#with the marks above the compass

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel w/ a Petite S/O

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Protective Miguel, Flirting, Fluff, FLUFF, Size Difference, Petite Reader, Implied Size Kink, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Miguel LIVES to make you flustered.

He jumps at the opportunity to trap you against a wall or in a corner, using his height and his frame to block you in, his arm leaned above your head, his eyes red, bearing down on you. 

He towers over you, his shadow encompassing your smaller frame as he tells you what he plans on doing to you once you get home.

He used to be really insecure about his body – namely his shoulders – because he thought he looked disproportionate. Wrong.

But, after you showed him love, compassion, and unconditional appreciation for all that he is, he learns to love them. And all because you always tell him how wide and handsome he is, how safe you feel whenever he’s around.

He adores how small you are; he feels like he can keep you safe just by wrapping himself around you.

Yes, he is the big spoon (most of the time). This is non-negotiable.

He just curls around you like a shell and holds your back to his chest, revelling in how small you feel in his arms, how you snuggle into him and make him feel warm. Alive.

Miguel melts whenever you get up onto his shoulders – it makes him feel strong and useful. Especially if it’s to reach something that's just too far away to reach.

Admittedly, he does like to tease you about your height.

He’ll hold whatever coveted item you’re questing for above his head, his chest fluttering at the feeling of you leaning into him, frantic in your reach for your conquest.

“Hmm…I may be able to help you out here,” he says, looking down at you, eyes gleaming with an idea.

“But, it’s gonna cost you.”

You sigh, clamber down from him and cross your arms. You huff. “Fine,” you say. “What?”

Miguel gives you a look – the look – an eyebrow cocked, his lips pouted ever so slightly.

You can’t hide your smile and oblige his silent request.

As you press a soft kiss to his lips, you both know where this is going. Especially when he’s pressing his lips to yours with a feverish fervour, his front to yours, something catching your hip.

And, as your favourite mug lays abandoned on the kitchen counter, you and Miguel continue your little game – your compromise – in the bedroom.

Miguel loves having you up on his shoulders and will look for any given chance to do so.

“Aww, did you miss me, or are you just missing the feeling of my thighs around your face?” you say. Joking, of course. The crinkle around your eyes says it all.

Miguel smiles. Smirks. His hands come to rest on your waist.

“Oh, I don’t need an excuse for that.” He squeezes you, lowering his head until his mouth is to your ear. “Not when you begged me to do it last night. Bet you can still see the marks where I had to hold you down all night long–”

He’s also scared of how fragile you look, though.

If you even seem to be in the slightest danger of being knocked or pushed, he’s around you like a cloak, blocking any and all hazards from coming into contact with you.

One may call Miguel overbearing. But you just call him protective.

Then again, you don’t see the way his eyes gleam over your shoulder at whoever – or whatever – has nearly hurt you. Nor do you see them again, either.

Initially, when you were intimate for the first time, Miguel was terrified of hurting you – that he wouldn’t fit. Though, when he felt how tight you were, he almost lost every sensibility he had and nearly finished right there and then (as ashamed as he is to admit it). Now, he secretly gets off on how you whine when he stretches you out, telling him he’s “Too big – it hurts,” 

It makes his chest swell and his ego bloat.

He also knows you enjoy it, too. You’ve never been very good at hiding your smiles at inopportune moments.

You have names that only you are allowed to call each other.

You call him your “Big Boy” and he calls you his “Little One”.

Anyone who has heard these nicknames – or dares use them – does not retain their hearing ability for much longer.

To Miguel, your petnames are sacred – an insignia of your relationship; of your ownership of each other.

And he exercises this sentiment over you frequently. Literally.

You fit nicely beneath Miguel when he’s working out, so whenever he’s doing press-ups he lays you beneath him and kisses you whenever he descends. And it’s you that has to tell him to keep going with the push-ups when you feel him becoming a little too invested in the kiss.

Whenever you ask him why he does this with you – especially when he can be easily distracted – he gives you a smile.

“Because you’re the only thing that can motivate me to do better. Be stronger.”

His eyes crinkle as he smiles, his fangs peaking out beneath his drawn lip.

“After all, I am your Big Boy.”

There is nothing in this universe – or any universe – that can hurt you. Not while Miguel is alive, your shadow.

And everyone knows this, too.

Though, you may just think the crowd you’re currently wading through is parting simply out of respect rather than fear.

And it is Miguel who affords you this luxury, this constant protection and adoration for whom it is you he holds. And only you.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[dannyfandomphd]

Moral purity and imaginative resistance as influencing factors in fandom 'anti' attitudes

Jessica Black et al.'s 2019 experiment on the correlation between enjoying dark/villainous characters, personal morality and purity beliefs, and imaginative resistance is so interesting when applying it to anti culture and fandom.

They created a Dark Character Scale where participants self-selected how strongly in agreement or disagreement they were with a series of statements about dark or villainous fictional characters. Some of these questions were the following:

"I enjoy films and books that feature main characters that choose morally questionable actions."

"I can often understand where the bad guys in fiction are coming from."

"My favourite fictional characters are morally ambiguous and often do horrible things."

They then utilised the Moral Foundations Questionnaire (Graham et al. 2011) to see what participants considered important when deciding on whether something is morally right or wrong, for example:

Whether or not someone suffers emotionally

Whether or not someone did something disgusting*

Whether or not someone was cruel

Whether or not someone was denied [their] rights

Whether or not someone acted in a way God would approve of*

as well as how strongly participants agreed or disagreed with statements such as:

Compassion for those who are suffering is the most crucial virtue

People should not do things that are disgusting, even if no one is harmed*

It can never be right to kill a human being

I would call some acts wrong on the grounds that they are unnatural*

Respect for authority is something all children need to learn.

One of the final scales participants used was the Black & Barnes (2017) Imaginative Resistance Scale. This is basically used to gauge how resistant the reader is to enjoying or consuming fictional content that contains characters, situations, or worldbuilding that they personally find morally disagreeable. They had to select how strongly they agreed/disagreed with questions like:

Reading books where bad things are depicted as morally acceptable makes me feel dirty

I just can't go along with a story when it violates my beliefs about morality

At times it feels like the author of a book is asking me to endorse actions that I know are wrong

Some things just shouldn't be done, even within a book

I sometimes cannot go along with a story when the "good" characters do morally reprehensible things

Sympathising with immoral characters makes me feel immoral myself.

Unsurprisingly, analysis of the data revealed that there was a strong correlation between disliking or not enjoying dark fictional characters or villains and having a higher purity morality score and more imaginative resistance.

They performed this test in three studies done on three completely different demographics - the first being mostly liberal women from social media sites, the second being mostly younger conservative college undergrads, and the third being adults split 50/50 in gender recruited from MTurk. All three studies showed that having stronger imaginative resistance and higher purity morality scores is directly linked to a lower score on the DCS - meaning that they would like or enjoy dark fictional characters and their actions less.

This tracks pretty well with what can be seen in the emerging anti culture within fandom:

Self-identified 'antis' are likely to agree strongly with the statements from the Imaginative Resistance Scale, and are more likely to score highly on the questions in Moral Foundations Questionnaire that are specifically demarcated as being concerned with purity (marked above with an asterisk *). This means that they are also, according to these studies, much more likely to disagree with dark fictional characters and their actions.

There is also a very interesting point in one of the discussions areas where Black et al. state "It is worth reiterating that the participants in Study 2 tended to be more conservative, and therefore potentially more likely to have greater concerns about moral purity" which tracks with what people in fandom have been saying about antis parroting conservative/puritan talking points and arguments.

What I find the most interesting is the following statement:

"However, moral purity and imaginative resistance are consistently positively correlated, both in the current studies and in prior research ... and are both likely to reflect a fear of moral contagion that would discourage people from identifying with and liking [dark fictional characters]."

This, when applied to antis, suggests that antis may harbor the subconscious belief that enjoying dark fictional content, and therefore being a 'proshipper', is literally psychically contagious. They may view this as some kind of moral disease which is spreading and infecting fandom, which could explain why they are so vehemently against it - fear. This is the puritan Moral Panic all over again.

Black et al. also discuss theories of fictional engagement and parasocial relationships/identification, and whether these studies is relevant to "when and for whom fictional engagement could have the potential to negatively affect real world attitudes or behaviour".

Jessica Black and Jennifer Barnes often publish articles together and have some incredibly interesting reading of morality and fiction that I'd be interested to see applied to fandom and anti culture in an academic setting. Perhaps some people in the field like Samantha Aburime (@rainystudios) are already looking into it - and I'm hoping I can do the same in my studies.

[yanderecrazysie]

Galeophobia (Kirishima)

Please don’t request any phobias. I just felt like making this for fun.

Be kind to me, I'm still not good at writing NSFW

Title: Galeophobia

Pairings: Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, mershark Kirishima, pirate reader, marking, NSFW, NON-CON, belly bulge, excessive cum

Phobia: The fear of sharks

Normally, the setting sun is something that makes you smile, its beautiful pink-and-orange hues are a feast for the eyes. Here and now? It feels as though it is taunting you as your water sloshes over the deck of your sinking ship.

How can nature be so beautiful, yet so cruel?

The storm is completely gone- there’s no sign that it ever happened. No sign, save for one wooden ship taking on water. The jolly rogers above you wave feebly in the light wind before crumbling in on themselves as even the air falls silent. You sigh wearily.

After all the danger you’d put yourself in to get rich, sinking serenely in the middle of calm waters, all of your comrades having fled on lifeboats. Leaving the captain to go down with the ship.

It’s a dumb tradition that the pirates of your country take part in, you thought dully, so why did I bother following it? You wished you weren’t quite so honorable. 

The water ripples below your lazy perch on the ship’s front railings, now reaching past the deck and slowly inching towards you. Somewhere off in the distance, you see something shimmer in the sunset’s pink-tinged water.

You squint, confused, as something bright red begins rising in the clear water right below you, on the end of your ship and the open ocean. Water breaks at the surface as the crimson object reveals itself to be spiky hair on the head of a handsome tan-skinned man with equally-red, intense eyes.

At first, you think he must be dead. After all, how else could there be someone out here in the middle of the ocean, unless they were from a ship already sunken below? But no, the man gazes at you with a lively expression, smiling brightly at you as though he’s never been so happy to see someone else. 

The next conclusion fills you with hope: there must be land nearby! Surely he had swum from an island to your ship. But how far away was it? You look in every direction and see nothing but water.

“Where do you come from?” You ask urgently, “It’s not too far is it? I’m not a strong swimmer.”

The man laughs loudly, “Don’t worry, I got you, babe.”

You wrinkle your nose at the pet name but hold your tongue. After all, this redhead was the only thing between you and the bottom of the ocean.

He holds out his arms as though he’s ready to catch you, “Come on down, babe. I don’t bite. Much.”

He flashes you a smile and you gasp. His teeth are unnaturally sharp and triangular, nothing like a human’s. For the first time, you feel a sense of foreboding and your heart pounds in your chest. 

Your gaze falls below his bare abs under the water and you’re shocked to see that instead of bare legs, there’s gray and white smooth skin that ends in a sharp fish tail. From the shape and the earlier glance at his teeth, you surmise he’s some sort of shark merman. Not human, in any case.

“What are you?” You shriek, wrapping your arms around your legs protectively, all too aware of how close the water was to you now.

The shark-man grins, flashing those sharp teeth at you once more, “My name’s Kirishima. What’s yours, babe?”

“Stay away from me, you fish freak!” You seethe, pulling your compass from your pocket and heaving it at him as hard as you can. It bounces off his chest with a thunk but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “Wait until after I’ve drowned to eat me!”

Kirishima sighs, a soft pout to his features as he tells you, “List babe: you’re either coming down on your own or you’re going to sink.”

The reality of the situation dawns on you just as you feel water licking at your toes. You were going to be eaten by this half-shark, half-man creature. All that would be left of you would be your bones on the bottom of the ocean, alongside your trusty ship. 

Hot tears prick your eyes as you let yourself slide off the railing into the water. If my death is coming, then let it be quick, you thought sadly.

Kirishima blinks in surprise before a smile spreads across his face. This time, his lips are pulled over those vicious teeth, and you can’t help but think it’s a little cute. He reaches his hand out to brush away a few stray tears, but that just causes more to spill.

Strong arms wrap around you and you close your eyes, ready for death. It doesn’t come. Instead, Kirishima nuzzles into your neck, cooing softly into your ear as he holds you close.

He pulls you away from the sinking ship, most of which is already underwater. Your first and only ship- you feel more tears slip down your cheeks. It’s gone now, there’s no getting it back.

“Shh, it’s alright, babe.” Kirishima shushes you softly as he swims farther away, tugging you along through the water. You shiver in his grasp and he takes notice, stopping immediately to run his hands over your body, “Oh man, you’re cold all over.”

The grin that cracks across his face is mischievous and predatory at the same time, “I know how to fix that.”

Something cold and hard brushes against your butt and your heart stops all together before it starts up tenfold again. Don’t tell me he means…

Incredibly sharp teeth pierce through the skin on your neck and you let out a scream. Warm blood pools on the surface as he sucks gently before releasing with a pop. He takes a look at his handiwork- at the wound swelling on your neck- and has the audacity to look proud. 

Kirishima presses against you as he begins peeling your clothes from your skin. Something very large and very hard pokes against your thighs and, although you cannot see it, you already have an idea of what it is. Curiosity has you briefly wondering if it looks like a human’s or not.

You don’t have a chance to look down at it from the angle he’s holding you but, once he tears your pants from your body in a violent, eager motion, you quickly get to know what it feels like. It seems to be shaped the same as any human male’s dick, but it’s much larger than what you thought was possible. 

The bulbous head pushes against your unguarded pussy, pressing and pressing until pop- it forces its way inside. You expected unimaginable pain, but you’re instead overrun with pleasure.

The cock fills you out with each inch shoved deeper. It stretched your insides out and, when you look down, you see a visible bulge in your stomach. He’s crammed into you so much your little human body can barely take it.

Kirishima holds you still while he forces his shark cock deeper and deeper. The bulge in your belly is bigger than ever when he comes to a stop. Unconsciously, your hand moves and puts a hand over the bump in your stomach and you hear the man behind you moan with pleasure as you accidentally massage his cockhead.

The thrusts begin, more brutal than you could ever anticipate. Kirishima uses his arms to keep you in place while he fucks into you, tearing apart your vagina and womb easily with his monster cock. 

You writhe with pleasure, barely able to move from your positioning but trying all the same. It’s all too much- his dick is pressed up against every nerve and pleasure spot you have, each thrust hits all the right places.

Kirishima grabs your hips and bend your body a little, moving you into a position where he can fuck you even deeper and harder. It isn’t long before you come undone on his cock, twitching and spasming from the intense pleasure he’s giving you.

Your pulsating walls prove to be too much for the redhead, and he follows you shortly after. His cum floods your insides, inflating your belly a little around the bulge and filling you so completely that some escapes around his cock and into the water around you, making the water turn more milky than clear.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he rolls his hips, getting out those last few drops of cum. His giant cock finally softens and slips out, dirtying the water even more with the cum that escapes your stuffed-full womb.

“Yeah, I’m keeping you.” Kirishima says, grinning widely as he pulls you close. You don’t bother fighting it as he gives a kick of his tail and takes off swimming with you snug in his arms. 

You can feel cum still rushing out of you as he whisks you away to wherever it is he plans to keep you.

[yaut-jaknowit]

An Accident

Pairings: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count:

Summary: What you believed was enough time to recooparate after the incident, you go back to planning. You follow your way through the halls, learning patterns and what was ways were the quickest with less foot traffic. It's easy... until the lights go out. And you terrified, trembling in the darkness without We'ar-ow near you.

Author Note: Heyyyy, I know it's been over a month since the last post of this series. Please don't be mad. I'm slowly chipping away at the others but I was rushing to finish all the requests I had as well.

P.s. I will be reopening requests shortly!

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 |

Though half the size of We’ar-ow’s bathroom, this room offered plenty. The tile comfortably warm in the morning of the ship’s day cycle. A mirror hung above the sink a few inches taller than average.

With your back turned to it, your fingers softly grazed over the healed mark carved into the back of your neck. It wasn’t horrible. You shivered at the memory painted inside of your head. It played over and over. You scoffed, shoulders sagging. She had pinned you down in front of her tribe and marked you as hers… after defeating your ex-mate.

Thinking about it now, it didn’t bother you as much.

Constantly, We’ar-ow has shown you nothing but compassion. May it be a little on the rough side. Say, dragging you out of bed to either shower or feed you; forcing you to straddle her lap as she renewed her scent on you; taking you out to her throne room. It wasn’t anything near a royal treatment, but it was a content life.

Three meals a day; a semi social life; clothes on your back. You took a deep breath in to fill you lungs before fully turning around to face yourself in the mirror.

Nothing much has changed about your appearance. The bags under your eyes have disappeared after two week since the incident. We’ar-ow had allowed you to sleep in her bed for the first week.

Then came… the thoughts. You returned back to your given room all on your own. We’ar-ow said nothing about it. Nothing changed. Things went back to the new normal of your life. That was that.

A shirt was tugged over your head and hung off of your shoulders. You still looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to find something amiss. When you came up empty handed, you shrugged and exited the bathroom. The sight of your strange bedroom didn’t bring you much relief. You couldn’t help the scowl that morphed your features at the dog-like bed in the corner.

Out of all the things that have changed since you’ve been with We’ar-ow, that was the one thing you hadn’t grown accustom to. A pet. A real pet.

Dwainet may have claimed you as a pet for your safety… but he never treated you as such. We’ar-ow constantly reminded you of your ownership. She owned you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. But… her treatment was different than what you would’ve expected as her pet.

Something delicious wafted into the air. You breathed in a lung full, mouth beginning to water. Your stomach growled, longing for food. We’ar-ow had been gone in the afternoon yesterday, leaving you to fend for yourself. Since you’ve never cooked for yourself while being on the ship, you just went hungry. Plus, you were too timid to grab any fruits to hold you over until morning.

The door slid open at your presence. You peered out and found the lumbering giant in the minute kitchen, working on breakfast. A smile broke cross your face before you shook your head and strolled out.

Bare-footed, your feet made little pitter-patter noises on the metal floors. The metal was mildly warm to the touch. Quietly, you reached the counter and sat down on the stools meant for a creature at least a foot taller than you.

Right on time. We’ar-ow scooped whatever was on the pan and placed the plated food in front of you. A smile of thanks was thrown up at her. You gratefully dug into the food, starving. Actions like these made the title ‘pet’ not feel as bad. Your morals and emotions war with each on that front though. Unable to come to a conclusion that a life like this was fine. We’ar-ow wasn’t going to win you over that easily.

Mid-bite, a knock on the entrance door had you tensing up. Immediately, your heart begins to thunder in its bony cage. Your head whips around to stare at the dark metallic grey slab.

Ever since the scare on your first exploration… you were on edge. Someone had been stalking you, hunting you down that day. The mediocre knife that had been gifted to you would’ve done nothing to protect you from whoever that was. Said knife sat tied in its sheath to your waist band.

A warm hand jolted your muscles, gaze snapping to the person who laid their hand on you. We’ar-ow petted the top of you head in a soothing motion. “Do not fret, my pet. It is just Xilomere,” she explained, letting the limb slip off as she strolled over to the door.

Shakily, you reached down and rested a hand on top of your knife. Your eyes pinned on the door.

It registered in your mind what she had said only a few moments earlier. Your eyes narrowed. Xilomere? Who’s that?

The front door slide open and revealed a dark, moss green Yautja. Male by the size of him. Instantly, he bowed his head to We’ar-ow in front of him before lifting his upper mandibles. A smile. His posture lax, might you even say friendly.

His greying tresses were a sign of his older age, older than We’ar-ow. The extra wrinkles on his face aided that thought process. As you scanned his body, looking for anything that could be considered a threat, you noticed the lower portion of his right arm was gone. From the elbow down was missing. On his other arm, his pinky and the tip of his ring finger were missing as well. This Yautja had seen the hardships of this life to the full extent. Well, besides death, of course. You couldn’t help your hand tightening around the handle of your knife.

When his eyes moved past the face of We’ar-ow, they landed on you. Your whole body locked up, chest rapidly moving with short, quick breaths. The two of you staring each other down.

The moss green Yautja snorted with a chuckle. His arms lifted out at his sides at half-mast. “Ah, there is the ooman I’ve heard so much about!” His voice was on the higher pitched level when he spoke in Yautja. But the translator droned on about what he had said.

He slinked around the towering female and made his way to you. The whites of your eyes were easily seen. You froze in your spot, heart thundering loud in your ears as he stopped before you. “Such a small, little thing you are,” he jestered and reached out, hand heading for your chin.

“Mere,” We’ar-ow scolded, voice firm. The for-called Yautja grunted, gave you look as if you would know what it meant and spun around. His arm was raised in mock surrender.

“What? I’m checking out your new pet. I haven’t gotten to see them since they first arrived here,” Xilomere defused the situation. His hand dropped back to his side. “It’s not like everyday that you let a ooman on the ship, let alone have one as your pet.”

All she had to do was give a look before his shoulders were dragged down. “Ugh, you’re no fun.” In the midst of all of this, the most you could do was just stare speechless at this Yautja. Everyone in the ship worships the ground We’ar-ow walked on…

Xilomere… didn’t. He was friendly, playful even with her. We’ar-ow allowed for it to happen, letting him into her shared quarters with you.

Something burned in the back of your throat. The grip on the knife tightened before bite at the inside of your cheek and let go. This was a Yautja. A clearly well decorated one. He’d have you in five different pieces before you could even get within ten feet of him.

You swiveled in your chair and timidly finished up your breakfast. Xilomere left you alone after We’ar-ow gave him a warning. An action you were thankful for.

Once your plate had been cleaned and placed off to the side to dry, you peered around the corner of the kitchen and into the living space. On the couches, both Yautjas sat. Each on their respectful couch.

The translator embedded into the skin behind your ear picked up on their conversation. We’ar-ow and Xilomere were discussing things about the clan and mothership. Plans for maintenance on the engines and other projects along the same line. The lingering burn started to dwindle at their respectful conversation.

For a moment, you padded across the space and scuttled into your room. The device you were looking for was snatched off of the dresser close to the door. Then, you were back out, going over to the We’ar-ow. You stood five feet from her and clutched the tablet to your chest, waiting for her acknowledgement.

When she got to a good stopping point, We’ar-ow paused her conversation to look at you. “Yes?” Her usual softer voice was replaced with the voice of a leader.

Your shoulders scrunched up. “Is it okay if I go out?” The question hung heavy in the air. This was a perfect chance to keep… planning. With We’ar-ow distracted with this Xilomere character, I could go out without the constant worry of her watching me. It had also been a month since the incident. Whoever was out there… they must have lost their interest, right?

We’ar-ow’s darted over to Xilomere without turning her eyes then landed back on you. She dipped her head, tresses slightly swinging with the motion. “You may.”

With that settled, she returned to the conversation with Xilomere, not missing a beat. You took your leave through the front door and down the short hallway to reach the elevator.

Hesitation drew you to a stop short of pressing the button to open the door. Swallowing down the lump growing in your throat, you closed the distance and entered the elevator.

The trip down was short but not sweet. You clutched the tablet tight to your chest and squeezed it harder as the doors opened. They revealed an desolate hallway. The sight didn’t relieve you of any tension. You pressed on and stepped out into the new space.

Much to your relief, nothing jumped out and attempted to drag you into the dark corners of the ship. You took a deep breath before taking the first step down a hallway you knew would be part of your escape plan. From this one, you would need to take the third left before taking another elevator further down into the belly of this mothership.

To refresh your mind, you ran the entire course, measuring the time it would take to walk to the cargo hold. Far longer than you would like. The longer it took to reach the cargo hold, the more time it gave to We’ar-ow to hunt you down or even lock the ship down.

Escape and survive. Those were your two main options. Nothing else mattered. Get off of this damn ship.

There were passer-byers who glanced at you, some uncaring that you exist. Others either sneered or scowled in your direction.

We’ar-ow’s mark was your shield against any of them. If they dared to hurt you in any way, it would bring along the wrath of her. Rage none of them wanted to experience or endure.

After reaching the cargo hold, you turned back around and found an empty hallway to slither into. You sat down and began to type up all of your findings, mostly just about the time. On that same note of escape, next you need to learn about the schedule of the ships. Which ship to stowaway on as well. Something you could possibly steal… if you learned how to fly one. That was the last option because that would take extra weeks, maybe even raking in months of learning. Time you didn’t know if you had.

Your head hit the wall behind you with a groan. This was becoming longer than you expected. All you wanted was to go home. Was that so bad? To get away from all of this… craziness. These people, this species. It wasn’t something you wanted to be mixed with.

Darkness engulfed your form. The tablet’s screen is your only source of light in the pitch blackness of the hallway. You couldn’t help the yelp that surpassed your lips, eyes darting around but found nothing. What happened?

Timidly, your feet found their way under your form. No one was around the last you knew of. Despite knowing none of the Yautjas would step in to help you incase someone attacked you, you believed if there was another Yautja around… no one would try to harm you. Foolish to think that as your safety but it was all you had.

The tablet lit up your path as you retraced the needed steps to make it to a more populated area. Your chest slightly heaving with deep breaths to keep yourself level headed.

Everything went dark. The device in your hand had been ripped out of your hand and smashed into the ground, blocking out your only source of light. You screamed and froze, eyes not yet adjusted to any sort of darkness.

Behind you, you sensed eyes, burning holes in your back. You whipped around and staggered, almost losing your balance in the process. Only blackness greeted your sight.

Terror gripped your heart. You stumbled backwards, heel knocking into the discarded tablet. It slide across the metal flooring for a few seconds then came to a stop. You internally cursed, hoping you could somehow find it once more and use it for a light source again.

Tapping sounded behind you again. Once more, you spun around to face whatever was here with you. Your entire body shook, hands trembling at your sides. With no lights, not even emergency lights, your eyes couldn’t adjust. Nothing for the retina to send a signal up to your brain.

It clicked in your brain, far later than you would like to admit. The knife. Your hands whipped to where it was sheathed and wielded it in front of you. Disappointingly enough, you knew the quakes raking your body weren’t a sight to be terrified of.

Chittering laughter echoed in the hall, bouncing off of the walls. It felt like mockery. You whimpered, pupils blown wide and darting around the area before you.

Claws raked along your back. From the small of your back to the bottom of your shoulder blades, pain exploded like a bomb. Fire raced up with the marks, burning from the inside out. You cried out, knife dropping from your hands. You stumbled forward and blindly kicked the weapon away from you. It too was lost to the darkness.

Weaponless and injured, all you could was shake like a leaf and stand blindly. Tears desperately fought to roll down like raging rivers down your face. You briefly held it in.

All the ways you could die flashed in your eyes with the help of the blackness. Just your body, a bloody heap of flesh and bones, lying dead without the protection of We’ar-ow.

Fuck. We’ar-ow…. How would she feel after learning of your demise? Relief she doesn’t have to care for you? Sorrow possibly? You scoffed internally at the thought. These Yautjas don’t feel sadness. Just rage and lust. Nothing more than mindless beasts.

Something scaly and firm engulfed your throat, simply lifted you up, and slammed you down on the ground. You surely thought your skull fractured from the harsh cracked that rang out. Your ears began to ring.

The burn for air caused panic to surge through your haze. Your legs kicked out and struck a hard body. Yet, whatever held you, stayed. Unfazed from the strike and kept its mighty grip tightly around your feeble neck. Your hands clawed in desperation at the arm pinning you to the metal floor. But the scales were far too thick for your own dull nails to even scratch through the first layer of skin.

Tears poured freely out of the corner of your eyes, running over your temples and leaving droplets on the ground. You tried to scream, to cry, to alert someone of what was happening to you. As the prey animal you are, you wanted help, someone to save before this thing killed you!

All you could produce were gurgles and croaks. No one would come to your air. No one could hear your last noises. This was to be your grave.

The fight began to leave you. The lack of oxygen reaching your brain dwindled with each pump of your heart. Your hands fell away and thumped at your sides.

Air rushed into your lungs. You gasped so hard it scratched at your throat, forcing you to roll over and cough harshly, possibly bringing up blood. You blinked through the tears and squinted your eyes, blinded by the overhead lights. But there was light.

Through the haze of salty tears, you saw a blurred figure sprinting down the hallway and darted around a corner. Gone from sight. You flinched and swallowed painfully. Your throat hurt, feeling the aftermath of it nearly being crushed.

Despite knowing whoever just attempted to murder you could turn themselves around and finish the kill, you could only sit there. The threat of death still hung heavy like a rain cloud over your head. But, you just stayed on the ground, heaving for air. Death was almost a friend for a second. You should’ve never came here. It’s been one bad thing after another.

An unknown amount of time passed before you stumbled to your feet and used a wall for support. Nausea roared it ugly head at the new motion. On the ground, a few yards from you sat both the knife and now destroyed tablet. It had been stepped on clearly and couldn’t handle the weight. A croaked meant as a curse fell from your dry lips. You stepped over to the two items, sheathing the knife and scooping up the pieces of the tablet.

The screen completely shattered, some pieces were gone. With a pained groan, you turned around and started to trek back to more populated areas. Now though, your head was on a swivel, constantly whipping behind encase they dared to come back. The knife was back in your hand, white-knuckling the handle.

Your feet stopped in their tracks when you saw the first Yautja walking in the larger hallway. This path was part of the main route used by most of the clan. But this alien was walking in the direction as you. They didn’t even react to the tiny gasp that escaped your lips.

You started down the new hall, following the Yautja at least fifty feet behind him. He didn’t make an acknowledgement of your presence.

When another turned to use the walkway, you tensed up and stopped mid step. But she didn’t even look at you or your dishevel appearance. You scuttled along, going further into the main area of the ship.

More and more Yautjas moved around you. None of them acting differently besides a few giving you a double look. You had to bet bruises were making their mark around your throat. Plus, the back of your shirt had been shredded, dried blood sticking your skin. It flaked at each step and left behind a horrible, itchy feeling. You kept on marching on until you reached the first elevator.

A single Yautja waited for you enter before pushing a button. Timidly, you reached over and selected your own needed level. The alien made no noise of complaint or despise. Indifferent. An aspect you were thankful, even after they left and the doors closed again.

The machine came to a halt. You yelped; palms pressed to the metal wall behind you to keep you from keeling over. Bronze metal doors slide open to reveal the desired floor. You stepped out and into the new danger. The only thing that kept you from curling into a ball there was the fact you were closer to We’ar-ow. Or, at least, the safety of her room. No one would be stupid enough to break in and harm you. If they could even break through in the first place. And if she was there… she wouldn’t take kind of an intruder. Yautjas are very territorial and possessive.

As you took another step in the right direction, your vision teetered. It took a late moment for your brain to catch up. You put your hands out and caught yourself on the other side of the hallway, against a wall. You groaned, nearly dropping both the knife and demolished tablet. Again.

This same scenario happened twice more before you thought it best to use the wall as a clutch. Your hand glide acrossed the warm metal walls with each step. It not only held you up but helped you keep better balance of staying upright.

The sight of the last elevator door was like seeing heavens gate. You pushed off of the wall wobbled over to the door. The knife was sheathed into its pocket tied to your side. With the newly emptied hand, you leaned against the wall and stared at the digital keypad. A code. The code. What code? Code. You needed a code. What was the code?

For what had to be minutes, you gazed blankly at the keypad. Nothing came to mind. Not a thought of reasoning. Until a moment of clarity struck with enough time to remember. You imputed the code.

A set of doors slid open to reveal the personal elevator. You stumbled in while continuously using the walls for support. With your back to the wall furthest from the doors, you watched with bated breath until you were sealed in. Nothing came for you. Now, you were safe.

Your head pounded with each thump of your poor heart, creating its own beat of drums. This caused you to squint your eyes through the pain.

The realization finally dawned on you at the sight of We’ar-ow’s abode. Safety. A broken sobbed left your dry lips. You hurriedly stumbled through the short hallway and slammed against the shut entryway with a cry. Your hands clawed at the metal, desperate to get in. The thundering in your head only getting strong with each second.

The support was ripped away. You fell forward only to get caught in two strong arms cradling you into a warm chest. Instantly, you wrapped your arms around a neck and held on for dear life. It might have been for you. The tablet falling to the ground in a forgotten heap of electronics.

Air touched the bottom of your bare feet. You were lifted up into the air and brief carried before being settled into warmth and safety.

Tears stained your blazing cheeks. Broken, cracking sobs fell from your dropped jaw with each heave of air you could gasp in.

Hands gripped at your scrunched shoulders and gave a light shake. Through the cotton filling your ears, a voice tried to pierce through. Fingers pinched at your chin and lift it up. You gazed in your hazed sight at the large pink Yautja holding you in her lap. The translator sounding off in your ear, translating every word she spoke in her alien race.

We’ar-ow called your name in haste, demanding you to tell her what had happened. Fear continuously pumped through your veins, causing you to tremble worse than being stuck in the cold. She huffed that ended in growl and cupped both of your cheeks in her massive palms. “What happened, little ooman? Who attacked you?!”

It was an easy sight to tell you’ve been attacked rather this being all on you.

You whimper, hands gripping so tightly on her shoulders, crescent divots had to be left behind. With all of your strength that could be offered, you attempted to bow your head to hide away from her piercing gaze. The heat of burned into your very soul. Her palms kept you up right in her line of sight. “Tell me. They will pay,” she snarled, hands tightening just a fraction before loosening.

For a fleeting moment, you met her bright eyes before letting your gaze dart away. “I-I don’t… know,” you croaked out and fought against the pain surrounding your neck. “The lights. They went off. Something attacked me. I couldn’t see.” You were hopeful she could understand through the grumble of your throat.

The Yautja snarled a deadly note before standing up again. “Mere, call a meeting. I want every council member in there.” You tensed at the new knowledge of another being in here with us. We’ar-ow cradled you close to the protectiveness of her body and carried you over to her bedroom door.  “An attack on my pet is an attack on me.”

“Yes, Monarch,” Xilomere responded, voice firm. The green Yautja pivoted on his heel and head straight for the exit. His arm lifted as he began to speak into his gauntlet.

She kept her pathing for her bedroom and entered said place. Despite weighing nearly four times your weight alone, her feet didn’t make a single noise as she set foot into the connected bathroom. You were set on the counter next to the sink. We’ar-ow had to practically yank off your arms and grabbed a bag from behind the mirror in front of the sink.

Said bag was set next to you. We’ar-ow moved her way between your legs. A clawed finger was placed under your chin and forced it up. You whined when this pulled at the bruising forming a dark path around your throat. Her body tensed before the muscles relaxed all on their own. You felt it more than saw it since your new sight was the bland ceiling of her bathroom.

Coarse finger pads danced along the column of your throat. You swallowed despite the pain. The touch was soft, not something you had grown accustomed to on this damned ship. Then, it was gone, replaced with a gel covering the new wound.

We’ar-ow preformed as a medic till every injured had been cared for. Afterwards, she scooped you up and carried you over to her bed you had once found sanctuary in before.

Deja Vu hit you as the pelt blankets were used to cover the majority of nearly naked frame. The shirt that once hung off your shoulders had been removed. She knelt down at the side of the bed and ran a hand over your hair. “I’ll be back. Stay here, ooman,” she ordered then stood up.

Her steps carried her over to the bedroom door where she stopped and glanced back for a short second. Then, the door closed, a lock clicking in place. Three doors from you to the main hallway. Three doors protecting you from harm.

Low lights kept the room illuminated and fought off any shadows your attacker could hide in. You nuzzled into the comfortable blankets, arms latching onto one of them. But sleep won’t come easy to you. A headache persisted worse than anything you’ve felt before.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 |

[queenshelby]

The Director (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Domestic Abuse, Violence

Another few days had passed, marking the eleventh day on set, and you found yourself working side by side with Cillian on a scene that required both of your attention.

You enjoyed working with him and the more time you spent together, the stronger the connection between you grew. It was a dangerous game that you were playing and you knew it, but you couldn't help yourself. 

Cillian was kind and empathetic which was different to what you were used to with James who would always belittle and mock you.

Cillian and you were talking a lot when you had some time to spare and his laugh was infectious, and his eyes twinkled when he told stories about his family, making your heart flutter in your chest, a sensation that you hadn't felt in months.

He was a devoted father to his two children who were 16 and 19 now and whilst his marriage was in a challenging phase, his love for his two children was tangible.

This compassion and understanding made it all the more difficult to resist him and when his hand accidentally brushed against yours as you ran him through a scene, a jolt of electricity passed through you, causing you to inhale sharply.

You were on your own with him, on set, and glanced at him as his fingers lingered. A blush spread across your cheeks, but his gaze was fixed on you and you could see the heat in his eyes.

Knowing that no one else was watching you, he didn't pull away. Instead, he traced a finger along your hand, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

The intensity of the moment was palpable, and you could feel the weight of his hand holding yours. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn't help the way your heart raced, the way the tension between you two built up until it felt like it would burst.

You pulled away suddenly and both of you startled.

"Uhm, where were we?" you asked, collecting your thoughts quickly, attempting to regain your composure. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel the heat of your cheeks.

Cillian cleared his throat, looking away momentarily before meeting your gaze again. "You were just showing me the scene," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His blue eyes twinkled with a familiar spark and it felt like you were treading dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. 

Day after day, you would find yourself with Cillian, stealing away moments from the set to indulge in private conversations and stolen glances.

It was on the twelfth day on set that you began to feel the simmering heat of desire rising within you. It started as a gentle throb, a pulsating rhythm that seemed to resonate in your very core.

As you stood alongside Cillian, the scent of his cologne weaving its way around you, the thrumming of your heart echoed like a drumbeat in your ears.

Each word exchanged felt loaded, the air crackling with the tension between the two of you. Your breath was a little too sharp, your gaze lingering on him for too long, your pulse quickening when he returned your stare. There was no denying the chemistry, the electric rush when your bodies collided, even in the smallest of ways, like the brush of an arm or a feather-light touch.

The spark between you and Cillian had blossomed from something undeniably magnetic into an irresistible force pulling you inevitably together, drawing you into each other's orbit but, just as you were adjusting his suit and then reached for his hand to show him how to hold the prob pipe, you were shocked to see a familiar face approach you from behind. 

"Hello sunshine," James mused, wrapping his arm around your waist posessivly, and pulling you away from Cillian and the hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of equipment. 

"James," you breathed, with a forced smile when you saw him, hoping he had not noticed the blush creeping up your neck, betraying your flustered state. "What are you doing here?"

James shrugged casually, but the glint in his eyes revealed his true intentions. "Remember that I have a scene in this movie too?" he reminded you and, of course, you had not forgotten about his three minutes of fame. 

"Of course," you replied stiffly, disentangling yourself from his grip. Your heart was a mixture of unease and nervousness at his untimely appearance. You tried not to see him as you returned your focus to the task at hand, ensuring that Cillian was comfortable in his role, while the spark remained.

"I am sorry, but I have to get this scene done. We are already behind schedule," you told James while Cillian concentrated on his line, revising them in his head over and over again. 

"No worries babe," James told you sincerely. "I should get ready for filming too," he added before disappearing and leaving you relieved, slightly trembling - the intensity of the moment still lingering in the air.

"I am sorry about that," you then told Cillian, attempting to ease the tension.

"No need to apologize," he responded, his calming voice reassuring you and giving you a faint smile. Although, you felt like you could read his thoughts with those assessing blue eyes of him, studying you with a mixture of surprise and worry.

As you got lost in filming over the next few hours, your mind would drift back to that stolen moment with Cillian, the pure, undiluted thrill of being desired. Sharing a look filled with longing but, throughout the day, even your husband James noticed the connection between you and the Irish actor.

He did not like Cillian one bit and made his feelings very clear to you when, at around nine o'clock you stumbled into the room, exhausted and tired from a full day of work. 

"Hey" you greeted him with tired eyes, hoping to avoid any conflicts with him tonight but when you saw an open bottle of his favorite whiskey on the bedside table, you knew that tonight was not going to be smooth sailing.

"You look like shit Y/N," he spat the words out, squinting his eyes at you as if inspecting to see if you were, indeed, exhausted or something else entirely.

"I've had a long day, James," you replied slowly, slipping off your shoes.

"A long day, huh?" he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he took a swig of his whiskey before forcefully grabbing hold of your wrist.  "You've got a thing for that little Irish man, don't you?" he growled, his grip tightening as you tried to wriggle free and, despite your exhaustion, the fear of him escalating kicked in and you couldn't help but freeze in response.

"Don't be ridiculous," you stammered, your voice weak as you glanced nervously over to the closed door while James smashed his half full glass against the wall across from him before pulling your head back, using your hair. 

"Don't lie to me, Y/N," James hissed through gritted teeth. "I saw the way you were looking at him and it's fucking disgusting," he spat, his angry eyes alight with jealousy and disgust.

"It wasn't like that, James, I swear," you pleaded, wincing in pain as he yanked on your hair even harder, pulling relentlessly with the intent to cause discomfort.

"Stop lying to me," he demanded with a snarl, pushing you down hard onto the bed as the weight of his body pressed down upon you.

"Stop it!" you cried out, tears of pain pricking the corners of your eyes. Your mind was racing, desperately trying to find a way to defuse the situation. But James' temper only seemed to be escalating, and you knew that your marriage had reached its boiling point. He had always been a jealous man even though, until now, he had no reason to be and the more jealous he got, the more aggressive he became.

Fighting back, you struck him across the face, feeling a shock wave of fear and anger surge through you as you tried to push him away.

James pulled backwards, his face contorted with anger as he reached back before hitting you, the sound of his palm against your cheek ringing in your ears. The impact stunned you, causing your head to snap to the side.

But even as the pain radiated from your cheek, you knew better than to stay silent.

"Stop it, James! Please!" you cried out, pushing against his chest with all your might.

You managed to free yourself from his grasp, scrambling backward on the bed, your heart pounding wildly.

Despite the pain in your cheek, you refused to give in to fear. Not this time.

You crawled off the bed before making a run for the door, hearing James' voice resonating as he climbed off the bed too. Your mind raced as you scrambled towards the door, fumbling with the locks as your heart pounded in your chest.

"Come back, right fucking now Y/N! I am sorry, alright!" he called out, and as you glanced over your shoulder, you could see him rubbing his hand, shame and regret etched onto his face. His features softened, and you could almost feel the guilt rolling off of him.

However, it was too late to turn back now so you unlocked the door and yanked it open.

"I need some time to myself, James!" you told him almost calmly, slipping out the door and slamming it shut behind you before you started sprinting down the hallway.

You reminded yourself to breathe as your bare feet padded softly against the cold cement floor, leaving a trail of sweat and panic in your wake. You had to get away from him for now and thought about some time on your own, which is when, unfortunately or fortunately for you, your ran into Cillian near the elevator

"Y/N?" Cillian looked thoughtfully at the sweaty, panicked woman rummaging through her bag. You had nothing with you other than your purse and were barefoot, giving Cillian enough reason to worry.

You didn't look away, your hands shaking, but you still didn't say a thing. He saw the red mark on your cheek and without hesitation, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer.

"What the hell is going on?" he questioned, but seeing the state you were in, he did not expect an answer right away.

His thumb gently traced the red mark on your cheek, a silent promise that you would not have to face this alone.

Your shoulders sagged, a wave of relief washing over you as you finally let your gaze wander up to meet his. "James can be impulsive sometimes," you admitted, your voice hushed and strained. The weight of the situation settling on your shoulders as you allowed yourself to be comforted by Cillian's presence.

"Let's go to my room and get some ice on this," Cillian said gently, the concern etched deep into his voice.

You nodded while wiping some tears away from your face before following him as he led you to his room, his hand resting firmly on your lower back, a gesture that instantly gave you a sense of security.

Once inside, he guided you to the bathroom and instructed you to take a seat on the edge of the bathtub. He then proceeded to fill a bowl with cold water, adding some ice to it.

"I am not going to lecture you, Y/N, but you need to tell Chris about this, alright?" he said with a stern look, but the warmth in his eyes leaving no room for doubt of the genuine care he had for you.

You looked away, feeling ashamed and embarrassed that it had come to this. But there was something about Cillian, that made you feel safe, protected. You felt yourself wanting to confide in him even more.

"I can't, Cillian! James's father is running Universal and I can't risk my job or my family's reputation." Your voice was barely above a whisper, as you looked at Cillian with uncertainty. 

Cillian frowned at your words, his expression stern and unreadable. "It's not right, Y/N. No one deserves to be treated that way," he told you while, at the same time, understanding your reluctance. 

You nodded slowly, feeling a rare moment of vulnerability as Cillian placed a cold washcloth on to your cheek. His touch was soothing and gentle, the coolness of the cloth seeping into your skin.

For a moment, there was silence between you two, and yet, it was a comfortable one.

The weight of what had happened pressing down on you, yet Cillian's presence was comforting.

"You deserve so much better Y/N," he said, breaking the silence between you two.

His words, sincere and heartfelt, caused the tears you had been holding back to spill over.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and saw the raw empathy in his blue eyes.

His hand, cold from the ice, came to rest on top of yours, and you felt a connection between you two growing stronger by the second.

Despite the chaos of the situation, you couldn't deny the spark that had been ignited between the two of you and when he leaned closer towards you, closing the distance between your faces, you let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding.

He gently brushed the hair away from your face, his eyes searching your own before his lips found yours. The kiss was soft, gentle, and warm, a contrast to the tension that had built up between you.

It felt like a release, a letting go of all the built-up emotions and fear, the feeling that for the first time in a long time, you weren't alone.

You didn't dare move, not wanting to break the spell that had been cast between the two of you, as you took in the scent of his cologne, a scent that had become inexplicably linked to him.

Cillian's hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb gently tracing your cheekbone with a tenderness that took your breath away. Your hearts synchronised as you breathed in unison, lost in this unexpected moment.

But all too soon, reality came crashing back down as you remembered that Cillian, too, was married, with children who adored him just as much as you adored yours. As much as you craved this moment, this was something you couldn't pursue further.

As such, you pulled away quickly and said "I am sorry. I can't. I need to go!" you exclaimed, your voice urgent as you pushed yourself up from the bathtub, ignoring the dampness that seeped into your clothes.

Cillian looked taken aback by your sudden outburst, but he quickly regained his composure, his expression becoming serious as he nodded, taking a step back to give you space.

"I understand," he said, his voice low and soothing as, abruptly, you took off, leaving his room in a hurry. 

To be continued...

Tags:

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[crepesuzette2023]

I know this is a broad question, but if you had to pick, what is the most angsty Mclennon fic you’ve read so far ? You have some amazing recommendations and I’m looking to hurt my own feelings lol

Hi st-john!

Thank you for the ask! This made me think about some of my angsty forever-faves in general, sorted from subtle to savage. (Under the cut.)

If you want to skip straight (do we use this word around here?!) to the fics I personally find the most angsty: they're at the bottom of this post. I also included some dark/angsty stories here, but I didn't want to repeat any recommendations.

Your ask helped me understand what it is I find the most angst-filled in mclennon, so thank you for that. I was surprised to see so many canon-adjacent stories on my list, and I think it shows that, to me, the most potent angst doesn't come from outside threat but from their minds, as evidenced by events that actually happened. The two of them being scared of (and turned on by) the big fat x they mark on their shared psychosexual map is one of the most attractive aspects of mclennon for me—followed by the two of them taking x for granted, and being permanently damaged once they realize they lost it forever. I also like stories that show their mutual resentment, even as they're into each other (sometimes literally). Anyway, under the cut are some of my favorite angsty fics in three handy categories:

1.) Carry That Weight/Love is Strange: Their relationship is deep and doomed and addictive. These stories are all set during the Beatle-years. I'M GONNA HAUNT YOU (sexysadie): 1968. John and Paul talk about women, but really, they talk about each other. A brief story about longing in the absence of hope. WALKING CLOSE AT HAND (harmonising): John and Paul as pair of broken mirrors, haunted by death in all things. Their love as beautiful magic-turned-curse. LET ME ROLL IT (@downtothe-lastdrop): The 1968 NYC Apple Launch Divorcemoon from Paul's POV. Lively and detailed, and drenched in what it must feel like to drown in unspoken words. I THINK OF THINGS WE DID (J_deandra_j): 1965. John and Paul fuck in Austria during the filming of Help! There is something intangibly upsetting about this story: anger and frustration; lust and sex with little room for softness—but it's so good and real and raw while it lasts. This one is impossible to forget! John POV. HOW YOU WERE DIVERTED (candle_beck): Paul handles John. This is about sex as one of the things that is "just them"—an urgent and rough emergency intervention. 2.) Tributes to the Canonical Breakup. To me, the break-up is an angst-filled nightmare. Not to mention the looming day of John's murder. I love stories that explore the break-up and its aftermath with compassion. And, as painful as it is, I especially love stories that make me feel that the love was there, always (even though it wasn't enough). THROW THE WINE (@savageandwise). This one is such a classic I imagine everyone must have read it, but I can't not mention it. It was one of the first fics I read—arrow through me, and such. The more painful it gets, the more it slows down. That takes courage. YOU'RE A DREAM LOVER (@dailyhowl). John and Paul share dreams and love each other in their dreams—gloriously so—but in the end, the dream is over. The most brutal aspect of this one is seeing Paul in the end, alone. I STILL MISS SOMEONE & CLOSE THE DOOR LIGHTLY WHEN YOU GO (RosalindBeatrice). Paul and John become lovers in the 70's, but their encounters are few and far between—and in the end, darkness falls. But there's also the mercy of honesty, tears, and, yes: sex. Beautifully melancholy story about the vast distance between bright stars. ONE NIGHT IN BANGKOK (@backbenttulips). Apologies to the writer in case my "angsty" reading of this one misses the mark! Above all, this is a hot hot hot story about John and Paul hooking up in Bangkok and fucking every which way, remembering the past and seizing the present. But it's also a story about a relationship that no longer exists: their musical partnership. They destroyed the one place where their love had a home. Now, faraway hotel rooms will have to do—and there are no goodbyes or plans for a next time. (I must repeat how hot this is though.)

3.) "A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day."—Except it's exactly this day. Deep pain and sadness: the break-up is final; no one was saved. [Writers mentioned here: this is meant as a compliment. All of these stories are so good. It's not for nothing that I was never able to forget some lines from these stories, even though I read them very early on.]

HEAR ME, MY LOVER by @savageandwise. (Unfinished, but feels finished.) At the time the Beatles break up, Paul attempts to kill himself. He lives, but much else is destroyed. No one is wrong or right—their love and fracturing cut all possible ways. I read this as a literal translation of what the loss of the band (and John) meant for Paul, for a while.

FOUR LAST SONGS by @celebratorypenguin. This AU (four parts) explores what would have happened to the Beatles if John hadn't been the one to die first. Sentences from this one still live in my brain. The story is both sweeping and deep, and covers the POV of all four Beatles. Its truly an alternate history of the band, and it's very sad. But so, so beautiful, too.

Bonus Materials: John and Paul never became John&Paul. Everyone comes at this differently, but to me, the idea of them meeting, and falling in love, and turning away from it, is as angst-filled as the worst of the the break-up. That's why I think these two are among the best, most courageous, but also most angst-filled, of all mclennon fics: ALL THE BOYS ARE SINGING LOVE SONGS. (@dailyhowl): Paul settles down with Dot and they start a family. He and John meet again, and the spark is still there, but after a night together, the fear of starting over is greater. This magnificently written story fucked me up, and I've yet to pick up the courage to read it a second time. To quote the writer: this is a story about "the angst of living in the prison of society-approved masculinity." Yes. "Happy ending seekers need not apply." That is fair. As a happy ending seeker, I comfort my tender shipper's heart with the exhilarating fact that the real John and Paul did, in fact, become lovers become famous with the Beatles and formed a close musical partnership. THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas). This is a story I mentioned in my overall favorites post, and it's not, strictly speaking, all angst (to quote the writer: "this is about being sad and middle-aged, but it's also about being so happy and middle-aged!") It's not even J/P: it's mostly Paul/George, and their relationship is beautiful and real. Still, as a reader I was aching for the other life that could have been, and that is woven through the events of this story with incredible artistry: the Beatles, which everyone misses without knowing why. The great love between John and Paul that ended when John chose someone else. This is the magic of RPF: reality is the shadow event included for free. (Unfinished, with have all four n on-Beatles POV's. So far: George and Ringo.)

[divinelydecreed-custommade]

He's got a girlfriend anyway

Hey my loves, I wrote this ages ago and now see it reads like a Matty Healy blurb😭 there aren't any names though so it's really just a silly little story about you & your pretty boy bestie and the "will they/won't they hookup" energy that surrounds your not so platonic relationship. also - you're both in the like 19-21ish age range if you care about that for the visual

content - cheating adjacent (you might feel like its full blown cheating depending your moral compass lmao - proceed with caution if you're not here to read about that), pining fallingforyou vibes

You end up in his lap in the backseat of your best friend's car. It's purely logistical. You're both small and openly affectionate and it just makes sense for you two to cuddle up in the corner to leave room for your friends with longer legs and broader shoulders - although you probably would've ended up in the same position even if the backseat were totally empty.

You've been mistaken as his partner and he yours more times can either of you care to count. It might be because his fingers are always laced through yours when you're walking through town, or because your legs tend to find themselves draped over his when you inevitably sit next him on the sofa. Just about an hour ago your new drunk bathroom soulmate was saying how jealous she was because her boyfriend never wants to dance with her like yours was all night. You laugh it off with a "yeah, I love him!" Because you do. In a platonic way. Of course. Since he's got a girlfriend anyway. She's new and you like her well enough, but she couldn't come tonight and old habits die hard. So now your back is against the car door and your right side is against his chest. His left arm is wrapped around your waist and his other hand is resting on your leg, keeping you steady as your friend takes sharp turns on the drive back.

You're both tired after a night of drinking and dancing and one of your hands is lazily playing with his curls while the other is tracing the fingers resting on your thigh. He's gently dragging his blunt nails down your back and everything feels nice, and easy, and comfortable. You could easily fall asleep surrounded by the scent of smoke and cologne clinging to his clothes and skin with the quiet music playing from the stereo. He shifts a little beneath you and you end up tugging his hair a little harder than you meant to. You whisper an apology in his ear but he just laughs softly as he continues to lean forward.

At first you think it unintentional - the way his lips just barely brush your neck - but that thought quickly leaves your head as he trails kisses down to your collarbone. You're still combing your fingers through his hair and pull at it again as you feel his teeth grazing the base of your throat much too lightly to leave a mark. You turn closer so you're almost chest to chest in the confines of the backseat and feel his lips curve into a smile against you. You trace your fingers down his shoulder to rest above his racing heart, satisfied that he seems as effected as you.

He's getting bolder, easing his hands under the hem of your top running across your bare back and ribs as the car comes to a stop at its first destination. You move to open the door once you realize you've made it to his already and hop out first, allowing him to follow behind you. You stand on tiptoes to hug him goodbye for the evening as his housemates head for the door, expecting him to say sleep well, or see you soon, or anything but what he actually says:

"Y'wanna come up?"

It shouldn't shock you as much as it does. You pull back enough to look at him with a furrowed brow, giving him the opportunity to say he was messing and take it back but he doesn't.

"I don't think Connie would appreciate that, love."

"Shit - I didn't mean to - sorry..fuck." He trails off.

"Forget it, just go to sleep, yeah? We'll talk in the morning if you want."

He quickly nods, "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

You squeeze his hand and press a kiss to his forehead before you leave and get back into the car. Now that the front seat is unoccupied, you slide in next to your best friend who simply says "The fuck was that?"

You wish you knew, but you just shake your head and press your fingers to your temples, looking down at your lap. "I dunno - he's drunk."

"Mm, maybe." She says, sounding wholly unconvinced. "He's always been so into you though."

"Yeah, well. Apparently not that into me." You say it and look over to her with a wry smirk that you hope ends this line of questioning.

It does - the next thing she asks if you wanna get fries on the way back to your shared apartment. Now that is a question to which you will always know the answer.

this is my first time sharing any writing on this acct - feel free to engage if you like ❤️

[suguru-getos]

//fractures// geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 3

links 🔗: part one // part two

story summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through. the affection you’re forcing him through…

chapter summary: after getting a fever from the injury, geto calls shoko to treat you — however, he ends up being conflicted and bruising your psyche again with his words & actions. you, (sorta?) fight back this time though.

warnings: signs of abu$e, heavy degradation, mean mean mean MEAN geto, reader also gets mean by the end of it. fluff if you squint-,-

a/n: i'm just writing off this chapter for my funsies :3 but please it is such a 'dead dove do not eat' story so i'd suggest people PLEASE read it after heeding through the warnings ;) also, not beta’d 🤺✨

"its 100 degrees." manami sighs, taking the thermometer out of your mouth. a soft pout on your lips, "then do something to get rid of it, where is the anti-fever medication?" suguru raised a brow. after having your hand carved, it was obvious you would get a high fever. it was too much toll on your body. ever so evident anyway. "and some painkillers." you added, frankly you were still sweating in pain, it hurt. everywhere hurts. "the doctor will be here soon." suguru huffs, looking at manami dismissively, he can't really show that his heart is breaking apart for a good for nothing monkey after all. manami leaves with an eye roll. she felt conflicted too, geto's feelings were enabling everyone to think a little about their actions.

soon, shoko was here to heal you. she glanced at your form, you were beaten and bruised. eyes mingling with suguru, "she is a non-sorcerer." she commented, and raised a brow. "geto, I am surprised she is alive here" she hums, no expression on her face whatsoever. suguru doesn't respond, and neither do you. it did not help at all that she was amazed at something like that. after a second or two, you hummed, "cus he wouldn't get the money from my parents."

suguru's eyes widen, it- is it? is it the money that's making him act this way? no, money is never above his moral compass. the whole reason you're so tattered is because money doesn't matter. his resolve is just being tested, that's all. "shoko, don't heal her." suguru's jaw twitches, he doesn't want to do this but seems like he has to. "I want her worthless self to remember who she is even after she leaves, I want that shit to scar." he crosses his arms, looking at you with predominant hatred.

your heart sinks, you hadn't even thought about how it would feel… to see the grotesque mark looking in your hand for the rest of your life. monster, geto suguru is a monster.

tears well up in your eyes, shaking your head no rapidly. "please don't- please s' hurting too much-" you begged, hands reflexively gripping at his gojo-gesa. "no- no- g-geto? geto- sama" you answered again, while suguru notices how your body shivers in pain and drenched in sweat. "did I say you could touch me? you piece of shit?" a snarl echoed through the room, geto's hand raised to hit you but stopping, you were cowering, all small and flinching. just like his girls. hot and cold, his behavior has been hot and cold. one moment he was hugging you to calm you down, now, he's ordering shoko to let you suffer in pain. "if you touch me again, you filthy monkey, I will make sure to break every bone in your body and leave you handicapped in the basement to rot and starve." his jaw clenched, while you couldn't do anything but listen. you don't want to die anyway. "I'm sorry." you mumbled, heartbroken. six more days with him. your broken voice shoves him back into his senses, he is trying so hard to ensure that it doesn't happen - that he doesn't feel like killing himself, so he is uttering shit, whatever helps to balm his own brimming rebellion against his own thoughts. your eyes are still kind, its just the way they are, you still can't look at him with anything except a silent plea for mercy.

"I think I should heal her, else she would die of an infection." she holds your wrist, a drastic change in your body immediately felt when she began to heal you. your internal injuries, popped lip, the carving, the cumulative blinding pain of it all fading away into nothing. geto only stands still, watching the way your creased brows turn softer, how your pained face turns neutral.

"thank you." you mumbled at shoko, and she smiles. "I don't know why he's got you kidnapped like some third grade movie's villain, but we have another certain someone who can save you perhaps." suguru raises a brow at shoko, the audacity was impressive. she leans back, watching the glimmer of hope in your face. her hand lands onto geto's shoulder, squeezing it firmly. "she's a human, didn't you say picking on the weak was not a good thing geto?" suguru rolls his eyes, gently pushing her away. "leave." he commands instantly, while shoko smiles at you, "see you, ne? y/n san!"

you were curious, who was this other person that she could send to help? then again, you're not sure if anyone could help you against this monster in front of you. suguru sighs, the way he speaks to you torments him more than it could ever torment you. which in-turn, makes him try harder to reach a state where he DOES NOT, feel this pathetic after abusing you. so? he mumbles again. "I wonder if you worked like a stripper mm?" you blinked, unsure where this was coming from. no, you weren't a stripper. you waited for him to continue whatever he meant to say. "I mean you certainly look the part, perky boobs, are they fake or real?" your face pales, so far geto has harmed you but nothing was remotely sexual, this turn makes you want to throw up. the expression of sheer panic on your face isn't gone unnoticed by him. he wants to stop, he wants to make sure he never says something like this ever again. then again, he just needs to 'kill' this kind, and caring part of him anyway. "maybe next time I can carve your insides up with the knife, leave you bleeding if you ever try to touch me again. since you want me so bad anyway?" you shake your head no, like a forced obedient pup in training. he was horrifying, absolutely fucking disgusting and every part of you wished he was dead.

to suguru… though, these were all just words. maybe now you will stop looking at him with hidden expectations that he would be kinder, nicer. more tolerable… you don't deserve that, monkeys don't deserve that!

"you will get your lunch and dinner here, don't move or I will chain you with your hands tied up and let my girls practise boxing on your pathetic rag of a body." christ, he was fucking insane. your mouth couldn't help it-

"you utter so much shit just because you're capable of killing me? maybe you're a frustrated eunuch, clearly looks from that disgusting, vomit inducing face. I hope you're killed like the dog that you are, impaled on something sharp since that's all you could ever think of, bastard." you widened your eyes after these words left your mouth. dead. you are to be dead.

suguru is stunned. "this is what happens when pets like you aren't trained well. as soon as the pain is gone, your mouth is on again hmm?" he's amused, you clearly can't do anything to him. still… your words… hurt. why do they fucking hurt? are you important to him? certainly not-

"mutts sleep on the floor." he yanks you outside the bed, throwing you on the marble floor and leaving.

six more days… and he will have you gone.

six more days, and you will never see the fucking bastard.

[sablegear0]

Metroid Series Suit Aesthetic Compass

Trawling through my archive and found this post along with a comment from @nachozmusic so I had to go do it. Please enjoy an aesthetic compass of Samus's suits from "Guy-Creature", and "Chunky-Smooth"

Feel free to make your own version of this, I've hosted the .clip file here on GoogleDrive.

Some observations/comments under the cut

-Zero Suit included for sake of completeness, and judged on aesthetic only. I believe Samus herself is very creaturey, but it's more of a personality thing so it doesn't count. Given the resemblance of the Zero Suit to Chozo body markings, I could be persuaded it is more creaturey.

-As it turns out most designs fall into the "Chunky Guy" quadrant, to nobody's surprise.

-Re: the Fusion suits; I think the colour palette influences the creatureyness, so I have sorted them accordingly.

-Re: the Dread suits; as above, the colour palette influences the creatureyness, but also the changes in the shoulders influence the chunkiness.

-Re: the Prime suits; as above with the colour palettes, I think the the Gravity suit is slightly more "Guy" than the Varia, and the Phazon suit more "Creature", but both not by much. I tried not to overlap them too much so the chart was more readable.

-I consider the "retro"/2D versions of the Power and Gravity suits distinct variations, mainly because of difference in art style makes them more distinct than any 2D Varia.

-The Light Suit reads both very Creature and very Guy depending on what parts you're looking at (very sleek and minimal, but resembles a Luminoth), so it sits in the middle.

-The Dark Suit got pushed around a lot as I worked on that quadrant; each time I added a design I had to readjust where it was relative to the others. I think where it sits now is about right.

-SR Varia is the Chunkiest Guy, hands down. Metroid suit is an exceptionally Chunky Creature.

[writing-by-mimi]

GN:MC! Un-sheeps Hc

Fandom: Obey Me!

Characters: Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos.

      Summary:   In the Obey Me! Manga, Mc is a cute little sheep. (For real, if you haven't seen it, look at it. The team that put it together made Mc cute as fuck.) So what would our lovely, most eligible, Devildom men think when part of the magic oppressing Mc finally fades, but still leaves them far from normal? Humans don't have a cute little fluffy tail and a perfect set of fluffy ears...

         Adult content. Read at your own risk. Not beta read. 

     💜Belphegor💜

• It's wrong on a lot of levels. He knows this, but he can't help himself. Somehow you had a big enough heart for  forgiveness..let alone treat him just like everyone else after what he did to you? You'll never know how greatful he is that you gave him another chance. He didn't even realizes he was happy about it until months later.

• He knows your human, for a split second after he killed you, he had thought he saw you, but it was probably just his mind playing tricks.

• While being small, warm and fuzzy, you made a perfect cuddle buddy. Plus you were small and fit in his arms. So he could just scoop you up and take you for a nap when he pleased. A luxury you allowed without much fuss.

• While you sleep, on the nights he wakes up, or even the afternoons, he stares down at you. He almost took you from this world. It's ridiculous, he knows it is - to love you so completely. It was probably a feeling he'd never see returned.

• It's okay though. The fact he can even just cuddle you will work for now. He'll make it work for the rest of your days, as not to make it awkward. He owes you that.

• Opening his eyes, he almost throws the body next to him out of his bed on instinct. Upon closer inspection, he recognizes the body. It's you. Exactly as he recalled, so maybe he really had seen your true form that night.

• You're gorgeous like this. Face relaxed, snuggled into his chest as the perfect little spoon, breathing softly. His lips form a smirk as he sees your pact with him.

• You have a tail. Just above it rest his mark on you.

• He watches it twitch as his fingers slowly trace the fluff. It's just as soft as you had been before. In your bed head of hair, he thinks he sees ears too.

• Messing with your tail makes you shift. You turn to face him and snuggle in under his chin. His arms act on their own as he moves to hold you. Pulling the blanket up over you and himself, he watches you until he falls asleep again, over taken by his sin.

• He wakes up and hears sniffling, small, almost silent sobs from his arms. Your crying. Did he scare you? Hold you too tight? He immediately panics. Last time you were in his arms crying...he pushes the thought from his mind.

• His slender fingers reach out and wipe your tears. "If I hurt you, I'm sorry."

• You sob a bit louder and pull away quickly, taking the blanket with you.

• "I'm sorry. I know you hate humans..."

• Before he can stop himself, he presses his warm lips softly against your forehead. "That was a long time ago." "Are you sure I don't bother you?"

• He sighs, your the one naked in bed with the man that killed you, he is the one that should spew apologies...

• He captures your lips, making you gasp. He slowly pulls away, small flush crawling up his neck. He turns his face away and pulls you closer to him. "Your perfect in any form. I'm just an idiot." He pet's your hair as he slowly drifts asleep again. Damn his sin.

• When he wakes again, your gone.

• He berates himself internally. He shouldn't have kissed you. He messed everything up, even after you had shown him so much compassion.

• His door opens and he sits up quickly and pulls his pillow over his crotch. Small shorts with fur on the ends...a matching tank top. "I'm sorry I left... I got cold. Turns out I got very accustomed to being warm...c-could we snuggle some more?"

• Fuck.

• Fuck fuck fuck.

• If he cuddles you now, you'll feel his erection...but if he tells  you no, it's rejection...you'll think being human bothers him. He watches as your ears twitch and you look to the ground. He quickly pulls the blanket back, he can just be sure to wrap you in enough blanket you don't feel anything.

• You give a small smile and tread towards him, and he feels his heart beat increase. You snuggle in and he helps tuck you in, he still embraces you, but it's loose. "I don't wanna squeeze you too hard..." it falls out of him before he can even think. "It's okay if you do." Your neck is flushed and you moved back into him quickly. He can't shift. His erection is against your ass, and there is no way you don't feel it...

• You lay still, but just for a moment. It doesn't take long for him to realize that the excuse of you trying to get comfortable in a new body is bullshit.

• He holds back a groan as you wiggle your ass with more excuses, and he's reached his limit already. Your beautiful, so close and warm and smell wonderful. His cock throbs as he pulls you closer and he can't help but hiss.

• What surprises him is that a low moan leaves you when he does. He knew it. Your turned on, just as much as him.

• The harmless dry humping and moans stays as innocent as the activity can until he can stand it no longer. His lips latch onto your neck and the shiver accompanied by your moan makes his cock begin to weep with precum.

• He slides his pants down, cock springing free as his fingers slowly trace your hips. Your body moving against him more is all he needs to pull your shorts down.

• Perhaps it should have stopped there, but it didn't. His cock is long enough and his thrust precise enough to enter you, and you never even have to move.

• The slow, shallow exploration of your wet hole coated in his precum has him close to cumming already. His hips slowly thrust all the way into you and your hand reaches back to card through his hair in encouragement as his deep thrust rock you.

• The sex is slow, hard and hot. Bodies sticking to his sheets where no cloth covers. He is so close still, and he hasn't made you cum yet. He's held you so close for so long.

• Rolling you into your stomach he mounts you and slowly slides his cock back into you. Hands on your hips as he fucks you with every bit of stamina his body has left, grinding your body roughly against his mattress. Your body shakes under him, cries muffled by the bed, your used little hole gripping him so tightly he can't help but cum inside of you.

• With the last bit of his energy, he rolls you on top of him, his cock still buried inside of you. "Sleep."

• Waking again, you're still there. His cock had slid out of you and his cum mixed with your body fluids has seeped out of you and down your thighs.

• He would need to remember to formally ask you out when you woke.

     💋Diavolo💋

• This Prince is in over his head. A small sheep who was supposed to be his human exchange student had him absolutely ruined.

• He fucking loved animals, the fact you were so cute...it wasn't fair! He knows you aren't truly a sheep...but you have the body of a miniature one and he can't help but think you adorable. The fact that you aren't after a title, and just want to be his friend is what started his crush. He knew it was odd...but it was what was inside of you that mattered to him. He had dated plenty of attractive people in his lifetime, but when they don't actually care as much as you do...it ends in misery.

• You weren't like that though. Not seeking to get ahead, but just to know how he was at random times of the day. Asking if he ate, got enough sleep...sweet things that someone who genuinely cared did.

• It sent this man over the moon and back. Before he knows it, he is texting you with his random time. Barbatos and Lucifer can't reprimand him for this, he is simply checking on his exchange student! Building relations, and overcoming thousands years of prejudice! See, Barb, he has to send this sticker this very moment. Lucifer just scowls, but let's him continue on.

• It's nice, having a friend that likes to text him back and just talk about things. Once people find out who he is, they treat him differently...but you don't. You see the man that he is, a demon with a goal and have embraced it. You text him random human world facts, and he does the same with the Devildom.

• You were coming over for dinner tonight. He could feel his heart beat in his chest. Wild with excitement about his adorable exchange student aka, his best friend who wasn't a demon, coming over.

• Dinner had gone great, as expected you had moved to the garden for dessert and to continue talking. Last time you had come over for dinner, you ended up staying the night because you two had talked almost all night.

• Midway through dessert, you suddenly stop mid sentence and let out a small whine. It's all that it takes for him to be up and by your side.

• A mere moment passes and instead of catching a small adorable sheep, his exchange student, a humanoid figure is in his arms.

• "Dia, I feel sick..." Your big beautiful eyes look up to him and he's pink. He can feel it. Your naked body in his arms. You pass out against his chest and for a moment he freezes. Stunned. Your absolutely beautiful.

• Getting you inside to a bed, (he chose his bed, where else would you be? He needs to keep and eye on you...) He covers you quickly, as to try and save your modesty, he even gets one of his shirts for you to wear when you wake.

• Staying by your side if you should need something, he sees your fluffy ears and he blushes. You hadn't completely attuned to his realm, but most of you had.

• Your ears were too cute. So when you roll over and the blanket moves to reveal part of your butt, he tries to look away...but he sees it! An adorable fluffy tail. You're just too damn cute. He is to be a demon king, to be brought so much emotion by such a simple thing...

• Emotion was not a strong enough word. You had his cock harder than a succubus could ever manage... and he had just seen a small part of your butt.

• When you wake, he is the perfect gentleman. Averting his eyes and holding out his shirt for you. Then you make a statemen that starts it all...

• "D-dia...I can't button the shirt...my fingers are really stiff." Your face is so flushed, he is sure you could cook an egg on it. He nods and tries to act as if he isn't screaming inside. But he is.

• The gentle touch of his warm fingers ghosting over your chest make you moan as you turn your head away.

• It's all downhill from there. His hands are on you, rough, needy for physical attention. Touch starved and erect he whispers how cute he finds your new form as he places kisses randomly all over your body. Thoughts if pulling your tail while he fucks you from behind fill his mind and he is lost.

• "Do you want this?" It's the only words he can growl out as he lifts his shirt up your thighs. Your answer sends him into almost a feral state. The shirt is gone in what seems like a second, shredded on the bed around you.

• The pure attraction between both of you being realized as each of you seem to become more needy until the prince roughly picks you up to sit on his lap, easing you down onto his erect cock. He loves the feel of your skin in his hands and he holds random parts of you as your own hands hold his shoulders for balance.

• Your bouncing so well darling, if you were to stop now he would surely meet insanity.

• You had cum, and he needed to. He could wait no longer. He picks you up again and throws you onto your stomach, large hands gripping your hips and pulling your ass up as he slides his cock back into. His thrust are wild and unhinged and he even pulls your tail.

• The fact you squeal in such delight from his rough touches pushes him over the edge.

• He fucks you until he is sure there is nothing left in his ballsack. Completely spent and filling you so deep...your soft skin against his as you snuggle against him makes his heart warm.

• Expect this man to go over the top to ask you out. He's smitten, and after feeling you so deep inside...he wants that forever.

     💫Barbatos💫

• This man has liked you for ages, but you'd never be able to know. His stoic face, much like Beels, never gives away anything. Unlike the Sixth born, Barbatos also has control over his eyes. You won't find emotion or his thoughts in them. It's practiced diplomacy, which is need when one holds such an important spot beside the next King.

• Barbatos often wonders what a timeline with you as a lover would be like. Tempted to look, but knows no good will come of it. So instead, he settles himself with small moments. Your smile as he escorts you around. Your gentle hellos and flushing features when he enters the room. He knows of your crush, even the hardest poker face is easy to read for him.

• He has seen your picture in the file Lucifer chose. You're very beautiful and your eyes hold a shine that almost seems blinding, even in a photograph. He bets they are even better up close and personal.

• For now though, your small sheep body gives him excuses for your presence. You're just big enough to fit where the staff can't reach, and you can set any rats you find ablaze in an instant.

• Once he watched you shimmy into a crevice behind a book shelf, you tossed out four burnt rat corpses and the look of pride on your small features as you told him they would never bother him again... well, you sealed your own fate as far as his black little heart was concerned.

• So when you come over for monthly rat extermination, he gives you a small gift. As to match the staff, and himself, the tiny uniform just serves to make you look cute. He even had to shoo away the young master you looked so adorable.

• When he hears your scream and the bookcase jolts violently while you are killing rats, he panics. You'll never see it on his face, but inside, he is nothing but a ball of worry.

• He sees a human arm slap the ground roughly from behind the bookcase and watches as a figure pulls itself free.

• He recognizes you right away, but his eyes are drawn to more...exposed parts of your body...mainly, how the apron/shirt that had been gifted to you covered almost nothing in this form. Atleast, not the parts that counted. The back of the apron is caught on what looks to be a tail. Your chest is exposed and your sex is so dangerously close to being exposed too.

• The dust and dirt, even spider webs that cling to your body can't make you look unappealing. Even struggling to use your limbs for the first time in years, akward and stiff, it holds an aire of grace.

• Barbatos is a gentlemen. He helps you up and ask if you are ok. Your stunned voice asking if this was real, actually happening, drawing a smile from him as he assures you that it is, indeed, real. He can hardly hide his chuckle as you throw yourself behind the bookcase once more to shield yourself.

• "My, my, Mc. Perhaps we clean you up. I am well skilled in getting grime off of priceless pieces of art." He can't see you, but he knows your freaking out behind the bookcase.

• "Well everyone will see me...not just you..." you peak from your hiding spot.

• "Not if they desire their eyes to remain in their heads." His tone is gentle, sweet, as he slowly grabs your hand to lead you out of hiding.

• His hands slowly trace down your body, removing cobwebs and bigger particles of dust and dirt. "Even covered in filth, you are still so radiant." A warm kiss is placed to your lips and it is almost an overload for your newly acquired form. Even before being transformed when entering the Devildom, you hadn't felt anything like this.

• You aren't sure how you got there, all you do know is that your in the bath with him, hands roaming over your body as he softly washes you while placing kisses all over your skin. "If you wish to go farther, I would request you become my partner." His lips trail up your neck as a moan escapes you.

• "F-forever?" You question as his hands continue to trial your sides, tail slowly stroking up and down your thighs.

• "Always."

• That's all you need to hear as you move to place a gentle kiss on his cheek rubbing yourself against him, needy for the attention.

• His tail moves up your thighs at a truly maddening pace, treating you delicately as he wraps it around your waist and snakes the ends of his tail to your sex. Your gasp and whimpers on spur him to move the appendage in a hypnotic rhythm you can't help but become a slave to. Begging for more contact as he takes his time with you.

• "I love you." Your words are airy, lost in bliss and he too cannot catch his breath as he answers. "I will love you until time stands still."

• You're so desperate and needy, denying you and himself would be a terrible tragedy, there will be time for soft and slow, but even he cannot resist any longer. Between his tail and his arms, he takes you to his bed. Your wet bodies now making such sinful noises as your flesh slams together. Strong rough thrust bringing your end about quickly. Your tightening core teasing his cock as your walls clench so harshly against him, it's only a matter of moments before he follows you and cums inside of you, only stopping once his cock has stopped spilling his seed deep inside of your core.

[qawcamiz]

"What if somebody sees us?"

NSFW : The argument was the first thing halting you, but After not seeing each other for a long time, Al Haitham surprisingly manages to calm your 'nerves.'

warnings: violence, strong language, sexual content, (dominance, degrading, praise, riding, penetration, semi-public sex, academic rival, etc.)

notes: I was planning to leave this on scrap but since I love u guys 😍😘🙌

"Oh hey~ If it isn't the 2nd place!"

"How does it feel to have your title taken by the new student?"

'At least I have the knowledge to be placed 2nd unlike you peasants.' Was what you wanted to say, but you're more mature than that, well maybe.

—

"98/100? Are you making a fool out of me?!" You whisper and shout as you crumpled your test paper in your hand, tears streaming down your cheeks.

As for others, "but y/n! that's too much already! I can't even get 70! you should be proud of yourself for reaching 90 above average!" Was what they always say, but they just never really understood the consequences, do they?

This is between you and your dad, who's been getting harsher with each passing day, you had hoped at least he'd let you get another mark lower to pass, but instead now here he is yelling at you because "it's for your future!" As if your current grades didn't help,

they only worsened every passing second, making them even harder on you. "What's gotten into you lately?! Why can't you get full marks!" He said. "you're such a failure!" You were sobbing, you couldn't stop yourself.

—

"Eh Really? The new student got a full mark this semester? Lucky... I can't even keep up with my class anymore..." The girl said with sympathy. "Mhm! Not just that! I also heard he will be the top 1 for this year!" Said the other girls in excitement, but not like they were talking about someone else's schoolwork.

"Huh? So it's not y/n anymore? Looks like she got someone to replace her. Maybe next year we'll see who gets the position after all..." She continued, oblivious to how you felt about all this. You hated this. This was not your fault! How could she act so carefree? Did she even care about other people's feelings? Was there even any compassion within her body or mind?

You knew who they were talking about, It's Al Haitham, 'Why is he even here?'

Your thoughts were interrupted when they turned towards the door, "oh look! It's him! Let's go say hi!" They cheered as they gathered around him. You couldn't hear anything clearly from the distance, but what you did hear was enough to make you want to punch something.

You sat up from your seat and made your way out of the classroom with clenched fists. You would not cry again. You had no time for it.

You weren't going to cry ever again, especially not over some stupid loser. you opened the art room and walked to your usual spot, but instead of sitting down in your usual spot, you went straight to one of the tables near a corner, where no one would notice you at first glance, and started playing games, you needed to preoccupy yourself,

'game over'

You sighed and put away your phone. you heard your stomach growl, making you realize you hadn't eaten yet today. Now you felt bad for not taking a break earlier.

Abruptly, A sandwich is being offered to you, You looked up to see Al Haitham standing in front of you, offering his food once more. You rolled your eyes. "I'm not hungry", you said quietly, trying to ignore the fact that you did start to grow hungry. Al Haitham scoffed at your lack of manners, "Don't let our past affect your starving present." You rolled your eyes once again as you accepted the food and ate it slowly,

He sat beside you as your shoulders brushed lightly with each other, you tried not to flinch but still felt your skin prickle at his presence. "So," he began, avoiding eye contact, "Why are you here? Didn't we agree not to talk to each other anymore?" You asked, voice slightly raising, feeling defensive.

"You were the only one who came to terms with that, (y/n)." He said coldly as he continued to eat, "I guess you've decided to forget everything that happened between us and move on with your life. Good for you, I suppose." You were shocked, "That's not..." You protested weakly, knowing fully well that it was only a matter of time until you gave in.

"—Then what is the real reason that you ran away, (y/n)? Do tell."  Al Haitham asked as he stared directly into your eyes, You froze for an instant before you remembered why exactly you left, "It's none of your business!" Your tone raised a little more. "Is your father still pressuring you to get the scholarship?" He asked, ignoring your last statement completely. You glared at him,

"Why do you care?! If it wasn't for you, none of this would even happen! I could've pulled that first place! Don't come lecturing me about how my father is just being a dickhead, you're the one that made things worse in the first place!" You shouted, getting angrier by the minute, you were losing control over your temper and you didn't know why,

What you weren't expecting was for Al Haitham to grab your hands and pull you into a warm embrace, you tensed up but relaxed as he held onto you tightly, you could feel your face becoming redder and hotter as you realized what was happening. 'this bitch...'

"If it wasn't for your father... We would be still together, right now. And you know that." He said, voice hushed, causing you to finally relax and bury your face in his chest, "I thought If I answered the last number incorrectly, you'll get the 1st place, and then the two of us can continue on our life." Al Haitham whispered into your ear, giving you goosebumps.

"Bastard... That's easy for you to say because you can easily take the spot without even trying but What about me?" You said back angrily, trying to break free from his hold, you knew you wouldn't win a fight against him anyway, so you might as well give in to this situation.

"Y/N do you realize that you're just turning yourself into what your father wants you to become?" Al Haitham whispered into your ears, "Even if I took that spot, you know nothing would change. I wouldn't care about that scholarship, and neither would you. Even if you did what your father told you, does it ever please you? Is it worth the amount of effort you put in? The hours you had to devote to your studies? I think not, (y/n). he's just driving your happiness away." his words seem to melt your anger and frustration away, leaving only guilt and sadness behind, but also a relief because maybe you can finally understand where he comes from,

"I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted that way..." You said as you wrapped your arms around Al Haitham tight, You couldn't believe that you'd wasted so much energy trying to push away people who cared about you. "Are you alright now?" He asked, his voice filled with concern. You just nodded as you buried your face deeper in his chest, "I missed you, 'Haitham." You muttered softly into his chest as his grip on you tightened ever so slightly,

"We both do," He lifted your head slightly and leaned to give you a kiss which you gladly returned, His lips were soft, and although yours felt dry and chapped due to all the lamentation, he seemed to appreciate it because he kept kissing you. The warm kiss turned into an agitated makeout session. Your hand slowly moved upwards along with his shirt buttons,

He eventually moved his lips to your cheek and then your jawline and neck. His fingers found their way up your uniform under the collar of your jacket and started unbuttoning it, causing you to squirm in response.

he chuckled in amusement as he kissed your collarbone and slowly began working his way down to your cleavage, to his surprise, you suddenly pushed him to the bench and straddled him before he even knew what hit him.

As you grabbed his shirt collar, he removed the last button of your blouse, and as he trailed light kisses up your chest, you began undressing his top, leaving him shirtless, your hands roaming across his torso, "Fuck... are we seriously going to do it here? What if somebody sees us?" he said breathlessly as your fingers found their way between his legs.

"You're seriously concerned about that, Doesn't it make things more exciting? What will the students think when they see their heartthrob beneath me?" You smirked before grabbing Al Haitham's hips and pulling him closer, causing him to moan lowly, "You're getting a kick out of this aren't you?" He whispered as he slipped his hands into your skirt, massaging the already sensitive area as you bucked your hips down and bit your lip.

"Let's do this quick, Show me how much you missed me.” He said confidently and quickly pulled down your underwear, exposing your wet cunt. Al Haitham smiled triumphantly when he saw how turned on you were by the whole situation, he positioned himself between your legs as he slowly lowered himself inside you and ground his hips against yours in slow movements.

You started to leap on his cock, your eyes squeezed shut as your moans grew louder and louder while al Haitham looked at you with pure passion in his eyes. He reached his arms out, wanting to cup your ass as he watch you ride his cock in rhythm.

Your thrusts became faster and quicker, "Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere." he said teasingly. Your eyes remained closed as you were riding him furiously, feeling him fill you up with his length. You could feel the tips of your hair being tugged at causing you to moan softly, he smiled against your skin before pulling you closer to him, and you could feel the heat from his body radiating off his body and into yours, Your nails dug into his back, your fingernails digging deep enough that you were sure they would leave bruises.

"'H-Haitham... I'm cumming!" He grunted loudly as you rode him relentlessly, both of you moaning as pleasure filled you to the brim, Your orgasm hit like lightning, making you lose all control of your hips and thighs, causing you to cry out in delight as you came with waves of pleasure, Al Haitham grunting as he felt you clenched around him, his thrusts becoming rough and hard as he came undone.

After your orgasms, you lay limply on Al Haitham's lap, breathing heavily as you enjoyed every second of your release,

"Wanna continue this at home?"

[magpigment]

might i propose

gillion tidestrider as avatar of the vast (struck by lightning just SO many times, correlation w both sea and sky (sun and moon goddess affiliation), religious trauma, fixation on deities beyond comprehension such as the leviathans, etc)

chip as avatar of the desolation (fire powers/motif, lost everything he’s ever loved over and over again, is haunted by the horrors he’s seen, burned someone’s house down after breaking his moral compass and fleeing the scene, etc)

jay as avatar of the hunt (observant feat, is a ranger, hunters mark, obsessed with finding the ones who killed her sister and making them pay, is usually the one who finds lost things or hidden enemies, etc)

i am open to interpretation and other thoughts but i just thought of this and lost my mind, some other entities might fit better for some of them (the eye for jay, the darkness for chip, the buried for gillion, etc) but off the top of my head the ones listed above work best ^^

[blouisparadise]

Hello, I think I’m gonna asked you a bit of big favour, could you like point out which one of 50 most popular Larry fics are BL 🥹

https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/728833042843631616/the-50-most-popular-larry-fics-of-2021

Here you go:

tennis court by outropeace

Lunar Waltz by outropeace

fake it till you make it by falsegoodnight

picking up the pieces by falsegoodnight

don’t want no other shade of blue by padfootyoudog

Love, Ever After by jacaranda_bloom

In A Twinkling by jacaranda_bloom

Secret’s Safe With Me by alltheselights

Short and Sweet by 5ft9

no good unless it’s real by fackinglouis

lead me to paradise by falsegoodnight

feeling borrowed, always blue by falsegoodnight

voicemail sings a wreck by falsegoodnight

sometimes a fantasy by thepolourryexpress

In The Still Of The Night by jacaranda_bloom

Player by jacaranda_bloom 

Blind Faith by 2tiedships2

Sedative Duty. by daddyharrie 

Marks On My Baby by thinlines

kiss and tell (me a lie) by falsegoodnight

dancing in the moonlight by outropeace

if the sun don’t shine by falsegoodnight

No Easy Choice, But You’re Mine by alltheselights

somebody to love by dilfrry

Hint: I want to be yours by bluegreenish

Maybe You’ll Like the Way I Am by lululawrence

The Longer the Waiting the Sweeter the Kiss (It’s Better My Darlin’ I Promise You This) by GuiltyPleasureIsMyPleasure

A Hungry Heart by jacaranda_bloom

where they glow by falsegoodnight

tangled up and blue by thepolourryexpress

yesterday came suddenly by falsegoodnight

Thrown To The Wolves by smittenwithlouis

Wild Hearts Run Free by jacaranda_bloom

happier, prettier by outropeace

Violent Delights by ohpleaselarry 

Flash Back to Me by akatomlinson 

Compass to my Soul by LadyLondonderry 

Too Young To Know by 2tiedships2        

Not that we're counting, but 38 of the top 50 fics from 2021 were BL or omega Louis without smut (all of which we included above). 😌❤️

[queenshelby]

The Babysitter (Part 5)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Babysitter/School Student (18)

Later that night, when you arrived at your house just before nine as promised, you went straight to the bathroom. You undressed, staring at yourself in the mirror, tracing your fingers over the red, raw marks on your hips, your ass, your neck.

You thought about the way he'd made you beg, the way his hand had tightened around your throat as he came, filling you with his hot, sticky load the third time you fucked that same evening. 

You felt a sense of shame wash over you, but also a secret thrill at the thought of what you had let him do to you.

As you washed yourself, you couldn't help but remember how you had felt when he first propositioned you with that sickening offer. How wrestling with your conscience had only heightened your attraction to him and now he even wanted you to spend an entire weekend with him for a whopping $1,000.

There was just one catch, though. You would be joining him an his family on a getaway to Killarney under the disguise to babysit their children during the day.

Then, after his wife would go to bed, he would sneak into your room for a whole other type of playtime.

It was a sick, twisted idea, and yet you couldn't help but feel drawn to it.

You weren't sure if it was the money, the thrill, or the forbidden nature of it all that so tantalized you.

You were caught between your moral compass and the promise of the kind of pleasure you never thought possible.

The thought of spending an entire weekend with Cillian, playing his little secret game, was both terrifying and irresistible. You couldn't deny the way your body responded to him, the way your heart raced every time he came near you. You wanted him, more than you ever wanted anything before. And so you agreed.

When you arrived at the holiday house with the Murphys, you spent some time with the children just as Danielle had requested while Cillian and her went to town to do indulge in some shopping.

The children adored you, and you found yourself relaxing in their presence. They were a welcome relief from the tension that seemed to have taken up residence between you and Cillian since that day.

Then, later that day, when Cillian and Danielle returned to the house however, you could feel Cillian's eyes on you as you helped Danielle prepare dinner. Cooking together with Cillian's wife was a distracting sensation, one that had you dropping utensils and forgetting simple tasks.

Danielle, however, did not seem to notice your clumsiness and distraction much. She was too busy chatting with her husband about their new purchases, laughing and joking with him in a way that seemed too familiar, too intimate.

It took all of your willpower not to turn and stare, to drink in the sight of him standing there, so close yet so far away.

Cillian, the man who paid you for sex, was a family man nonetheless and interacting with him around the kids as well as his wife required a certain level of composure and restraint that you tried hard to maintain. 

Dinner passed without incident. You conversed and laughed with Danielle, all the while feeling Cillian's gaze on you, burning holes through your skin.

Occasionally, he would catch your eye and give you a knowing smirk, one that sent chills down your spine and made you squirm in your seat.

After dinner, the family gathered in the living room to watch a movie. You sat on the couch next to Cillian, feeling his thigh press against yours.

Every so often, he would give it a subtle squeeze, causing your heart to jump in your chest and your breath to hitch.

The flick on screen was a romantic comedy, a genre you had never much cared for, but tonight it seemed to consume you until, finally, Danielle announced to the children that was time for bed.

"Big day tomorrow," she declared with a bright smile. "They have horseback riding lessons planned!"

Cillian stood as well, stretching his arms above his head. It was a subtle, intimate movement that had you imagining far more than you should have. Your cheeks flushed with guilt as he caught you staring, and you quickly averted your gaze, unable to hold his.

"You should head to bed as well, Y/N," he urged, the seduction in his voice barely hidden beneath his seemingly kind sentiment. "My best guess is that the kids will be up early tomorrow. They usually are," he added, a small, hardly-there smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Without thinking, you nodded. "You are probably right," you said before wishing them both a good night and walking off.

The moment the guest bedroom door closed behind you, you leaned back against the cool wood, trying to steady your breathing and calm the storm of emotions roaring within you.

After getting changed into your pajamas, you slipped beneath the sheets, lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling.

The house was quiet now, save for the distant murmur of voices coming from the television in the living room and, it wasn't until you had almost fallen asleep that you heard the soft click of the guest bedroom door opening.

You held your breath, listening as footsteps padding quietly across the room, growing steadily louder as they approached the side of the bed.

The mattress dipped slightly, jolting you awake as you felt the weight of a body settling down next to you.

You turned around and faced Cillian, his eyes gleaming in the low light of the room as, slowly, he pushed your blanket aside.

You couldn't see his expression, but you could sense his hunger, the way he was devouring you with his gaze.

His hand reached out and traced the outline of your jaw, gently caressing your cheek before sliding down your neck, tickling the sensitive skin there and causing you to shudder. Goosebumps rose on your arms as his hand lingered on your shoulder before traveling down, tracing a path across your collarbone.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I can't stop thinking about that sweet little pussy of yours, about how you took all of me like a good girl."

His hand slid lower, snaking beneath the hem of your tank top to cup your breast.

You gasped at the sudden contact, your breath hitching in your throat as he squeezed.

His thumb flicked over your nipple, teasing it into a hard point.

"I can't wait to fuck you again," he murmured, his other hand reaching down and beneath the hem of your PJ shorts.

"Cillian," you protested weakly, but you didn't push him away. You couldn't. Not when your body was already responding to his touch, your nipples hardening to stiff peaks beneath your tank top.

"You have such a perfect little pussy," Cillian murmured, his fingers tracing patterns over your sensitive skin. You felt a surge of pleasure as he found your clit, rubbing it gently.

You moaned softly, your hips bucking involuntarily as he continued teasing you.

Cillian chuckled, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Mmm, I take it you like that?" he asked, flicking your clit with his fingers.

You bit your lip, nodding.

Cillian smirked, a triumphant look on his face as he continued to touch you, his fingers exploring your aching pussy. You felt yourself growing wet, your body begging for more. You tried to resist, to remember why this was a bad idea, but it was no use. Your body betrayed your mind, craving the pleasure only Cillian could give you.

"Now, be a good girl and get on to your hands and knees for me," Cillian instructed, his voice low and commanding.

You complied, feeling vulnerable yet thrilled at the same time as Cillian positioned himself behind you and pulled down your shorts.

He trailed his fingers lightly down the curve of your buttocks, making you gasp in pleasure. His touch was intoxicating and you couldn't help but feel a wave of desire wash over you.

"You need to be nice and quiet for me," he told you as he pushed down his briefs too, revealing his hard, throbbing erection. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, making your heart race in anticipation.

"My wife is asleep next door," he murmured, rubbing the tip of his cock against your slick folds. "And she can't know what we're doing. Do you understand?"

You nodded frantically, unable to speak as he pushed himself inside of you.

He filled you up completely, stretching you out in the most delicious way possible.

"Good girl," he groaned, thrusting in and out of you with a slow, steady rhythm.

"I will use that tight pussy of yours first and then I will put my cock in that sweet little ass of yours again," he promised, his voice heavy with lust.

You could feel him bottoming out inside of you, the tips of his fingers digging into your hips as he held you in place.

This was wrong on so many levels, and yet, you couldn't deny the way your body was responding to him. You felt like a live wire, every nerve ending sizzling and sparking with pleasure.

Cillian's thrusts grew harder, faster, and you could feel yourself climbing higher and higher towards your peak.

Your fingers clenched the bedsheets as you buried your face into the pillow, stifling your moans and whimpers as best as you could until, eventually, he pulled out of you with a satisfied grunt.

You felt empty and used, your pussy throbbing and raw from the force of his lovemaking.

"Now, I didn't bring any lube for your ass, but no doubt we can make do with some spit," Cillian murmured, his voice low and sultry as he spread your ass cheeks apart, revealing your small rosebud. 

"Now hold still," he told you before, suddenly, he delved down and his wet tongue swirled around the puckered entrance, causing you to jump in surprise.

"Cillian, no... I-I don't think-" you stammered, but your protest was cut short as he pushed his thumb inside your ass, breaching the tight ring of muscle with a satisfying pop.

You bit your lip, tears springing to your eyes as he worked his thumb back and forth, stretching you gently.

"Shh, just relax. It's okay. Just breathe," Cillian whispered, his other hand coming to rest on your lower back, holding you in place as he continued to prepare you for what was to come.

His thumb slipped out of you, leaving you feeling empty once more. But the sensation was short-lived as he replaced it with the head of his cock, pushing against your tight entrance.

You tensed, your body instinctively resisting the intrusion, but Cillian didn't falter. He held still for a moment, giving you time to adjust before continuing to press forward.

You felt a burning sensation, a mix of pain and pleasure as he breached your tight hole. Your body quivered beneath his touch, but you didn't protest. Instead, you allowed yourself to submit to his dominance, his mastery over your body.

"That's it, good girl," Cillian cooed as he forced his way into your anal cavity.  "Take it all in. You know you want it."

You moaned in response, your body shuddering with a strange mixture of pleasure and pain as he fully entered you. You felt completely filled, stretched beyond what you thought was possible. And yet, you couldn't deny the growing feeling of arousal that was building up inside of you.

Cillian began to move, his hips rocking back and forth as he started to thrust into your ass. Each movement was deliberate, calculated, as if he was trying to draw out every sensation possible.

"My wife would never let me do this to her," Cillian murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "But you are such a dirty little girl, aren't you?"

Cillian growled, his voice low and dangerous.

You didn't respond, instead biting your lip and trying to focus on anything but the feeling of him inside you. It was too much, too intense. You felt like you were losing yourself, drowning in a sea of pleasure.

"Answer me, Y/N," Cillian demanded, his thrusts growing harder. "Are you a dirty girl?"

"Yes," you whispered, the word barely audible.

"Yes, what?" he snarled, gripping your hips tightly.

"Tell me what you are."

"I'm a dirty girl," you repeated, your voice stronger this time.

"Good," Cillian growled, his thrusts becoming more brutal. "Now, cum for me. I want to feel you clench around my cock."

You nodded, unable to speak as a wave of pleasure crashed over you. You felt yourself being pushed to the brink, your body trembling uncontrollably as Cillian continued to pound into you.

It was a strange mixture of pleasure and pain, one that you couldn't quite put your finger on. You felt dirty, used, and ashamed - but you also felt alive.

"That's right, cum for me," Cillian groaned, his voice low and guttural as he thrust deeper into you. His fingers dug into your hips, leaving bruises on your skin. The pain only served to heighten your pleasure, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

You felt yourself clench around him, your muscles tightening as you came undone.

You screamed into the pillow, muffling the sound of your release. You felt like you were on fire, your entire body alight with pleasure.

Cillian groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he reached the edge. He held onto your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he filled you up with his seed. You felt every pulse, every spurt as he emptied himself into your tight channel. 

Finally, he stilled, his breath hot against your back as he caught his breath. He pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and used.

"Show me that gaping hole of yours," Cillian demanded as he reached for the bedside lamp, pulling it closer to get a better view.

You hesitated, but eventually you obeyed and spread your ass-cheeks apart for him.

Your body was still sensitive from the intense orgasm he had given you, and you whimpered softly as the cold air hit your exposed hole.

Cillian let out a low groan, admiring his handiwork. "Look at that, so perfect and red, leaking my cum. I knew you would love taking my cock in this tight little hole."

Cillian ran a finger along the rim of your abused entrance, admiring the reddened, glistening mess his pornographic fantasies had reduced your body to.

You shuddered, the sensation of his warm, rough finger so close to your still contracting opening causing your breath to hitch as you tried to pull away.

"We should get some sleep," you whispered, the words coming out as a cracked wheeze as you tried to stifle your shame and disgust.

Cillian grabbed your wrist, preventing you from moving away as he brought his cum soaked fingers to your mouth.

"Clean them," he ordered.

You hesitated for a brief moment before you parted your lips and wrapped them around his digits. You could taste yourself and Cillian on your skin and it made your stomach twist.

"Good girl," Cillian praised, his voice laced with satisfaction.

He then placed a chaste kiss on your forehead and left the room. You were left alone in the dimly lit room, your body feeling sore and your mind reeling from what had just transpired.

What had you just done? Was this who you truly were? A naive 18-year-old who sells her body to an older man in exchange for money and pleasures of the flesh?

Tags:

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[rebeccathenaturalist]

The above link includes articles on lost mushroom hunters in the Pacific Northwest over the past ten years. Many of these people were found deceased, and others were very lucky to have been found alive.

One of the things I really emphasize with foraging is safety, and not just the danger of picking something poisonous. While some people come into this practice with a realistic idea of the risks involved, others have....well, let's just call it a romanticized idea of foraging. They're not wrong in that it can be a fun, fulfilling activity that gets you all kinds of tasty things. But you have to be able to also navigate what can go wrong.

This is especially true for foragers who decide to go off-trail. I see this especially with people looking for mushrooms, because the lure of potential huge flushes of chanterelles, morels, and the like frequently leads people to head out onto public land in areas without marked trails. Sure, these locations are less heavily traveled and so it's more likely you'll stumble across a patch that no one else has gotten to yet. But--you're also more likely to get lost.

I personally tend to not go off-trail because I know for a fact that my sense of direction is abysmal (I've managed to convince myself I was lost on an out-and-back trail more than once.) But if I did, here's what I would do to mitigate the chances of getting lost:

--Take a GPS unit. These make finding your way back a lot easier, especially if you're able to drop pins as you go along or even digitally mark your trail.

--Take a map and compass and know how to use them: GPS isn't perfect, especially if signal is sketchy, and if your battery dies, well, there you go. So a topographic map and a compass make a good backup--if you know how to use them. Many urban areas in the U.S. have orienteering clubs, and failing that there's always YouTube.

--Take biodegradable flagging tape and tie bits of it to branches along the way. Then follow that path back when you're done, taking the tape with you as you go. If you miss one or two, they'll break down pretty quickly. DON'T leave the tape up on purpose to keep the trail to your patch of mushrooms or berries, though; not only are you adding plastic to the local environment, but you're leaving a trail for anyone who finds it.

--Take a friend! If something happens to one of you, the other can go for help. Or, if you're like me, only go off-trail with someone who's much better at orienteering than you are.

[chaestats]

Drabble w Sana from TWICE!

Request by: anon!

Warnings: mentions of sh!!!!!!!!

Ask: "if your comfy enough, could you maybe do a little smth with sana where she finds out Abt fem readers' past sh scars??"

Laughter fills the air as you engage in a playful wrestling match with Sana, your girlfriend of two years. The two of you tumble on the couch, your giggles intermingling as you attempt to pin each other down. In the midst of your tussle, Sana's playful grin turns into a concerned frown as her eyes catch something on your arm. She pauses, her grip on your wrist gentle yet firm.

"Wait, stop for a moment," Sana says softly, her voice tinged with worry.

Confused, you freeze, glancing down at where Sana's gaze is fixed. Your heart sinks as you realize she's spotted the faint scars that mark your arm, remnants of a past you had kept hidden.

Sana's eyes search yours, her concern deepening. "Are those...?"

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. "Yeah, they're old scars. I... I never told you."

Sana's expression shifts from concern to unwavering support. She reaches out, tracing her fingers along the scars with a gentleness that warms your heart. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready. But just know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

Tears gather in your eyes as her words wash over you, the weight of your secret suddenly feeling lighter. "Sana, I... I didn't want you to worry or see me differently."

Sana's smile is soft and reassuring. "You're never alone in this, okay? I may not fully understand, but I want to be here for you, to help you heal."

She pulls you into a tender embrace, her arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. You let out a shaky breath, allowing yourself to lean into her support.

"I've been through my own struggles too, you know," Sana murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "We all have our scars, both visible and hidden. But together, we can help each other find the strength to heal."

Your heart swells with gratitude for her understanding and empathy. With Sana by your side, you realize that opening up about your scars doesn't make you any less worthy of love, and that healing is a journey you don't have to walk alone.

"Thank you, Sana," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

Sana pulls back slightly, her eyes locking onto yours. "No need to thank me, silly. Just promise me you'll let me in, even if it's one step at a time."

You nod, a tear escaping and trickling down your cheek. "I promise."

In that moment, you know that you're not just in a relationship with Sana – you're in a partnership built on trust, compassion, and the shared understanding that healing takes time, but it's possible with the right support.