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iniquitousyearning · 6 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 31st. tom riddle — breeding kink, raw sex.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: tom has a dream about fucking you raw, and decides it’s time he ditches the self-restraint.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, needy tom riddle, fingering, slight begging, desperate sex, PIV, creampie, incoherent babbling/dirty talk, breeding kink, literally the most feralized and needy and pathetic tom i have ever written .

You wake up to the feeling of Tom at your back, sometime within the early hours of the morning.

Not an unusual occurrence, per say, but you're vaguely aware of the fact that the desperate way he's gripping your waist and pressing against you isn't just par for the course—something's off—and you don't get to wonder or question what exactly it is because within a second he's pressing his lips to your neck, murmuring your name, and stealing your cognitive function before you even get the chance to wake.

"What—" you manage to get out, just as his hand slides up the front of your shirt and his lips continue mouthing against your neck.

"Hm?" He murmurs, as if he's doing nothing unusual, as if you aren't completely aware he's pressed up against you like an animal in heat.

"Are you," you're struggling to get the words out as his lips graze the spot on the nape of your neck that makes your breath catch. "Okay?"

He stills for a moment at that, before he makes an amused sound in the back of his throat, as if the question is almost funny somehow. "Should I not be?"

"I just...mmf—" a whole body shudder goes through you as his hand reaches the underside of your breasts; palming, squeezing. "You seem—different."

"Different," he echos against your neck with a smile. "In what way?"

"Uh, needier—oh," his hand slips from your chest to the front of your pyjama pants, grinding his erection against your ass. "What's—gotten into you—"

"You, of course," he husks, and the fact that he can be cocky while he's practically pinning you to his chest is the perfect bloody summary of him. "Who else?"

"Well—I mean—" the words leave your lips in a hissing moan as his hand, that beautiful, steady hand—slips under your waistband and wastes no time in finding your clit, long fingers swirling tight little circles against it. "What—ohhh—"

"You do know that you're asking way too many questions," he whispers, teeth nipping at your ear lobe as he runs his index and middle fingers down your slit. "I'd rather you be moaning my name as opposed to doing a million cross-examinations on my behaviour."

Well, that certainly shuts you up, at least on the verbal side of things—because the gasp that leaves your lips is not entirely something you can control, considering the fact that you're suddenly very aware of just how badly he seems to need you right now.

"I think that was progress," he croons between open-mouthed kisses, absentmindedly making you shiver and jerk as his fingers resume rubbing and massaging your clit. "Good girl."

You whimper faintly at that, and you wish you could hate the way you react to the praise on principle only—but that's kind of hard to do when it's him, and he's doing the praising in the first place. So instead, you just try to keep any kind of higher brain function intact, regardless of it being a losing battle at this point.

"I just need you," he practically groans, and it's the strangest thing to hear him say when he's usually just fine being all smug and self-composed. "I need to feel you, now."

It's the closest thing to him pleading that you think you've ever heard, and the guttural moan you let out as he slips one of those long slender fingers inside your embarrassingly slick cunt is the closest thing to feral as you're sure you've ever been.

"Need," you whimper as your hips jerk, and it takes an embarrassing amount of time to realize that it's a sound you've made and not some kind of vocal fry of his. "Need me, why?"

He doesn't answer right away, not in words—just sucks your earlobe into his mouth in a way that makes you want to scream. "You're not usually this difficult."

"M'tired." The argument is weak, at best, but you're not exactly in any kind of frame of mind to try and make sense of the situation. "And you're—intense—"

"Yes," he murmurs, that smug tone still needling your eternal irritation. "And if you must know, it really is because of you. I had a dream about you." He punctuates the sentence by slipping a second finger into your slick heat, and you barely manage to keep a whimpering moan inside that you just know he would love to hear. "Fuck. It was a beautiful dream."

He bites at your ear again, and it occurs to you that the desperate edge to his voice might have something to do with just how good the dream of you felt—or how badly he'd clearly wanted it to be real.

You suddenly need to hear every goddamn detail.

"Felt you for once, without protection," he tells you, as if reading your mind, and you whimper at what you're pretty sure is a pretty profound confession. "Even better than I thought you'd feel—fuck—"

"You're not the only one who's thought about that," you manage to get out, and you're not even being coy about it—at this point you're simply trying to deal with the realization that Tom Riddle having a wet dream about you is apparently enough to turn you into a pathetic, drooling mess. "But you are the one who's always been insistent on using condoms."

Oh, the low growl he lets out at that is a dangerous sound—it's low and guttural and it makes you realize that there's a very real chance this is going to go somewhere you might have trouble walking away from.

"Yes, well," he pauses, and you can practically feel the fire in his eyes. "I'm just realizing I might have been a bit of a fool."

"You, admitting you're a fool?" You somehow give a half-assed scoff at the idea as you try to hold onto your sanity. "I think hell just froze over."

He laughs at that—actually laughs, and it does strange things to your insides to have it directed at you.

"Maybe I'm just in a very specific sort of mood."

"Oh?" You manage to raise an eyebrow. "And what kind of mood is that?"

"The kind of mood," he says, in an almost growl that you're trying to interpret through the haze of trying not to moan, "where I throw all reason out the window. The kind of mood where I forget all self-restraint."

"That's a dangerous thing, coming from you," you choke out, because that is true, but you're only half-thinking through your words before you say them, half your brain stolen by the curling of his fingers inside you, massaging your slick walls. "You don't usually—"

"Never," he cuts you off, like he's fully aware of just how different this is and trying not to admit it. "Until you."

Well, you don't know what to say to that—because you know him, and you know he doesn't usually lose himself in things like this, not like he's apparently doing now.

"Oh?" You gasp, as his thumb sweeps over your clit, making your eyes roll. "So I've made you reckless."

His answer comes in the form of a low, grunting sound of agreement, his grip on your body shifting a bit as he pulls you back tighter to his chest, rutting his erection against your ass.

"You've done more than that," he murmurs with a sigh right in your ear as his slick fingers slip out to draw wet little circles against your clit. "Fuck it. I need to feel you—please, let me fuck you right. No protection."

Oh sweet Mother of Merlin.

There were a lot of words in that sentence that you were fucking sure, just a minute ago, were entirely out of the question for him. Not a soul on god’s green earth could have prepared you for the feeling that utterance just invoked—and you can't help but let out a helpless, wanton groan in response—his fingers driving you directly to the very edge of climax—

"I need a word out of you," he grits, and you realize then that you're both at the mercy of something he can only half control as he ruts against you again, his fingers slowing as if he's edging you— "please."

You wish you could give him something teasing, snarky, maybe even witty. Something to needle him for just how beside himself he is, something to call him out for the feralized broken thing he's seemingly been reduced to.

But you can't, because your climax is right there, and he's moving his fingers too slow, denying you of it on purpose—

"Yes," you whimper, the word like an answer to a prayer you hadn't even known you were praying for, and you realize somewhere behind your consciousness that you're desperate and aching inside for so many reasons, all of them because of him. "Please, fuck. Please, do it—I need—to cum—"

And at those words—that plea—the need in them, there's no stopping the sound that tears itself out of his throat, and before you can even think he's jerking your pyjama pants off your thighs—

"Wanna feel it—" he hisses as he frees himself next, tugging you against him and lifting your thigh toward your head. "Need to feel you cum when I'm inside you."

Oh, and at this point you're begging that you'll survive this.

You're at his mercy, as you've been before, but in a completely different way—one that seems to be fueled by whatever animalistic thing is driving him today, and you're left with no defense besides the knowledge that he's doing this because if he didn't, he may just lose his goddamn mind.

And for as much trouble you generally get into by enjoying him being cocky and in control of the narrative, this—this is something you've never once experienced. Tom on the edge of falling completely apart in his need for you, desperation and need taking a front seat to his usual restraint and control.

He's between your thighs before you can blink, and then he's pushing in. "Oh, fuck."

It's a sensation that's completely different when there's no barrier between you, and you're pretty sure that if it wasn't for the fact that the animal in his chest has risen to the surface, taking you by the throat, you would have gasped out in a moan so loud it woke the entire fucking country—but somehow, someway, you manage to tame it.

His face buries in the crook of your shoulder, and it's a sound of guttural relief as his breath goes shaky and unsteady right in your ear.

"Feels so good," he whispers as he sinks in—as his thick, throbbing dick disappears into your greedy cunt. "Too good."

'Too good' feels like the exact wrong thing to say right now, at least in your mind, because you're pretty sure you'll take the fact that this feels so good you're scared it might kill you to your grave.

"Oh my god." You manage to get out the words through the haze, and you're barely even sure what you're saying, your head thrown back against his shoulder, his arm coming up to wrap around your throat. "Oh my god, Tom."

He responds with a shaky curse of your name, and you’re absolutely certain somewhere in you is exploding, something in your gut is coiled so tight it's like holding in the biggest possible secret of the world that you're desperate to scream to someone—

"So wet. So tight. I'm never starving myself of this again." It's a confession that steals your breath, and you struggle to keep breathing, struggling with trying to keep your world from spinning away as he starts to make shallow, languid thrusts into you, free hand slipping down to your clit. "Let me feel it. Let me feel it all."

You keen. "Fuck! Please."

It's the only word you can manage in a half-hysterical moan, your hand grabbing onto the one he's wrapped around your throat as if he's saving you from certain destruction, as if he's the only lifeline you'll ever find—and maybe, you think that's okay, because you're so used by him in so many ways that right now you don't even want another.

"T-tom—" his fingers swirl your clit in perfect time with his thrusts and you're clenching so tight your entire body is almost stiff. "Tommmm—I'm fucking—"

His teeth bite down on your shoulder with such ferocity you'd think he wanted it to bleed, and you're not even sure it's intentional as his body tenses against yours, tugging you back like he's trying to crush you into his chest.

"Yes. Yes," he hisses again, and it's broken. "Please give it to me."

'Please give it to me' are the best five words you've ever heard from his mouth, you think with the quarter of your brain that’s still functioning—and it's like you've been waiting for permission without realizing it, because you feel fireworks going off behind your eyes a moment later.

"Oh fuckk! Yes, yes, oh!"

You cry out, so loud you'd be nervous about someone hearing you if the pleasure wracking your body wasn't so powerful you're pretty sure you're going to feel it all the way into next week—and there's a sound like something coming undone against your skin as his teeth dig deeper into your shoulder, a sound that's like a low, guttural moan of your name before he shutters something in half-broken words you're not even sure he's meant to.

"Oh yes—god, you're tight—fuck—"

You can't answer him, but it doesn't matter, because a moment later it's all painfully forgotten with the way he lets out another moan against your shoulder—

"That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it. Just like that."

It's the pet name that does something to your insides, twisting them up in a way you can't quite parse through the haze, but it's enough in the moment to make tears prick unbidden at the corner of your eyes as he jerks against you, his breaths coming in shaky, heavy pants against your skin as his own climax draw closer, and there's no way this wasn't something you both needed that neither knew how to ask for.

"Tom," you manage to whimper, and it sounds like a prayer of your own creation. "Tom—"

It's like he needed to hear you moan his name like that in a way that's primal—because in that moment his hand moves from your neck to your hair, and he clenches his fist into it, pulling, and it's enough to make a shattered moan force its way out of your chest and up to your throat.

"M'close. Mmm. So fucking close," he hisses against your skin. "M'gonna—fill this tight cunt."

And god, it should be alarming, because you've always been careful, careful, careful—because you've always known the risks, the consequences, but right now you're having a hard time remembering why you ever thought it was a terrible, terrible idea to let him do this.

"You're—Tom—you—"

"I know,” he groans, and it's like a plea, as if you're saying something out loud that he doesn't want to admit he knows— "just take it. Let me—fucking breed you."

There's a moment where your chest seems to constrict violently at that, where you're almost sure you must have a heart condition because it feels like skipping a beat is the under-explanation of the century, but it's gone as quickly as it came, and god if it wasn't as profoundly hot as you know it shouldn't be.

“Jesus—Tom—“ there're a lot of things you know you should be saying, things you'd planned to say—or not do, as the case may be—but the only thing that leaves your lips at this moment is, “please."

And he doesn't know if it's a plea or a prayer, but either way it’s all the same because there’s no stopping the sound that leaves his lips as your answer sinks into his brain, as the meaning sinks into his bones: the low, guttural, primal sound of a man losing pieces of himself in something that he doesn't care to stop.

"Oh—" he chokes out. "Oh god—"

It's like it's taking him like he wants it to, stealing him up in a way that both makes him feel both more whole than he's ever been and like he's lost more of himself than he can possibly cope with at every other moment all at once, and you're pretty damn sure you'll be the only thing that survives it, in the end—

And then, he explodes. "Fuck—"

It's a choked-off sound that tears violently into the room without his permission, one that claws its way out of his chest and up his throat in a way that feels simultaneously like falling into and being pushed off of a cliff straight into oblivion—

"Mmm yes. Yes. Take it—" he's twitching inside you, hips trembling as he pumps his release deep within your walls. "Fuck. Fuck yes."

There's a million and one responses to everything he's done and said in the last few minutes that dance on the tip of your tongue, but you're not entirely sure you have the mental capacity to do more than manage a shaky whimper at this point, and all you're even remotely sure you can do is respond to his own moans and gasps with ones of your own.

"Tom," you whimper as he finally slows. As you both work to catch your breath. "I wish you had dreams like that more often."

He just laughs, a breathless, unsteady thing.

"That's my fucking girl." He mutters. "All mine."

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hoshifighting · 1 year ago

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Aphrodisiac Liquor

— Synopsis: Where you're out for a night with your friends, and you decide to try an aphrodisiac liquor, feeling the warmth gradually spreading through your body, your best friend Mingyu starts to appear a little too sexy. — Word Count: 5.1k — WARNINGS: smut, oral (f. and m. receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, chocking, overstimulation, alcohol consumption, horny asf reader, fucked out Mingyu, objetification (Mingyu mentions himself as reader's fuck toy), and dick riding.

The pulsating beat of the music reverberated through the dimly lit club, enveloping the dance floor in a rhythmic energy that matched the collective excitement of the reunited friends. You stood in the center of the vibrant chaos, surrounded by familiar faces and the lively atmosphere of the night.

Mingyu, your best friend, flashed a wide grin as he clinked his drink against yours. "Cheers to finally getting the gang back together!" he shouted over the music, laughter twinkling in his eyes. The last few gatherings had always felt incomplete, someone missing here or there, but tonight was different. Everyone was present, and the joy was palpable.

Woozi, the voice of reason in your group, raised an eyebrow as he observed the already empty bottles scattered across the table. "I hope you two are keeping your promise about not drinking too much," he teased, sipping his own drink with a smirk.

You and Mingyu exchanged guilty glances, aware that your resolve was already wavering. However, compared to the chaos that was unfolding around you, with Dokyeom dancing his way through the crowd like a human pinball, Seungkwan engaging in animated conversations that almost turned into arguments, and Soonyoung returning from the bar with two more bottles of liquor in hand, you and Mingyu felt relatively composed.

"Alright, I admit, maybe we'll take it easy," you chuckled, watching as Dokyeom narrowly avoided another collision on the dance floor.

Mingyu nodded in agreement, but his eyes gleamed mischievously. "Just a little more won't hurt, right?" he said, pouring a modest amount into his glass.

As the night progressed, the club transformed into a haven of laughter, dancing, and unrestrained merriment. The DJ played a mix of old favorites and current hits, prompting everyone to let loose on the dance floor. Woozi found himself reluctantly pulled into a lively dance circle, while Dokyeom continued his mission to navigate the crowd with unpredictable dance moves.

As Soonyoung proudly presented the array of liquor bottles on the table, your eyes were drawn to one particular bottle covered in an intriguing green and purple cloth. Curiosity piqued, you reached for a shot cup and poured yourself a small measure of the mysterious concoction. The liquid gleamed in the dim light of the club, promising an adventure for your taste buds.

Bringing the cup to your lips, you took a shot, savoring the sweet burn that spread across your tongue. The flavor was unique, a blend of sweetness and warmth that left a tingling sensation in its wake. Intrigued, you picked up the bottle to read more about the drink. Just under the bold name "Har" was a smaller inscription that caught your attention – "aphrodisiac drink."

You chuckled, dismissing it as a mere marketing gimmick. Placing the bottle back on the table, you rejoined the conversation with Chan, discussing music, life, and everything in between. However, as the minutes passed, you couldn't shake the subtle change in the atmosphere around you.

As Chan's voice faded into the background, your focus shifted to an inexplicable sensation coursing through your veins. A warmth, almost like a surge of electricity, tingled beneath your skin, spreading from the center of your being. Mingyu's concerned gaze met yours as you struggled to steady yourself.

"I-I'm okay," you managed to stammer out, trying to mask the sudden rush of sensations that seemed to intensify with every passing second.

But as Mingyu reached out a hand, concerned etched on his face, the effects of the mysterious drink became undeniable. Your heart raced, a flush painting your cheeks as your breaths quickened. The realization hit you like a lightning bolt – that bottle, hidden under the cloth, wasn't just any liquor. It was something more potent, something that had triggered a profound reaction within you.

"Maybe it wasn't just a slogan," you muttered, feeling both flustered and perplexed by the unexpected turn of events.

Mingyu's eyes widened in understanding as he glimpsed the bottle's label. His eyebrows shot up, mirroring your own astonishment. "An aphrodisiac drink? Seriously?" He sulks at you.

The room seemed to spin slightly as your senses heightened, and you struggled to regain composure. Mingyu steadied you, concerned. "We need to get you some fresh air," he suggested, guiding you away from the table and the increasingly curious gazes of your friends.

The air outside the club was cool against your heated skin, a welcome relief from the whirlwind of sensations that had taken hold. Mingyu hovered nearby, offering a steadying presence as you tried to regain your equilibrium.

"Is it getting any better?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, feeling the effects slowly subside. "Yeah, I think so..."

The two of you shared a glance, a mixture of amusement and disbelief coloring the moment. Mingyu chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Note to self: avoid mysterious cloth-covered bottles from now on."

Mingyu's suggestion to head home triggered a mix of frustration and amusement within you. "I'm fine, really," you protested, your voice carrying a hint of irritation. The effects of the drink had subsided, leaving you feeling more embarrassed than anything else, but Mingyu's protectiveness had a way of both comforting and irking you at the same time.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, come on. You were practically ready to start a revolution back there," he teased, nudging you gently. "Let's not have you causing chaos in the club."

With a begrudging nod, you relented, acknowledging the logic in his words despite your reluctance. The taxi ride was a blur of streetlights and passing cars, the cool glass of the window offering a soothing sensation against your forehead as you leaned against it.

Mingyu sat beside you, occasionally stealing glances to ensure you were alright. "I know it's a bit annoying, but I'd rather get you home safe," he said, his tone softened by genuine concern.

A sigh escaped your lips, a mix of embarrassment and gratitude mingling within you. "I appreciate it, even if I'm not a fan of being babied," you admitted, offering a small smile in acknowledgment of his efforts.

The rest of the ride was spent in comfortable silence, the cityscape passing by as the taxi made its way toward your destination. Despite the unusual turn of events and Mingyu's overprotective nature, there was a sense of reassurance in having a friend who cared so deeply.

As the taxi rolled along the city streets, the heat returned, and your discomfort grew. The air conditioning in the taxi seemed to be struggling against the warmth, leaving you feeling a bit flustered. Mingyu, ever resourceful, rummaged through the pocket behind the driver's seat and emerged triumphantly with a flyer.

He grinned mischievously, turning the flyer into an impromptu fan. With a flourish, he began fanning you, creating a makeshift breeze that elicited a burst of laughter from both of you. The absurdity of the situation and Mingyu's quick thinking turned the taxi into a scene of amusement rather than discomfort.

Arriving home, the cool air of your apartment was a welcome relief from the residual warmth of the night. Mingyu, seemingly accustomed to the layout of your place, strolled in as if it were his own. The comfort of having him around, especially on a random Tuesday or after an eventful night, was a testament to the strength of your friendship.

As you disappeared into the bathroom for a much-needed cold bath, the sound of the TV coming to life echoed through the apartment. Mingyu had settled onto the couch, making himself at home with ease. The flickering light from the TV cast a soft glow on the living room, creating a cozy ambiance.

The cold water worked wonders against the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac drink, leaving you feeling refreshed – but not feeling like yourself, since the discomfort between your legs was still noticeable.

As you settled onto the couch beside Mingyu, he handed you a cold bottle of water, his concern for your well-being evident. The movie played on the screen, and you tried to focus on the plot, letting the scenes unfold before you. However, your attention kept drifting to the person seated next to you.

Mingyu's features seemed to catch the light in just the right way – the well-combed black hair, the slightly open buttons of his shirt, and the casual roll of his sleeves revealing the tan skin of his forearms. Your gaze couldn't help but linger on the details that seemed to intensify in the dim glow of the TV. His thick thighs encased in denim drew your eyes, and the flickering light played on his lips, making them seem unusually inviting.

Caught in the moment, your eyes met his, and a sudden awareness passed between you. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze, attempting to redirect your thoughts back to the movie. You scolded yourself for entertaining such thoughts, trying to dismiss the images that lingered in your mind.

Mingyu, however, noticed the shift in your demeanor. He shot you a curious look. "Everything okay?" he asked, his eyes lingering on yours.

You nodded quickly, taking a sip of the cold water to distract yourself. "Yeah, just got lost in thought for a moment."

You fought to maintain your focus on the movie, but an undeniable sweetness lingered on your palate, a reminder of the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac drink. The cold bath, despite its earlier refreshing touch, seemed futile in quelling the simmering heat beneath your skin. – To be honest, now the bath didn't work shit – It pulsed through you, intensifying with each passing moment.

Your breath, once steady, now betrayed your internal turmoil. It hitched as your cheeks burned, a telltale sign of the heightened sensations coursing through your body. The discomfort between your legs became an increasingly insistent presence, pussy throbbing demanding attention.

Mingyu, sitting casually beside you, seemed to emit an allure that was impossible to ignore. His features, accentuated by the soft glow of the TV, drew your attention like a moth to a flame.

Your body seemed to betray your attempts to remain composed. Mingyu, your trusted friend, had always been someone you found attractive, but in this moment, every detail about him seemed to amplify that allure.

The internal struggle reached its peak, and you couldn't ignore the discomfort any longer. Closing your legs tightly, you attempted to find some relief, the unbidden desire making focus impossible. In a moment of desperation, you closed your eyes, hoping to regain some semblance of control.

Mingyu, sensing something amiss, took a deep breath and voiced his concern. "Are you really okay?" he asked, genuine worry etched on his face.

Opening your eyes, you knew that you looked far from composed, also known as, absolutely fucked. The internal chaos was surely mirrored in your expression. Mingyu, in his caring nature, reached a hand towards your forehead, then gently slid it down to your neck, checking for signs of fever or any indication of what might be troubling you.

As his hand moved across your skin, he could feel the heat emanating from your body, but the cause remained uncertain. The brief journey from your forehead to your neck sent shivers down your spine, and he noticed your body's involuntary response.

Meeting your gaze with a look of defeat, Mingyu asked, "What am I going to do with you?" The vulnerability of the moment was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected turn the night had taken. Mingyu, torn between concern for your well-being and the confusing dynamics of the situation, faced a dilemma that neither of you had anticipated. The unspoken tension lingered, leaving both of you suspended in a moment that seemed to redefine the boundaries of your friendship.

You found a temporary reprieve by supporting your elbow on your knees, your face cradled in your hands, desperately trying to manage the sensations coursing through your body. Mingyu, sensing your distress, gently asked, "Do you need any help?" His hand rested on your knee, the touch seemingly innocent, lacking any intentional undertones.

Lifting your torso, you looked at him with an expression that conveyed both suffering and confusion. "How?" you managed to utter, the desperation evident in your voice.

He pondered for a moment, sincerity coloring his words. "I honestly don't know," Mingyu admitted, his eyes searching for a solution to the unforeseen dilemma.

Closing your eyes tightly, you breathed loudly, attempting to steady yourself. In a moment of impulsivity, you grabbed his wrist, your eyes still shut, and began guiding his hand higher and higher.

Mingyu's eyes widened, his attempts to maintain composure faltering. "You're not in the right mind right now," he warned, trying to inject a note of reason into the situation.

You, however, remained persistent, continuing to guide his hand higher with a suffered expression. Mingyu felt a mixture of confusion and a growing awareness that the dynamics of the moment were shifting. He struggled to compose himself, realizing that the unexpected turn of events was challenging not only for you but for him as well.

The charged atmosphere enveloped both of you as you laid your head on Mingyu's shoulder, intertwining your hands together. His touch on your thigh was hesitant, his caress slow and deliberate. Your breath, warm against his neck, sent shivers down his spine.

Mingyu bit his lip, deep in thought as he analyzed the situation. He could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken desires that hung between you two. The grip on your thigh tightened involuntarily as he contemplated the ways to help you, the weight of his own internal struggle evident in the furrow of his brow.

A soft moan escaped your lips, a sound that resonated through both of you. Mingyu, caught off guard by the effect his touch had on you, felt his body respond involuntarily. His grip tightened on your thigh, and a subtle warmth spread through him.

In the midst of the charged atmosphere, you sulked sultrily, your voice a low murmur that made Mingyu's body react. "What are you waiting for?" you whispered, your sultry tone sending a wave of heat through him.

Caught between the tension of the moment and the realization that there was only one effective way to help you, – fuck you until you're fully satisfied – Mingyu hesitated.

"Fuck, Y/N, I don't know," Mingyu uttered, his frustration and arousal intermingling in his voice. The charged tension in the air seemed to escalate as you lifted your face, bringing it dangerously close to his lips. Your noses brushed together, a subtle and tantalizing gesture that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Please Mingyu, please…" Your sultry tone continued to play with his senses, teasing and arousing. Mingyu, caught in the moment, found himself unable to resist the magnetic pull between you two. He managed to steal a glance at your tank top, the falling straps exposing your shoulder and the hardened nipple teasingly visible through the fabric.

In an unexpected twist, the charged atmosphere culminated in a daring move. Mingyu suddenly felt the touch of your lips on his, and his initial surprise transformed into a profound connection. Before fully giving in to the kiss, he took a momentary glance at you, a silent agreement passing between your locked eyes.

As your lips melded together, Mingyu's hand instinctively found its way to your hair, holding it gently. The kiss deepened, his mouth opening to caress your tongue with his in a dance of shared desire. The world around you seemed to fade away as you both melted into each other's arms, the unspoken tension finding its release in the passionate connection that had unexpectedly blossomed between you.

The intensity of the moment heightened as Mingyu's hand ventured inside your tank top, exploring the warmth of your skin, almost burning the skin of his hand. His fingers danced across your belly, tracing the contours of your waist, before finding their way to cup your breast. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and the heat radiating from your skin seemed to intensify under his caress.

Mingyu, his voice a low whisper, remarked on the undeniable heat emanating from your body. "Fuck baby, you're so hot…"

A soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips as Mingyu's touch on your breast elicited a visceral response. You acknowledged his observation with a sultry tone, admitting, "I know," the words laden with desire. The unspoken tension between you two reached a boiling point as you confessed, "I need you so bad Gyu!"

Mingyu, propelled by a sense of urgency, swiftly guided you to the large couch. Without hesitation, he laid you down, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. The fervor of the moment heightened as his hands moved with purpose, skillfully pulling down the elastic of your shorts and panties, freeing your lower half in one fluid motion.

Mingyu wasted no time, his fingers skillfully exploring inside your wet sensitive folds, making squelching sounds reaching your ears, while his thumb worked circles on your clit, making your eyes close – finally a relief for your body – and Mingyu notices that too, making him smile at the way your body was slowly stopping from being tense.

"Is it helping?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

You nodded, acknowledging the relief his actions had brought, but the sensations left you craving more. "It's good, but I need more," you admitted, the desire for something deeper and more intense evident in your voice.

He teased, recalling your earlier affirmation that it was enough. "Well, you said it was enough," Mingyu remarked, playfully challenging your request for more.

Your plea for increased intensity grew more urgent, and he paused, halting his movements abruptly. The sudden stop made you cry out, the rush of sensations abruptly cut off. "I need more Mingyu-ah!" you begged, your voice filled with longing and a desperate plea for the heightened pleasure you desired.

The atmosphere crackled with a palpable intensity as Mingyu, driven by the escalating desire, hastily removed his shirt, buttons scattering in the living room like a visual manifestation of the urgency in the air. His pants followed suit, tugged down with an eagerness that echoed the building tension between you two.

Just when you anticipated he would hover over you, Mingyu surprised you by getting down instead. From this new vantage point, he looked up at you, your legs spread, his gaze locked onto your aroused form, red cheeks, your pussy glistening, hair gluing on your skin and parted lips.

Mingyu's words, spoken in a low, husky tone, carried a mix of surprise and desire. "I should've seen this coming, but... You look so wet," he remarked, his gaze shifting from your face to your core.

Mingyu, his eyes still locked on the intimate revelation before him, couldn't help but voice the question lingering in his mind. "Is it because of the drink?" he asked, a hint of concern and curiosity in his voice.

You met his gaze, a mix of honesty and desire reflected in your eyes. "Yes," you replied, acknowledging the role the mysterious drink had played in heightening the sensations coursing through your body. But then, with a subtle but deliberate emphasis, you added, "But also because of you."

The weight of your admission hung in the air, and Mingyu, his eyebrows furrowing in a mix of disbelief and arousal, sought confirmation. "For real?" he asked, seeking assurance.

In response, you simply nodded. Mingyu, fueled by the shared desire and the realness of the moment, wasted no time. His mouth found your core, and the sudden sensation made you jolt, "Ah! Mingyu s-shit!" a gasp escaping your lips as you called out his name.

He rolls his tongue around your throbbing and puffy clit, before sucking it between his red swollen lips. Mingyu's hands took hold of your thighs, pulling you closer and causing you to slide along the couch. The sudden movement left you in a state of disbelief, and your hands instinctively flew to cover your face. The realization that your best friend was now intimately between your legs, eating you out, overwhelmed you, and a mixture of shock and pleasure lingered in the air. "Fuck- gonna cum…" Your voice cracked.

The rush of sensations made your thighs involuntarily squeeze around Mingyu's head, a surge of pleasure intermingled with the overwhelming intensity of the moment. He shot you a glance, a mix of amusement and appreciation for the sudden pressure, as he continued to lavish attention on your most sensitive places. Your feet brushed against the skin of his back, the physical contact adding another layer of intimacy.

The warmth of your release against his mouth sent a shiver through Mingyu, the sensation exhilarating. The way you arched your back, screaming, calling out his name, in a tone he'd never heard you call before, made his cock twitch inside of his boxers. Mingyu found himself reveling in the sensation, realizing that this uncharted territory had opened up a new, unexplored dimension in your friendship.

Mingyu, still basking in the aftermath of the shared moment, took a moment to peel off his boxers. His arousal was evident, and the sight of his cock slapping against his abdomen left you watching in awe.

Feeling a surge of desire, you looked at him with a newfound boldness and asked, "Can I ride you?"

Mingyu's eyes widened in surprise, a smile spreading across his face. He laughed, the sound filled with a mix of amusement and desire, before responding, "Sure, baby."

The air was thick with anticipation as you straddled Mingyu's thighs, his desire evident in the teasing glare he directed at you. Taking control, you began to pump his dick with deliberate movements, a sly smile playing on your lips.

Guiding him to your entrance, you felt the stretch as he entered you, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. The ease with which he slid into you only intensified the raw pleasure of the moment. Mingyu's moan of approval, a low and satisfied "Hmmm" echoed through the room.

With your hips rolling in a rhythmic dance, you couldn't resist the urge to pull your top up, exposing more of your tits. However, Mingyu, seemingly wanting control, pushed your hands away. His fingers began to flicker over your exposed nipples, a teasing and tantalizing touch that made you mewl in response.

Mingyu's words, a command laden with desire, hung in the air. "Use me as your little toy," he urged.

The suggestion lingered, and you, caught in the intensity of the moment, questioned if he was truly willing. "Will you let me?" you asked, smiling mischievous while your hips worked harder.

His response came in a low, throaty moan, filled with both need and consent. "Yes, I'm yours. Use me as much as you want," Mingyu declared.

"Bet."

As you lowered your body, sinking your hips harder with each motion, Mingyu's grip on your waist tightened. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving the promise of bruises. Mingyu, fueled by the idea of being your little fuck toy, couldn't contain the rush of sensations overwhelming his mind.

The rhythm of your hips took on a frantic, fast pace, causing Mingyu to question whether his legs could even leave the couch. The intensity of the experience pushed him to the brink, as his cries grew louder, bordering on uncontrollable, he begged you to slow down, fearing he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "Shit b-babe slow down!" His plea held a desperate undertone, a warning of what was to come if the pace continued.

In response, you choked him gently with one hand, a firm yet commanding gesture. "Be quiet," you whispered, a note of authority in your tone. The threat of a noise complaint lingered in the air.

The sensation of your hand wrapped around Mingyu's throat, barely cutting off his air, made him gasp for breath. The delicate balance between pleasure and restriction sent waves of a delicious intensity through him. As you rolled your eyes, feeling your orgasm approaching, the grip on him tightened, and he arched his back, attempting to hold onto his own release.

The climax approached with an overwhelming force as your pussy crushed Mingyu's cock, inducing spasms of pleasure that rippled through his body. Your moans intertwined with the thick tears rolling down your cheeks, a culmination of the release from the tension that had built up throughout the night. The intensity hit like a tidal wave, leaving you feeling momentarily unstable.

Sensing your need for support, Mingyu struggled in pleasure to get up. He reached out to you, holding you close as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, crying out his name.

"Yeah, baby, I know it feels too good, right? I got you," Mingyu murmured, his words a reassuring melody in the aftermath of the intense orgasm.

Driven by a lingering desire that had occupied your mind since the beginning of the night, – suck Mingyu's cock until you're unconscious – you decided to act on your newfound craving. Eagerly, you untangled yourself from Mingyu's embrace, his stability still offering support as you made your way towards your intended destination.

Your eagerness didn't leave room for hesitation. With a toss of your hair to the side, you seized the opportunity, pushing Mingyu's cock deep into your throat. The sudden, intense action caught him off guard, and his mouth opened wide in surprise, not expecting the eager and daring move you had just made.

The room was filled with a mix of sounds—the wet, rhythmic movements, his gasps of pleasure, and the unspoken understanding that the night had taken yet another unexpected turn.

A prolonged "Fuuuuck" escaped from Mingyu's lips as you continued to bob your head incessantly, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your slurping echoing through the room. The intensity of your actions caused his cheeks to flush, and the pleasure you were delivering was almost overwhelming. Mingyu, lost in the sensations you were creating, felt himself melting into the couch, completely absorbed in the pleasure of the moment.

Mingyu's tip pushed against the back of your throat, your lips grazing his pelvis. He held onto the material of the couch, feeling the tension radiate through his entire body. The moment climaxed with the forceful release of his cum, the spurts going down your throat.

"Oh my god Y/N!" As you continued to suck, Mingyu's body flinched in the aftermath of his release. His voice, now thin and breathless, pleaded with you to stop.

"Please, stop," he managed to utter, the intensity of the sensations still coursing through him.

You allowed Mingyu's soft cock to fall gently onto his stomach with a faint pop of your lips. Surveying his body, now laid defeated on the couch, you asked, "You okay?"

He nodded, his hands finally releasing their tight grip on the couch fabric. "Yeah," he affirmed, his breaths still slightly uneven.

Mingyu, his voice tinted with a mix of surprise and realization, whimpered, "You were horny as fuck, weren't you?"

A smile played on your lips as you replied, "Sorry if it was too much."

Exhausted, Mingyu closed his eyes and confessed, grinning "I loved it."

Mingyu, with a tired but content sigh, raised his arm, reaching out to pull you into a comfortable embrace. You settled against his chest, the warmth of his skin radiating through you. The living room was scattered with discarded clothes, a testament to the intensity of the night that had unfolded.

As sleep began to claim both of you, Mingyu's rhythmic breathing served as a calming lullaby. His fingers gently traced patterns through your hair as you drifted into a peaceful slumber on his chest.

The morning light filtering through the curtains woke you from your slumber, accompanied by the gentle sensation of Mingyu's fingers tracing patterns on your back. As you lifted your head and rubbed your eyes, you realized you probably didn't look your best. Thankful that Mingyu had seen you wake up before, you hid your face in the crook of his neck, seeking a moment's refuge.

With a husky voice, Mingyu spoke up, breaking the quiet morning atmosphere. "I'm definitely buying another bottle of that liquor for us," he declared, the memory of the eventful night prompting a teasing smile.

The shared sentiment about the unforgettable night echoed in his words, encapsulating the adventurous journey you and Mingyu had embarked on. The unspoken understanding and the newfound closeness between you two lingered in the air, marking the beginning of a bond that had evolved beyond the boundaries of mere friendship.

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diorchids · 1 year ago

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friendly attachment, luke castellan.

cw: pure smut, fwb (friends w benefits), nerd!luke, roommate!luke, praise, alluding to religion, oral, fingering, breeding kink, attachment.

the way they’d sit crooked on his nose, his glasses were sleek, black specs that he had always left in your room. his forehead was slick with sweat as he pushed his cock deeper into your cunt. “luke,” your eyes were teary, sure to be puffy by morning, “you’re so good… so perfect.” and he’d just dumbly nod right along with you.

as much as he tried not to, he got attached.

you’d be on his bed, knees to your chest as your pretty holes were exposed to him. he’d kneel in front of the foot of the bed, hands all clammy before he planted a thumb on your clit. he’d circle it slowly, pressing down as he spoke under his breath, “beautiful. all mine.” maybe he was possessive. “don’t tease me, lukey, makin’ me wait…” you whined.

he’d nod and lean closer, inhaling the scent of your sweet nectar. you were god to him essentially, he’d worship your body, being in an indefinite spell under you.

luke would kiss your inner thighs before moving closer. it’s sweet. sugary sweet. he’d take the soft flesh of your cunt into his mouth, lapping gently before progressing into something animal-like. he’d hold your tummy in place as he savored every sweet juice that drips onto his tongue. he’d groan softly as he tastes your nectar, feeling the wetness of your cunt on his tongue. “more?” and you’d nod.

he slips two fingers in, curling them to rub against that perfect spot. that warm, tingly, delicious feeling in your clit–everywhere–threatened release. his fingers were deep, bruised knuckles only visible. you tried so hard not to cum on your friend.

you’d cry and moan pathetically as you came all over him, cunt pulsing as those salty tears began to stain your cheeks.

after, he’d just stand, pulling his fat cock out of his cock, pre-cum dripped onto sheets of his bed. he would tap his puffy tip on your clit, making you jerk your body. his hands were planted on your waist firmly as he pushed into you, cunt sucking him in perfectly.

you moaned loudly, the sounds reverberating around the room, other students being sure to hear. you cried so much, too, legs trembling out of control as he slammed into you.

your cunt drooled all over the bed, sticky juices at the base of his cock made him dig deeper. “too much, is it too much for you?” you were intoxicating—he couldn’t pull out of you.

“jus’ give me a baby, luke. let’s have a fucking baby.” as he moaned pathetically while your cunt milked him.

how pretty you’d looked, lips puffy, eyes watering, mascara running, eyes half-lidded; in all of your glory.

he couldn’t let go. no, this was real. you came messily under him, becoming overstimulated as he stuffed you even more, begging for him to move slower. he didn’t stop.

this was real.

he hunched over, holding you in his arms—giving you what you so desperately wanted.

your noses touched, and you looked the others eyes. he thrusts even harder his cock hitting all the best spots inside as he chased release. feeling you clench around his cock, luke holds you tighter, filling you with his hot cum as he groaned loudly.

he didn’t let go, no, he continued to hold you. his cock softened before releasing a few more spurts of his cum. you took it all. “my… my god.” he groaned.

and god you were.

#this was originally for coryo #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #charlie bushnell #pjo luke

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nayaesworld · 2 months ago

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The Cruel Mind of Terry Richmond

Inside the mind of Patient#:022802

Psycho!Terry x Psychologist!Black reader

Warnings: MDNI!, mentions of mental disorders, manipulative behavior, smut, mentions of murder

Summary: The workings of the human brain had always intrigued you. How no one person ever shared the same brain, each one properly tailored to their needs. Serial killers and psychopaths were no different. Their brain chemicals had mixed into a dangerous cocktail of insanity, intrusive thoughts, and murderous behavior, but lacked in areas where remorse, guilt, and empathy should have been, leaving them to be caged like animals once diagnosed. But these cases interested you and your curiosity about their humanity had led you to urgently sign up to observe and interview the most recent transfer to the ward.

—

Psychology had always been your first love. It had been there through breakups and losses alike, and had gotten you through college with a doctorate in psychology. You couldn’t imagine life without your innate curiosity for the inner workings of the human brain, what it meant to be human and how some thoughts turned us into monsters. No one brain was created to respond the same to stimuli, each reaction was perfectly tailored to that person's upbringing and personal experiences, and this created the vast and never ending field of psychology.

You had set your sights on Oak Ridge Behavioral Center exactly a year and a half ago. The facility was a haven for progressive research and development into the rehabilitation of the discarded people of the community. The people that had been deemed ‘unfixable’ and labeled as misfits. Today was your lucky day, a call from the center had shook off any doubts you had about your work. They contacted you. They were interested in your work and what you could do for them.

A quick shower refreshed your mind and body and soothed away the first day jitters. After smoothing a thick body butter on your skin you slid into your black jogger scrub pants and black scrub top. Your white On Cloud sneakers would assist you in being on your feet all day, and you grabbed your Apple Watch and white coat before heading to your car.The dark gray gloominess of the weather outside was a stark difference from the excitement that threatened to bubble out of you.

90’s R&B soothed and serenaded you on your short drive to the facility. Your manicured fingers tapping in rhythm to the loud bass flowing through your speakers. This could be a new beginning for you, something you could tell your family and they’d be proud of you..something you could celebrate and finally give yourself that pat on the back you've always deserved. For all the days you felt like psychology wasn’t your passion anymore, this is what would make it all come full circle.

You arrived early, courtesy of your heavy foot and you sat in your car for a few more minutes. Inhaling and exhaling to shake the nerves from your body. You wanted to go in there and be impressive. These people had sought you out and gotten in contact with you. Your work had made waves and not the ripples you equated it to. It took a big brain to graduate college but an even bigger one was needed to understand someone else’s, that’s why you were here. To show them that your work was good on and off papers.

Out of your head and in front of the doors, you badged into the facility being met with icy cool air that makes you pull your jacket a little closer over your body. You’re greeted by Dr.Leland upon arrival and a smile graces your face. She reaches forward to shake your hand and you’re immediately calmed by the soft firm grip of it—safe and intentional. The middle aged woman's smooth dark skin and warm eyes soothed your nerves, her neat braids pulled back into a high ponytail.

“ So happy to have you here, I know you know me as Dr. Leland, but you can call me Karen. I know we’ve chatted some through zoom and what not, but I’d like to give you a more in depth tour of our facility.”

“Lead the way..I’m excited!”

You were stunned. Nothing could have prepared you for the state- of- the- art facility. The pictures quite literally did it no justice. The different stations inside designed uniquely to cater to a vast variety of different personalities. Large windows and atriums pulled in bright natural lighting giving the facility a healthy lush glow. A garden center where patients could help grow fresh produce and tend to all sorts of flowers and fruit trees. A studio where they could experiment with different beats and produce their own music, a form of music therapy. She took you to the pool room, and ended the tour in the art room.

“Dr.Le- I’m sorry Karen…wow! I mean I don’t know what else to say, you all have clearly dedicated yourselves to this cause. There’s a plethora of great therapy options here, something for everyone.”

“We are dedicated, heavily dedicated…but we also know the extent of what we can offer an individual here at Oak Ridge. And if there’s ever a time where our usual practices don’t seem to be working for someone, we call in people like you.”

You couldn’t lie, your curiosity for this ‘troubled patient’ was beginning to grow. Your eagerness to wonder who it was that Karen Leland couldn’t seem to rehabilitate. But this also broughtl on doubt.. if she couldn’t do it, how could you? Karen was a seasoned psychologist, she had seen it all.. and yet she had gotten in contact and needed your help. You were slightly spooked.

“I’m appreciative Karen I really am.. but I have to ask what am I getting myself into here?”

Her lips pursed and her smile faltered a bit before she motioned for you to follow her to another level of the building. The elevator ride down was short and you tried to hide your initial shock at realizing there was a whole other level beneath where you had just been standing. Patients were being housed and treated down here?

Stepping off of the elevator she badged in and two large steel doors swept open quietly. The lighting was the first thing you noticed. It was yellow-green almost and had been a complete stark difference from the bright airy openness of the front of the building. It was darker, quieter, and as you followed closely behind Karen you noticed the patients seemed drowsy and disoriented. Each room an eggshell white with a large glass cutout in the wall, offering you and other doctors a visual of the patients.

“We’ve chosen to nickname this area of the facility Doomsday..and I’d like to show you why. Every patient on this level has exhibited dangerous life threatening behavior either toward me, other therapists, or the orderlies. This is our last attempt at rehabilitation..and their last chance at a normal life.”

You continued walking alongside her, grasping onto her words trying to get a sense of what kind of patient you’d be faced with. You felt like you had seen enough, you were ready for an introduction.

“So I obviously have to ask..when can I meet him? I’ve taken heed of what you’ve told me but I want to get a general idea about this patient before anything.”

Karen seemed impressed by your approach and the two of you began the trek deeper into the lower level.

You weren’t supposed to have expectations of patients, but when you had seen Terry for the first time you couldn’t help your thoughts. He looked like he belonged on the cover of vogue, and had a build like a well paid athlete. He appeared to have been expecting the visit as he stared out at the two of you, clearly aware that a visit was being made today.

“Did he know about today?” Karen nodded before unlocking the iPad and pulling up his profile.

“It was mentioned to him last week before the incident…this meeting was unfortunately supposed to be held on the upper level. I want to brief you really quickly since I’ve got his file pulled up, and then we’ll speak more about last week.”

Her keeping you in the loop about the incident was exactly what you wanted. You had seen so many instances where doctors were thrown into the lion's den with no knowledge of the patient ever being aggressive or volatile. You didn’t want that for yourself, and so far Oak Ridge was alright in your eyes.

The two of you settled into her office and she began to give you the rundown. A rundown that shocked you.

“So we have 33 year old Terry Richmond. He’s born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, is an only child with one parent still living. He had no prior run-ins with police up until a year ago where he was arrested and charged with two counts of first degree murder for the slaying of two ex girlfriends.”

You were stunned, but you did your best to conceal your facial expressions. This was a wild card for sure. But all you had to do was get deeply submerged in as much knowledge about his situation as you could; that is how you would even the playing fields.

“His attorney was able to get him acquitted by reason of insanity, and he was carted off to us exactly ten days after his court date. His diagnosis.. bipolar schizophrenia, he apparently had been living with these thoughts and feelings for the majority of his life but his mother never had him seen. Hence this huge blowup at the age of 32 that cost him his freedom.”

“Never having him seen as a child is a bit odd, were there ever any signs during childhood?” Karen put away the iPad and swiftly stepped from around the desk.

“Are you ready to ask him yourself?”

You held your head up as you began to approach his cell, and you felt confident knowing that you had the skills to thoroughly assess the patient and rehabilitate him. You were let into his room and given a chair to sit in. His bulky form draped in the ivory sweatsuit provided by the facility. His hands and feet were shackled and clamped to a heavy slab of concrete in the middle of the floor, prohibiting him from moving from the chair he was sitting in. You looked back outside the glass and Karen gave you a nod of approval. You could begin.

“Hi Mr.Richmond I’m Dr.Rhode and I’ll be your doctor for the rest of your time here. It’s nice to meet you.” Your introduction seemed to fall on deaf ears as hazel eyes locked onto your face before swishing away in disinterest.

“The system owns me like a dog.. do they own you too? Do they whistle and you come running..trained and ready to obey?“ He scoffed and looked away, hands rubbing against his pants slightly.

“Well no… I’m here to help you. This is all about you Terry. Can I call you that?”

He never answered and instead threw a pointed look your way. You’d instead continue.

“For the duration of my time here I plan to implement tasks and exercises that will help you achieve a level of rehabilitation that will allow you to live a normal life.”

“Sound like the same shit the last one said..and the one before that. Why are you any different..why should I put my care in your hands?”

“And beside.” He continued “What do those little files tell you about me that I can’t tell you myself hmm?” His face morphed into one of annoyance before you could later up and answer.

“Why don’t you try me..tell me everything you want me to know.”

Terry Richmond was an odd man—particular mostly. His life before Oak Ridge had been colorful and full of adventure. But he wasn’t shy on speaking about the urges he had felt his whole life. How he often restricted himself from the public because being around people would trigger that part of himself and he wasn’t sure most times if he would be able to be without an incident.

“You think you can rehabilitate me…put me back out into the public that’s cute. I’ve accepted what I am..now it’s time for you and the rest of these people to do the same.”

“That’s my jo-“ You didn’t complete your sentence before he cut you off, eager to get his point across.

“No, your job is to assess me and interview me. Don’t try to be a hero, it won’t end well for you.”

Over the course of four months she interviewed him and he shared details;details so sick that she’d become physically ill after their sessions. He gave her what she wanted, graphic descriptions, recaps and stories of his ‘hunting sessions’ as he liked to call them— the rituals he would do afterwards. A kind of sacred ceremony for him, tying him to the crimes he’d committed and centering him—making him feel righteous in his actions.

“When I was younger I used to mutilate small animals and my mama would say ‘oh that’s just what boys do’…until I turned thirteen and this time I had stabbed my cousin with a steak knife for touching my Xbox. Wasn’t so boyish of me then.”

The tone of voice he spoke of his mother in was..interesting. He loved the woman with everything in him and yet hated her for not seeing the signs early on—hated her for not getting him help. He blamed her for his actions, because in his mind if she’d helped him like a mother was supposed to, he wouldn’t even be in this situation.

“I don’t think what I did was so bad.” He continued “Of course everyone overreacted a tad bit.. is it a crime that I don’t take kindly to betrayal? Is it a crime to expect from others what I give to them?” His fist smacked into his palm a few times before he sat back roughly in his seat; agitation clear on his face.

“You speak about betrayals and over offering yourself to people that were undeserving. Who and what were these betrayals?” You leg crossed over the other as you scribbled neat shortened notes of his accounts.

Some time lapsed before you realized he hadn’t yet answered your question. It was silent..dead silent. He had been given a little more leeway with his shackles and his hands gripped and pulled at his hair before he began to cut into his forearm with his nails. Bright red blood spilling out from the tiny punctures and coloring his honeyed skin.

“Woah woah! Terry if this question is too much for you we can skip it…please do not harm yourself. Take it slow, just breathe.”

The ragged breaths came out rushed before his large frame stilled with smoother air coming from his nostrils. Tears had started to form now threatening to fall and tell the story for him.

“They tried to get over on me..give away what was mines. They said they loved me, that they would marry me and give me children. I was engaged to both of them. At separate times of course ..and they betrayed me by keeping the company of lesser men.”

“Why do you think you had ownership of these women even after you were no longer together?” The question needed to be answered. How and why did this drive him to commit murder.

He rubbed at his reddened nose and he twisted his full lips to the side, regaining his thoughts on the matter.

“Women are emotional beings…if they connect with you emotionally a different sort of bond forms. They feel linked to you, they know and see you better—they begin to love you.”

“And how could I turn that down?” He continued. “That overwhelming feeling of being wanted and worshipped through love. I wasn’t without love in my life..I always had it—but I never twisted it the way I did with them.”

You clung to every word. Absorbing the pain that oddly seeped from his words. He sounded regretful and proud at the same time. A major mind fuck.

“I was never a good man. I was constantly applauded for the bare minimum…validated in all my actions. I still hear their voices sometimes..in here.”He motioned to his head, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile. “They aren’t angry with me.”

“I’m a monster. Monsters don’t deserve rehabilitation, they deserve isolation.”

Their session ended shortly after and his words stayed with you all night. You showered with them. Ate with them. And when sleep didn’t come so easily, you sat at your computer desk reading article after article. Your blue light frames reflecting gory images and the film from his interrogation. The cold steel timbre of his voice as he answered all the detective's questions. Completely unfazed and unapologetic. He hid nothing from them. Told them how he did it, why he did it..didn’t fight when they began to cuff him.

You fell asleep at your desk. The days blending together like a cocktail and seeping into your brain as you rested. The focal point of them all being your patient; Terry Richmond. Why was your brain trying so hard to victimize and protect him? Maybe it was your psychology brain trying to exhaust all options before you addressed him by what he called himself—monster. Who was really at fault here? Who had failed him? Wasn’t it his job to make well thought out decisions that would impact his life for the better? Murder did the exact opposite; and yet somehow you felt sympathetic towards him. This feeling was freeing and it validated your growing feelings toward the man; you could be the pillar that made him sane again.

“I heard you got some free time today. You got to get out of here and paint in the art room..did you enjoy yourself ?”

You had spoken to Karen when you first arrived and was happy to hear that he was able to have a little normalcy.

“I’d rather talk to you..you paint a far better picture than I ever could.”

“Well you know we only meet every Wednesday and Thursday Terry but between those days I’ve recommended some enrichment time outside of this room for you.”

“Have you ever thought about how it might feel to not think those thoughts one day? How it might feel to free your mind?”

The questions seemed obvious enough on your end. And the exposure would have done well for his mental health.

“No that’s not something I want to ever entertain …because those thoughts feature you now. You make my stay in this dog pound worth it…even if I doubted your abilities at first.”

Redirect him. “ Did you paint anything you liked, anything you wanna hang up in your room?”

Surprised wouldn’t quite be the way to describe the painting that he was now showing to you. You felt honored and embraced. Who was really broken here? In all your years of study, you never actually had taken the time to turn the mirror around on yourself. You were compromised. And if Karen knew the thoughts that ran through your head day in and day out you’d be fired and shunned by this community. She had entrusted you with this patient, high expectations of your work ethic and integrity to commit yourself to this job—and you were failing. But what Karen didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

Reaching into your large tote bag to flicked through the cameras that had been linked to your iPad. In the midst of doing risky shit you needed full coverage of what was going on around you. No one could know about this.

Like he had read your mind you watched his eyes shine with pride and endearment. You had finally come around to him. No more fighting it. No more wasted time.

“Thirty minutes is all we have. I need to be filled to the brim and I need it quickly.”

You popped the bottoms of your blouse and exposed your heaving chest to him. Dark brown areolas peering through your bra at him.

“Come closer. Now..I’m in chains and now you want to come to your senses. Get the fuck over here!” His shackles shook with each word and you crossed the room to get to him in mere seconds. Body filled to the max with a need that burned inside you so fiercely.

This wasn’t about right or wrong. This was about fixing the man in front of you, you knew you could get through to him. Make him a man of the future and not one of his terrifying past. A union that would shape the both of you for the rest of your lives.

Shackles on the floor beneath you both as your hands gripped his shoulders tightly. Nothing in the world could have prepared you for the jolt of emotions that would come over you both as the two of you finally connected. The way he gripped your face as you rode him, nose red and eyes wet with hot tears. Your foreheads collided as you sped up. It felt like only the two of you existed—creating your own universe. Creating your own life.

Your watch signaled to you that only minutes remained of what you would describe as the best time of your life. His dick throbbed and pulsed along with your convulsing pussy. Heavy breathing and spit swapping became the soundtrack to your ears. His heavy hands roaming up and down your back as ropes of his cum entered your willing pussy.

“Tell me you love me…and I promise to do my best to let them treat me. Then me and you—and our baby were going far away from here.” He pressed his hand to your belly sealing the fate of what you both knew as your future.

This plan was the end all be all for the two of you. Something that sounded so crazy and unattainable just months ago was now within arms reach. Keeping your license was important, and getting Karen to integrate Terry back in with the top floor was the key to his freedom. So yeah you would lie and lie again about how he was doing. Anything to feed her what she wanted to hear, her praises amping you up and turning you into a deceiving manipulative woman. You were doing it all for love.

The coming months hit hard and fast. Your work at Oak Ridge continued through a plethora of other patients Karen believed you could achieve great things with. Hiding your bump was a no brainer. You wanted no one in your business, no coworkers and no family. You missed out on a lot and the distance from your family was hard most days . You couldn’t ask your mother about pregnancy and how she had navigated it three separate times in her lifetime. You attended your appointments alone, only able to update Terry through small spurts of information whenever you were within a few feet of him. The cold winter made it easy to bundle up during your last trimester and shorter work hours were given to you under the guise of ‘spreading yourself too thin between hospitals’.

The two of you were welcoming a Christmas baby. Your due date being on the twenty third of the month; set exactly two weeks after Terry would be released. You sighed briefly to yourself as you watched Terry play it up to Karen. You longed to reach out and touch him, to let him touch you and begin to learn the life that you had grown inside of you for the last eight months. But you were closer to the finish line than you’d ever been; you could taste the freedom. Sadness still managed to creep in when you were alone at home though. Lies flew from your mouth so fast. ‘No mommy I won’t make it to thanksgiving this year, the workload is tough’ the way you’d mute the phone and weep quietly to yourself as you let down your parents yet again. But this was for a greater cause, you and Terry both believed that.

Stranger things had happened to you. But when the Uber stopped outside your home and his broad figure came into your view you knew that this was your destiny. Duffle bag slung over his strong shoulders as a dark brown beanie protected his ears from the bite of the freeze; the two of you were meant to meet.

His knees graced the floor of your foyer immediately as he entered your home. Large gloved hands roaming over your protruding bump and raising the heather grey camisole to kiss where the baby softly kicked. He stood to his feet and craned his neck a bit to meet your plump lips. He was finally home.

“Thank you for this baby..thank you for your patience. I owe you eternal peace.”

“It’s a girl Terry. I wanted to surprise you at birth but you deserve to know…deserve to know that she’ll have the best parts of the both of us.”

Falling into a routine was easy with him. He finished your sentences, cooked and cleaned. He even dealt with the whirlwind of your hormones. Your feet were swollen, your back ached, and babygirl didn’t hold back on getting comfortable in your uterus. But the pain was only temporary and she eagerly slid into this world with three pushes and a loud strong wail. Come Christmas Day she was dressed in a snug reindeer onesie as you sipped hot chocolate and gave Terry his gifts. But the best Christmas gift was the one you carried for nine whole months and nestled close to you.

—

You curbed your family’s appetite to see you in the flesh just three months after you had given birth. Doing your best to hide any indication of childbirth, you had met them at their house and their house only, you cheered,laughed, and enjoyed a hearty Sunday dinner before you scurried back home to Amelia; your four month old bundle of joy. You felt relieved and satisfied after seeing your family and deep down you knew you had truly missed them. All the banter and loudness that made them into everything you loved and everything you knew growing up.

You brushed the shiny black curls of Amelia’s head before you allowed her to latch onto an engorged breast. Her small cheeks puffing and filling with milk as her tiny ocean eyes held yours in an intense match of who loved who more. Your greatest accomplishment. Terry came to get her and lay her down shortly after she fell asleep on your nipple, you took that needed time to pump breast milk and shower away the scent of outside.

Excitement beamed inside of you. The three of you were relocating. Your family believing the lie that you had found a higher paying job in another state; a partial lie if you will. Your whole house was in boxes right now and the two of you had to rent the U-Haul tomorrow to officially pack up and head to greener pastures. Terry's hand around your neck shocked you from your happy thoughts and you turned to him.

“We leave tomorrow.. Milly’s gonna grow up away from here. We’ll have new beginnings; together. Did you ever think our dreams would come true?” His keen focused eyes beamed with live and adoration for you.

“I promised you eternal peace my love..a freedom away from here. Me and Milly will always love you, she’ll always have you in her and that’ll get her a million miles further in life. I love you, you have given me everything I ever wanted; now rest my heart.”

Sharp pain. A swift puncture to your heart, was this heartbreak? What were you feeling? In your shock you watched your shirt stain crimson, your life force leaking slowly from you as the love of your life pushed the dagger deeper into your dying heart. You fell into his arms, gripping his wrist tightly as he tugged the dagger from your heart with a grunt before gently laying you on the living room floor. Your eyes fluttered quickly and your vision blurred with tears of betrayal and fear, your little girl wouldn’t remember you; she’d grow up without you.

But you couldn’t hold on for her. And you tried so hard to, so hard to gather up enough oxygen to even wiggle a finger. But no more fight was left. “Rest my love..it’s as easy as falling asleep.” His low voice laid you to rest and sealed your eyes closed for good.

Your earthly eyes shut and a new pair opened. Death had become you and you were dead. Your body laid sprawled on the floor and your blood trickled slowly from your stab wound. You watched as he sat Amelia next to your dead body. Her chubby hands tugging and pulling at your face before her bottom lip poked out and she began to scream loudly from your still face. Her tiny shrills filled the house and she gripped Terrys coat firmly when he lifted her to his chest. Was it possible for your heart to break in the afterlife?

“Say bye bye to mommy Milly. It’s just you and dada now..just you and me.” He pressed kisses to her chubby cheeks and her toothless grin returned to her face as she attempted to put his nose in her mouth.

Lesson learned the hard way. Red lights were actually red and so were stop signs. And monsters were exactly what they looked like; monsters. Consequences of your actions landed you here, a harsh lesson but a lesson nonetheless. For as long as you could, you would watch your little girl grow up. She’d never see your face again but it was your job to guide her and steer her away from the monsters of this world. You had learned a great enough lesson for the both of you.

—

@chessteena @ch33z3grits @slvt4her @thevelvetwhispers @moebuttta @blackmoonchilee @blyffe @big-button @motheroffeline @prettyinpikk @writingsbytee @bizzle-xoxo @atasteofmir @sleepynoirr @mrsknowitallll @theereinawrites @keehendrixx @chocoflagcutii @tswrldd @dbaileyblog @zunibugsiren @juniperlovesstuff @becauseimswagman1 @slyy-foxx @wherethewildtingsare @my-anime-garden @partypoison00 @cocooned-butterfly @orchidwonder @rawflwrs @23jammy @nikkireeds553 @princesskittendonut @keyaho @kenshisluvrgirl @zillasvilla @ranikyani @ovohanna24 @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @megamindsecretlair @brattyfics @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @thabiddie23

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #black women #rebel ridge #aaron pierre x black reader #original character #black oc #aaron pierre x black!oc

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buckiverse · 7 months ago

Text

☆--- warnings: mdni, cat!xavier, needy xavier, mutal masturbation, handjob, nipple play

☆--- a/n: xavier's cock is specifically this hex code: #c97677 (pretty pink)

Being a veterinarian took work. Caring for animals all day was challenging enough but being responsible for Xavier after his…transformation was an entirely different story. Xavier wasn’t just any patient–he was a mix of feline grace and otherworldly intelligence hybrid. His calm demeanor and sharp awareness made him fascinating to work with, but the complexity of his transformation made it a work in progress.

So, when Xavier came into your home office complaining about back pains, your professional instincts struggled with the quiet worry that came with loving him. “Can you describe your symptoms?” you asked softly, glancing up from your desktop to meet his familiar, piercing gaze. The warmth in his eyes—a mix of affection and amusement—reminded you why this transformation was an adjustment.

Xavier tilted his head, a small smile playing at his lips as his tail flicked lazily behind him. “It’s not exactly pain, per se,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar soothing cadence. “More like… a dull ache that comes and goes. Especially when I stretch out after napping. Maybe you’ve been spoiling me too much,” he teased lightly, his gaze softening as it lingered on you.

You jotted his symptoms in your notebook, a low sigh escaping your lips. “Maybe I have,” you added, your voice laced with quiet amusement. Rising from your chair, you nudged it toward the wall before turning back to Xavier, grabbing your stethoscope out of your bag.

“Want me to take a look?” you said, approaching him.

His legs spread open on the couch as he leaned forward, his hands pushing against the cushion, straightening his posture. “If you’re willing too, I don’t see why not,” he said, his head tilting slightly, his left ear perking up.

“Take a deep breath. I’m going to check your heart rate first,” you instructed gently, resting a hand on Xavier’s shoulder. Your thumb began tracing small, soothing circles against his skin as you placed the stethoscope against his chest.

Your eyes closed as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled your ears. “It keeps getting faster,” you observed, your gaze dropping to him. Your eyes met his, a familiar warmth sparking between you. “Calm down for me,” you cooed, your tone soft.

“How could I,” Xavier began, his fluffy tail slowly swishing behind him, “when you’re so close to me?” he uttered as eyes studied you.

“Of course,” you said, kissing his lips with a gentle peck. His tail wrapped around you, urging you closer. “Sit down,” he whispered against your lips. He watched as you nodded silently, agreeing to his request. Making your move, you set your stethoscope on the cushion next to Xavier, placing your right knee on the couch and your hands on his shoulders. He waited patiently, observing you intently when you finally straddled his lap.

His hand extended, stroking the skin of your cheek. “I missed you, honey,” he purred, his eyes softening as he admired the details of your face.

“How? I was only gone a couple of hours,” you said, fully sitting on his lap. His eyes scanned your body before flickering back to meet yours. “Does it matter?” His hands held your hips, his thumb secretly sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, rubbing circles into your skin. “I always miss you,” he said.

His lips met yours gently, his hand cupping your cheek as if he were savoring your lips against his. The way his lips moved against yours sent warmth coursing through you, pulling you deeper.

You parted your lips slightly, his tongue running over your lips. When he slid his tongue into your mouth, you whimpered, your eyelids fluttering at the feeling of his tongue. “M-hm,” you moaned, your hips twitching into him. His hands caressed your back, pulling you flush against him.

Your hands traveled up his chest, resting behind the softness of his ears. Your fingers stroked the fluff of his ear, tugging it ever so delicately. “Yeah…right there,” he breathed, his pupils blown wide, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen from kissing you. He bit his lip, his brows furrowing and lips parting at the feeling of your hands. “By my ear,” he murmured, bringing your other hand up to his face, lapping at the skin on your wrist.

“O-oh,” you stuttered, surprise evident in your reaction. You rolled your hips down into Xavier’s, gently caressing his ear. He placed your hand on his chest, observing you.

“Touch me…please,” he whimpered, guiding your hand down his abdomen to the bulge in his pants. You groped his length over his shorts, peeling the waistband down and revealing the tip of his cock. The head was pinkish-red, his slit leaking, begging to be touched. “You won’t make me beg, right?” he blurted, his hips jerking upwards.

“So needy, aren’t you?” you teased, releasing his cock from his shorts completely. It sprung forward, resting against his abdominals. You drew spit in your mouth, taking on your fingers, lubricating his length. You wrapped your hands around him, studying him. You swiped your thumb over the slit, “Please… y/n,” he whimpered, his hips bucking into your hand. You bit your lip, stroking his cock. His head fell back onto the couch. The flush on his face added to the electricity building inside you.

His hands found your breasts, caressing them over the fabric of your shirt. Working his hands under the fabric, the chills of his fingertips caused your nipples to harden. His pointer finger circled the nub before flicking it with his feline-like nails. Your breath hitched in your throat when the sharp scrape of his nails hit your nipples. “Fuck, d-do that again,” you mewled, your grip tightening around his cock.

He tugged your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine. The dig of his nails against your nubs made you roll your hips against his muscular thighs. “Xav, m’ almost there,” you pleaded, your pussy pulsating around nothing.

Your eyes met, and the snap of his cock into your hands intensified, causing you to tighten your grip. Your eyes glossed over when he tugged your sensitive nubs, and you felt the electricity of your orgasm wash over you. “m’ cumming, Xav’” you moaned, your thighs shaking on his stronger ones as your body fell forward onto his, your head landing on his shoulder.

Grounding yourself, you tugged his tail. Xavier's hips thrust into your hand again. “Honey,” he groaned out, his abdominals flexing as his cum squirted on your hand and his stomach. You raised your head from his shoulders, meeting his gaze, your grip on him finally releasing, and he kissed you sweetly, “I missed having my partner around,” he whispered.

#lads xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #xavier x mc #xavier smut #x reader #lads x reader #lads smut #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace smut #fuck i need him #xavier #lads #i cannot explain how much this has taken over my mind #imagine #lads imagine #love and deepspace #i love FREAK-xavier #jupiter`~writes

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yearning-for-autumn · 1 year ago

Note

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

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grison-in-space · 1 year ago

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I'm genuinely sorry, I was really tired and couldn't think of the word that mad pride movements use. I'm new to all of this. I thought you would be more open to it because you've reblogged from radical leftists (anarchists and communists both) within the past couple of weeks and they're all for Veganism afaik. The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different. I'm not spamming people with it, but I was inspired by an ask by a nonvegan and started asking popular bloggers why they weren't vegan to open up conversation and potentially change people's views on animals. If I've made you uncomfortable I'm sorry, though I admit I'm really confused by your standpoint. You do know that the only reason communism hasn't succeeded is because of America? Anyway, sorry again, I'm also autistic and I didn't mean to dismiss your legitimate dietary needs. Can I recommend acti-vegan's posts? While I understand that you can't go vegan, perhaps their blog will at least help you understand our points, they're much more well-written than my asks and they have plenty of legitimate science resources at hand. Thanks for listening, I'll take your advice into account. I'm not trying to not listen, it's just frustrating because so many people say they get it but they don't change, and if they truly got it they would, you know?

Okay, I get that you didn't mean to be offensive, and fuck knows I shouldn't throw stones when it comes to forgetting specific words. (This happens to me fairly frequently; it's a thing.)

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

So yesterday I actually wrote out and then deleted a whole paragraph to the effect of "part of my deep, deep frustration with animal rights activism hooks into my commitment to the phrase 'nothing about us without us,' because I frequently see the same kinds of emotional projection without making the effort to listen to animals on their own terms from animal rights activism groups."

The first thing I need to make clear to you is that this--veganism and animal rights activism (ARA) more generally--is not new to me. I am in my mid-thirties and I have never had a job of any kind that did not revolve around animals in some way, I've spent time in rescue spaces and vets and universities, I'm queer and I have spent most of my life in leftish progressive circles, so it's kind of hard to miss.

Essentially, you are proselytizing to me as if you were a newly baptized evangelical convinced I had never heard of Jesus, because if only I had heard and understood his holy word, I would be converted instantly to his light! It's not any less irritating when the belief system isn't explicitly a religion.

More under the cut, because this one is long.

Disclaimer one: Veganism isn't synonymous with ARA ideology, but it's deeply entangled with it, and ARA ideology drives the movement of veganism as a (theoretically non-religious) ethical decision. And I object very strongly to the framework imposed by ARA activists. When I say I am not vegan, I am saying that I have considered the ethical framework that underpins veganism as an ethics movement and I have deliberately rejected it.

The second piece of context you should know that when I talk about being a behavioral ecologist, I mean that I'm a researcher who works on animals and that my framework is rooted in trying to understand animals in their own natural ecological context, without necessarily comparing them to humans. There's a lot of ways to study animal behavior you might run into, including attempts to understand universal principles of behavior that transcend species (animal cognition) and attempts to understand how to better treat animals in human care (animal welfare). You know Temple Grandin? Temple Grandin is an ethologist (the field that gave rise to behavioral ecology, also focused on animals within their species context) who worked on animal welfare (finding ways to make slaughterhouses less stressful to livestock, among other things).

Third point: my profession also means is that I work directly with animals--in my case, currently mice--and that I do not think research with animal subjects is wrong as long as all efforts are made to ensure maximal welfare and enrichment for the animals involved. This is another major bone of contention politically between my entire field and ARA groups, and you should know that I have also spent my entire professional career under the shadow of, well, people who care strongly enough about those ideas to invade my workspace and potentially seize my animals and "free" them into a world they do not have the tools to survive in.

So there's where I am coming from. Let's get back to what you're saying. Here, I'll quote again in case you have the same crappy short-term memory I do.

Point the first: Even within humans, I don't think that all brains should be treated the exact same. Especially in a disability context! After all, what is an accommodation if not an agreement to treat someone differently because they need certain things to access a space? Accommodations by definition fly in the face of this "treating everyone the same" understanding of fairness. I think all (human) brains are equally valuable, and I think all brains are worthy of respect, but I do not think that it's wise or kind of me to assert that everyone should be treated in the same way. For one thing, I teach students. If there's one thing teaching has taught me, it's that a good teacher is constantly assessing and adjusting their instruction to meet students where they're at, identify failures of understanding, and keep the attention of the classroom.

Point the second: animals do have different brains from humans. That does not mean that animals are inferior, but it does mean that they are alien. There's a philosophy paper, Nagel, What Does It Mean to Be a Bat, that you might find illuminating on this front. Essentially, the point of the paper is that animals have their own experiences and sensory umwelts that differ profoundly enough from humans' that we cannot know what it is like to be a different species without experiencing life as one, and therefore we must be terribly careful not to project our own realities onto theirs. That is, our imagination cannot tell us what a bat values and what it experiences. That is why we have to use careful evidence to understand what an animal is thinking, without relying on our ability to identify with and comprehend that animal. I have watched ARA groups deliberately encourage people to shut their reasoning brains off and emotionally identify themselves with animals without considering within-species context for twenty years. This is a mainstream tactic. It is not an isolated event and for that reason alone I would be opposed to them.

Point the third: there is a definite tendency in lots of people to care deeply and intensely about both animals and people who are seen as "lesser" in status--children, poor people, disabled people, etc--just as long as those groups never contradict the good feelings that come from the helper's own assessment of themselves and their actions. In humans, when the "needy" point out that some forms of help are actually harmful, the backlash is often swift and vicious. This is why animals are such an appealing target of support and intervention. They can't speak back and say "in fact, you are projecting my love of this frilly pink tutu onto me, and I think it's uncomfortable and prevents me from walking." They can't say "I kind of like it better when I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car, actually?"

(By the way: this is also why it's offensive to compare disabled people to animals, because this is generally done at least in part to silence the voices of disabled people speaking for our selves and our communities. We have access to language, and we use it, thank you.)

All forms of animal welfare intervention going right back to the founding of the first RSPCA have been incredibly prone to being hijacked by classist, racist, and otherwise bigoted impulses. This is because animals offer an innocent face for defense that conveniently cannot criticize the actions taken by their champions, and they therefore provide a great excuse for actions taken against marginalized members of human society. Think about the very first campaign the RSPCA ever did, which was banning using dogs as draft animals: a use that is not inherently harmful to dogs, which many dogs actively enjoy, but also one that was specifically used by poor Londoners and which in fact immediately resulted in a great butchery of the dogs that Londoners could no longer afford to feed rather than allowing poor people and their dogs to continue working together. No one was, of course, challenging the particular uses of dogs or any other animal favored by the wealthy. This kind of thing is so, so, so common. Obviously it doesn't mean that all interventions to prioritize animal welfare are inherently bigoted, but it does mean that we have to be critical about our choice of challenges.

On top of everything, the animal rights activist movement's obsession with "exploitation" is a function of the idea that humans are sinful or otherwise Bad in how we interact with animals by definition. For example, take the chicken rescue near me that is so obsessed with the possibility that some human somewhere might benefit from an animal in their care that they implant every hen they adopt out with hormonal implants such that the hens no longer lay eggs--a function that is normally a natural byproduct of a chicken's reproductive system, fertilized or not. A mutualistic relationship involves both parties benefiting, and that is the case for an awful lot of human relationships with animals. In general, the idea that associating with animals is a thing that can only harm animals rather than being a trade between two species to enrich one another is all over these groups. It's just so myopically focused on human shame that it prevents practical interventions that might benefit everyone, and often promotes interventions that don't directly benefit animals but sure do make humans miserable. For example, this kind of thinking is why groups like PETA are absolutely awful at effectively rescuing unwanted dogs and cats: they think pets living in "bondage" with humans are an essentially sad outcome, rather than one that might be mutually enjoyed by all parties.

I'm tired and my meds haven't kicked in, so I'm not currently going to handle the communism thing except to point out that while the US absolutely did destabilize a number of leftist regimes in South America and Africa, Russia and China between them have certainly not treated their own people kindly, either (and more so their own client-nations, as with the former members of the USSR). Please do some reading about the Holodomor and Lysenko in Russia (and frankly all of the details of Stalin's regime) and the Cultural Revolution in China in particular. Khmer Rouge might be worth looking into, too. I am not saying the US's hands are clean, you understand, because they are not; they're as steeped in red as anyone else's. What I am saying is that for people living on the ground, communist revolutions have this nasty habit of turning into bloodbaths and arbitrary slaughters. Do not let your distaste for the US's bloodsoaked imperialism (which, yes, is and was bad) let you fall into the trap of becoming a tankie.

And if you don't know what a tankie is, you really, really should take some time to learn.

#animal welfare #just #don't do this #when someone says “no”#please fucking listen #there's another essay in me somewhere on the painfully obvious sublimated dynamics picked up from Christianity all over this movement #but I do actually have work to do today including that ventral pallidum post I have been poking at

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nekropsii · 8 months ago

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Aww. On one hand, I'm glad my words touched you. On the other, it makes me so deeply sad knowing even the smallest glance towards granting one basic human dignity is enough to drive one to tears. I wouldn't even call my words the bare minimum - I don't think that countering the common idea that a group isn't inherently abusive should be the bare minimum. The bare minimum should be casual respect, the same that's afforded to any other person. The bare minimum should be me not even needing to say any of this in the first place.

NPD is so heavily demonized, especially right now. There's wave after wave of people claiming "Narcissistic Abuse" is a valid term and viciously attacking anyone who breathes in the direction of contradiction, every single search adjacent to NPD results in almost nothing but article after article on, specifically, how to hurt people with NPD, or protect yourself against them... There's conspiracy theory after conspiracy theory posted online quite literally painting them as actual real demons, like, Demons, from The Bible, or linking them to the Jewish Reptilian conspiracy theory, and it's just completely and utterly gut-wrenching. Even in spaces that proclaim themselves as safe, or progressive, or bigotry-free, these unjustified, bigoted snap judgments occur. It's the worst.

NPD is not something that I have. I don't have any Cluster B Disorder, actually. But I'm sympathetic because they're all fucking human beings the world has decided is socially acceptable to turn into a Sinister Other, a Walking Otherworldly Threat, like this is a fucking fiction novel or a video game. I'm sick of it.

There's a few people in my immediate circles who have NPD. They're all good people. They're nice, they're funny, they have perspectives on things that I deeply value, they're smart, and I treasure their proximity so much. They've never done anything wrong, and certainly haven't done anything wrong purely on the basis of being some Evil, Conniving Super Villain. They're literally just hanging out, and I'm glad to know them. My life is better and more enriched having known these people. They have never wronged me, and I don't think they ever will. And even if they do, it would not be because they have NPD, it would be because they're a living being. As people, we all have the capability to harm others. Animals have the capability to harm other animals, too. Plants can harm you. This is not a trait unique to the Disordered.

Us people without NPD need to do better, to listen to our friends and siblings with NPD, to help boost them up so that we can help end this wretched fucking curse - or, at the very least, quell it. We need to help them speak louder, and amplify their cause with our vocal support. Ableism will never go away, but the least we can do is try to move towards making it not as socially acceptable to be bigoted. None of us need a Sinister Other to combat. This is not war, this is not the medieval times. We do not need this. We do not need to beat a persecution complex into ourselves to excuse persecuting others. We do not need to live in constant fear of the idea of the line cook who just wants to go home and play Dark Souls, or the office worker passing the time by thinking about their 3 cats, or the high schooler at home reading their favorite shoujo manga, or the guitarist driving home tapping their fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the radio. These are not your enemies. They are people going about their lives. They've literally never hurt you. Stop projecting your fear of abuse onto strangers - onto minorities.

My message to people without NPD is to fucking check yourself if you believe in Narcissistic Abuse, or automatically assume that people with NPD are up to something. Especially right now, that is a very, very vile, dehumanizing form of absolutely rampant ableism that we needed to take extreme steps to mitigate fucking months ago. Years, even. The best time to shoot this bigotry and burn it's corpse was the moment it started rising. The second best time is Now. Interrogate yourself. Realize that people with NPD are literally just human beings. Stop being awful to your fellow person. The way people think and speak about people with NPD is just absolutely disgusting, and everyone needs to apologize to them right now.

My message to people with NPD is simple: You deserve one billion dollars for having to put up with all of this shit. It's actually deranged. Trust me, there are others out there that think this is horseshit. You are not alone.

#npd #cw ableism #nekro.sms

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boobav · 7 months ago

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I'm not ready for act 3 😚

People go missing sometimes.

It's a part of modern life. Even in a city as enforced as Piltover, a city as patrolled and watched as Piltover- it happens. There are still monsters that roam alleys, or wear uniforms as camouflage. There are still tragedies in everyday life. Despite seeming so very distant when they're plastered on newspapers, or milk cartons, they happen. They're real.

But people like Jayce are not supposed to go missing.

Maybe it's selfish to say that. Maybe it's something that's meant to go unspoken, the fact that some people are considered more important by society. That some people have more privilege, more protection from the uncaring nature of catastrophe.

And yet, despite Jayce's renowned status, the man of progress, despite him holding the gaze of Piltover itself- he's gone missing.

You're not sure how long it's been. How many sullen days have passed, searching, even in the unlikeliest of places, for a sign. A message. A murmur would do. The weeks have simply collapsed into each other, a sinkhole of hours.

You too, following the hours, have collapsed into yourself. The days spent wrapped in cloak roaming Zaun for information have little difference to the days spent curled in bed like a discarded child's toy. Every minute is one, bound together by pure desperation, utter confusion, and endless despair.

Because how could he have just... Vanished?

Just like that, a man of yesterday. It seems that the city is too caught up in political tribulations to care about his disappearance. Some haven't even noticed it. On your endless quest for information, more than once you've received the response, Jayce Talis? I didn't even know he was missing.

But you haven't given up. Not yet. Despite the circles under your eyes, the new strain in your shoulders. Despite the ever-growing pit in your stomach. For what else is there to do but search? Even if you 'gave up', you'd be looking for his shadow in the street, searching for his image in the crowd whilst trying to wipe it from your memory.

You run a hand down your face, curl into the covers that bit more. A knock at the door forces your tired eyes to re-open. Fatigue in your very self argues against moving, and for a a few moments getting out of bed seems the most difficult task in the world. But the knock comes again, harder. With some garbled noise you crawl out the covers as though emerging from a cocoon, movements lethargic like those of a dying animal.

The first lock comes undone with the work of your fingers. Then the next. Your hand hesitates, though, as it grasps the doorknob, your mind considering the swathe of potentials, an unwanted bouquet of sorts. A sales pitch? A concerned visitation? An enforcers questioning eye?

Or- maybe, a new lead. Unlikely, but it's enough to force your hand.

What greets you is none of those things.

You don't recognise him at first- what, with the tattered clothing, the deep-set frown, the beard as messy as his hair.

As soon as he looks up, though, when those terribly familiar eyes reach yours, the confusion evaporates. Boils away to unearth a passion you can hardly hold; it makes your hands shake, your eyes line with tears, your mouth dry in wordless ecstasy. His name leaves your lips as a whisper, and his gaze falters from yours, the soft reality at complete odds with the one he's settled in. The one with sharp edges, with blood and steel as key elements, not butter and affection.

Jayce's face twists, the onset of tears, and all at once he reaches forward to pull you into himself. Hides his sadness in the crook of your neck, his hammer clunking to the ground beside him. You hadn't even noticed he was holding it. His hands run to your waist, pulling at the fabric to ascertain its reality, but he finds it inadequate. He reaches under your shirt, his warm hands against your skin, and he sighs instead of sobbing.

He's not sure if he can anymore. If that part of him survived the Arcane.

But he's here, now. With you. His hands roaming your back, your arms thrown around his neck. Like the pose from a romance novel. The thought drags some whimper of humour from him, and he thinks that's a good sign.

He smells of oil and iron. Earthy. He mumbles about how much he missed you, right into your ear, breath hot. You think you're crying, though you're not entirely certain. The sensations in your body, your mind, overlap into something abstract to the point that crying seems like a spiritual experience. Like the word crying is unable to describe the motion, the true feeling.

You pull him inside, the door slamming shut a reminder of reality, the loud noise binding you to earthly sensation. The questions that fall from your lips are boundless, piles upon piles of vocalised mysteries that Jayce can't seem to answer coherently. You sit him down, push his hair from his face and cup his jaw tenderly. Tenderly as though he could break any second, but from that newfound fire in his eyes, from the dirt staining his skin, you know such a thought is ludicrous. Peeling off his tattered overcoat and the flimsier shirt underneath reveals bruising you could never even picture before now. The curves and hard muscle of Jayce now stained purple, now scarred in places that'd been smooth perfection beforehand.

A part of him, he thinks, should perhaps be insecure of your wandering eyes, your wandering fingertips. He's changed. His body has been torn, battered, bruised. No longer made of marble, but of flesh.

But your eyes are gentle. Concerned, but gentle. When you settle into his lap to hold him close again, to press desperate kisses against his lips, against his neck, he feels he can never leave your side again. Feels an avalanche of guilt for doing so in the first place, despite the decision not exactly being his own.

Whatever comes next, he knows he'll have you. You know you'll have him. And in this moment, your foreheads together, eyes searching each others for the things that can't be felt with words, you both know that it'll be enough.

#arcane #arcane x reader #jayce talis #jayce x reader #jayce talis x reader

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gingerteafairy · 4 months ago

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🅂 🄼 🄰 🅁 🅃 (ᴋʏʟᴇ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Kyle learns to write through a fun alphabet game. tags n warnings: zombie!kyle, witch!reader, fluff. word count: +800 masterlist

The mansion door opened with telekinesis, hands occupied with groceries, since it was your turn to go to the supermarket. You were finally home, and it felt like running errands was more exhausting than witch lessons. Placing the bags on the counter, you caught sight of your beautiful ray of sunshine entering the kitchen with his arms stretched out.

“Hug,” Kyle asked, flashing a cute smile. You immediately complied, wrapping him in a tight embrace. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Kyle,” you replied, pulling away from the hug, but he pulled you back, this time with more force, burying his head in your neck.

“No,” he groaned, his arms squeezing tighter around you. “You’re gonna leave again.”

“I won’t, Kyle. Promise. I just went to the store,” you tried to reassure him, softly caressing his back. He believed you, letting go of the bear hug. It was time for your idea. “Kyle, now that you’ve learned to speak properly, I was thinking we could play a game together.”

“A game?” He repeated, tilting his head to the side, his curls following the motion.

“Yes. It’ll help you learn better. Come with me,” you guided, taking his hand as you led him up the stairs. At the top, his body went limp, becoming a bit difficult to move, but with your telekinesis, you managed to guide him.

You opened the bedroom door, walked in, and grabbed two sheets of paper and two pencils, sitting down on the floor. Kyle followed, sitting next to you, confused when you handed him the paper and pencil. He started doodling little circles and hearts in the corner, laughing as he showed them to you.

“Okay. The game is called ‘Stop.’” You announced, and he paused, putting the paper on the floor. You chuckled at his confusion. “No, Kyle. You don’t have to stop. It’s just the name of the game.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, lowering his head. You petted his hair, encouraging him.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, making the zombie boy smile. “Here’s how it works. We’ll draw a letter from the alphabet, and we each have to write a word starting with that letter. For example, if we get the letter A, we have to think of an animal, a food, and so on, all starting with A. Got it?”

He looked a little confused but nodded in agreement. It was a lot of information, but you knew he’d get it. You grabbed your phone to randomly pick a letter. C.

“Okay, Kyle… you’re going to write an animal that starts with the letter C,” you guided, watching him scratch his head and write slowly. It was okay; you had all the patience in the world for him.

He turned the paper toward you, excited. “Cat.” He repeated, pointing to the word with his pencil.

“Very good, Kyle,” you encouraged him, feeling him throw himself into another hug, kissing your cheek. “That’s right, very good. Can you write an object and a food?”

“Yes,” he answered eagerly, placing the sheet on the floor and writing a little faster than before. He finished and turned the paper toward you. “Cake. Car. Vroom vroom.”

“That’s right, vroom vroom,” you mimicked, laughing with him.

“I want carrot cake,” he pouted like a little kid, grabbing the pencil and drawing a cake. “Cake.”

“I know, honey,” you laughed, feeling a pang of affection for him. But this was a lesson, and you wanted him to think and speak faster. “We can have cake if you play one more round, okay?”

“Promise?” He asked, holding out his pinky.

“Promise,” you replied, linking your pinky with his. He smiled, kissing the little contract before grabbing the paper from your hands again. You picked another letter: K. “Look, Kyle. The first letter of your name. Can you write it?”

“Ky…Le…” He wrote, proudly showing you his progress. “More.”

“Okay. Write an animal, a food, and an object, alright?” You instructed again. This time, Kyle took longer on his paper. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“I don’t know… a food… with K,” he whined, crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it aside.

“Hey, hey, Kyle,” you called, gently cupping his face to make him look at you. “It’s okay. I don’t know a food with K either.”

“Really?” He asked, lifting his big, watery eyes to you.

“Really, really.” You confirmed, kissing his forehead. “What about the other words you wrote? Tell me.”

“Kangaroo and Key,” he murmured, defeated, a tiny flicker of frustration crossing his cute face. “I’m dumb.”

“No, don’t ever say that.” You scolded, your tone more serious, which made Kyle flinch. “You’re very smart. Not everyone learns this fast, and you did great today.”

“Very… smart…” He repeated to himself, smiling and jumping into another bear hug. You didn’t say it, but after the carrot cake, you planned on going through the whole alphabet. It seemed like Kyle was really enjoying this lesson.

#kyle spencer x y/n #kyle spencer x you #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer #zombie kyle #x reader #imagine #reader insert #fanfic #evan peters #evan peters fandom #evan peters x reader #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #ahs

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qwertyprophecy · 6 months ago

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Mortholme Post-Mortem

The Dark Queen of Mortholme has been out for two weeks, and I've just been given an excellent excuse to write some more about its creation by a lenghty anonymous ask.

Under the cut, hindsight on the year spent making Mortholme and answers to questions about game dev, grouped under the following topics:

Time spent on development Programming Obstacles Godot Animation Pixel art Environment assets Writing Completion Release

Regarding time spent on development

Nope, I’ve got no idea anymore how long I spent on Mortholme. It took a year but during that time I worked on like two other games and whatever else. And although I started with the art, I worked on all parts simultaneously to avoid getting bored. This is what I can say:

Art took a ridiculous amount of time, but that was by choice (or compulsion, one might say). I get very excitable and particular about it. At most I was making about one or two Hero animations in a day (for a total of 8 + upgraded versions), but anything involving the Queen took multiple times longer. When I made the excecutive decision that her final form was going to have a bazillion tentacles I gave up on scheduling altogether.

Coding went quickly at the start when I was knocking out a feature after another, until it became the ultimate slow-burn hurdle at the end. Testing, bugfixing, and playing Jenga with increasingly unwieldy code kept oozing from one week to the next. For months, probably? My memory’s shot but I have a mark on my calendar on the 18th of August that says “Mortholme done”. Must’ve been some optimistic deadline before the ooze.

Writing happened in extremely productive week-long bursts followed by nothing but nitpicky editing while I focused on other stuff. Winner in the “changed most often” category, for sure.

Sound was straightforward, after finishing a new set of animations I spent a day or two to record and edit SFX for them. Music I originally scheduled two weeks for, but hubris and desire for more variants bumped it to like a month.

Regarding programming

The Hero AI is certainly the part that I spent most of my coding time on. The basic way the guaranteed dodging works is that all the Queen’s attacks send a signal to the Hero, who calculates a “danger zone” based on the type of attack and the Queen’s location. Then, if the Hero is able to dodge that particular attack (a probability based on how much it's been used & story progression), they run a function to dodge it.

Each attack has its own algorithm that produces the best safe target position to go to based on the Hero’s current position (and other necessary actions like jumping). Those algorithms needed a whole lot of testing to code counters for all the scenarios that might trip the Hero up.

The easiest or at least most fun parts for me to code are the extra bells and whistles that aren’t critical but add flair. Like in the Hero’s case, the little touches that make them seem more human: a reaction speed delay that increases over time, random motions and overcompensation that decrease as they gain focus, late-game Hero taking prioritising aggressive positiniong, a “wait for last second” function that lets the Hero calculate how long it’ll take them to move to safety and use the information to squeeze an extra attack in…

The hardest attack was the magic circle, as it introduced a problem in my code so far. The second flare can overlap with other attacks, meaning the Hero had to keep track of two danger zones at once. For a brief time I wanted to create a whole new system that would constantly update a map of all current danger zones—that would allow for any number of overlapping attacks, which would be really cool! Unfortunately it didn’t gel with my existing code, and I couldn’t figure out its multitudes of problems since, well…

Regarding obstacles

Thing is, I’m hot garbage as a programmer. My game dev’s all self-taught nonsense. So after a week of failing to get this cool system to work, I scrapped it and instead made a spaghetti code monstrosity that made magic circle run on a separate danger zone, and decided I’d make no more overlapping attacks. That’s easy; I just had to buffer the timing of the animation locks so that the Hero would always have time to move away. (I still wanted to keep the magic circle, since it’s fun for the player to try and trick the Hero with it.)

There’s my least pretty yet practical solo dev advice: if you get stuck because you can’t do something, you can certainly try to learn how to do it, but occasionally the only way to finish a project within a decade to work around those parts and let them be a bit crap.

I’m happy to use design trickery, writing and art to cover for my coding skills. Like, despite the anonymous asker’s description, the Hero’s dodging is actually far from perfect. I knew there was no way it was ever going to be, which is why I wrote special dialogue to account for a player finding an exploit that breaks the intended gameplay. (And indeed, when the game was launched, someone immediately found it!)

Regarding Godot

It’s lovely! I switched from Unity years ago and it’s so much simpler and more considerate of 2D games. The way its node system emphasises modularity has improved my coding a lot.

New users should be aware that a lot of tutorials and advice you find online may be for Godot 3. If something doesn’t work, search for what the Godot 4 equivalent is.

Regarding animation

I’m a professional animator, so my list of tips and techniques is a tad long… I’ll just give a few resource recommendations: read up on the classic 12 principles of animation (or the The Illusion of Life, if you’d like the whole book) and test each out for yourself. Not every animation needs all of these principles, but basically every time you’ll be looking at an animation and wondering how to make it better, the answer will be in paying attention to one or more of them.

Game animation is its own beast, and different genres have their own needs. I’d recommend studying animations that do what you’d like to do, frame by frame. If you’re unsure of how exactly to analyse animation for its techniques, youtube channel New Frame Plus shows an excellent example.

Oh, and film yourself some references! The Queen demanded so much pretend mace swinging that it broke my hoover.

Regarding pixel art

The pixel art style was picked for two reasons: 1. to evoke a retro game feel to emphasise the meta nature of the narrative, and 2. because it’s faster and more forgiving to animate in than any of my other options.

At the very start I was into the idea of doing a painterly style—Hollow Knight was my first soulslike—but quickly realised that I’d either have to spend hundreds of hours animating the characters, or design them in a simplistic way that I deemed too cutesy for this particular game. (Hollow Knight style, one day I’d love to emulate you…)

I don’t use a dedicated program, just Photoshop for everything like a chump. Pixel art doesn’t need anything fancy, although I’m sure specialist programs will keep it nice and simple.

Pixel art’s funny; its limitations make it dependent on symbolism, shortcuts and viewer interpretation. You could search for some tutorials on basic principles (like avoiding “jaggies” or the importance of contrast), but ultimately you’ll simply want to get a start in it to find your own confidence in it. I began dabbling years ago by asking for character requests on Tumblr and doodling them in pixels in whatever way I could think of.

Regarding environment assets

The Queen’s throne room consists of two main sprites—one background and one separate bit of the door for the Hero disappear behind—and then about fifty more for the lighting setup. There’s six different candle animations, there’s lines on the floor that need to go on top of character reflections, all the candle circles and lit objects are separated so that the candles can be extinguished asynchronously; and then there’s purple phase 2 versions of all of the above.

This is all rather dumb. There’s simpler ways in Godot to do 2D lighting with shaders and a built-in system (I use those too), but I wanted control over the exact colours so I just drew everything in Photoshop the way I wanted it. Still, it highlights how mostly you only need a single background asset and separated foreground objects; except if you need animated objects or stuff that needs to change while the game’s running, you’ll get a whole bunch more.

I wholeheartedly applaud having a go at making your own game art, even if you don’t have any art background! The potential for cohesion in all aspects of design—art, game, narrative, sound—is at the heart of why video games are such an exciting medium!

Regarding writing

Finding the voices of the Queen and the Hero was the quick part of the process. They figured that out they are almost as soon as writing started. I’d been mulling this game over in my mind for so long, I had already a specific idea in mind of what the two of them stood for, conceptually and thematically. When they started bantering, I felt like all I really had to do was to guide it along the storyline, and then polish.

What ended up taking so long was that there was too much for them to say for how short the game needed to be to not feel overstretched. Since I’d decided to go with two dialogue options on my linear story, it at least gave me twice the amount of dialogue that I got to write, but it wasn’t enough!

The first large-scale rewrite was me going over the first draft and squeezing in more interesting things for the Queen and the Hero to discuss, more branching paths and booleans. There was this whole thing where the player’s their dialogue choices over multiple conversations would lead them to about four alternate interpretations of why the Queen is the way she is. This was around the time I happened to finally play Disco Elysium, so of course I also decided to also add a ton of microreactivity (ie. small changes in dialogue that acknowledge earlier player choices) to cram in even more alternate dialogue. I spent ages tinkering with the exact nuances till I was real proud of it.

Right until the playtesters of this convoluted contraption found the story to be unclear and confusing. For some reason. So for my final rewrite, I picked out my favourite bits and cut everything else. With the extra branching gone, there was more room to improve the pacing so the core of the story could breathe. The microreactivity got to stay, at least!

A sample of old dialogue from the overcomplicated version:

Regarding completion

The question was “what kept me going to actually finish the game, since that is a point many games never even get to meet?” and it’s a great one because I forgot that’s a thing. Difficulties finishing projects, that is—I used to think it was hard, but not for many years. Maybe I’ve completed so many small-scale games already that it hardly seems that unreasonable of an expectation? (Game jams. You should do game jams.)

I honestly never had any doubt I was going to finish Mortholme. When I started in late autumn last year, I was honestly expecting the concept to be too clunky to properly function; but I wished to indulge in silliness and make it exist anyways. That vision would’ve been easy to finish, a month or two of low stakes messing around, no biggie. (Like a game jam!)

Those months ran out quickly as I had too much fun making the art to stop. It must’ve been around the time I made this recording that it occurred to me that even if the game was going to be clunky, it could still genuinely work on the back of good enough storytelling technique—not just writing, but also the animation and the Hero’s evolving behaviour during the gameplay segments which I’d been worried about. The reaction to my early blogging was also heartening. Other people could also imagine how this narrative could be interesting!

A few weeks after that I started planning out the narrative beats I wanted the dialogue to reach, and came to the conclusion that I really, really wanted it to work. Other people had to see this shit, I thought. There’s got to be freaks out there who’d love to experience this tragedy, and I’m eager to deliver.

That’s why I was fine with the project’s timeline stretching out. If attention to detail and artistry was going to make this weird little story actually come to life, then great, because that’s exactly the part of development I love doing most. Projects taking longer than expected can be frustrating, but accepting that as a common part of game dev is what allows confidence in eventual their completion regardless.

Regarding release

Dear anonymous’s questions didn’t involve post-release concerns, but it seems fitting to wrap up the post-mortem by talking about the two things about Mortholme's launch that were firsts for me, and thus I was unprepared for.

1. This was the first action game I've coded. Well, sort of—I consider Mortholme to be a story first and foremost, with gameplay so purposefully obnoxious it benefits from not being thought of as a “normal” game. Still, the action elements are there. For someone who usually sticks to making puzzle games since they’re easier to code, this was my most mechanically fragile game yet. So despite all my attempts at playtesting and failsafes, it had a whole bunch of bugs on release.

Game-breaking bugs, really obvious bugs, weird and confusing bugs. It took me over a week to fix all that was reported (and I’m only hoping they indeed are fully fixed). That feels slow; I should’ve expected it was going to break so I could’ve been faster to respond. Ah well, next time I know what I’ll be booking my post-release week for.

2. This was my first game that I let players give me money for. Sure, it’s pay-what-you-want, but for someone as allergic to business decisions as I am, it was a big step. I guess I was worried of being shown that nobody would consider my art worth financial compensation. Well, uh, that fear has gone out of the window now. I’m blown away by how kind and generous the players of Mortholme have been with their donations.

I can’t imagine it's likely to earn a living wage from pouring hundreds of hours into pay-what-you-want passion projects, but the support has me heartened to seek out a future where I could make these weird stories and a living both.

Those were the unexpected parts. The part I must admit I was expecting—but still infinitely grateful for—was that Mortholme did in fact reach them freaks who’d find it interesting. The responses, comments, analyses, fan works (there’s fic and art!! the dream!!), inspiration, and questions (like the ones prompting me to write this post-mortem) people have shared with me thanks to Mortholme… They’ve all truly been what I was hoping for back when I first gave myself emotions thinking about a mean megalomaniac and stubborn dipshit.

Thank you for reading, thank you for playing, and thank you for being around.

#so that got a bit verbose. you simply cannot give me this many salient questions and expect me otherwise tbh #the dark queen of mortholme #indie dev #game dev #dev log

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tigerpearlsworld · 5 months ago

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Pick a card

( How to move forward? )

Before you choose a pile, take a moment to breathe deeply and connect with your intuition. This is a general pick-a-card reading, where the universe's infinite energies align with your path to bring you the guidance you need. Know that you can only choose one pile. The message you receive is not just for you to resonate with, but for you to realize in time as the truth unfolds in your journey. To truly receive your message, you must follow your heart’s instinct, not your expectations. Look beyond the surface and see what your soul is trying to reveal to you.

How to Choose Your Card: Breathe in deeply. Breathe out slowly. Light a candle or incense, and clear your mind. Meditate on the beating of your heart, allowing your thoughts to flow naturally. Let go of doubts, and trust what your heart is guiding you towards. Close your eyes, visualize a light forming in your heart, and feel its pull. When you open your eyes, choose the image that your heart calls to the most.

For some of you maybe number, colour, or image will help.

A Final Message for You: Your heart is your guide, not your mind. Surrender to the wisdom that lies within you.

And for those who are seeking answers about love, fate, and destiny, I send my prayers to the stars to bless you with clarity, strength, and the energy to embrace your path.

May you receive what you are meant to know.

( Choose the pile: )

Pile 1:

Pile 2:

Pile 3:

Pile 4:

The reading starts. . .

Pile 1:

Words: tears, rage, resentment, sorrow, loud, betrayal, identity, name.

Element: Water

Animal: Fox and Fish

Vibes: A storm brewing inside ready to burst

Key to move forward: Acknowledge and process emotions

Cards: ( king of wands in reverse, three of wands, two of pentacles, the magician, four of cups, knight of pentacles)

What's blocking you?

You might be feeling like you're stuck in an endless loop, unsure of how to proceed....there seems to be a conflict between your desires and your ability to take action.

You may have a strong passion but are unable to channel it effectively. Either you are doubting your abilities, or external circumstances are making you feel powerless. You may be feeling dissatisfied with your options...rejecting what’s in front of you while longing for something else. There is also this lack of direction, confidence, or vision. I also see for some there is this mismatch or difficulty in balancing your priorities in life. Like perhaps you are overwhelmed with responsibilities, struggling to manage work, relationships, or personal goals. You may feel like you're juggling too many things without real progress.

How to move forward ?

I see that your current struggles are actually paving the way for you for something big....Allow the chaos to guide you towards clarity. And like stop resisting change-your true growth lies in embracing the discomfort and pushing forward.

I also see you just need to believe in yourself more. Instead of waiting for the perfect moment, use your current skills and start making things happen. Because I see opportunities are there but you just don't want to see them because you wanted something else. Try to make work of what you have right now so you can get what you actually wanted. Yk. Also if you’re feeling stagnant, consider learning something new, networking with people outside your usual circles, or exploring different opportunities. Your future is bigger than your present reality - you just have to start moving towards it. And like You don’t have to figure everything out at once. Just start with small actions that build towards your larger goal.

Messages from the animal which came for you

(I have a special delivery for you as I sense this both animal coming means you have the talent and the traits of both this animal in some way or shape)

::Fox & Fish::

The fox is cunning the fish is lost.

The fox is earthly the fish is not.

The fox moves smart it finds its way,

The fish just drifts caught in the sway.

The fox stays sharp it sees the game,

The fish feels deep yet lacks a name.

The fox adapts, it bends, it weaves,

The fish must choose where it believes.

The fox seeks paths not just the tide,

The fish must swim not run and hide.

So take the wisdom, take the flow,

Be like the fox—yet let waters go.

So, Instead of drifting aimlessly you must make intentional choices. Instead of overthinking and being overly cunning you must trust the journey. Moving forward requires balancing both the fish and the fox inside you. Knowing when to act cunning and when to act with intuition not abandoning one for another.

As the fish says: don't just drift swim with intention

And the fox says: stay connected to those who support you-don’t isolate yourself.

Final words for you:

Right now you are in this important transitional phase in life. It might feel chaotic....but this discomfort is necessary for your growth. Instead of letting fear, indecision, or dissatisfaction hold you back...trust in your ability to rebuild. Start small plan strategically, and embrace the transformation that is already happening within you. You have the power to create the life you want-it’s time to take the first step.

A song for you (this one's my fav btw)

Pile 2:

Words: boundless, innocence, light, unlimited, persistence

Element: Ether

Animal: Octopus and Phoenix

Vibes: Cycle of renewal

Key to move forward: Forgive yourself and others

Cards: ( Three of cups, six of swords, ten of wands, the hermit, five of cups, six of swords )

What's blocking you?

you’re carrying a heavy emotional or mental burden that is making it difficult to move forward. you will face many setbacks which may feel like failures but are actually opportunities to begin again tbh...

Responsibilities may be overwhelming you making it feel more difficult to see a clear path forward. I also see you're in deep worries, overthinking, or even have sleepless nights. My question to you is are you holding onto guilt, regret, or anxieties about the future? *it's okay to feel anxious about the future but dont punish yourself for it*

*It's okay*

I see lingering sadness and disappointment clouding your aura you might be dwelling on some past disappointments, heartbreaks, or missed opportunities. I feel that you are focusing way too much on what went wrong rather than what can still be built. I see you are also withdrawing from people or avoiding seeking help. You might feel like you have to go through this alone but that is not the case.

*it may feel like you're stuck in a situation and that it's the end and there is no escape that this it. But i see you'll get another chance. Trust me... I see a light returning in your life. You need to give yourself a chance. Forgive yourself. And try again. I know it's difficult but I also know you have the strength to move pass it. Don't lose faith. *

How to move forward?

You need to understand one thing and that is setbacks are not failures but opportunities to try again with more wisdom. Instead of seeing closed doors, look for the new paths opening up. Yk. You have ability to recover and move pass this obstacles but only if you allow it. You need to allow yourself to let go of old disappointments and shift your mindset. You need to move on from painful situations.*i know it's difficult but I know you can do it* Whether it’s past relationships, old failures, or toxic patterns now is the time to leave behind what no longer serves you. Release it!!! Release the wounds, the emotional weight!!!! Release the mental weight!!!! Release!!!!

[ YOU CANNOT DO EVERYTHING ALONE! DROP WHAT ISN'T YOURS TO CARRY!!!!!! ]

You don’t have to go through this alone.

Joy, laughter, and companionship will help break the cycle of sadness and isolation. Even if it’s just opening up to one person, reach out.

Messages from the animal which came for you

(Hope my special delivery message coming from both your animals cheer you up and make you see your light which finally helps you move forward)

:::Octopus & Phoenix:::

The Octopus clings and it stretches thin,

Lost in the weight of where it’s been.

It reaches far and holds too tight,

Dimming its own for another’s light.

The Phoenix rises its flames ignite,

Burning the past and embracing flight.

You are not chains and nor scars,

As you are the fire that births the stars.

Release the weight let go, be free,

To rise from the ash to be who you're meant to be.

»»————>»»————>»»————>

*( ╥﹏╥ ) that last line didn't rhyme but you get the gist*

So... Your animals ask you "Have you been too emotionally invested in other people’s problems? Do you take on too much responsibility for others?" To regain balance, learn to say no and create space for yourself. Allow yourself to prioritize your own well-being.

Also burn away the past and step into your true power as its time. You are not defined by your mistakes, your heartbreaks, or your struggles. This is the time to consciously release what has been keeping you stuck. It may take effort, but once you commit to healing, you will lighter, braver, free and more strong and most importantly more you.

As the octopus says: don't give too much to others at the cost of your own well being.

And the Phoenix says: Release the past, step into transformation and embrace your true power.

Final words for you:

You have been through emotional exhaustion, disappointments, and self-doubt, but now is the time to rise. Stop carrying the past.....stop isolating yourself, and start reconnecting with your inner fire.

You are stronger than you realize, and the future is waiting for you to step into your power.

A song which came for you

Pile 3:

Words: Solitary, analytical, secretive, truth, healing, sharp, visions, rebellious, detach

Element: Air

Animal: Tarantula and Moth

Vibes: Acknowledge your hidden wounds

Key to move forward: Acceptance

Cards: ( seven of swords, judgement, ten of swords, ace of wands, eight of cups and death )

What's blocking you?

you are in a phase of healing and deep self-examination i see you may be facing difficult realizations about your past, your choices, or your relationships.

I see that someone may have hurt you deeply, or you might have been involved in a situation where trust was broken. If this was a relationship, you may have been lied to, used, or manipulated. If this is about career or life choices, you might feel like you've been misled or that your own self-doubt kept you from making the right decisions. I see you're running away from facing the truth which I feel like deep inside you already know...if that makes sense? you don't want to face it. I also see the fear of the unknown, fear of opening your wounds, fear of letting anyone in again....You like to feel sure, confident you know life is full of unpredictability but you don't like that....that part where you aren't in control. you want to be sure of yourself.

I also see there is a resistance on your part ....Are you resisting walking away from something (or someone) that no longer serves you? You might be avoiding a hard truth either about yourself or someone else.....Are you refusing to see something that is obvious? Are you repeating the same mistakes? Are you drawn to things that burn you, even though you know better? These are the questions which keep popping in my head for you. You may feel like you’ve hit rock bottom but this is actually a turning point and like If something is draining you...whether it’s a relationship, a job, or a mindset - it’s time to let it go.

How to move forward?

Whatever has ended in your life....whether it's a relationship, a job, an old version of yourself - accept that it had to ended for your highest good. The old version of you can't carry on for long....the old version of you.....the one that tolerated deception, settled for less, or lived in fear it's is dying. Instead of clinging to what no longer serves you, embrace the change. Let the past burn away so something new can take its place. I also see you have been hesitating, but you already know what must be done. you need to listen more to your Intuition and avoid self-sabotage. You need to move on from situations that no longer serve your soul. Whether it’s emotional baggage, toxic relationships, or an outdated mindset, it’s time to let go.

Don't jump from one situation to another just because you don't want to feel or see the truth inside you.... You keep jumping from one thing to another without committing. You try to act tough...not wanting to see the truth that you're in pain. The pain still controls you and deep inside you know it's the truth.that is why for some of you....you may like to serve, be there for others, help, fix others....its like a unconscious thing you do where fixing others make you feel like you're doing something for yourself. But are you? You can't fix people. You have a love and a heart too...which has so much love to give but you need to first tend and take care of your own hurt before you try to fix/tend others. A question comes for you asking have you been distracted by illusions instead of focusing on real growth? If you want to break free from this....choose one path and commit to it fully. Whether it’s career, healing, or self-discovery, see it through to completion.

I see a new something will start in your life soon.... You need to act quick. Whether it’s a new passion, a new vision, or a new way of living, act on it NOW!

Messages from the animal which came for you

The tarantula says: Slowdown, reflect and follow your true purpose.... You know your TRUTH... Stay true to your path.

The moth says: STOP!!!!! Stop jumping impulsively into new things just because they seem easier or more exciting.

Basically this combination for you is a easy way of basically stop chasing distraction and stay true to your path. What it means is moving forward requires committing to a path, avoiding unnecessary distractions, and not letting indecision or overthinking lead to inaction.*i literally felt like a mom scolding a child during this reading lol but ayyyy.... That's how it's coming. Don't shoot the messenger I'm just saying what I'm seeing*

Final words for you:

You are being pushed to evolve whether you like it or not but you will be pushed until you acknowledge....and that's on period* This is your moment of truth. Let go of the past pain, the deception, and the illusions don't be delulu and face the hard decision you have been avoiding.

*for some I see maybe it's a death of someone close to you which you haven't processed yet you need to feel and not bottle it inside.... Let go of them tears.....Feel what you must feel*

Stop chasing temporary distractions and focus on what truly matters.

Lastly, You already know what must be done and now my question to you is.....will you take the step forward?

A song which for you

Pile 4:

Words: Speed, energy, instinct, selfish, vitality, healing, action, rejuvenation

Element: Earth

Animal: Buffalo and Golden Egg

Vibes: Taking the step

Key to move forward: Shift on perspective

Cards: ( The world, The moon, The chariot, Six of wands, Ten of pentacles, Six of swords )

What's blocking you ?

I clearly see you're in a verge of Major breakthrough.... a major transition is happening moving from one phase of life to another, but doubts, fears, or unfinished emotional business is kinda making you slow.

I see there may be some sort of subconscious fear or emotional confusion keeping you from fully embracing the next step. There is desire in you for success which is good but I see it kinda effecting in a way where you are trying too hard to control the outcome instead of trusting the process. I even see for you that the success you're running for is within reach too.....but you might be too focused on external validation- which makes me ponder like are you moving forward for yourself, or to prove something to others?

You are heading towards something better which is great but are you emotionally prepared to leave the past behind? because I clearly see and I am seeing it very much that there is or may be some unresolved lessons that need to be integrated before moving forward.

*Tbh usually i get reading where the cards forces to leave the past behind for people but in this case ig it's different ...which I find hilarious.personally.(⁠⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠⁠)*

Random ik but I also see...hmmm.... It's random but anyway I see.... some long-term stability is at stake now idk what it is you'll know better but whether financially, emotionally, or in relationships I'm being asked to ask you this that "Are you hesitating because you’re afraid of losing security?"

How to move forward?

"TRUST YOUR PATH" Ikr.... In the entire reading from the start this was literally getting repeated over and over and over and over..... Istg... It was buzzing in my ear.

Listen you came here to know how to move forward right?

So it's this simple.... You do not need to have all the answers right now. Yep. You don't. But... trust that you are on the right path, even if the road ahead is unclear even if it doesnt match the big picture right now which you had in your head for a while but for now just move with faith, not fear okayyyy?? Because I see you need clarity on big time! And I see you'll get your clarity when you begin to forward.

I also see you guys are the kind of people who just rush forward without thinking what is ahead of you and that you may seek external validation alot...even if not consciously you guys do it subconsciously and that's on PERIOD!!!! Don't lie to me....i can clearly see that through and through. But listen here I don't judge but I feel what you need is not the external validation but the intenal truth....and I see your deepest truth is already within you, but you must create space to hear it. Engage in meditation, solitude, or introspection. Instead of seeking answers externally, listen..LISTEN to what your inner self is telling you.

Also practice with writing down what you are ready to leave behind, then consciously let it go. This will create space for your new chapter to begin. Because i see success for you. BIG TIME SUCCESS!!!! but make sure you are moving towards what truly fulfills you, not what looks good to others. Also focus on long-term stability whether in career, love, or personal goals rather than short-term recognition.

Messages from the animal which came for you

As you got both the Buffalo and golden egg contrasting energy yet not Yk? But this animals basically will help you understand your energies better and how you could use it.

(Special delivery poem from the animals for you)

::::Buffalo & Golden egg::::

The Buffalo walks strong and wise,

Through storm and dust ...beneath vast skies.

It trusts the path it does not fear,

Each step is steady, bold, sincere.

The Golden Egg so still, so bright,

Holds whispers deep a heart’s true light.

No rush, no chase, just space to be,

To hear the sound of destiny.

One moves ahead, one waits within,

A dance of earth, a song of wind.

To move ahead...embrace them both,

The strength to walk & the soul to growth.

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So your animals say that you need the company of both of them to move forward you can't rely and depend on one abandoning the other. To move forward you will need to integrate both energies....If you focus only on pushing forward (Buffalo) you will lose touch with your inner truth. And If you focus only on introspection (Golden Egg), you might struggle to take action. So you need to create a balance you understand?

Final words for you:

You are on the edge of something amazing. The only thing left to do is trust yourself, release the past, and step forward with faith.

No song came for you when channeling...I'm sorry :((

#Spotify #pick a card #tarot #pick a pile #tarotcommunity #tarot cards

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