 👉👈 I love the way u write him sm😩😳

tw :: nsfw themes (mdni!!), re4 spoilers, obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, sub!leon, masochism, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, invasion of privacy, leon being infected for like 2 seconds, (also no specification of reader's gender/genitalia).

⸺ ya'll.................. you can't drop shit like this in my inbox and not expect me to go feral. (i am also legally obligated to use this gif cause how can i resist).

let's say it's right after the events of re4. you and leon had spent an eternity dodging every kind of abomination known to mankind before you finally made it to safety. the government then took you in to study the effects the plaga parasite had on humans. however, leon was infected while you weren't, meaning the two of you would have to be temporarily separated. and fuck, being away from you kills leon with need. he just has to get his hands on you. and when his head gets fogged up with all sorts of disastrous scenarios (all involving you hurting in some shape or form), leon busts open the lock to his room and sets out on finding you. practically tearing the place asunder in his efforts, he finally locates you in a completely separate wing.

how fucking dare they take you so far from him? what if something happened? what if he can't be there to protect you-!?

his train of thought is abruptly cut off when he enters the room and finds you, entirely naked. there are several doctors around you, poking and prodding at you like a lab rat. leon literally just !!!!!!!!! at the sight, but is also >:( because of all these people putting their filthy hands on you. he is enraged at the people for touching you, but he also can't tame his heart after seeing your bare skin. he leaves to his room with his tail between his legs and his face adorned in red blotches. and poor leon hasn't been granted a single second alone to relieve himself, not with all these scientists and security guards surrounding him 24/7. (he got a little aggressive with staff when he had to seperate from you).

and being unable to relieve himself before he can see you and drown you in his obsession is destroying him. especially when he learns you've been moved to a safehouse all the way across the country, all while he has to stay in this hospital without you. he isn’t sleeping, he lost his appetite, and his body temperature has increased to a worrisome degree. the doctors even put down ‘hypersexual’ as one of his symptoms. and just a week later, leon is still distraught, but is all healed up. his mood brightens, however, when he learns he is being sent to the same undisclosed location. finally, he gets to be alone with you. and god, he is desperate.

practically tearing the front door off its hinges, leon searches for you through the house like a goddamn serial killer. and when he finds you, he goes feral. you don't have a second to even acknowledge the second presence in the house before he is all over you. one second you're minding your business and the next you're practically being smothered to death. on the counter, on the bed, hell, on the floor, leon doesn't give a shit where. as long as he’s able to ensure no inch on your body goes untouched.

leon tears your clothes off like a predator tearing apart the flesh of its prey. his calloused hands touch everywhere he can with almost religious fervor. good god, has leon ached for this. he's constantly losing air from latching his mouth all over you. he'll pull back a good centimeter, wait maybe a picosecond to catch his breath, before indulging in you again. and sidenote, he's a virgin (fight me abt it). sweet, innocent leon is so inexperienced but tries so. fucking. hard. all you have to do is sit back and guide him. every syllable out of your mouth is gospel to him, after all.

while his tongue is practically shoved down your throat, you bite down on the squirming muscle and it's just....…. instant subspace. his eyebrows scrunch upwards and he's moaning like a bitch into your mouth. his entire life, leon has endured so much pain, (especially right after the events of re4). but to hurt at your hand, knowing he is still safe with you? it is like heaven and hell in the same breath. so please, hurt him, bite him, rip out his fucking throat with your teeth if you want- just fucking do anything to him!

and leon is so distracted by you, he doesn't even realize how devastating he looks. his cheeks are as red as two ripe cherries; his eyes are wet with infatuation, brimming with tears. and downstairs, the vulgar sight displays a good 8 inches erect, on the skinny side with veins protruding the straight, pink shaft. his tip flushes an angry red and is overwhelmed with precum. you gently take it into your hand and caress the white-pearl with your thumb. and leon's voice literally raises several octaves in such an obscene manner, you wonder how he'll react when he's finally inside of you. but for now, your mere hands on him has turned him into a completely different person.

you guide his bloated head to your entrance and rub it into the surrounding skin, now slick with your spit and his precum. leon's entire body is shaking; his chest is flat from holding his breath in anticipation. 'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-' his chants huff against your face while his gaze is casted downwards, trembling from the sight alone. you could keep him here if you wanted, torture him even more. mock his whining while his swollen head is practically begging you to let him in and end this agony. but, he's just too damn cute. so, you give your poor puppy what he so desperately wants and push him into your soaked hole with ease. and the cry leon lets out is nothing short of pornographic.

"y-y/n/n-! oh, jesus, sh-shit-... uhn-!" his forehead is pressed against yours as he moans out for you.

when leon finally bottoms out inside, you let your spongy, sopping walls adjust to the length of his dick and try to calm him down (to no avail, unfortunately). he's too caught up in tripping over his words, attempting to verbalize the adrenaline coursing through him from just how amazing you feel and how soul-crushingly good it will be when he finishes. leon hasn't even started moving yet and he's already overwhelmingly drunk on pleasure.

you then push down on his lower back, giving him permission to begin moving. and the man leon becomes is that of a creature possessed. there is not a single moment spent being gentle, he is rutting into your thick heat like his life depends on it. he buries his face into your neck and everything just becomes so messy. your hot, hyperventilating breaths paint the air and your bodies are sheen with sweat as they stick together. his hands are locked around you like a lifeline, clinging so tightly to you as if he were hanging from a cliffside and you were his saving grace. (this is him basically). with his eyes rolling into the back of his skull, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, his jaw hung low with uncontrollable moans — god, you make him so fucking stupid.

'hmy- my fuckin’ god- y/n/n, i-... 'm-your- your stupid mutt, your dumb puppy... fuck, s’fuckin’ good, s’fuckin' perfect." you're not even exactly sure what leon is saying, with his voice muffled against your neck. but, when his voice is so whiny and slurred like that, you can only imagine how adorably pathetic the words that follow are.

drool seeps down his chin and pools in the nape of your shoulder. his mouth is all over your neck like a vampire, lazily kissing and marking your skin. with how overwhelmingly intense the euphoria is, he knows that one glance at your godly face and body will send him over the edge. so, he keeps his face nestled away. fortunately for him, however, you're not far behind from finishing. every vigorous thrust of his plunges deep into you, causing your body to jolt forward from the sheer force.

you grasp hold of leon's hand, causing his heart to practically explode in his chest, before guiding him on how to stimulate you. his hands rub against your sex with fervent, clumsy haste. and before you can even blink, your orgasm hits you like a wave. it is unexpected and unbelievably intense. every sound from your mouth causes leon’s dick to twitch inside of you, pushing him closer and closer to that earth-shattering finish. he is now full-on crying, his lewd sobs and pleads reverberating from the grip your body has on him. in the cusp of your high, you grab a fistful of leon's blonde hair and pull his head back.

you growl in his ear, "you're my bitch in heat."

and with that, leon gushes inside of you. a deafening wail permeates the room as he sporadically thrusts his hips against yours with bruising force. he practically bleats like a sheep as he cums and anyone lurking outside would probably think you were murdering him. leon fills you to the brim with his seed, the excess escaping past your entrance and staining the surface beneath. his vision goes white, his body shivers with rapture, and his mind is devoid of any thoughts beside you, you, you. the act of intimacy, to revel in your pleasure — oh, it is heaven. leon knew it was gonna be good, but never this fucking good.

every muscle in his body then goes limp against you. quiet whimpers pervade the air as he presses sloppy, soft kisses against your lips. chants of 'i love you, i love you so fucking much' escape his breathless mouth. and the look in his honeyed gaze... he is just so fucking happy to be back with the only person he could ever love, the only person he could ever need. it's clear as day, leon couldn't be more in love with you. but, when you try and push him away for some room to breathe, his hold on you turns tenacious and you can feel how he is still rock-hard inside of you.

you realize that not only are you in for a long night, but you are in for a long, long life beside leon.

okay..... this is my first time writing smut. like ever. if it's shit, pls don't be afraid to send some critique my way!! thank u !

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Dreamweaver's Heart

Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.

Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D

I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.

Masterlist

“One, two, three, four, five, okay,” You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.

“8:13,” You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. “AM,” you concluded.

You look back to your fingers and count again. “One, two, three, four, five,” You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadn’t moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific. 

When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasn’t much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined. 

Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things. 

You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and you’re sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts. 

“This is the life,” You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off. 

You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it. 

When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly. 

Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, five… six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, it’s just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.

While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the other’s fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world. 

Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house. 

A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. He’s patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile. 

“Are you hungry, boy?” You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dog’s eyes as it begins to chow down on its food. 

You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it. 

You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly. 

You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and you’re hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move. 

“Wake up, wake up!” You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still don’t wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. “This isn’t funny, wake up!” You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher. 

Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldn’t admit hurt his ego a little bit… just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a more… sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead. 

“This dream is over,” He commands and waves his hand over the scene. 

You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. You’re quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadn’t gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again. 

Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasn’t found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didn’t give you the energy you craved. 

Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you. 

The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you don’t even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, you’re greeted by a whale… in a tutu. 

Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. It’s then that you remember to count your fingers.

“One, two, three, four, five,” All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream. 

“Thank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,” You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you. 

You’re back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by. 

Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didn’t eat that much, did you?

“I see that you have started without me,” A voice comments. 

You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat. 

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?” You ask instead. 

You don’t protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket. 

“Better?” He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again. 

“Hmm,” You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. It’s a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. “Wait, who are you?” 

“No one you haven’t met before,” He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond. 

You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose. 

“Oh, my god. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,” You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you. 

Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Cat’s Cradle, and produce a small pillow. 

You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment. 

You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

“You have a great side profile, you know?” You don’t know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens. 

Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldn’t help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious. 

“Thank you,” He says when he is done laughing. 

When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you won’t have to fight your demons on your own again. 

The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you haven’t seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city. 

You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place. 

“How have you been, Poppet?” He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname he’s been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor. 

You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety. 

“Oh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. “Same shit, different day,” You mutter in conclusion. 

Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life. 

“What brings you into town?” You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread. 

“Work, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.” He gestures to the city around him. 

Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude. 

Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways. 

“How long are you staying in the city?” You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then. 

“About a week.” Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place. 

“A week, huh?” You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. “You should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.” 

“I’ll be there.” Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds. 

Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card. 

“Aw, man. What?” You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. “There wasn’t a rain forecast today,” You grumble to yourself. 

The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection. 

“Do you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It’s just a few blocks from here.” You offer. 

“Lead the way, Poppet,” Oliver says with a smile. 

You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside. 

“Wow, you’ve decorated the place nicely,” Oliver whistles his approval. 

He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink. 

“Yeah, if work can’t destress me why should my own home be?” You nodded along. 

The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didn’t have company over, you would’ve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming. 

“Poppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?” Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions. 

“Erm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.” Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks. 

Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didn’t know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that it’s been expired since last christmas, you pretend you don’t. 

There’s probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself. 

“Want hot chocolate?” You ask, peeking at Oliver’s form in the living room. 

He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliver’s face when he turns around. 

“No, not that remote, the other one,” You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway. 

“Which remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!” He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.

The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up. 

“There has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.” The news anchor speaks. 

“Oh, shit.” Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news. 

“Welcome to the city, I guess,” You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove. 

“Still, you should stay safe,” Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. You’re mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you don’t answer right away, Oliver presses again. “You will be safe, right?”

“Yes, mom,” You sarcastically groan. “I’ll be safe.”

“That’s my Poppet,” He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made. 

“Careful, it’s ho-”

“JESUS!” Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you don’t spill it all over yourself. 

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.

The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak. 

“Sto-stop, you’re going to make me pee,” You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.

Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, you’re not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, let’s be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh. 

“That was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?” Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink. 

“The city is not mean, it’s just different than home,” You reply with a roll of your eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie. 

You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and you’re glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you would’ve had to worry about potential flooding. 

At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. You’re on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliver’s much warmer body. 

The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open. 

“Sorry, Oliver, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” You apologize before you’re completely awake. 

“It is nothing of note,” Someone else’s voice responds instead. 

You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time it’s warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body. 

Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up. 

“Guess I’m dreaming again,” You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and you’re lying comfortably by the man’s side again. 

“Ever the perceptive one,” He responds back. 

“I didn’t know I could dream of something this… spectacular,” You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesn’t move away, something you took as a good sign. 

“You did not, I did,” He says slowly. 

“Hmm, it’s nice, thank you.” You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth. 

Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasn’t been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet. 

Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didn’t find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here. 

“My Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.” His words were calculated when he spoke. “You are in danger, be cautious.”

“What?” 

“This dream is over.”

You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water. 

You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliver’s.

“Poppet, I can’t find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Don’t worry I called a cab I won’t get murdered tonight cause I’m vigilant unlike some people Mwah, Oliver” 

That night, your mystery man didn’t visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. You’re plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control. 

Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders haven’t stopped and it’s gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief. 

The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you don’t mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going. 

“A few nights ago,” He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. “You did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.”

It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so “wonderfully” had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer. 

“You can’t really scream when you’re drowning.” Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words. 

You don’t dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason. 

“I don’t know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.”

It’s now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense. 

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think you’ve met before while walking the street.”

You’re very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?” You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you. 

Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look it’s nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when you’re simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.

Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream. 

The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily. 

Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the wind’s percussion between the mountain cracks. 

You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the water’s surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water. 

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You don’t have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake. 

Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you. 

You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him. 

“He was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s voice carries through the thin wall. 

Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. It’s now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream. 

Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?

“Ah, Poppet, you’re here already,” Oliver’s whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. “Is your finger hurt?” He notices and reaches for your hand.

“No,” You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we go?” You turn before you give him a chance to answer. 

The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliver’s side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life. 

It’s only noon and you’re exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment. 

“Oh my God, I can taste blood,” You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine. 

“When was the last time you exercised?” He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment. 

You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. “I briskly walked to my car this morning,” Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. “After the elevator ride down to the main floor.”

“Good grief, woman,” He jests. “We need to get you to the gym.” 

“Over my dead body,” You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber. 

The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. You’re breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers. 

“I’m going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?” You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath. 

“No, I’ve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.” You hear Oliver’s voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. “Alright, I’ll see you off in a few days, yeah?” 

Oliver’s outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin. 

“Geez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,” You say behind a small laugh. 

“I’m going to head out, alright? But yeah, let’s meet one more time before I leave later this week.” Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead. 

“Sounds good,” You agree, staring at the finger. 

“Stay safe out there, Poppet.” He waves and goes for the door. “I’ve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.”

You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out. 

You’re drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliver’s wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he can’t get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave. 

An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails. 

The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that it’s time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliver’s wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldn’t tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together. 

How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in. 

Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliver’s home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliver’s door and you don’t know why but you’re nervous. There wasn’t an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter. 

All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice. 

“Oliver?” You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside. 

No answer.

“Ollieeee…” You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.

You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. She’s tied down to a wooden table and you think you’re interrupting something if it wasn’t for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you. 

“Help me,” She pleads. 

Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table. 

“Please.” She sobs again. 

You’re numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and you’re sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you would’ve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring. 

“Oliver,” You gulp down as you take a step back.

He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldn’t be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago. 

“Come here.” He guides you closer. “This is our guest, Poppet.” He introduces. 

The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. “Stop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!”

Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, it’s acidity painful to swallow. Alora’s tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her. 

“Let.. let her go,” You say with a shaky breath. It’s the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.

Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck. 

“I thought we could… share her,” He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again. 

“Share… her,” You echo.

This wasn’t real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would never… 

You look down at your fingers, they’re shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. It’s still the right time. One, two, three, four, five. 

“A dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.” You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five. 

You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you. 

“Ah, ah, none of that.” Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you. 

His attention turns back to you again. “What do you think of it?” He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent. 

“What do I think of it?” You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be. 

Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Alora’s face. 

“Look at Poppet here, notice anything?”

That’s when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didn’t see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as they’re upturned in agony. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave. 

“No, don’t be, my sweet Poppet,” Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. “Here, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?”

“Wh-what?” You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Alora’s throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder. 

“NO!” You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, it’s too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.

The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and you’re left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again. 

“You look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,” He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. “Let me clean everything up and then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean. 

“You were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment. 

It’s enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You don’t know where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here. 

“Poppet! Wait!” Oliver screams behind you and he’s fast to catch you. 

Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium. 

A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Dream,” You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. “No, no, let go of me!” 

The man clad in black doesn’t show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesn’t. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didn’t previously know. 

“Morpheus!” You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood. 

Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. You’re pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. You’re stopped short at the sight. 

In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand. 

“Dream?” You question and his gaze turns to you. You can’t see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you. 

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver sneers at him.

Dream doesn’t reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver. 

“Hey, get away from my Poppet.” Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dream’s words. 

“Be quiet,” He commands. It’s two words, but it renders him speechless. “I turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.”

The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliver’s face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage. 

“Hello, my Dreamweaver,” He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. “Come, nightmares shall hunt you no further.” 

“You came,” You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand. 

“I kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.” His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face. 

"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.

His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.

You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. You’re in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade. 

“Will you stay?” You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You smile. 

Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh

My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood

Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?

♡ Yours, Layla

[shima-draws]

Watching Ash’s World Champions match and OH my god. That breathless moment of anticipation where everyone’s waiting to see if Pikachu will push through. All of Ash’s companions either there in person or watching the feed through television or their phones. Pikachu fighting SO hard to stay conscious and eventually falling flat, only to look up and see all of the faces of the Pokemon friends he’s made throughout his journey with Ash. All of Ash’s Pokemon surrounding Pikachu and giving him encouragement. And Ash himself joining the fray, giving Pikachu the ultimate power to keep going, showing the true bond they have, the trust they have in each other, the most raw and unfiltered belief and courage Ash has in Pikachu to fight until the very end...and Pikachu standing up. All of that power surging through his veins and Ash cheering him on and the two of them gearing up to launch one final attack, their last gambit, and the original Pokemon opening theme playing, and Ash and Leon shouting, and then blackness. And we see Pikachu’s POV waking up in the Pokemon Center afterward, and you think OH MAN I guess this means he lost, but then we find out NO HE WON THEY WON!! Pikachu won with Ash by his side and Ash won with Pikachu by his side and of course that’s important but the most important thing to Ash has always, ALWAYS been Pikachu, so of course he’ll dash out of there to make sure his buddy is okay after that helluva fight, and then they’ll celebrate their victory together, look at how far they’ve come, look at how much they’ve GROWN, all of their training and adventures and battles have lead them to this victory, to this point, and it feels amazing, especially since they did it together. Pikachu watched Ash achieve his dream of becoming a Pokemon Master and they did it TOGETHER and what more could you ever ask for, really

[genocidecomics]

Hey so in reference to my previous ask, can you do one were the reader is having trouble controlling their powers (you can decide those) and either Kurt or Erik comfort them after a bad day and end up confessing to the reader. You can ad smut if you want but if not that's totally fine too☺️.

Your Existence is Grand

Erik Lehnsherr x gn!reader

Erik notices you having a rough day with your powers and decides to shower you with praise.

(This is my first fanfic literally ever so feedback appreciated, but also... Sorry for any mistakes!!!!)

Trigger warnings: cursing, suggestive themes (I don't know what else to write here, pls let me know if there's anything else I should add!)

The air around me begins buzzing and crackling, becoming charged with electricity and I sigh, deeply frustrated before I reach for the metal doorknob in front of me and receive a shock so strong that all the muscles in my arm cramp up painfully. I curse under my breath, forcing my arm to bend and stretch the tense muscles as I walk into the lounge, getting a glimpse of the others outside. Some might say I’d been gifted with a particularly powerful mutation, that it made me strong and intimidating. That I am admired for it, as if it’s a blessing to be grateful for.

But in this god-forsaken world, all I could see was a curse that plagued my body. I never bothered to understand the science behind it, as much as others might have tried to explain it to me. Something about the electricity in my body behaving abnormally, affecting the air around me and in turn, other electronics or conductors of electricity, turning me into a walking hazard around power lines, or thunderstorms. Let's not even mention the sheer amount of electrical fires I’ve caused. Sure, it sounds cool. But the reality is basically hell.

One of the ‘best’ parts about my mutation is that it is terribly unstable, especially when you’re constantly surrounded by electricity no matter where you go. Everyone else who charges up some static then touches a piece of metal receives a little sting from a silly little shock. It might be a little funny or perhaps surprising! Maybe it happens when you touch fingers with someone else and you shock each other, what a cute moment!

Try getting fucking electrocuted every single time.

Nowhere near as cute, nor as fun.

Some days are worse than others and the more restless I become, the worse it is for me in the end. But unfortunately, I can’t lay in bed immobile for an entire day to lower the voltage my body is producing, resulting in my current conundrum. Avoiding the rest of the X-Men in order to avoid any potential accidents, especially with Jubilee. Fireworks and a highly-charged mutant body surrounded by a bunch of high-tech only spells out bad news. Luckily, it seems like most of them were outside on the basketball court. That’s what I thought, at least.

“I take it you’re having a bad voltage day?” the voice of none other than Magneto startles me out of my thinking. It’s been more than a few months of him living here with us, but his presence is still unexpected. I had a hard time training the knee-jerk defensive reaction out of my body for the first few days, my body becoming charged up so quickly that I wouldn’t even have the chance to blink before I shot a bolt of electricity at him.

He was quick to show that a little spark didn’t do much to him, given that he was essentially a walking magnetic field.

I turn to him, his large form standing at the entrance to the lounge, “What makes you say that?” I turn back to watch as Scott and Logan start another argument, their voices muffled by the glass.

“The air keeps crackling and I have a hard time believing there’s a storm inside the building” he approaches until he pauses at my side. I chuckle a little, giving a wince once I feel my sore muscles constrict. He turns to watch me.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe Storm has had enough of those two at each other’s throats” I try to joke but my voice falters, as my heart begins to race again and the sound of the air buzzing around me becomes overwhelming. Tremors begin rippling across my muscles, a mixture of them cramping and relaxing too fast for me to keep up with. Losing the strength in my legs, I stretch a hand out toward the glass in front of me to hold myself up but I miss the glass by a couple inches. Erik’s hands are quick to grab onto my arms before pulling me into his chest, supporting my weight as the crackling noise fills my ears and I let out a pained shout. My body releases a strong burst of electricity, most of it absorbed by Erik’s magnetic field, whilst the rest causes the power in the building to go out. I pant loudly, trying to catch my breath, feeling like my heart might’ve stopped in the middle of that.

The lights flicker around us before the power in the school hums back to life. Erik’s hands are still around me, I realize before beginning to step away, but his hold on me tightens. He pulls me back against his chest and I try to fight back the heat that’s slowly creeping up to my face. This is a bit embarrassing. I’ll admit it, I had grown to like Erik in the time he’d been with us, not to mention I had quite a few run-ins with him before I ever joined the X-Men. He always seemed so… Powerful, he always felt safe to be around. As radical as the Professor may claim he is, he always seemed… Right. You could hear the passion in his voice when he spoke of mutantkind and it made you want to side with him, to be loyal and to follow him to the ends of the Earth.

He had a powerful presence, and as I am now discovering, a powerful touch. One of the very few people who could come near me without fear of being electrocuted. My muscles had begun to twitch in the aftermath of the shock. These are the unfortunate moments where I wish I could be rid of my mutation. I could barely hold myself up and here I was in Erik’s arms.

“You should be resting” his voice was stern, but there was a hint of concern in there. I raise my gaze to meet his, feeling a bit of shame.

“I can’t just lay in bed all day, the world is still turning, there’s things to do…” I muttered.

“Precisely, the world is still turning and it will still continue to turn if you are at rest. You, on the other hand, are not a planet and you need to care for yourself”

I stare into his eyes, feeling them pierce through my soul. He always seemed to be right about everything… I chuckle under my breath as I regain some strength in my legs, straightening back up.

“I’m sure you must be tired of having to run after all of us like a babysitter” I joke as his arms come to rest on my shoulders once I’m stable on my feet.

A glint crosses his eyes, “I do wonder how Charles managed, and then I remember he’s a telepath, so it must’ve been quite easy for him” he replies with a smirk gracing his face that makes me laugh a little.

“He still struggled, you shouldn’t compare yourself to the Professor”

He begins to lead me toward the couch behind us, helping me take a seat before joining me. I still feel a hot streak of shame across my stomach, having him help me. Burdening him.

“Sorry, by the way… You’re right, I should be a little more considerate of others” I mutter.

Erik turns to look at me as I avoid making eye contact, “I don’t believe those were my words…” his hand reaches out toward my chin, gently turning my head to face him, “I only ask of you to rest and care for yourself, forget what the others may think”

I blinked up at him, “The Professor always wanted me to push past my limits, so that I can perhaps get stronger… Control my powers better”

“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have to restrict your abilities, you could rule this planet with a wave of your hand, what you have is something to be proud of, not ashamed” he places his hand against my cheek and I find myself leaning against his warm touch, “Your mutation is a blessing, not a curse”

I scoff, “Sure doesn’t feel that way, I can’t even live among humans without shutting down an entire city’s power”

“Your powers shouldn’t be hidden, controlled, or restricted for the sake of humanity” he says the word with disdain, “but those are my beliefs, your existence is grand mein liebling”

My heart thumps against my chest loudly at his words. It feels… Intimate. How could he speak such high praise toward me?

“I see you hurt and I watch as you restrain yourself around others, as your mutation basically eats your body alive and it pains me…” his eyes gaze across my face, pausing at my lips before trailing back up to my eyes, “It pains me that you live in a world where you feel you cannot rest, where you feel you must hide the power within you”

“Erik…” I whisper, almost afraid to shatter the moment between us, “What are you… What are you saying…?” I peer into his eyes, seeing something brewing behind his gaze. Could it be possible that he’s… No, there’s no way.

“What do you believe I’m saying?” he whispers softly, leaning in toward me. I jump as a few sparks fly out from where he has his hand on my cheek. I can’t help my eyes dropping to his lips before rising back up to his eyes.

I feel the tension rise and in a desperate attempt to avoid it, I joke, “If I was delusional, I might think you’re trying to confess to me right now” I laugh a little to dispel the tension. His gaze was still just as intense so I failed, but I tried my best.

A smile graced his features, “Yes… Perhaps if you were delusional, you might see that I am actually confessing my feelings for you right now” he says it so casually I almost think he’s playing along with my joke, but as my eyes widen, so does his smile.

“Are you…?” my voice wavers a little. I feel my heart drop, realizing he’s probably joking with me. I turn away from his hand, lightly pushing his chest to put distance between us.

“Is this some sort of joke? Come on, Erik… You know that’s… It’s unrealistic” I mutter, a man like him would never love someone like me, that’s not how it works… Maybe in the movies, or in a fairytale perhaps.

“Mein liebling, perhaps I haven’t been clear enough with you” he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in close, closer than before, “do you prefer a visual demonstration instead? I can give you that, you only need to ask” he smiles before slowly leaning in, giving me enough time to back out if I wished, but I find myself leaning in, eager to feel his lips against mine.

As soon as our lips locked together, sealed at last, a burst of electric sparks flew out from our lips and I giggled into the kiss. I mean, how ironic is that? I felt real, literal sparks and fireworks from the kiss and it made my lips tingly. Erik smiles into the kiss before deepening it, his hand rising up toward my hair while the other trailed down my back and I found myself desperate to be closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, clumsily climbing over to sit on his lap. We part right as I begin losing my breath and he trails a burning, tingly trail of kisses down my jaw before he stops by my ear.

With a whisper that blew across the nape of my neck, “I see more than just greatness in you, so much more…” The words are charged with intention, passion, and sincerity. I shudder as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I bite back a moan as he continues kissing down my neck. I take a sharp breath in as he begins sucking on a tender spot before I suddenly realize what we’re doing…

Where we’re doing it.

I turn slightly to peek at the windows, making sure the others are still thoroughly distracted with playing before I feel Erik bite my skin and a moan breaks out, “Wait! Erik… We’re… In the lounge…”

He lifts his head, and the dark look in his blue eyes makes me clench my legs in anticipation, “We’ll just have to be fast… And quiet… Can you do that?” He taunts me with a question I don’t even get the chance to answer before he lays me down on the couch, climbing over me, “I’m just helping you relax, that’s not a sin, is it?” He looks down at me with a hungry gaze and I feel my cheeks burn.

“I guess not”

“Show me what else you can do with these sparks of yours”

[scarad]

link to part one:

tw: mentions of death, swearing, gore

I SAW A REQUEST OR TWO FOR A SECOND PART SO HERE IT IS

the shimmers of gold surrounded your limp body, the thunder crackling in the waters near. kujou felt her heart stop — all this time, you were the supreme god, yet she dared question you. she dared harm you.

she glanced backwards, to her subordinates who seemed equally mortified. "tell the shogun that their grace may have passed." she muttered in horror, shooing them off as she summoned her raven wings.

[more utc]

she jumped off the edge, following your earlier example, however she used her wings to soften her landing.

a crowd of hillichurls and slimes from the coast had started making their way to your remains, but she just blocked them out with an electric force-field as she checked on you.

surely such a divine being couldn't be killed from mere heights, right?

however, as her fingers slithered their way to your neck, she could only gasp in pain at the numbing cold. you truly were gone, and it was all her fault.

silence creeped over the archons, who sat upon their divine thrones.

"their grace is..?" barbatos muttered, cloud fogging up his once joyful eyes as he glanced at baal. the electro archon merely nodded, choosing to purse her lips.

murata banged their fists unto the table the archons were seated around. "why didn't you call your subordinate off, baal?!"

baal shook her head, glaring at the pyro archon. "kujou is not to blame. according to the witnesses, it was a self-inflicted death."

"so, you're saying that the chosen one has committed a suicide?" the archon ruling fontaine quirked a brow, lifting their gaze to their fellow gods. baal could only nod, somber tears brimming her eyes.

morax cleared his throat, causing the attention of his fellow archons to drift to himself. his gaze pointed to lesser lord kusanali, who looked eager to share something.

"is there a reason you're so blissful on their holiness' death day?" the tsaritsa glared at the young archon, who chose to simply ignore the queen of snezhnaya.

she stared at murata, "calm down. there... there may be a way to summon them. a ritual, to put it simply. it won't be easy but—"

barbatos practically jumped out of his seat. "no matter how hard, we have to try! " he exclaimed, wings unfurling in his excitement.

choosing to ignore how the anemo archon was acting, she nodded. "very well, i'll begin the preparations. baal, inform guuji yae that the narukami shrine will be the place to oversee their summoning."

baal nodded, disappearing with a thunderous clap.

"i'll return shortly, with a list of all we must collect." kusanali mumbled, vanishing within a flurry of vines and leaves, leaving the other five archons to sit in silence.

"shall we prepare search teams?" morax asked, speaking up for the first time since the meeting began. "the sooner we collect whatever we must, the sooner we can bring the almighty ruler back." he glanced around the table, seeing a few archons purse their lips.

"currently, fontaine is short on vision holders. most of them are unavailable." the hydro archon huffed. "it would be stupid to allow non-vision wielders to participate, so as of now, i can't send anyone."

murata sighed, "i believe i have one, but iansan's just a child. it may be dangerous to send her." they pursed their lips, glancing off to the side.

"i'll send a few harbingers," the tsaritsa nodded.

chiming in, barbatos glanced at morax. "i'll go and fetch a few vision wielders." a strong gust of wind surrounded his body, and in a flurry, he faded.

morax nodded at his fellow archon's words. "i, too, shall take my leave." geodes surrounded his body, and where they came from, the other archons didn't know. in a mere few seconds, morax had appeared back into liyue, his white robe adorning his body.

teyvat would soon be under your righteous rule, and morax would make sure of it.

taglist: @beel-me-belphie @genshin-impacts-me @scarlettnanami

part three up soon + making a masterlist for easier navigation <33

[rippersz]

𝕴𝖙’𝖘 𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔𝖔.

«——..✞..——»

«——..✞..——»

(DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT) (TW: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, slight glorification of both, gore, toxic love, smutty/suggestive themes, etc.) (Larissa Weems x Reader)

«——..✞..——»

“The blood on my teeth begins to taste like a poem, like religion, like the way you look at me.” ~ Sean Glatch

«——..✞..——»

Turns out, the maintenance crew was due to leave only about two hours after everyone vacated Nevermore to go to the carnival. The only catch was that Larissa had to turn it back on five hours later; some inane thing about a system catch up and not wanting to blow the lights and blah blah blah. She didn’t really seem too concerned, so you figured it wasn’t worth worrying about. Though then again, her level of reaction is often exaggerated around others. A smooth coverup to her consistent undertone of intense apathy. She’s a damn good actress, you have to give her that. Even when around you, she puts a bit more life into her eyes. Into her voice. Into her breath. It’s forced, of course. Yeah. Most definitely. She doesn’t just magically feel more alive because of you. That type of thing doesn’t happen in real life.

…Cannibals, on the other hand, happen far more often than people like to think.

If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that you’d somehow fall into a weird pseudo-psychotic-relationship with your one day shape-shifting cannibalistic gorgeous boss, you’re pretty sure your younger self would just burst into tears. Or blink maybe- and ask what a ‘cannibal’ was. You wouldn’t have an answer, of course, but that’s neither here nor there.

What’s more important anyway is the fact that you stupidly agreed to meet Larissa by Nevermore’s main entrance at exactly 9:45. You were exhausted after a day of rowdy teenagers and slow classes and it was only at about 7 PM when you remembered that your day wasn’t even over yet. Oh no no no. You still had a game to play. A game that, now as you think of it, standing by the two big doors and waiting for the guest of honor, may just go on well into the night. It depends on how Larissa’s feeling. It depends on what the ‘terms’ are. It depends on if she’s eaten dinner yet and if she has the energy to kill, cook, and clean before everyone gets back.

God you hope that’s not the case.

You really really hope-

“Always on time, I see,” a familiar voice rings through the hall, sounding from the top of the staircase.

Speaking of the fucking thorn in your side.

You turn at the exact moment that Larissa’s kitten heels start click-clacking their way down the stairs… and then promptly fall short of breath at the sight.

You haven’t seen her all day. Not even once. And now there she stands, all 6 feet and however many inches in those shoes and she’s painted against the moonlight that shines through the large windows behind her and the shadows drink her in as the air loses itself in her beauty, stealing away into her lungs and depriving you of oxygen and you, not for the first time, find yourself wondering why it’s so hard to just accept her. To just come to terms with the fact that maybe, if you ignore her insatiable appetite, you may be able to fall asleep in her arms and kiss her peacefully without feeling shame. Why can’t you just push guilt aside and fall into her body and let her pick you up and surround you and finally feel safe? And why oh why can you not take your fucking eyes off of her goddamn body? Jesus you are barely holding yourself together as she drags one slender hand down the bannister, making eye contact with you as she prowls. Those crystal eyes take on a dark, nearly black hue in the grey of the evening and you find yourself ashamed of the fact that you can’t look away from them.

Perhaps some sins are meant to be indulged in.

Her crimson lips curl into a placating close-mouthed smile. Her skin and hair are as pale and pristine as ever. Her perfume, as she gets closer, is heavier- spicier- but the intoxication of scent is the least of your worries. Oh no; the thing you’re most concerned about is the dress. Never have you ever seen her wear red. Not in your five and a half years of working at Nevermore. Not even in your dreams. Larissa doesn’t touch deep colors. She doesn’t wear the darker shades.

And yet?

Yet, there she is. Torturing you. Wrapping her long slim fingers around your attention span and taking all of it for herself. ‘Mine,’ is what she’s silently saying as she gives her hips some extra sway and shows off the loose sash around her waist. The dress reveals the curve of her calves and the tiniest bit of her thighs and suddenly you come to the (stupid) realization that she’s not wearing any stockings. Which she always wears. Which somehow, the absence of, makes your brain short-circuit and recalculate.

���Thank you for meeting me.” And before you even know it, there the Big Bad stands - hands clasped at her waist and head tilted to the side, looking like the cat who did not only catch the canary but also skinned, filleted, and served the little fucker up on a silver platter.

You feel the need to glare at her, to curse her for her beauty and her allure, but you simply can’t muster up the energy to do so. You’re tired- and your emotions are frayed- and you just want to rest- but clearly someone doesn’t want you to be at peace just yet. No, clearly, she wants you all to herself for just a little while. You’re not sure why, you’ve contemplated it before, but dwelling on anything regarding Larissa Weems is a spiraling whirl of insanity and despair that you just don’t wanna go down right now. So it’s better to stay in the present… and give her a little hum while you cross your arms. If she’s noticed that you take on such a defensive stance whenever she’s around, she hasn’t said anything. And she probably won’t either. Cuz she doesn’t care.

“Yup. Are we gonna get this over with or what?” It comes out harsher than you want it to, forcing your organs to immediately crinkle up like smashed paper as you cringe at your sharp tone.

Larissa fairs no better as her expression falls and her lips twist into a frown. The lines of her face become deeper when she looks so depressed, like she hasn’t slept in 80 years. You want so terribly to tell her to suck it up and stop acting like a baby, but you also know that her excitement about fun and friendliness is not a thing she fakes. The Poe Cup excites her. The Nevermore dances and activities and Outreach Day and this, that, and the other all bring her some modicum of joy. The kids themselves make her happy. It’s weird to know a person who has killed another human being and enjoyed the taste of their flesh… while also finding happiness in the simple annual events of their job. Like she has an alter ego; but you know that’s not the case. She’s 100% herself. Which is both admirable and scary.

“If you don’t want to,” Larissa hisses, making you freeze at the sound of undeniable ice in her tone, “then don’t make me force you. Go to bed, if you so wish. I’m not going to keep you against your will.”

Like a monster. She doesn’t say it, but you think that maybe she’s thinking it.

And though you want to respond and say But you are a monster. You have kept people against their will before. You have killed before. you decide to steer the conversation to safer shores and get yourself out of harm's way. Larissa doesn’t often get serious with you, but whenever she does it, you know better than to push her buttons. Certain boundaries have not yet been established. You never know if you are safe.

“Sorry- sorry. I’m just tired. Really, I’m fine. Let’s play and then we can get some rest. That sound okay?”

A dark gaze pins you to your spot, staring into the very marrow of your bones. It’s clear what she’s thinking. It’s clear what she knows. Like she knows you’re just agreeing to save your own hide. She knows you’re complying out of fear. She can’t hear your heartbeat, but she knows it’s running faster than a speeding train. She knows she’s shifted the line once again.

The only thing is that she really can’t bring herself to care.

You’ve complied. That’s all she needs.

“…Fine. Yes. Are you ready to discuss the terms?”

It’s obvious that the tension hasn’t dissipated entirely, but you figure that as the night carries on, that will change.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Who knows? It may even be fun.

Larissa smiles.

It’s wide.

It’s.. scary.

Sharp.

A Cheshire grin.

Cold. Steely. It doesn’t reach her eyes. You feel sweat start to bead along your back.

“In the name of saving time, there will be one round. I will seek. You will hide. We will have 45 minutes in total. However, you will get a 20 second head start. Should I manage to find and catch you in under 45 minutes, you’ll join me for dinner. The main course will be poached lamb. And you will be required to eat it.” There’s a pause.

“All of it.”

Okay not fun. DEFINITELY not fun. So incredibly not fun.

You swallow.

“…And if I win?”

Then what? Then what if you win? What the fuck do you get out of this? What could she possibly give y-

“Then I will give it up.”

…What?

You look at her wildly. But there’s no expression on her face. She’s just… blank. White behind the eyes. Nothing. Apathetic.

No.

No.

Practiced indifference.

She doesn’t think you can win.

She doesn’t even want to consider you winning.

But all is fair in love and cannibalism. And she’s never been one to tip the scales.

“I’m sorry, you’ll what?” You’re just not sure you’ve heard her correctly. She’ll ‘give it up’?

Larissa sighs, her lashes fluttering as she purses her lips and gives you a ‘look’.

“If you win, I’ll give it up.”

…And that’s it? That’s all she’s gonna give you?

“What do you even mean? Give up the whole killing people and eating them thing? The-” You look around, suddenly nervous about a creature somehow lurking in the shadows. One can never be too careful. Probably best that you don’t speak so loudly. “-the cannibalism?” Your body leans closer to her as you whisper, though your eyes stray and scan the shadowed columns and walls of the entrance hall.

Larissa of course takes that opportunity to get closer to you and bends down at the waist, lining her lips up to your ear while you’re distracted.

“Yes, darling. I’ll give up the cannibalism.” And her voice is so husky and her breath is so warm, flushed against the side of your neck, that you nearly fall right to your knees.

I’ll give up the cannibalism.

Oh you could laugh. You could laugh and you could laugh hard. She’s joking- she has to be. And you’re about to tell her that, you’re about to turn your head and tell her not to fuck around with you, but then your cheeks brush and suddenly you’re letting out an embarrassing squeak and stumbling back to hit the door behind you.

She blinks, straightens up, and smiles down at you as though nothing ever happened.

It’s infuriating.

“You’re lying. You wouldn’t do that.”

A light eyebrow quirks up.

“Wouldn’t I?”

A heavy staring contest ensues; but you’re the only one trying not to blink - Larissa is just looking. And smirking. And god fuck her for being so fucking gorgeous.

“I’m a woman of my word, Y/n,” she purrs, watching with such amusement as you desperately try to collect yourself and steer yourself back on track.

Not that the track was very clear nor sane in the first place. In fact, the track probably leads to Hell.

Oh well.

You were never getting through the pearly gates anyway.

“Okay,” you decide, looking her up and down. “If I win, you stop it. All of it. No more killing, eating, nothing. The only protein you consume comes from livestock. Not human livestock. Just- livestock.” You nod to yourself, giving her a firm stare.

But just because you reaffirmed what happens if you win doesn’t mean you will. And she knows that. So she hums and turns on one heel, taking her burning gaze away from you and sweeping it over the floors and walls- down into the darkness of the corridors. You don’t know what she’s thinking, but you have a feeling it’s not good. Larissa can be very sneaky when she wants to be… cheating, at least in a playful little game like the one you’ll be having, is certainly not below her. In fact, she’s entirely capable of winning. Like on a level you could not even imagine. She’s been around Nevermore for how long? Counting her years in the Academy as a student and as an adult… knowing her roommate used to be the cunning and sly Morticia Frump neé Addams… well. Her big sexy shapeshifter brain probably has the entire fucking place memorized.

And you haven’t even been there for six years.

So you’re saying you’re doomed.

Yeah. Basically.

“Yes,” Larissa finally confirms, turning back to you with a quick shift of her legs. “And if I win, you dine with me.” Oh she looks so excited about that. Her eyes, somehow, are darker than they were before. No light reflects at all as they carve into your soul. Already you can tell that she’s imagining how she’ll cook the meat.

“…Poached lamb, you said?”

She grins, her smile sudden like she’s surprised (and delighted) that you remembered.

“Yes. Would you like to know what other dishes I’ll be preparing?”

At the sound of her cheery tone, your expression sets into a scowl.

“You’re talking as if you’ve won already. What makes you think that’ll happen?”

Her physical response is minuscule. Barely even there. But you notice the slight way in which her cheek twitches; and you see how her hands tighten around each other. When she responds, her red lips are curved into a smirk and her voice is soft. Soft and kind. It sends a blaze of hot warmth across your body.

“I find acting as though you already have the thing you want tends to result in obtaining it.” Her head tilts. Her eyes run over your body. From your feet to your head, over the swaying black cotton dress you’re wearing and the necklaces you have draped over your collarbones. Slow and steady. Tracing your arms… your legs… your shoulders… your waist… your breasts and your hair… not hungry for your flesh in her stomach, but hungry for your skin against her tongue. Your skin against her lips. Your skin against her own. She lets out a sigh. “And I want you.”

It’s breathed out into the night - and accompanied by the sudden loud chime of Nevermore’s clock tower.

You jump at the sound of it, immediately slapping a hand over your heart in shock.

“Goddammit! That fucking thing gets me every time.” It’s definitely not the thing to be focusing on, but you’re not sure you have the mental capacity to pick through and understand the implications behind Larissa’s words. As it is, the change of the hour means you have even less time to play before the rest of the staff and the children return.

Larissa, of course, did not jump out of her bloody skin. Instead, she watched your body tense and your eyes widen with no small amount of fondness. She thought you were silly. Adorable. Hers.

“I suppose that’s our cue, then. Are you ready to begin?” Her white teeth glimmer when she turns to glance up at the staircase.

You feel your heart start to thump within your ears.

Always the little lamb, aren’t you darling?

Yes.

Always the prey.

Yes.

Meant to be hunted.

Yes.

Meant to be found.

Yes.

No.

Wait. …Meant to be found?

No...

No no no no no no.

Not meant to be found. Not meant to be found at all. The whole point is not to be found. The whole point is to escape.

Oh? What are you escaping from? There is no one here to hurt you. There is no one here to get you. You are safe. You are safe.

Oh if only that were true…

If only she could love you without wanting to swallow you whole.

You finally sigh, resigned and tired.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Larissa.”

«——..✞..——»

Can you tell I’m hyperfixating on her? Thank you so much for the love. (Let’s just pretend Nevermore’s clocktower works. And the power being out will come into play in the next part ;)) - Rip x

(P.S. Tell me who you want to win in the game of hide and seek.)

(P.P.S. Most of the meat referenced in this series is code for human flesh. ‘Long pork’, for example, is the official name for human. Here, the ‘poached lamb’ and other types mentioned in future is also code. Thx.)

«——..✞..——»

[eriexplosion]

Cut for fandom salt

The reason I get so heated about the 'Is Tech Alive/Dead' discourse is that like. It is very hard for me to explain just how pissed I would be if he was dead. Not because 'oh no a thing happened in the show that I didn't like' I'm in my fucking thirties I've dealt with shows making stupid decisions before. It's what a permadeath here in particular would mean with everything surrounding it.

It's starting a series based around getting you to want a family to reunite just to pull the rug out 2/3rds in and say 'lol dumbass they were never going to reunite.' All those themes of family and needing it to be complete? Never meant anything.

It's building up a character, intentionally making sure he's read as neurodivergent in a very clear and confirmed way, giving him multiple plotlines, and then cutting them all off without finishing any of them by taking two episodes to set up a mission that has zero plot purpose except to kill him off and then say Oh well it's stakes and consequences there had to be a price to pay for... trying to reunite the family and save their brother I guess. How dare they.

It's providing zero confirmation in story on the death, spending months upon months saying shit like 'he doesn't come back in this episode at least' and 'this was the end of mine - and that's a good thing!' and 'if you could only see who's on my screen' knowing that there's a large portion of fans genuinely upset by his death, using social media pretty much exclusively to rub our faces in the scene, and then turns out they were just stringing everyone along the whole time, he really was dead, the lack of confirmation in episode meant nothing, us playing coy and dropping hints for ten months meant nothing, fuck you for giving a shit.

It's setting up a story where the clones could be more than soldiers and then abruptly cutting it off and going on and on about how wonderful it is that he died self sacrificing as a soldier and it's what any clone would want, because this show about how all clones are individuals is actually about how they're all interchangeable and any clone would want the same thing.

It's that if Tech is dead there is not a single piece of the show, a single interaction with the fans since it happened, a single anything from anybody involved that was not set up to make ND people hope (or god forbid even feel some kind of acceptance at seeing a neurodivergent character getting treated seriously) string them along, and then punish them for it so that everyone else can coo about how mature and bold it was to kill off the autistic guy for shock value. And then they don't even fucking address it the next season because ~oh there's just no time~

And I would really prefer if a show that I have loved almost every other aspect of, that has been genuinely well written and moving, didn't randomly decide to drop every single piece of their writing ability in order to put out the most ambiguous death scene ever, fuck with their audience for ten months, and then shit on them for caring.

[mezzy303]

HI IN LIGHT OF CHAPTER 1114 OF ONE PIECE I AM COMBINING SOME THEORIES A BIT

It might be safe to say that I can axe my theory (here) that the world is sinking due to natural phenomena lol. BUT I'm gonna keep the idea that the people of the Great Kingdom knew the event would happen sometime in the future, and add on the one that connects Lulusia and Enies Lobby (here).

To summarize the latter, the One Piece Wikia has a trivia note on the Lulusia page that points out that the crater formed after Lulusia was destroyed is similar to the circular falls that surround Enies Lobby. This had got me thinking that 800 years ago, the same or similar weapon was used on an island (possibly the Great Kingdom itself) and the World Govt placed their judicial island over the subsequent crater as a monument to their victory and an example of the lengths they'd go for their "justice."

And now from the new chapter, Vegapunk has directly connected the rising sea levels from the Mother Flame weapon to the Void Century. “In order to understand where the world is heading, we must first address the past, specifically what happened 900 to 800 years ago.” This likely means that the weapon Imu and the Five Elders used existed 800 years ago, if one would need to know the past to understand what's currently going on. A threat from the past is also threatening the future. And I feel like with every chapter, there are more hints that suggest this weapon could be Uranus, the final Ancient Weapon. We know next to nothing about Uranus, except that it's one of the three Ancient Weapons mentioned in the Poneglyphs. Since the other two relate to the gods they're named after, many fans have theorized that Uranus will relate to the sky somehow. And as the lasers that annihilated Lulusia came from the sky, it's likely that the weapon is somewhere above the clouds, which would fit in the theorized theme for Uranus. Also the amount of destruction it caused aligns with what we've been told about the Ancient Weapons' potential. An island-sized crater in the earth that causes global earthquakes and rising sea levels certainly counts as mass destruction!

I've been mulling in my head since the last chapter that the Elders have had this weapon at least since the end of the Void Century, but that it could only be used with the Ancient Energy (the same energy the Iron Giant had run on) of the Great Kingdom and that technology was lost after its fall. And then comes Vegapunk who was researching this energy to create his own everlasting energy source to better the world, thus developing the Mother Flame. On a side note, I wonder if the Elders were using Vegapunk this whole time in order to create something that Uranus could run on. Idk I get that York tipped them off, but it seems too coincidental that the Elders would get a sample of the Flame and a guaranteed loyalist that can create it, and then order Vegapunk's death soon after. Vegapunk just seems like too much of a wild card to have been kept alive for so long.

But back on topic!! When the Elders were "testing the Mother Flame" on Lulusia, what I think they were really doing was seeing if that energy would work with Uranus. And because it did, they are desperate to make sure the Flame stays intact on Egghead, as it's they're only way to use Uranus. They've already shown the extent they'll go to in order to keep the world under their feet, it would be just a minor inconvenience for the world's land to sink if it means they can continuously subjugate entire islands in an instant (they live on the Red Line, what does it matter to them if sea levels rise?)

And if the Elders, likely some of the original 20 allied monarchs, had similar views 800 years ago as they do now, then it probably wasn't hard to conclude how they would use Uranus when they got their hands on it. And that could be the reason why Noah was built. Those of the Great Kingdom, a highly advanced civilization, knew the ramifications of using Uranus and thus were preparing for the inevitability of a world with little land. As Doflamingo mentioned, just 5 more meters of rising sea level would swallow up most urban spaces, so it would only take at least 5 more times of using Uranus to sink the majority of land globally (if each use causes sea levels to rise 1 meter). The World Govt then erased records of the Ancient Weapons to make sure no one else could threaten them with the other two, but also to hide the fact they already had one in their possession. And as a counter, the shipwrights of Water 7 passed down Pluton’s blueprints in case the World Govt got hold of that weapon too, which I had brought up in one of my posts.

I feel like with every chapter I'm reforming and rerouting theories lmao. Let's see how this holds up in two weeks 😂

[ladymacbeths]

macbeth related posts/articles/essays masterlist

hi! here's a list of almost every single anaysis Thing I've come across in like two months of being insane about the scottish play. Most are about lady macbeth/the gender theme btw.

‘He has no children’: The centring of grief in The Show Must Go Online’s Macbeth - Gemma Allred: on the misogyny that frequently surrounds conversations around Lady Macbeth

this post by @amillionmillionvoices: Same topic as the previous one, but goes more in depth, explains ladymac’s motivations as mostly coming from love not self-serving ambition.

this post by @dukeofbookingham: also explains the prior point very prettily— that ladymac is (mostly) motivated by love, but also makes the case that many of it is guilt born from not fulfilling societal expectations

On the character of Lady Macbeth - Dr. Emil Pfundheler: paper that explains the same point made in the previous post, using the text to explain. Written in 1873 so explains gender as a dichotomy, but once you take that out, its points are very good.

Characteristics of women: moral, political, and historical - Anna Jameson: aka Why Lady Macbeth is not inherently evil— same topic and the other two, but focuses a bit on the fact that she is A Woman. Not my favorite, but worth reading I suppose. Also includes analyses of many female Shakespeare characters. It does include some very bad history in the beginning— Gruoch did not orchestrate Duncan’s murder. That’s something Hector Boece made up.

Lady Macbeth: “Infirm of purpose” (from The Woman’s Part: Feminist Criticism of Shakespeare) - Joan Larsen Klein: on how she both fits and doesn’t fit the idea of a reinassance wife— doesn’t fit because she isn’t aligned to god (this read more like a Christian analysis than a feminist one if I’m being honest), but fits them because she behaves like one, only subverts them because she’s like, the evil murder girl version of the Wife. The essay right after this one is also very good.

The Hysteria of Lady Macbeth: required reading if you wanna play her Btw not kidding. Analyzes her character thru the lens of freudian psychology. Screws up the text of the play a bit but provides an actual in-depth explanation of how sonnambulism works. Note that "hysteria" is not a current psychological diagnosis, but a symptom of other conditions. Still extremely interesting.

The Macbeths - G. K. Chesterton: analysis of their relationship, makes some interesting point on the differences of the nature of their ambition and desire to kill the king

Shakespeare’s tragic frontier; the world of his final tragedies - Willard Farnham: this one is long but oh boy does it go deep. Talks about the lore of the witches, explains historical context to find out how the real events were so screwed up, makes an interesting point about Macbeth’s conscience against Lady Macbeth’s, and lastly talks about the tragic world of Macbeth compared to other tragedies.

Women’s fantasy of manhood: a Shakespearean theme - D. W. Harding: exactly what it says on the tin, using ladymac and her skewed (and I’d call romanticized) idea of what a man is that she pushes on Macbeth. So yeah, talks about the gender theme. Also talks about Goneril from Lear, Cleopatra, and Volumnia from Coriolanus and how they fit the theme— although ladymac is the only one who goes downhill from it.

Unnatural women in William Shakespeare’s Macbeth - Elizabeth Klett: I’ll be honest I didn’t love this one a lot. Basically talks about how every woman in Macbeth defies gender roles. Doesn’t go too deep however. But the book has a ton of essays analyzing female characters in classic lit.

[sinner-as-saint]

Wanna Be Yours

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Uni AU)

Run-through: Your best friend has been acting weird, and one night while you’re hanging out like you both usually do, he finally tells you why he’s been acting kind of different lately. 

Themes: friends-to-lovers, fluff, smut, soft, car sex 

“Hey, Buck.” 

You couldn’t even hide the surprise in your tone as you answered his call, well into the evening. You heard him chuckle on the other side. 

“Why do you sound surprised?” He asked, his voice deeper on the phone than in real life. 

You scoffed, “Because I haven’t seen or heard from you in a whole week. Who ghosts their best friend like this? Seriously, Buck. You even left me alone at the party the other night, I had to hang out with people I don’t necessarily like.” 

He was quick to apologise, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I’ll make up for it. Will you let me make up for it? I’ll come get you right now and we’ll grab something to eat and go for a drive, okay? We… I have stuff I need to tell you.” 

Just like that, he sounded all soft and sweet like a lost little puppy and you melted. “Asshole.” You muttered. “You’re lucky I miss you so much. Meet me downstairs in 10.” 

And just as planned, he was outside your building waiting for you. Leaning against his car, wearing his signature dark jeans and soft sweater - brown tonight. Bucky was your rock ever since day one. Your best friend. 

He smiled so big as you approached him, opening his arms waiting for you to walk into them as always. Except you got up close and punched his muscular arm instead, making him hiss in pain. “Ow!” 

“Fuck you, first of all. Second of all, do that shit again and I’ll punch you in the mouth.” You spat, walking over to the passenger side and hopped in. Bucky got in right after you, apologising already. But you cut him off, “Food first, you’re paying.” You said, leaning back into the seat, getting comfy as he drove the two of you away from campus. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

–

Bucky got you your favourites; he had almost all your orders memorised by now. Which was very sweet of him. 

After grabbing your food, Bucky drove to that one park you always went to whenever you needed to be away from uni. It was a safe, cosy little park with a little pond - surrounded by pine woods. 

It was quite a chilly night so the windows fogged up real quick as you both ate and talked. 

“I was worried, Buck.” You told him, “You’ve never done this before, a simple text would suffice, you know? I wouldn’t bother you if you needed your space but I was really worried when you didn’t respond to my messages, you weren’t even showing up to classes.” 

He sighed, putting his drink down as he leaned his head back. “I’m sorry. I was… figuring shit out. I needed to be away for a while.” 

You put your ice cream down, and turned a little to the side to face him better. “I thought we promised to share the hard stuff. You don’t have to carry it all alone, that’s what friends are for. That’s what I’m for.” 

He turned his head to face you, the street lights made his eyes look electric. His face was a little less lively than usual. The bags under his eyes were slightly more prominent, but he was still the pretty boy everyone knew him as. “I know.” He said softly. “I wanted to tell you, trust me. But I was scared, I guess.” 

You frowned, “Scared? Of what?” 

“What you would think.” He answered. 

“Bucky…” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, his sweater warm and soft under your touch. “I would never judge you. No matter what you do. I mean, we’ve seen each other at our worst. It’s fine if you don’t want to share or you-,” 

He cut you off quickly, “No, I want to.” 

You nodded, “Well then, I’m here. I’m always here.” 

Bucky took a deep breath. Exhaled loudly, then said, “I fell in love.” 

You couldn’t hold back the gasp which escaped your mouth. “You little shit!” You exclaimed, suddenly excited. “Wait, wait, wait, is it that girl from the library? The one who asked for your number like two weeks ago? No? Oh my god, is it the one you met at the café?” You listed off all the potential girls he could’ve fallen for but Bucky just rolled his eyes. 

He frowned, “What- no, no, not them.” He sighed, “Just, someone. And she’s really special. She’s so smart, and funny. She’s hilarious. It’s like, all my problems disappear when I’m around her. She makes even the worst days better just by being there, you know? And beautiful, my God she is beautiful. She captures the attention of everyone whenever she walks into a room, and she doesn’t even know the kind of effect she has on people.” Bucky spoke dreamily. 

You sat there, listening. 

“She’s like a walking talking daydream. Everything about her is just, so fucking perfect. She’s a bit of a nerd, but she tries to hide it by being sassy and thinks that no one notices how she fangirls over the littlest of things.” Bucky smiled, clearly lovesick. 

You had a faint smile on your face as you watched him going on and on about this girl. 

“And she was a bit mean too, you know?” He chuckled, “When I first met her, I was slightly intimidated but then she quickly became one of my best friends. Turns out, when she does lower her walls and lets you in, she actually has the kindest, biggest and warmest heart I’ve ever known.” 

Your heart pounded at that. Because as far as you knew, Bucky didn’t have any other girl friends. So… 

“Bucky, you-,” You started, but he cut you off gently. 

“Please let me say it, I’ve been carrying this around for too long. I-It’s driving me insane, she drives me insane. Let me say it, please.” He pleaded. 

You nodded, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. 

Bucky continued, maintaining eye contact, “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and no one’s ever made me this nervous. She is just… so lovely. And I didn’t even realise how much I love her, until I saw her in someone else’s arms recently and the only thought in my head was how badly I wanted to beat the living shit out of the bastard who held my girl instead of me.” 

You couldn’t hold the intensity of his stare any longer, not as you thought about how about two weeks ago Bucky began acting weird the moment he saw you and another one of your friends, Steve, hugging. 

You laughed nervously, playing with the zipper of your jacket. “She sounds incredible.” You said, then you asked, “Why aren’t you with her right now, then?” 

“I am.” 

Two words. Two little words and your eyes watered. Bucky sighed from beside you. “Look at me,” He spoke softly, reaching out to take your chin in between his fingers, turning your face towards him. His eyes glanced down at your mouth, and back up to your eyes a couple of times. 

The tension was dense, hot and heady. You could hear your heartbeats, echoing in your ears as you looked into his pair of pretty blue eyes. “Bucky…” You whispered, unable to say anything else but his name. Was it a plea, a warning, relief? You didn’t know. 

He spoke so softly, “I can’t pretend anymore. I love you, and I can’t keep lying to the both of us. Just, give me a chance. Let me love you.” 

You were quiet for a good few seconds, then as you parted your lips to speak, Bucky leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours. Your hand instinctively reached up to cup his face, his stubble brushing against your fingertips in a familiar, warm way. 

You tilted your head to the side slightly, kissing him properly. Bucky has always been your safe place. And right now this felt safe. This kiss felt warm, and safe. 

His hand held you by the chin, keeping you in place as he kissed you deeply, passionately. Sighing and groaning softly against your mouth like he’s been starving for this very moment. “Fuck…” He whimpered quietly against your lips, and the sound of it made your stomach flip. “Come here, I need you closer.” He leaned back into his seat, pulling you onto his lap. 

And you shifted over the console, straddling his thighs as you lowered yourself down on his lap. Your arms went around his neck, and his wrapped around your waist, pulling you snug against him. 

He gave you a faint, nervous smile. “Hi,” He whispered, rubbing the tip of his nose with yours. 

“Hi,” You whispered, smiling down at him as he slowly trailed his hands downwards till they rested at the curve of your butt. You could feel his warmth on your skin even through the material of your skirt, and it made your heart race even more. “So this is why you’ve been missing for a week? You couldn’t have just told me?” You asked, placing your forehead against his. 

He placed a soft kiss on your chin before saying, “I was scared, like I said, of what you’d think. I needed to think it through, you know? I couldn’t risk losing you as a friend. Then I saw you with Steve and I just… you know the rest.” 

You couldn’t resist teasing him for it, “You got jealous when you saw me hugging Steve, huh?” You asked, smirking. 

Bucky pulled you even closer, kissing down your chin as he said, “I did. And he’ll never touch you again.” 

You giggled uncontrollable as he kissed down your neck, playfully biting and nibbling on your skin. “Hey!” You exclaimed, contorting and laughing on his lap, “Okay, okay fine! No more hugging Steve.” 

Bucky pulled away to look at you, “I want you. I wanna be yours. I’ll be so good to you,” He whispered, one of his hands slipping under your shirt, gently caressing your skin. “I love you, I have since day one and I was just too dumb to see it.” Then he paused for a moment, and asked, “Do you? Love me?” 

You smiled, nuzzling his cheek as you said, “I’ve always loved you. I mean, we’ve been friends since day one. You’ve been my best friend for a couple of years now but it’s always felt like more. It’s always been comfortable and safe with you. You’ve just always felt like…” You trailed off, pulling away to look into his eyes, “Like…” 

“Home.” He finished your sentence, smiling up at you. “You feel like home too. And I’m so stupid for not saying it earlier. But I love you, so so much.” 

Your eyes watered again, “And I love you.” 

He smiled brighter than ever as you leaned in to kiss him. Both of his hands found their way under your shirt, pulling at the hem. You giggled into the kiss before pulling away to get rid of your jacket. You threw it somewhere in the backseat before leaning in to kiss Bucky again. Your hands slid into his hair, his hands inched up your back to undo the clasp of your bra. 

Given the lack of room for proper movement, and both of your desperation combined, you couldn’t bother taking your shirt off completely, you just lifted it up to your chin, bra and all, baring your breasts to him. The chill in the air made your nipples hard, but so did Bucky’s ravenous stare. 

He looked up at you to check in, briefly, before leaning in again and taking one of them in his warm mouth. He moaned, mouth wrapped around one of your tits. Your back arched, giggling and gasping as he teased you, tasted you like he’s been dying to this whole time. You found your hips moving against his, grinding against him. And that got him excited because he nibbled harder on your skin. 

You gasped, laughing as he sucked hungrily on your skin, moving up to your collar bones, down to your breasts and back up. Bucky chuckled when you tugged on his hair, pulling his mouth away from your skin. “What? Did I bite your pretty tits too hard, hmm?” 

You smiled, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss. “Mhmm, stop teasing me.” You whispered, inching closer to him, grounding your hips against his. 

He smirked, looking down to where your skirt had inched up your legs, revealing your thighs, “Yeah? You just can’t wait, can you?” He teased. 

You playfully bit his lip, making him hiss in pain before he chuckled against your mouth. Then you remembered… “Did you really think I was mean when we first met?” You questioned, smirking down at him. 

He laughed, pushing his face against your bare chest and kissing the soft skin between your breasts. “Not mean just… yeah, you know what? You were mean.” He stated, finally looking up at you. “You remember how cold you were to me when I tried talking to you for orientation?” 

You let out a little laugh, “That’s because you were flirting with almost everyone! Besides, you were probably the prettiest boy I’d ever seen and you just came up to talk to me. Just like that, with no warning. I panicked.” You explained, remembering the day so vividly. 

Bucky raised his eyebrows at you, smirking like the cocky little shit he was. “So you thought I was pretty?” 

You grabbed him by the chin and clarified, “No, I thought you were a shameless player.” 

He smiled, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “Well, I’m not. A player, that is. I am, however, very shameless.” He whispered against your skin as his hands slipped under your skirt, his thumbs caressing your inner thighs - making you gasp and whimper quietly as his fingers teased you in between your legs through your underwear. 

“Bucky…” You whined as he leaned down to suck on your tits again, more greedy than earlier as he toyed with your wet folds and clit at the same time 

“Hmm,” He moaned, lips wrapped around your nipple. He released it with a ‘pop’. “I need you, baby. I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t-,” 

Before he could even finish his sentence, your impatient hands were at the zipper of his pants. You paused, fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear, you looked up to his eyes - quietly questioning. 

He gave you a lazy smile, eyes hooded with lust. “Go on, baby. Take it out, it’s all yours.” His voice was suddenly deeper than earlier. And only then did you realise that there was a light drizzle outside, which made the air even colder; making you crave his body heat even more. 

You lifted off of his lap at the same time as you both lowered his pants and underwear to free his erected cock. You whined breathlessly at the mere sight of it, and Bucky groaned impatiently as he grabbed your hips, pulled your thin underwear to the side and aligned his cock to your entrance before gently lowering you down on him. 

You moaned as you slid down his thick cock, his stare burning on your face as he thrust up into you, all the way in. “Fuck,” He swore, then leaned in to give you a wet, messy kiss. “You okay, baby? You need a moment?” 

You shook your head, no you didn’t need a moment. What you needed was more of him. “Just… move, please, you feel so good.” You whispered, kissing down his chin as he obeyed, and moved. 

You whined as he grabbed your hips and guided you up and down his cock, stretching you out in the process. You held onto his shoulders as you rode his cock, bouncing on it while you moaned for him, bending a little so as to not hit the roof of the car too hard. 

“Oh, Buck…” You felt him fill you up nicely each time, the pressure in between your legs getting hotter and hotter. 

Bucky threw his head back, grunting at how good you felt, “You had me daydreaming about this wet little cunt, you know?” He let out a strained moan, as he thrust into you over and over again, while also bringing you down on his cock each time with enough force to make your tits bounce. “I was thinking about all the ways I’d fill you up once you let me. If it were up to me, I’d always keep you full of me, full of my cock.” 

“Damn it, who knew you had such a filthy mouth?” You said, unable to hold back your moans when he placed his thumb over your clit and rubbed it gently, in time with his thrusts. You forced yourself to look into his eyes, and the feral look in them only made you clench harder around him. 

You bit your lip to hold back your moans as he thrust his hips up more into you, your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came so close to coming undone for him. “Bucky…” 

“You’re gonna come for me, baby?” He asked, “You’re gonna come all over my cock, huh?” 

You answered after a loud whimper, “Yes… please, can I come?” 

He cupped your cheek and traced your mouth with his thumb, “Go on, baby. Come all over my cock. Come for me…” Your walls clenched violently around his cock. You came hard, whimpering and crying for him and gasping for breath. Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside you as he wrapped his arms around you and held you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just rammed his cock in and out of you like an animal. 

You caught your breath, wrapped in Bucky’s arms. Your head rested on his shoulder as you tried to calm your racing heart. 

“Look at me, baby, look at me.” Bucky murmured, cupping your face in both of his hands as he examined your expression. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You gave him a satiated, lazy smile. “No, Buck. You didn’t hurt me.” You whispered, feeling his cock inside you still as his cum leaked out of you steadily. You chuckled and said, “We made a mess in your car.” You hid your face into the crook of his neck again. 

Bucky laughed, kissing your head as he said, “I hope you’re in the mood to make an even bigger mess in the backseat, baby.” 

[michu-writes]

Heya!! :3 I heard that you have requests open for the mandela catalogue. I wanna make a request, it's a bit angsty lol. (You may ignore this if you're not comfortable to write themes such as these)

How about a Gabriel x reader comfort scenario in which reader has a fight with their father due to their family issues, so they go in their room, not being able to hold it anymore they just start sobbing without realising Gabriel was there. (gender neutral pronouns are just fine!! <3 I hope you'll have a nice day/night!)

CW // TW: Verbal abuse, yelling/shouting, family issues, depressing themes, slight religion mention(?), kinda cheesy, hurt/comfort

Shouts and yelling could be heard from the kitchen room downstairs from your room.

"STOP BEING SO DAMN SELFISH! THINK ABOUT YOUR FAMILY FOR ONCE!"

"YOU THINK I DONT THINK ABOUT THE FAMILY? THE ONLY THING I COULD THINK ABOUT LATELY IS THE FAMILY AND I'VE BEEN TRYING SO HARD TO HELP! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S BEING SELFISH!"

The "archangel" was patiently waiting in your room, absolutely not knowing any sense of boundaries at all. Hearing screams and yells was something he hears everyday, so he thought it was normal. But those screams are usually from people getting slaughtered by his alternates. He didn't think much of it though. The "archangel" is not gonna lie, he still has a lot to learn about humans. That's why he came to you. Mostly because he needs a break from his "work", but he thought he had the opportunity to learn about humanity as well.

You and Gabriel has been hanging out together for a while now, you were quite scared of him at first. It's not like you see a false archangel everyday. Gabriel just happened to take an interest of you, and decided to spare you for now. You were happy, but confused. There weren't really anything special about you. But Gabriel was gonna be the judge of that.

Finally hearing the yelling stop with a final "GO TO YOUR DAMN ROOM!", he could hear your footsteps stomping up the stairs, on the way to your room. The archangel just silently stood by the wall in the dark, not bothering on turning on the lights.

You finally opened your door and slammed it as hard as you could, before collapsing onto your bed, not even worrying about your surroundings. Gabriel still stood there in silence, not making a sound. Only watching your figure curl up to a ball and punch your mattress in anger and distress as you muttered not so sweet nothings under your sobs and cries.

"God, why do you have to make everything so difficult?" You weren't that religious, but you just had the habit of questioning "god", even though there might not be one.

Feeling your sheets getting wet by your tears, you raised your head to lay down on the other side. But as you were turning around, you saw the presence of a tall man on a robe with beautiful, long, blond, curly hair, a long with two pair of wings to top it off. Being taken a back, you quickly wiped your tears away and took a deep breath.

"Gabriel..?"

"Hello, my dear."

Hearing the soft voice of the so called "angel" made you instantly calm, wanting to just fall down straight to bed again.

"What are you… huh?"

Gabriel walked towards you, placing his hand on your cheek and brushing the remaining tears away with his thumb.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm just… you know. I'm just not in the mood."

"Clearly. Tell me what really happened, dear."

You sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed as the angel removed his hand from your cheek. Gabriel followed you down, sitting next to you with both his hands holding each other and placed on his thigh.

"It's just me and my dad. We've had some trouble with the relationship of our family, saying I'm the cause of it. I've been trying hard to make everything better. But it seems like it just backfired." You looked down, refusing to hold eye contact in shame. You tried to fight your tears back, you didn't expect your friend to just show up so suddenly.

"I don't think it's you. I think it's the pressure of your parents. I don't know much about human feelings, but I can guarantee you that it's not entirely your fault."

"Entirely you say?" You chuckled sarcastically before getting pulled into his chest by his warm wings of soft feathers. Feeling your face heat up, and a few tears escape.

Gabriel wasn't warm. He was actually cold. But his wings helped with warming you up. He knew that humans need warmth to keep them alive and comfortable.

"Let it out, my sweet lamb. No one can hurt you, as long as I'm here."

"Thank you, Gabriel."

You sobbed into his robe, feeling it soaking up by your hot streams of tears, but Gabriel didn't care. He just wanted you to somehow feel better. What he said was all honesty. Was honesty just everything humans need to feel happier? Or comforted? He didn't know, but all he knew is that he made you feel better, and maybe next time you wont have to experience your fathers harsh words ever again.

Gabriels questions about humans can wait, he already learned something new. Comfort and honesty.

[atinylittlepain]

June - Part Eight

Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, smut, angst, but also a whole lot of love to be had

.............................................

Oh the train is coming, and I'm standing here to see

And it's bringing my baby right back to me

Well there are some things too hard to explain

But my baby's coming home now, on the 5:30 train

"Bright Horses" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

............................................

“You’re going to be late.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not the one worrying.” 

“Not very nice.”

“Never said I was.” 

“Well then.” He is going to be late. He’s having a hard time leaving when she’s like this. Arms slung around the banister to the stairs, eyes flickering easy. A little smug, a little smart, a smirk that he smacks a quick kiss to, and then another one.

“Warm enough?” 

“Be just fine, June.” Subtle, small, the pinch around her eyes, real worry that he knows she won’t admit to. It’s not often that her day off falls on one of his days on.

“See you tonight then.” 

“I’ll see you tonight.” He really doesn’t want to leave. And he’s never going to if he keeps staring at her, his boots moving before his mind does, out the door and down the steps and into the dull crunch of snow. 

…

“Are you worried she’s going to again?” “Tommy.”

“It’s an honest question, Joel. That’s, what? Three times in six months?” The puff of his breath, hazy in the cold.

“She’s doing better.”

“You said that before.”

“Well she is.” Tommy stops with a squint, glancing at the trees thickening around them.

“I worry, Joel. Okay? What if–”

“No.”

“Joel–”

“No. Come on. Too damn cold to stop moving.” 

He likes it. When Tommy isn’t talking at least. The simplicity of one step after the other. Hardly ever any real trouble. The certainty of security, of action that assures. And the quiet of the trees.

“Do you think you would’ve? You and her? If not for that night?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I’m trying to understand.”

“Nothing to understand. It just is.”

“You think I don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Why you were out there too. I’m not stupid, Joel.” He’s the one that stops this time, cold coming down all around him. It’s something he’s done since they were boys, a tell. The swipe of his knuckles under his nose. Joel always knew when Tommy wasn’t kidding by that simple trick.

“I’m not pretending to understand. And it may not seem it, but I’m grateful for June. I am.” Again, his knuckles brushing at his nose, hand on his hip.

“I don’t know if you’d be standing there right now if she hadn’t been out there that night. And whatever you two are, it seems to be keeping you around. So I’m grateful for her. And I hope, for your sake, that she is doing better.” Always awkward in their affection, a hard rub to each other’s backs, quick, quick, quick don’t get caught telling your brother you love him. God forbid.

Those words roll in his mind all through the morning, everything quiet around him except for the obvious truth of it. It’s an absent-minded thing, his fingers finding that stitched seam in his jacket, a soothing repetition, rubbing along the raised edges. 

It’s sudden. It always is. The sharp crack of steel snarling in the air. Three men, maybe four, hard to tell with the hard bite of gunfire, all of them seeking cover, firing shots blind and hoping they hit. He’s clear, calm. Tommy is too, nodding to him a few feet away. They’ve done it dozens of times. Maybe hundreds. This is what they do. 

Four men. Bodies in the snow, blooming red streams around them.

“Shit, Joel.” So much that it’s starting to soak through the sleeve of his jacket, dark, dark, dark. And then he feels it. That little lick of fire. A graze along his shoulder. 

“It’s fine. Let’s get back.” 

It’s fine until it’s not. Until it keeps seeping into his jacket and suddenly Tommy is hooking himself under his arm to keep him from slumping over. 

“Easy, brother. I got you.” He’s dragging, hard. A slow crawl back to town, the sun already slipping behind the mountains. He’d like to tell Tommy to leave him. He’d have no problem doing it in the past. But a thought flits through his foggy mind, a sharp swipe of pain. Terrible, sickening.

If he didn’t. Would she?

So he swallows those words and he gets very focused on each step, on keeping his eyes open, open, open.

Dark pinpricks and haze settling around the periphery, his ears rush with the sound of the gate groaning open. And she’s there with the kid, waiting for him, and he’d like to apologize for being so, so, so late. But his eyes are finally slipping shut, darkness settling heavy and thick as he collapses in the snow.

Voices and hands, a whole wave of them. Push and pull and lift. Except for two. One that brushes his sweat damp hair back from his forehead. One that’s holding tight to his hand.

…

He wakes up to white. White walls and white sheets and a blinding white pain in his shoulder. And it’s a strange switch to see her sitting in a chair next to the bed, head propped in her hand, eyes dropping heavy. But the moment he stirs she snaps upright. He tries to speak, though his voice only rasps out a quiet cough.

“Here.” Gentle, careful, coaxing sips of water out of him and helping him sit up. So serious with it. He studies her, silent. She hasn’t been sleeping, he can see it. Dark circles and drawn cheeks.

“How long?”

“A few days. You lost a lot.” He can feel the slight scratch of the bandages around his shoulder, the weight of a few days underwater. 

“I’ll go get Ellie. She’s getting some sleep but she’ll–”

“Wait, please.” She won’t look at him. Not quite. Her eyes settling somewhere over the top of his head.

“June.”

“I’ll get the doctor.” “June.”

“What?”

“Look at me.” 

“I am.” “No, you’re not.”

“Goddamnit, Joel.” It makes the words dry up in his mouth. She’s angry, eyes a sharp snap when they finally meet his. He keeps opening his mouth and closing it again, no idea what to say to the tick of her jaw, the tense of her shoulders. 

“I’m going to get Ellie.” Out the door before he can clear the thick heat in his throat.

…

They keep him longer than he’d like to be kept. And she stays with him, silent, simpering. Folds up under his good shoulder at night, her palm pressed over his heart like she’s trying to keep track of it. 

“Is this what it felt like?”

“Don’t, June.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe. Fear. And anger.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” 

“Don’t do it again and it will be.” The frankness of it surprises him as the words leave his mouth. Something about the shadows drawn dark across the white walls making the truth much easier to slip between his teeth. She sighs with it, warm against his throat.

“I waited for you.”

“I know.” “You’re right. It was fear.”

“I’m not going anywhere, June.”

“Please don’t.”

…

The pain doesn’t get any easier. Every morning and every night, curled around each other in the bathroom while she works as quick as she can. It’s an ugly thing, a deep wide groove gnarled into his shoulder. Sitting hunched on the closed lid of the toilet, he keeps his face pressed into her hip, biting back groans as she cleans it, packs it, wraps it. Until they have to do it again twelve hours later. She’s precise, purposeful, palms certain, one holding steady pressure between his shoulder blades as the other presses fresh dressing over the wound. Murmuring to him all the while. Small comforts and thoughtless promises. Always a kiss dropped into his hair when she’s done.

“What will you eat?”

“Not hungry.” “Not what I asked.” She’s gotten snappier, more sure with him as he’s grown petulant with the pain. He doesn’t mind it, exactly.

“Whatever is fine.” “Hmm.” Helps him wince into the sleeves of a shirt, careful, careful, careful.

“Thank you, June.”

“Of course, Joel.” 

Toast in the pan. Butter on both sides, sizzling and snapping in the heat. She scrapes up every last bit of jam from the now empty jar. Blueberry. She likes blueberry. And she offers it to him. Every bite, the last syrupy drip caught on his thumb and licked up. One last taste of summer. 

He feels useless. Dull and dumb and done. Sitting on the couch and watching her leave for her own shift. 

You’ll need to take some time–

In the state you’re in it wouldn’t be–

A month, maybe two before you can–

Her hand on his knee the only thing that kept him from walking out of the clinic right then. Her insistence the only thing making him listen to the doctor’s orders. So he works the days away on big and little pieces of wood, carving out hours.

Ellie drops in when she can. Always a bit tentative. He had tried to make a joke about her coming to check for a pulse, something that fell flat with a tight pinch of her brow. Not funny.

On these days, when no one is around, he’ll get up and out for a walk, convincing himself that every step doesn’t send a perfect strike of pain shooting down his arm and up his neck. Not that he’d admit it, but he has it timed. When to be where to catch the gates slipping open and her stepping through them, always with a huff in her chest seeing him out in the cold.

“Fresh air is good.”

“I can see you wincing with each step.”

“It’s the cold.”

“Hmm.”

And once she is back, she doesn’t let him stray far from her, not that he would. 

“Tired?” “I’m sorry.” “You don’t have to be.” He wants to. His skin skitters with it. But it wears him down, slow and grating as the day crawls by until all he can offer her is a kiss that snaps with a hunger he cannot sate. He’s so tired. This pain that holds him in its mewling jaws, bites down just enough to be a constant reminder.

“Can I see you, please?” Please, please, please. Propped up in bed and asking for something, anything. The skin she reveals prickling cold. Sweater, leggings, though the socks stay on. He’s a selfish man making his woman get so cold for him. But she’s slipping under his good shoulder, laid out like a painting in the syrupy slip of the dim light. And his fingers wander, skating under the curve of her breast, the catch of breath holding in her stomach. Lazy, a pure indulgence, his chin tucked over her shoulder.

“Would you?”

“Really?” “I’d like to see.” Lashes touching the arc of her cheeks, chin tucked down. Something new, something shy in the way her hand slips between her legs. His mouth rests open and hot against the dip of her shoulder, slowing, soothing. Still not used to pleasure for pleasure’s sake, either of them. 

“Like that, June.” Like I would. Like I want to. Somewhere between obscenity and divinity. The drag of her fingers, that slick slip that has her pressing her temple against his, muscle and bone drawn in a long sigh. 

“Please, Joel.” Call and response, he’d never refuse it, his hand settling heavy over hers, guiding, goading. 

It’s easy, so easy, a quiet unfurling, small and sweet with a sigh. A kiss caught to the corner of her mouth, her face turning toward it, toward him. 

“Do you?”

“This is enough.” Just to see, to touch, a simple, simmering satisfaction. His eyes getting heavy with it. And then his head tipped to his shoulder to catch a glimpse of her padding into the bathroom, the hushed thrum of water running, the quick slip into her clothes and the snap back into settling close, close, close beside him.

“Clinic tomorrow morning.” “They’ll say the same thing as last time.”

“I’m going with you.” An implicit command beneath her words, the rub of her palm against his chest. Don’t even think about it.

“It’s getting better.”

“I know.” 

“Thank you, June. For not minding.”

“I’d never mind. Not you.”

“I know it’s a lot.”

“It’s really not, Joel.” 

“Can’t even–”

“I want to. I’m happy to.” Words hanging heavy in the dark, the soft blink of her lashes against his skin.

“I like being able to. For you.” Something resting tight in her throat just behind those words. Something he thinks he knows. Something he thinks they share. 

“Goodnight, June.”

“Goodnight, Joel.”

.......................................

taglist: @thetriumphantpanda @suzmagine @casa-boiardi @hollywoodcaligirl @kelp-dreaming @beskarandblasters @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @darkroastjoel @sarahhxx03 @ambassadortotrilliusprime @northernbluess @hier--soir

[bokubear]

Haikyuu!! — he thinks you’re cheating

❥ including ; kageyama tobio, atsumu miya, ushijima wakatoshi, kuroo tetsuro

❥ genre ; hardly angst, slight insecurity, comedy, fluff, suggestive themes

❥ notes ; my first post in a whole month! gosh it’s been a while, but i’m glad to be back(*'▽'*)

Kageyama would never assume such a thing, instead, he’d try his hardest to talk it out—scared helplessly throughout. It was after his practice that day, and as he was approaching you for your daily walk home together when he overheard you talking with that guy. So, kageyama being kageyama, strutted to the perpetrator and grabbed his shoulder with an iron grip. “Y/n, what’s going on?” You could tell he was trying his hardest to deepen his voice, causing you to suppress your giggle. “Tobio, are you worried about me being with him?” Oh Kageyama Tobio was so easy to read. From his nervous glances at the two of you talking in the hallway to even now where you saw him from afar, that doubtful gaze told all that was on his mind. “We we’re planning a party for the team.. but I guess you didn’t realize..” The boy he was suspicious of spoke up, pointing to the décor surrounding the two that he’d yet to notice. “Since you guys went to nationals y’know.” You smiled sheepishly, pointing to the door. “And Takeshita is the only one with a spare key to decorate indoors.” Without saying anything else you were wrapped in your boyfriend’s embrace, his face snuggling into your neck. “Thanks for not leaving me.” He muttered, hoping the boy he now knew was named Takeshita didn’t overhear. However their laughter told him otherwise. He was red as a tomato.

Atsumu immediately throws a fit, flaying himself dramatically onto any surface to belch about how “‘ya never loved ‘im!” Very annoying. And the guy working at the ice cream stand seemed to agree. “Hey! I heard you two getting all cozy up in here earlier.. she’s MY baby.” He’d repeatedly remind to which you frantically rush to apologize for the Miya’s unnecessary behavior. “Tsumie! Quit!!” You slap his arm, eyes staring daggers at the irritating blonde. “Mmm fineee.. but watch out. I’m everywhere.” He hissed, trying to act intimidating ( or whatever that was supposed to be ). Apparently he had it out for this ice cream shop worker, pulling you to the side with knitted brows and a jutting pouty expression. “You’re my baby right? Don’t tell me you’re into-“ His whining cut short at your soft lips pressing to his, eyes widening into saucers. “Always your baby.” You smile, brushing a loose strand of dyed hair from his face. “Mine.” He whispered, lifting you up by the thighs to spin you around. “This looks cheesy.” You complain, unable to keep yourself from getting lost in his honey orbs. “I don’t care cause you look like an angel right now.” Wow. It was hard to even think you were slightly mad at him earlier. Charmer.

Ushijima would confront you. Of course since ushijima is indeed ushijima, his mature and knowledgeable nature leads him to invite you to a dinner. Initially you’re surprised, it isn’t you’re birthday, and it’s not any important date? Weird. And he doesn’t hesitate to get right to the point, asking if you’re interested in “another” he said. It was extremely puzzling of how the ushijima wakatoshi was fiddling with his fingers—appearing nervous. That was a first. “Another? Toshi I-“I’m sincerely sorry if I didn’t give you everything you want, you see I’m not very good at this dating relationship and I’m learning so I understand if you went to someone else-“Why would I ever want to break up with you?” The continuous fiddling of his fingers continued, clearing his throat. “Are you okay?” You leant forward, doting features sending ushijima’s mind into a frenzy. “Ah yes, you just-look stunning in that dress.” This statement floored you. God he was perfect. “Toshi, that’s my brother you were referring to. The ‘another.’” You swore his jaw dropped to the table. “Oh then.. I believe this was a misunderstanding, shall I take you home?” A sly smile crept at your lips, taking his comment and twisting it mischievously. “Take me home? To do what?” You chided, watching as his face contorted ever so slightly. “To.. help you out of your dress, it’d be hard to unzip it.” And once again a gentleman despite your coaxing. “Perhaps we could do something else after I help you from your dress?” Now it was your jaw’s turn to drop.

Kuroo mopes. He utterly mopes. Sitting on the couch with one of Kenma’s cats sleeping peacefully atop his head while watching literally every season of Naruto in existence. At some point even Kenma himself steps from his room to ask if he’s still alive. It’s a miracle really that he’s still eating that bag of Lays, munching nonstop. And as expected Kenma receives a call from you in the midst of the ordeal, asking where your potato-chip-eating boyfriend is. Kenma doesn’t lie to you, explaining that the raven-haired is in a state of denial because you paired with someone other boy in your Biology for the project “when you could’ve been learning the periodic table song with him” he quotes, earning a burst of laughter from you. Boy Kenma was a great impressionist. Nonetheless you show up uninvited, standing in front of the tv screen with crossed arms. “You! You’re in love with him aren’t you! The greasy hair, ugly face and everything! Look at you little missy thinking you can get away with-“ On his entourage of accusations and complaining he stands so close to you it’s not hard to smell the stench of 2 days worth of couch-potato days sticking to his clothes. “Ugh! You stink! How long have you been on the couch?” You plug your nose, unbeknownst to the amused Kenma recording at the doorway. “Uhh.. Two.. days? Wah! Wait!” Kuroo calls as you disappear into the bathroom. “No! I’m not coming out ‘till you shower!!” — “Fine but then can I sing you the periodic table song?” — “..Maybe.”

-maak

Plagiarism, repost, and editing is prohibited

[milogreer]

Grah (Milo 🥺🥺) ('send me a character' ask game!)

@darlinghowl asked: milo too!

YAAYYY HUSBAND TIME 🩷🩷 ↳ send me a character!

My first impression: i’m being so so serious when i say i had to pause milo’s first audio pretty much immediately after he started talking because his accent made me blush LMFAO it’s like he was built for me in a fuckin lab. werewolf with a ny/nj accent, the cockiness and bitchiness with just that hint of a soft side near the end when he talks about wanting dahlia to stay safe, and the FLIRTINESS my god. and that was ONE AUDIO LMAO that’s not even getting into everything else he has going on that felt tailored to me (*cough*heatingupinthebedroom*cough*) 🫠💖 

My impression now: unchanged baby he has been my number one since day one!!! not that this is surprising to anyone given my blog theme 🤣 i may not talk about him all the time but he’s never losing top spot in my heart. i’ve gotten butterflies from a handful of moments across the redactedverse but nothing that stuck with me as hard as the panic attack audio did, and he still makes me kick my feet and twirl my hair whenever he gets all sweet 💘 he’s truly the redacted love of my life

A favorite thing: as a massive horror media enjoyer, i think it’s so cute that he’s a little scaredy cat when it comes to ghosts and demons. the gameplay vids are super immersive for me bc whenever he jumps at something i start giggling and then he tells sweetheart to shut up for also giggling LMAO 

Least favorite thing: nothing. he’s the most perfect man ever. actually no least favorite thing is that he doesn’t talk abt his family enough !! i wanna know more about his family life so badly after the “worried about you” audio 😫 i wanna know more about marie other than that she likes ghostbusters and nags his ear off when he gets himself hurt and i wanna really dig into his feelings for his previously alcoholic/gambling addict father

Favorite interaction they have with another: AHHH THE ASHER MOUNTAIN INCIDENT. ok ok i’ve talked abt this before but i’m gonna say it again bc it always bears repeating. this was i think the first time we’ve heard about him shifting after regaining the ability post-inversion and it made me actually cry bc it was just two best friends having stupid fun together as shifters 😭😭 like even though milo came out of it injured he still got to wolf out and fuck around with asher and that makes me sooo happy for him after suffering through those 5-6 months being unable to shift

A character that I wish they would interact with more: DARLIN PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE erik i’m on my knees!!! darlin’s gotten audios with david and asher, when will it be milo’s turn!! i’ve thought a lot about them as teens and how they got on and how they navigated being sort of the odd ones out wrt their family dynamics vs david and asher’s + how the pack meeting with darlin went ☹️ i need them to get a one on one audio

A headcanon: aggro is a black cat that milo adopted from a shelter specifically because of the stigma surrounding black cats. people think they’re unlucky or evil or whatever but aggro is the sweetest little thing and he was just a little baby who had been there for probably a month or two and when milo came around, there was an instant connection 🥺 i also think that if he wasn’t already a registered ESA then they definitely would’ve gotten it done post-inversion. milo doesn’t typically take him anywhere but sometimes sweetheart will take him with them to the office; he even has a cute little ESA vest 🥰

A song: this is so hard because i have a handful of good ones… one i don’t think i’ve posted before is just what i needed by the cars! really early relationship vibes, i like it a lot 💕

An unpopular opinion: [looks around cautiously before leaning close to the mic and whispering] i don’t think he’s into being called daddy. MAYBE I’M BIASED because i don’t usually vibe with it myself, but i just don’t see it. however i think if you called him “sir” you’d both be locked up in the bedroom for several hours 🤷🏼‍♀️

[neokwxn]

My Seventeen Recs

SCOUPS

Game day - @escapewriter - smau

synopsis:  jeonghan was successful in getting you out of bed on a tuesday afternoon. what you thought was going to be a simple lunch that he would pay for, was actually a trick to make you finally go see him and the rest of your friends play their first game of the season. of course, the universe always messes with you so here you were at the nurses office with jeonghan’s teammate, treating your hurt ankle.

genre : smau, college au, slice of life au, fluff, humor, angst, romance with sarcasm as seasoning, etc

warnings : swearing

JEONGHAN

Let's love - @shuajeong - smau

synopsis: You lived your whole life thinking you were one or at least that’s what you were led to believe. You were told from a young age by your parents that your twin died at birth. What happens when you find out your twin is alive, brought up by your ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’. It becomes crazier when you could’ve met him any time due to your friend group. What about when your best friend’s friend otherwise known as jeonghan, enters your sight and you can’t get him to leave. Suddenly you have two important people to complete you…

JOSHUA

Love on the air - @suhnshinehaos - smau

synopsis: joshua hong wants you to know how he feels about you, but god forbid he actually say it out loud. instead, he settles on the next best thing : dedicating a song to you every week on the campus radio. too bad you’re too dense to actually figure out it’s all for you.

genre(s): non-idol au, university au, childhood friends to ???, so much pining, fluff, a bit of angst, honestly so corny and cheesy just- beware dfghjks

will likely contain : food mentions, swearing

Starstuck - @cupidhaos - smau

synopsis: a university student and a renowned popstar encounter each other by chance one night. she thought that would be the last time they see each other, but fate had other plans

JUN

Walls could talk - @svtskneecaps - smau + written

synopsis: you’re just a high school kid trying to survive your senior year. Seems simple enough. Problem is, you landed a major crush on a good looking transfer student, and unfortunately, the both of you are hiding some abilities that are a bit less than normal, and there’s a ghost you thought you buried in your past that’s rearing his ugly head. So… maybe this won’t be as easy as you were hoping.

genre(s): super power!high school!non-idol au

warnings: abuse, references to suicide, and anxiety as general themes later on

HOSHI

Love hard - @wondernus - smau

WONWOO

To my youth - @viastro - smau

synopsis: in a world where everyone finds out who loves them within a 10 meter radius through the app love alarm, confessing your feelings without the use of the app is no longer considered normal. however, you refuse to download it in hopes that you’ll be able to fall in love without being dependent on love alarm

genre: slice of life!au, fluff, humor, angst

WOOZI

None yet !

DK

None yet !

MINGYU

None yet !

THE8

None yet !

SEUNGKWAN

None yet !

VERNON

None yet !

DINO

None yet !

SEVENTEEN - a mix of members or ot13

Newsflash - @cupidhaos - reader x ??? - smau

synopsis: university life can be hard when you get caught up with the SVT boys

Keep it fruity - @cupidhaos - reader x maknae line - smau

synopsis: what other way to spend your summer but on an orange farm surrounded by cute boys?

Redamancy - @escapewriter - smau

synopsis: your best friend was lucky enough to have two boys pining after her. you on the other hand were unlucky enough to be in love with one of them

genre(s): smau, college au, slice of life au, fluff, humor, romance, i aint gonna lie there be a lot of angst😳 but it be covered with like kwan and chans chaos

warnings: swearing, theres some harsh words in a few chapters

Radio star - @got-svt

synopsis:  when yn accepts a job at her campus’ radio station her first year in uni, she didn’t expect she’d be anonymously singing stressed out university students to sleep. now, a year and a half in, she didn’t expect that there’d be people trying to figure out her identity either.

genre(s): college au, slice of life, humor, fluff, angst