#your name format is unbearable

[shit-wcue-players-say]

[the-dixon-effect]

The way back home

summary: While out looking for Sophia, Y/N is attacked in the woods by a group of men. After managing to fight them off, she heads towards the farm and is noticeably... changed.

word count: 1.5k

pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

warnings: blood, gore, weapons, fainting, usual twd stuff

Your ears were ringing and your vision blurred. Four bodies lay on the ground in a formation that was anything but neat. From head to toe, you were covered in a thick layer of red. Unbeknownst to you, who stood motionless in a bloody trance, you could've easily been mistaken for a character in a cheap horror movie.

You blinked, once, twice. What the hell just happened? You inspected the nightmarish scene and suddenly it was coming back. You had been searching for Carol's little girl... what was her name? Sophia, yes. The last thing you remembered was a dirty hand covering your mouth before you reached for your knife... and the rest was a blur. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that you shot two of the guys with your short-range pistol, one in the head and one in the neck. You scrambled for your knife, which should've been tucked away in its holster, but instead, you spotted it plunged deep into the skull of one of the sickos who came at you. There was a single body left. The largest of the four men bore a filthy grey t-shirt, camo pants and combat boots. You rolled his limp body over to discover a big pool of dark red blood. You had... you had slashed his neck open. Suddenly you felt a pit in your stomach rise to your mouth and- you were about to be sick.

After expelling the only energy you had left in your body, you realised at once what that familiar growling meant, coming from a few metres away. Shit, you thought, you had to get out of here now before the men you killed start trying to kill you again, in a much more gruesome way.

You ran and ran, and could only hope you were going in the right direction. Collapsing beneath a tree, you glanced at your clothes and noticed your loose white tank top was stained completely red. After a little while the adrenaline wore off, and your stomach hurt like hell. Lifting up your shirt, it revealed a nasty cut from one end of your torso to the other. Immediately, the pain spread throughout your whole body and the excessive bleeding was almost unbearable. One of the guys must have slashed at you with a knife in an attempt to get you off of them.

Your thoughts were fading away, and it was getting harder and harder not to pass out right there. Suddenly, you heard a faint voice in the distance.

"Sophia? Sophia!" You could barely hear the voice, let alone tell who it was. Hell, for a second you couldn't remember your own name. A man appeared in your sight, and you didn't know whether to be scared or thankful. Were you hallucinating? As he approached, you noticed that the man was wielding a crossbow... it was- it was Daryl.

"Y/N? Shit, Y/N! Can ya hear me?" you looked up at him, and he could tell just by looking that you could barely keep your eyes open. "Hey, hey, it's alrigh', it's alrigh'. I'm gon' get you back and Hershel's gonna fix you up, I promise."

Hearing Daryl's voice was like a lifeline. Setting down his crossbow on the ground, he helped you up and held you with your arm draped around his shoulder. As you headed back towards the Greene Farm, warm sunlight began to filter through the trees. It felt like your brain was moving at a quarter of the pace it should be, and the sight of the Greene house in the distance, though beautiful, felt like a million miles away as you and the archer trekked towards it.

"Y/N? Oh my God, Daryl, is she okay?" said Andrea as the two of you approached the house. You were a frightening sight to see, especially for certain members of the group that hadn't quite immersed themselves in this brutal apocalypse.

"Rick! She's got a- a nasty gash underneath her shirt. Hershel better take a look at it."

Right in that moment you collapsed on the ground, falling limply out of Daryl's strong arms. The tall grass of Hershel's pasture enveloped your body, and you could no longer hear the great commotion that was taking place. Despite the incredible amount of pain you were just in, sleep was heavenly.

First came a flurry of voices. Then, the white ceiling appeared and several blurred countenances around the room. Strangely, you couldn't remember a thing about how you got here.

"D-Daryl? Where's Daryl?" you asked, innocently. Suddenly, every face in the room turned to look at you. You were pale, very pale, yet you sat upright in the makeshift hospital bed resting on your forearms.

Following a sudden rush of people turning to surround your bedside, you blacked out again.

"Everyone, I would strongly appreciate it if we could give the girl some space," spoke Hershel, calmly.

"Ya think I could stay?" said Daryl.

"Alright, then. Just don't make a big fuss."

This time, you awoke to a cool breeze through the wide open window and noticed only two figures in the room. It looked like... Daryl and Hershel?

Hershel approached you and placed a hand on your forehead, and though you felt extremely hot and clammy, he seemed to deduce that you were going to be fine.

The door swung open and in entered Shane, Glenn and Hershel's youngest daughter, the blonde one... Beth. That was it.

A wave of confusion passed over you suddenly, as if, in a second, somebody has swiftly erased your memory. "Wh- Where am I? What are you doing here?" You sat upright once more and removed the rest of the covers from yourself. Your eyes were wide and a little bloodshot, and your mouth was shaped by a distinct frown.

"Y/N, Y/N, it's alright. Daryl tells me something happened out in the woods. I just need you to tell me the story. It's okay." said Shane, leaning into you.

"What story? What happened?" Tears began to fill your eyes as you spoke and it was like your whole body was consumed in a state of fright. Immediately, you began to hyperventilate as images of mutilated bodies clouded your mind.

"What's happening?" said Beth.

"She's in shock. Everybody out!" announced Hershel.

When you awoke later, you got out of the bed in the back room and entered the living room. Everyone was gathered around, seemingly waiting to find out what on earth had happened to you. Daryl relayed the story countless times to the likes of Dale, Rick, Shane and Maggie. Just like before, they all turned to face you as if you were some lost child, or a deer in headlights. Daryl captured your eyes and noticed how they seemed... different. The same cheerful, good-spirited girl suddenly appeared before him, pale and cold, and with a new thousand-yard stare that didn't go unnoticed by a single member of the group. If they didn't believe how harsh the new world was before, they certainly did now.

"Y/N, sit down," said Dale. His manner was kind yet you couldn't help but feel threatened by anyone who tried to communicate with you.

"Tell us what happened," spoke Rick.

"I- I don't remember..." you declared. Your legs were shaking and you held you face in your hands as you wracked your brain for anything, any trace of a memory of the event that occurred earlier that day.

Bodies.

How many bodies?

"There was... four. Four bodies. Which meant... four guys, I guess?" you looked up at this statement, this time receiving several pitiful looks from around the room.

Shane was about to speak when Rick raised his hand slightly, "Let her talk."

"I don't know- I don't know! There was... blood, there was so much blood," you began, trying to muster up anything you could. "Please can I go back to bed?" At this request, Daryl practically jumped up from his seat to help you and guided you back to the bedroom to rest.

A heated debate had broken out in the front room. How many more of these men are there? Are they dangerous? Is she even telling the truth? For some members, they feared the worst and assumed that this incident would be the first of many to come, involving a new threat; people.

(one day later, at dawn)

You sat with Daryl on the white porch, facing the sunset behind the trees. The trees, in fact, that the two of you had ventured out of the previous day. Although you hadn't known him long, you decided that you enjoyed his company most of all.

"You know, I think I'm going crazy, Daryl," you said, somewhat wistfully.

"Oh yeah, why's tha'?" he drawled.

"I was just walking 'round here, over in the woods. Saw some freak stumbling around. Went to look a little closer, and this sicko was dressed up like some kind of corpse! You know, fake blood and everything. Guess he was just trying to scare little kids or something."

[forgeofthenine]

I love how you write about the tieflings so much! I totally fig all the headcannons and everything!

Now.. in the spirit of the heat and rut stuff.. whatnif the tieflimg ba helors arent in a rut and find their tiefling girlfriends in heat?

Like they walk in and they see their girlfriend fingering themselves or humbing a pillow whimpering and moaning and stuff.

Here's the first post of the year guys! Sorry for the short hiatus, work has been busy and my dog currently has an infection I needed to take him to the vet for (let me know if anyone wants pictures of him in his cone of shame lmao). Starting the year off right, with some heat and rut smut! I tried out a format I've used similarly before, hopefully you guys like it! Thanks for the request Nanitheart :)

The tiefling bachelors (+Halsin) when their partner is in heat

Dammon

Dammon keeps a mental note of when your last heat was and when he can expect your next one

Luckily your heat tends to line up pretty well with his own rut

However, he spends a lot of time at work away from the house and it's really not uncommon for him to come home to the surprise of you in heat

It's apparent as soon as he comes home, finding himself surrounded by your scent the moment he walks over the threshold

By time Dammons made it to your bedroom he's already in his underwear

The two of you will be finding his clothes around the house for weeks

He's already flushed when he reaches you, unbearably hard when he sees you taking advantage of the toy he'd gotten you a while ago

The sound of blood rushing through your ears deafens you to anything else, eyes closed as you arch your back and try to find yet another release. You'd been stuck there all afternoon, writhing in your sheets, and had to resort to the dildo your lover had gifted you. In his absence you'd soon grown bored with just fingers.

A loud moan leaves you as your body trembles, legs splayed and a hand thrusting the toy as deep as possible. The way it stretched you felt good but it wasn't the same. It wasn't Dammon. Only then does your partner make himself known, voice cutting clear through your lust hazed mind.

"Oh, my darling, how long have you been like this?" Dammon asks, crawling over you on the bed. His own hand covers yours to carefully thrust the toy slowly inside you again. "Do you need me to make you feel better? Can't cum again without my help?" It's all teasing, you know it is, but an involuntary whine of his name leaves your throat as you nod.

It's not long before strong hands grip your legs and pull you forward, Dammon kneeling happily between your legs. You're about to whine again before you feel it, the firm tip of his tail brushing over your already full entrance and slipping in alongside the toy.

"Let me prepare you first, baby."

Zevlor

Zevlor keeps a calender in his private study that tracks your heats and his ruts

He actually knows when you're in heat before you do sometimes

On the odd occasion you happen to go on heat unexpectedly, he treats it like a pleasant little surprise

Another one that realises as soon as he opens the front door

Zevlors been through more then a few ruts brought on early by things like this so he's a lot less impatient

Knocks on the bedroom door before entering so he doesn't surprise you

What he wasn't expecting was to hear you already crying out for him, or to open the door and see you knuckle deep fingering yourself

It seems like it's been an eternity since the burning arousal of your heat flooded you, confining you to the plush bed you and Zevlor share. Burying your face into his pillow is one of the few things that helps, indulging in the scent of him as you touch yourself. If you think hard enough you can almost hear him.

Then the bed dips. Soon calloused hands are running up your bare legs as your bleary eyes meet Zevlors. His pupils are mere pinpricks as his rut settles in, his own arousal clear as your eyes dip between his legs. "How long have you been here like this, my love?" He asks, tender words paired with him swatting your hand away to replace it with his own.

You let out a low moan as two of his fingers push into you, stretching you more than your own ever could. "Too long... Please Zev-" You're soon calmed with gentle shushes, Zevlor carefully adding in a third finger as he shifts lower on the bed. Warm breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in, spreading warm kisses up the tops of your thigh.

"It's okay, let me take care of you now."

Rolan

This man has no space in his mind for tracking heats and ruts, he usually forgets when his own rut is going to hit

It's really not a surprise for him to take a while to realise you've gone on heat

What is a surprise is just how long he spent away from the tower this particular time, picking up some things for the store before seeing his siblings

You can imagine his shock when he'd left you relaxing in his office with a book and comes back to you grinding against a pillow on your shared bed

His mouth goes dry at the sight of your hips rolling against it, head thrown back in frustration

Rolans own rut hits him like a truck and all he can think of is how much he needs to fuck you

As soon as you turn to look at him again all bets are off, and soon Rolans clothes are too

You're hardly able to get a glance at your lover before he pounces on you, feeling yourself fall with a rush as a hard body presses you to the bed. Sharp teeth tease and nip at your neck, leaving claiming marks and small bruises in their wake. Soon, you hear the small growl from Rolans chest.

"So fucking desperate you had to grind against my pillow to get off?" He sneers, pulling back to flip you to your stomach. Clawed hand pull your hips so you lie head down and ass up just how he likes. Already you feel him sliding his cock against your entrance, grinding against you.

A whine and a plead leave you, exactly what Rolan likes. His long cock slides in easily with how you're prepared and feels endless as he fills you slowly. Soon you realise that's the only time he'll be slow with you, quickly pulling out before snapping his hips back against yours.

He takes you like this for the rest of the night, teasing and punishing you for making a mess of his pillow. Hands and a tail pull and push you in different positions over and over again. Rolan isn't pleased until you're panting and fucked out beneath him, so full with his cum that it drips down your thighs.

Halsin

Halsin is very aware of heats and ruts, despite not being affected personally

Just ask how he got his scar across his face and you'll realise how familiar he is

Despite not being able to smell when your hormones change like a male tiefling might, he's still very accurate when assuming when you'll go on heat

And there's no better sight in his opinion than walking in on you all flushed and needy right at the begining of your heat

When you just clue on to what's happing and why your thoughts keep straying to your elven lover

Halsins happy to drag things out a little, braiding your hair back if it's long enough, making sure you have food

The entire time you're whining for him, pressing your thighs together in your need for this man, until he finally takes you to bed

Shock rushes through you as you're swept up to a bridal carry, surrounded by firm muscles as you're carried out of the room. It's easy enough to lean up, lips covering the tan neck in front of you with kisses and nips as a chuckle leaves the chest you rest against. Halsin tightens his grip on you, his easygoing grin deceptive compared to his sharp eyes.

You're soon tossed into a pile of blankets and first on your shared bed, trying to shed your clothes once free of Halsins grip. Calloused hands join you, freeing you from fabric confines and running over your bare skin. Two thick fingers run over your entrance, teasing against it before pressing in and stretching you out on him. Even just the two fingers feel unbelievably thick, your back arching as they slip in deeper.

"So beautiful, Silvanus has truly blessed me with this sight." Halsin chuckles, watching as you writhe at the feeling of his fingers and slipping in a third. Every moan you let out goes straight to the mans dick, the sight of it mouthwatering as it presses against the crotch of his pants. You'll have to wait, though, and let your lover bring you to ecstasy with only his fingers first. Repeatedly

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Kinktober Day 19: Double penetration + Aphrodisiacs

Pairings: Wakasa x Senju x reader (polyship)

Warnings: Male!reader, top/dom!reader, sub/bottom!Wakasa, top/switch!Senju, trans characters, double penetration, aphrodisiacs, overstimulation, dacryphilia, breeding kink

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot

Prompt List by: sakuyaserenitykira 🧡

Author's Note: Transgender sex yippee!! This is one of the prompts that I was most excited to write about, I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it 💞🏳️‍⚧️

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

Well, this wasn't exactly how this situation was supposed to go down... Your original plan was to purchase some special chocolates laced with aphrodisiacs and try them out with your partners. However, one of them was a bit too nosey and discovered your hiding place for said treats, eating several of them as a snack

Now Wakasa was a total mess. A little while after consuming the secret treats, he started to feel strange. The living room became unbearably hot, sweating as the oversized t-shirt that he wore clung to his back uncomfortably. He became restless as a wave of desire crashed over him, causing his exposed pussy to leak all over the couch even as it was untouched

Wakasa called for you, whining your name across the house while his hand clamped over his cunt in an attempt to keep the wetness inside, his other hand gripping the couch cushion below him as he involuntarily humped the hand in between his legs

Senju arrived first, hearing the cries from the next room over and rushing over to check on her boyfriend. “Waka? You ok?” She asked, peeking around the door frame, gasping when she noticed Wakasa fingering himself and biting his hand to stifle loud moans

“What's wrong, baby? You sound like you're in pa–” Your words were cut short when you too noticed the smaller man's situation. His soaked cunt on display for anyone that walked into the room to see, fucking himself with his fingers faster as wanton moans filled the entire room

You exchanged a look with Senju, worry evident on both of your faces as you quickly walked over to the couch. Senju gently placed a hand on his arm and it caused him to whine and arch his back a bit, an incomprehensible pleasure taking over as every nerve was lit on fire at once. Wakasa groaned while taking a hold of her wrist and guiding her small hand to his aching pussy, wordlessly begging the blushing woman to help him. “You pent up or something? Still thinking about last night?” Senju questioned, hesitantly circling her fingers around his dripping entrance before dipping two fingers inside as Wakasa keened in response

Taking a seat next to him, you placed the back of your hand on his forehead to check for a fever. He felt warm, but the rest of his body did too, noticing the sweat pooling on the back of his neck and on the small of his back. Wakasa leaned into every touch, panting as Senju curled her fingers inside of him, finding his g-spot and pressing harder against the sensitive area with every thrust of her fingers

“I-I...I don't know why...aaahh fuck!! ” His stammered speech was cut off as he came. Hard. His slender legs twitching in the air as every bit of oxygen was ripped from his lungs. Senju gently rubbed his wet folds, slowing her movements to bring him down from his high calmly. When Wakasa had relaxed enough to speak coherently, he continued with his earlier sentence, “A-all I did was...I grabbed a snack from your room...” He said, lazily turning his head towards you

Those last three words caused your muscles to tense, remembering where you hid the chocolates and assuming that those were the culprit of this sudden behavior. “Waka... were those snacks in a red, heart-shaped box on my nightstand?” You asked, cupping his face in your large hand. He seemed a little shocked that you could pinpoint their exact location, even though they were in your bedroom...

“Honey... those had aphrodisiacs in them...” You explained, mentally hitting yourself for not hiding them in a better spot. “I bought them for the two of you to try. Maybe spice it up a bit next time we had sex.”

“Oh...shit...” Wakasa curled in on himself, upset that he ruined the surprise but also embarrassed from his desperation. “'M sorry...” He nuzzled into the hand still cupping his warm cheek, fidgeting with your sleeve. You laughed a bit at his sheepishness, shaking your head as you soothed him, reassuring him that you're not mad and that you're glad he's not hurt. Senju rubs his thigh soothingly, though in his current state the gesture instead causes him to squirm and blush. Needy whines reverberate through the room as Wakasa begs you both to help him through this rut, “Please...need you to– need both of you to fuck me...”

Senju's green eyes meet yours for a moment, your lips curling into a smirk as you nod at her, swiftly grabbing Wakasa's ankles and spinning him so that he's lying flat on the couch. You signal for Senju to stand up, instructing her to “Fill our pretty boy's mouth, since he won't be able to control his volume in this state.” She looks down at Wakasa for any signs of disagreement, finding none as he's already tipped his head back, opening his mouth in an eager display. Senju slides her sweatpants down, kicking them off as they reach her ankles then positioning herself above Wakasa's head, letting the tip of her cock rest against his tongue

At the other end of the couch, your own pants have already been discarded, taking in the sight of Wakasa's still wet cunt while you stroke yourself. Collecting some of his juices on your fingers and using that to lube yourself up, the action earning a whine from the man underneath you. His mouth is currently occupied by Senju's cock, gradually working it deeper down his throat and moaning around her length like a whore. Wakasa's hips jerk when he feels your thick cock resting against his folds, rubbing in between his lips and coaxing more of his juices to drip out of his hole

Wakasa's whole body jerks when you slap your dick on his clit a few times before sliding inside, groaning at how tight his pussy feels. His warm walls squeeze around your shaft as it penetrates deeper and deeper, practically sucking you in and clenching to prevent you from pulling out. Senju moans above him as her cock head hits the back of his throat, thrusting sharply to chase that tight feeling of his throat constricting around her

He begins to gag around her length, continuing to moan and wrapping his hands around her thighs to push her deeper down his esophagus. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you both push in at the same time, filling him with two cocks at once. It's you who picks up the pace first, thrusting into Wakasa's pussy as it clenches around you. Gentle hands hold his waist while you fuck him deeply, his legs naturally wrapping around your hips as always

“Aah~ Feels good, Waka...your mouth is amazing!” Senju cries out, rolling her small hips into his wet mouth while her hands explore his chest. She bites her lip as her hips stutter, edging closer to her orgasm with each thrust. Noticing this, you lean forward and grab her chin, causing her lips to part and stick out. She moans into your mouth as you kiss her deeply, sliding your tongue against hers while you thrust into Wakasa harshly, pulling apart slightly to growl into her ear, “Cum down his throat, baby. Chase that feeling for me.” Senju's hips stuttered once again, fucking into that tight hole faster until her body stiffens, dick twitching as she unloads down Wakasa's throat. “Yeah, good girl. Feels good, doesn't it? ”

After leaving another chaste kiss to her lips, you pull away to chase your own release, groaning as your cock glides in and out of Wakasa's pussy with ease. His body craving your load inside of him as his walls squeeze you until you finally cum, filling his sweet little pussy up

The sounds of loud panting and giggling fill the room while all three of you calm down, pulling out of Wakasa gently. He whines at the empty feeling in his mouth and cunt, craving your cocks shoved inside of him desperately. “Shh, I know baby, I know. We're not done yet.” You coo, helping him sit up while his pretty lashes flutter from your hand touching the small of his back

“Lay down, babygirl. You're gonna stretch open Waka's ass next.” Senju blushed at the command, her dick twitching just from thinking about his tight hole squeezing another load out of her. She obeyed your instructions swiftly, getting comfortable on the plush cushions and awaiting your next move

“Touch yourself for me, I want you to be rock hard by the time I'm done prepping him.” You ordered, slipping your fingers past Wakasa's soft lips, grinning when he immediately began sucking on them, clinging to your wrist and pushing your fingers further down his own throat. Your free hand held the back of his head as you fingerfucked his mouth, thrusting your digits in and out like you would to his cunt. Wakasa's eyes rolled back as he choked on your fingers, lewd, wet noises emanating from his orifice until you swiftly removed them. He immediately gasped and coughed while some drool spilled from his mouth

Senju moaned loudly while her hands glided up and down her length, transfixed on the way you slipped your fingers inside of Wakasa's ass with ease, scissoring them and making him cry out while grinding down on your digits. She whimpered when you leaned forward to slap the inside of her thigh, silently asking her to open her legs to make room for Wakasa

Being oh so gentle, you laid Wakasa down on Senju's chest, letting her grip his hips while you stroked her cock a little more, bringing her right to the edge and then stopping. Lining her dick up with his hole and jerking her off until she slipped inside, shallowly thrusting into his tight ass until he was ready to take more. She was so close already, biting her lip and trying to hold back until you were inside of him too, as she was sure you'd punish her for cumming too early...

“Keep moving. Edge yourself, honey. Promise it'll feel so good when you can finally fill him up.” You said, pumping your own dick until you were at full hardness again, leaning down a bit to leave a bite mark on Waka's chest. Lining yourself up next, you slowly plunged back into his pussy, earning a pretty moan from the smaller man. His chest heaved as he was completely stuffed, a visible bulge in his stomach from the two dicks situated inside

Slowly, you began thrusting, your entire member being pulled out before sliding all the way back in. Wakasa's sounds filled your ears as he quickly became a little cockslut, begging for you both, “Aaahh!! Harder! Fuck... right there—!! ” Senju gladly complied, so close to cumming but still holding out because his hole feels too damn good. She cries out for permission, begging you to grant her that before she loses her mind. You decide to be a bit merciful, telling her to, “Cum if you need to, baby. Breed his pretty ass.”

At your request, she shot her load inside of him, hips stuttering wildly as Wakasa screamed her name in pleasure. His hole greedily accepted the fluid by clenching around her cock, milking everything out of her throbbing length while she wrapped her arms around his torso. Senju mewled, as she could still feel your dick pounding Wakasa's cunt. Every thrust rubbing against her own dick, still buried to the hilt within his walls

Your hips snapped into his, causing both of your partners to bounce from the harsh thrusts. “God...I'm so close, Waka. Gonna...breed your little pussy. ” Wakasa's eyes widened, mewling from the mere mention of being bred, which he oh so adored even though he couldn't get pregnant. His breeding kink knew no bounds

Circling his clit with your thumb, you brought Wakasa closer and closer to his release, fucking into him faster to chase your own. You came deep within him, filling his womb with your sticky seed. The feeling of you flooding his cunt caused Wakasa to cum soon after, spasming in between your bodies. Panting heavily, your muscles began to relax, feeling your partners relaxing underneath you

Senju slowly pulled out first, her cock softening while she caught her breath. You pulled out next, slipping out easily with a groan. Rubbing Wakasa's hips lovingly while his hazy mind gradually came to. His eyes focused on your smiling face as you reached out to cup his cheek again, rubbing your thumb across the skin gently

You eventually stood up, lifting Waka off of Senju and setting him down in what was previously your spot, leaning him against the back of the couch then moving over to prop Senju up as well. Dashing off to the bathroom to grab a warm cloth, cleaning the two of them off before doing the same to yourself. Afterwards, you cuddled up with both of your partners, letting each of them get comfortable and nuzzle into your sides as they fell asleep with you

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

Tagging: @anxious-chick @steadybreadbluebird @6kabuki

[ay0nha]

are you doing a part ii to your sanji angst on the baratie?

PAIRING: OPLA!Sanji x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, angst, longing looks and bitter words, mentions of sleazy pirate, food/food consumption, not proofread, squint, and you'll see fleabag vibes (shout out to that anon), rushed ending, etc.

A/N: ahhhhh, idk how I feel about this, so I’m posting it because I know if I don’t, it’ll sit in the drafts forever. Thank you so much for all the love and support on the part before this. It truly means the world! Enjoy.

COMMENTS ENCOURAGED

PART I

The coolness felt sharp on your skin, numbing superficially but struggling to pinpoint the pain. 

It sunk in when the ice melted and bled down your elbow that you were alone, and the ache was still there. 

The devil’s hour was the only time you felt the ship's rhythmic sway. The constantly anxious environment was silent, leaving your shallow breaths to fill the space. There was only so much time before the early risers would begin the prep routine all over again. 

You didn’t fare well with the cyclical nature of it all, but you were skilled in covering the discomfort. It was a game you were good at; the facade behind the swipe of deep lipstick and the soft fabric of your dresses hid you well. Yet, the pressure became unbearable on nights like these. It made you feel stuck, with nowhere to go, as the open ocean surrounded you.

The constant adrenaline at all hours was taunting you. It kept some focused and motivated their drive, but you struggled to stay afloat. Instead, you toyed with the thought of letting the tendrils pull you down into the sinking pool of burdens you ran from. 

“You hear me?” Sanji’s voice pulled you to the surface for a shock of air. You failed to notice he even entered the room. “Where’d you go?” 

Sanji broke your thousand-yard stare, just shy of waving a hand before you. You wanted to scold him for accurately reading you. Instead, your heart pinned to your throat at his overt observation.

“Hmm?” He prompted again, moving deeper into the space. Worry began to etch his tired features; you failed to hide. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m—” Your response was lost in its formation. Emotion pricked at your nose, but you refused to spill any tears. You were drained, and it all started to feel claustrophobic. “—tired.”

 The practiced lie felt smooth and believable enough to be a sufficient excuse. And, yet, Sanji matched the defiance. “I’ve known you a long, long time…I know your tells, sweetheart—

“Come off it.” You discouraged the name, but it fulfilled Sanji’s purpose. You always stumbled, and your frown conveyed your disdain. “It’s been a…” Day. You stopped to begin again, frazzled, “I-I…I just, I’m just…hungry, Sanji.”

His name rang in his ears like a confession. He waited for you to correct yourself, scold him for prying as you always had. The air shifted to something unexplored, vulnerable. Despite the years of working together, moments like these were rare. Sanji used the pause to take you in, searching for any deception. But you laid bare, asking for comfort and company. 

“Alright...” Sanji’s voice was soft so as not to spook you. He nodded, more confident in his promise. “I can help with that.” 

Clearing your throat, you nodded, a rush of relief flowing through your body. Sanji’s flirtations were easy to ignore. His sarcasm, you returned. The attitude you dished, he accepted with his own. It was how you worked; it kept things fluid. The push and pull kept you going. 

However, the static of your hesitancy tugged at something foreign. It kept you quiet and made you thoughtful. Sanji moved like he always had, calculated and knowledgable of the dish and whose palette he would earn the respect of. Everything he touched turned into a creation. He didn’t do it to prove a point or for a broader ‘them.’ Tonight, he created for you.  

There was assurance in Sanji’s demeanor. He rolled his sleeve to his elbows and tugged at an already loosened tie; he became just as exposed as you were under your watchful eye. You itched for something familiar. The smile you fought proved Sanji read your mind, choosing correctly—a grilled cheese. 

The tomato was missing, and so was the dill.  Yet, there was a thick slather of freshly made mayo on each slice of homemade bread. The smell wafted, reminding you how the day's stress surpassed your hunger. 

“Something to drink?” Sanji’s low rumble broke the silence, checking on you indirectly. 

Sanji spoke through food and understood another through choices and habits. You were picky. You had staples that he perfected the recipe for, this one of them. He knew to be gentle and use his fingertips to smooth the toasted edges of the bread against the browning butter lining the pan. 

“I’m trying to keep the wallowing to a minimum.” You shook your head. You tried to laugh through the feeling, but the joke felt ill-timed and ill-received. “Don’t hurt yourself too much  trying to play nice.”

The air felt still, like the moments of a taut breath. There was no longer an eye on the throne of fabricated competition the Baratie created rather, you looked at each other as if it were the first time, both newly transparent.

“Oh, no—” He tutted, smirk settling naturally. “—that’s not the painful part, love.”

The kitchen was always warm—burners running, heat lamps, bubbling stovetops, and incidental fires. That very temperature caused certain anger to tip over and still provided fluidity in the brigade. However, even when you found yourself in the back, you brought a chill to the air. It rivaled the walk-in and existed as your only trait in the eyes of those found under your glare.

Yet, the warmth Sanji transferred to you was different. It didn’t come from the kitchen or from anger. It was just him, and his words carried him over. His smirk was more of a smile, hesitant to become a smile as he presented his tenderness on a plate for you to devour. 

“Bon appétit, madam.”

You pulled at the edges of the grilled cheese, the inner parts reflecting fondue. The jagged edges defined the unorthodox moment. There was something so perfect in the imperfection of comfort it provided. 

“C’mon…” You cleared the lump forming in your throat. Blindly, you push a hand forward to offer Sanji a half. He half-expected it to be a ploy, for you to snatch it back just as he would go to reach it. Instead, you gestured again, “Go on, take my olive branch so I don’t look like a total dick.”

“Gladly.’

This was what you needed. This was a warm hug at the end of the day. This was a blanket wrapped tightly around you, protecting you from the mess of it all. The simplicity of the company broke you. 

You cleared your throat, wanting to be heard. “You know earlier…”

Sanji hummed encouragingly. He would never pry, afraid of your retaliation, but he knew that the slimy pirate clung to you. While he cooked, Sanji noticed the deep hues on your wrist and how you nurtured them with patience.  

“He scared me.” You scoffed at your own admission, belittling your feelings already. It felt ridiculous in hindsight, allowing someone to crawl so deeply under your skin. “I just didn’t see it coming…and wasn’t sure where it was going.”

You played with a few crumbs on your fingertips, allowing a thoughtful pause that you refused to fill. Sanji knew you’d eat the crust first, saving the gooey inside for when you ripped off the bandaid. 

“I could have—” He started, unwilling to miss the opportunity you gave him. “I’ll talk to Zeff. We’ll handle this. You’ll never—That’ll never happen again.”

Sanji’s sandwich half was forgotten, his hunger only satiable by your security.  You almost fed into it, tripping into the depths of his gaze’s concern. But you’d been tricked before and you’d be damned to fall for it all over again. 

“No—” You were blunt, words pointed. “Sanji…” It didn’t matter what promise he could give; it had no power against the past. “This world doesn’t look out for people like me but carves spaces for you. For him.”

Everything became unappetizing, as if you’d come back to yourself. Any defenses dropped were regained with dual force. You’d scold yourself later for accepting the shared meal as if that were the obvious solution to it all. 

“And what does he get, hmm?” You hummed with disgust. “A slap on the wrist?  Meal on the house?” You barked with hate. “And me? My professionalism gets questioned. I’m told to cheer up and move on—and yet, you all are blind! The real problem has nothing to do with that fucking pirate.” 

Zeff was your advocate. He only tolerated so much, and anything that interrupted or dragged you in unwillingly was dealt with. You heard how those around you reacted. They cheered and glorified Sanji’s heroic acts but didn’t waste a breath to see if you were still intact.  

Sanji had, in his own way. You knew that and detested how it made you crumble to the pieces you always had to pick up. Drawing a sharp but much-needed breath, you promised never to allow it again. 

Sanji read your expressiveness; understanding the sentiment was a deep-running thread. He knew it wasn’t his place to advise, tempt, and, worst of all, ignore you. 

Despite being at loss for words his effort was persistent.“Love—”

You wanted him to curse you or mock you or do something that would qualify the anger that made you tremble. You couldn’t stand how readily he took everything you gave him with such gentleness. 

“Sanji—” There was a coldness you attached to his name, but a warning nonetheless. You detested how, even now, he still remained.  “I never wanted this…Here I shift–I change, I mold into this…hybrid of a being just to fulfill what you think you want me to be—And still, I find myself disappointed in that fact that I think that’ll change—shame on me.”

The scraps of the sandwich had grown cold, its newly rigid, solid form symbolic of how things were supposed to be. You left Sanji with the weight of your words, a clear reminder that he was no more than a cog in the grand scheme of things---an insignificant part of your greater plan to be heard.

[doubleca5t]

You will never be a real woman. You have nc

womb, you have no ovaries, you have no eggs.

Your body is twisted by drugs

and surgery into a crude mockery of nature's

perfection.

All the "validation" you get is two-faced and

half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you

Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you

your "friends" laugh at your ghoulish appearance

behind closed doors.

Men are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of

years of evolution have allowed men to sniff out

frauds with incredible efficiency. Even trannies

who "pass" look uncanny and unnatural to a man

Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And

even if you manage to get a drunk guy home with

you, he'l turn tail and bolt the second he gets a

whiff of your diseased, infected axe wound.

You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake

smile every single morning and tell yourself

it's going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the

depression creeping up like a weed, ready to

crush you under the unbearable weight.

Eventually it'll be too much to bear - you'll buy

a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and

plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will

find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no

longer have to live with the unbearable shame

and disappointment. They'll bury you with a

headstone marked with your birth name, and

every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a

man is buried there. Your body will decay and go

back to the dust, and all that will remain of your

legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably male

Why is this anon hate formatted like a free verse poem

[lookismfanfics]

asking for samuel fluff cus lord 😔🤞 I LOVEEEEEE UR FICS BTW I CANT GET ENOUGH OF OF THEM OMFG

𝐀𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞

Samuel Seo x GN Reader

Drabble

Warnings: It’s not in my usual head cannon-thing format 😳 Fluff, unedited, probably brainrot, cursing, fem pronouns may have slipped in there…

Samuel rests his head in his hands. He wonders what the hell he did to deserve this agony. He knows he’s been a bit of an arse lately, but for the world to curse him even further was a bit unnecessary. Even a little insulting.

He felt like life almost always dealt him a bad hand. For example… today… He’s sitting on an expensive hotel bed, waiting for Eugene to call him to the conference room. Kneading his forehead tenderly, using his rough finger-pads to massage his temples. Samuel has a massive headache. It feels like his hairline is splitting… there’s a sharp throb in the center of his forehead. It reminds him of all his worst hangovers; but amplified. And this time he didn’t have someone doting on him… soothing him and nursing him like a pathetic baby. Even if neither of you really expressed genuine concern or gratitude, you were both aware of the feelings were there.

He feels so, so stupid. Like a pathetic, helpless wimp. And he hates it. But simultaneously, his emotions contradict. As he rubs soothing circles into his temples, letting out heavy breaths of frustration.

“I’m so pathetic…” he says bitterly. And even if it sounds sour to say out loud… he can feel warmth in his chest. As much as he tells himself how infuriating it is to be doted-on and pampered, he can never stop the smile that curves on his lips. He’s never admitting it… but it’s not as bad as he makes it seem.

His fingers hover over your number. You’re only a couple rooms away. You’re so close to him. More than capable of helping alleviate the pain in his head. You answer the phone. “(Y/N)?” He almost hates the way your name rolls off his tongue so easily, like second nature. Almost. “Today sucks,” he sighs. “I got a headache.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the line. He can hear (Y/N) rummaging through some loose papers. Admittedly, he does feel a little irked at their apparent lack of concern. His blood spores release a heavy tint of color in his cheeks and neck. He’s so damnably uncomfortable- but he can’t help himself from craving your presence. “What do you want me to do about it, Sammy?” You finally. Even the sound of your voice relieves the pain in Samuel’s head. It’s like antidote he didn’t know he needed.

He feels like letting out a frustrated sigh, but holds back. His brows furrow into a tight knit. Fingers stroke loosely through his thick threads of hair, he rubs his palm against his forehead. “You have time to come over, don’t you?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement. Samuel “hates” when you act all difficult.

He hates the way your nonchalance sends more waves of heat up his body. This is so childish. The way he suddenly wants to close up, or smile and giggle like a schoolgirl- it’s absolutely childish.

You let out a small chuckle, “Yeah I guess I do.”

There’s a pause before you continue. Outwardly Samuel is slouching on his bed, still kneading his forehead and leaning into the phone. Inwardly he’s smirking broadly despite his obvious giddiness.

“What’s your room number?” You ask.

“302.”

“All the way up there…?”

“F*ck you.”

“Shut up. I’ll be there soon.”

Samuel concludes that sick days aren’t so bad when (Y/N) is around. Hangovers aren’t as unbearable as he originally thought. Random headaches are tolerable. Just as long as (Y/N) is around to dote on him. Just as long as he can feel their fingers stroking through his hair as he drifts off to sleep. Listen to them make phone calls, telling his subordinates and fellow Executives that he’s unable to attend work. As long as he can feel their knuckles brush against his cheek, and watch wordlessly as they pamper him. If (Y/N) is available to baby him (as much as he hates the term) then he’ll be alright. In fact… he sort of likes it.

At the end of the day, he might just return your affection. Your lips press warmly against his temple. “G’night Samuel.”

His lips brush hesitantly against your neck. “Night.”

A/N: Anon you’re so sweet! :,) Sorry everyone for being so inactive! And sorry to my male! Reader anons who requested things forever ago! I will finish them asap 😭

Also this is sorta dedicated to @wannaeatramyeon for their Vin Jin spams that inspired me to post again 🥲

[cherripieee]

Bloodlust - Eddie Munson x fem!vampire!reader

Part 1 - 'Teeth'

Eddie comes over for your usual movie night and after a night of confessions, Eddie tells you a secret, a dirty fantasy he has about a familiar creature.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts almost ALL SUMMER so i hope you guys enjoy! i had a fun time making this even though my writer's block made me change the format four fucking times-

warnings: reader is a vampire, 2nd person pov for this chapter, blood, biting, mentions of biting kink/fang kink, cursing

The end of another hot summer day is approaching, and you couldn’t be happier. Heat drags on the days with exhaustion and complete boredom, a scorching sun pairs along with the unbearable weather. Luckily, the sun begins to retire for the day and dusk is upon the sky. Not only are you glad that the weather gets cooler at night, but you’re also glad that your movie night with your best friend is happening tonight. Even though your movie nights happen almost every summer night, the two of you hadn’t planned one in almost two weeks. Responsibilities caught up to him and you couldn’t be mad at him for it. So, after a while, the two of you decided to get back on track with your hangouts. 

You’re actually relieved that he decided to go after his responsibilities. During those days, you had things to attend to. Those things included your urges and your hunger. No, not for food. For blood. You hadn’t tasted a drop of blood in months and your senses started to warn you about the consequences of not taking care of yourself. As a vampire, you knew you needed blood. But living in a small town like this made it hard to hunt for prey and get away with it. And no, you couldn’t just devour a helpless rabbit. You needed human blood, no other exceptions. Well, that was how your senses worked. It was either humans, or no food at all. 

So, you did what you had to do. One late night, you were walking around the neighborhood and a whiff of something delicious caught your attention. That scent had led you down the street, and now the cause of that whiff was right in front of you. In an alleyway, a guy has a woman pressed up against a wall. His lips are on her neck, from here you can see the woman tugging at the guy’s hair. Unrelated to the situation, this guy seriously had some great hair. You wanted to walk away and let the couple be, but that whiff got the better of you. You got closer. 

“Mmh, oh, Steve…” 

…Steve? Where have you heard that name before? 

Shaking off your thoughts, you stealthily sneaked behind the guy and peeked over his shoulder. Your back hits the brick wall, and now you’re just staring directly at the couple. Your senses are overwhelming, but you are used to it. Right on time, the woman opens her eyes. They squint at your dark figure for a moment. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Why’d you stop?” Steve asked, his words coming out breathless and raspy. The woman’s face twists into a look of pure horror as your eyes are now a piercing red. This was just step one. 

“It’s getting late…” The woman slowly unravels herself from Steve’s touch, stealing glances at the brick wall from where you’re watching. Your anticipation builds, igniting a feeling of butterflies deep down in your stomach. You can smell his scent and it smells amazing, it smells hot, and you even smell some sort of cologne. That’ll make the taste even better, you thought to yourself. “...I’ll call you!” 

Before the guy could even protest, she’s already off and speed-walking into another direction. You felt bad for interrupting their little interaction, but this guy smelled so damn good. Once you can’t hear the clicks of her heels hitting the ground, you know she’s long gone. You’re staring at Steve’s backside, running your tongue over your teeth. Sure enough, your fangs had come out just by the scent of him. That’s how you knew that this was gonna be good. Or you were just hungry. I mean, you hadn’t had any real food in a few months. 

“Fuck.” Steve mutters under his breath, catching your interest. Shouldn’t he be walking away? As of right now, usually the person would try to walk out until you stopped them and feasted on their blood. But he’s just standing there, looking down. 

No biggie, this just made things even easier for you. 

You carefully walked up to him, not even sure if you were controlling your own body or if it was your senses taking over. With every step, you felt yourself tapping more into your natural instincts. You didn’t care if he screamed, you just wanted a taste. You didn’t care if it got messy, you just NEEDED his skin against your teeth. 

As Steve begins to move, you pounce on him. You grip his shoulders and push him down to his knees, earning a yelp from him. “HEY! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” He screams, but you could care less about his threats. Licking your lips, you press your lips to the curve of his neck and trace your tongue around his skin until you find your favorite spot. Your favorite spot on a person was always the area a few inches below the ear. All vampires had a preference, or some just took whatever you could get. You, however, were a mix of both. He’s trying to fight back, you can tell. He’s wiggling around and screaming at you, and for help. He looked so helpless and that just heightened the feelings of your senses. 

“What the-” Were the last two words you heard as you sunk your fangs down into his skin, flavor bursting on your tongue. Just as you suspected, he tastes good. There’s blood streaming from your mouth and dribbling down to the back of his orange sweatshirt. Fuck, this is exactly what you needed. You gulp down each and every drop you can get, your nails sinking down into his sweater. Your senses had completely taken over and the only thing on your mind was: hunger. Steve’s quieted down, his eyes drooping low, and his energy suddenly drains. Unfortunately, you can’t keep at this for as long as you wanted to. You wanted a meal, but you weren’t a killer. You reluctantly pull away, red liquid drips from your fangs and onto his skin. 

Releasing your grip on him, the poor guy drops down to the floor on his back. He’s not exactly unconscious yet, but he’s getting there. He’s staring up at you with his eyes fluttering closed. You stay there and make sure his eyes are closed before wiping your mouth and heading out of the alleyway. Now, your hunger would be satiated for the next couple of months. 

…wait. WAS THAT STEVE HARRINGTON?! 

And now you’re here, at home setting up the living room for your movie night with your bestie. 

You cleaned up earlier and set up the area, he was going to bring the snacks. Snacks in his terms meant: beer, store bought chocolate chip cookies, a huge tub of vanilla ice cream, and more beer. So basically, you were always the one to have all the goods. 

There’s one large blanket draped over your couch, the one that you and him share on nights like these. He’s a HUGE blanket hog, but you don’t mind it. Even if that means that you have to freeze your ass off to make sure that he feels safe and comfortable in your home. He deserves it, he deserves everything. If it wasn’t clear enough, you were definitely crushing hard on your best friend. As much as you tried to deny it, you simply couldn’t. You’re in love with this man and obsessed with everything he does. Unfortunately, only being best buddies would have to do for now. 

About a half hour later than he was supposed to arrive, the door knocks. This was typical of him, so you weren’t bothered. After taking one last glance around the area and collecting yourself, you rush over to the door. You open it, and there he is. Your best friend, Eddie Munson. 

His head of curls is tied back into a ponytail, his brown doe eyes are soft as he gives you his signature warm smile. It almost makes you wanna sink your teeth into his face because he’s so damn cute…in a good way. 

“Sweetheart.” 

You give him a smile back, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Yeah?”

“...I forgot the beer.” 

~

Curled up together, thighs against his thighs and your head rests against his shoulder. You lived for this. Moments like these were the ones you savored because you knew that one day, Eddie would find someone else. He would find someone else to cuddle with and hangout with one day, and it wouldn’t be you. You wanted it to be, but…things don’t work out. Your last boyfriend got a glimpse of your fangs, and he asked you about it, so you came clean…let’s just say that he’s the sole reason why you moved to Hawkins. 

Part of you feels bad for not telling Eddie about your secret, he’s your best friend for God’s sake! But you promised your parents that you would be careful. And if you pissed them off, you’d be sent right back home. Even though you’re a grown adult, your parents had the last say in everything. 

Eddie’s chomping away at the brownies you made him and watching the movie peacefully, his fingertips gently caress your forearm. In that moment, you prayed that his touch didn’t leave a trail of goosebumps. As you thought that, you felt a pleasant shiver roll down your arm. You’re about to excuse yourself to the bathroom to cool off until Eddie sits up. 

He grabs the remote and turns off the tv which stops you from bolting to the bathroom, instead giving him a curious look.

“Didn’t like the movie?” You asked, looking up at him.

Eddie shakes his head, his head of curls whipping him right in the face. You try to hold back your laughter as he brushes it out of his face, and it’s the most awkward yet cutest thing you’ve ever seen. His ringed fingers go through his hair while he gives you that warm smile that he only saves for his closest friends. This guy didn’t know how pretty he actually was.

“Nah, it’s not that.” He replied, setting the tv remote on the table next to the couch the two of you were sitting on. “It’s been a while since we had one of these, I figured we could catch up.”

Your heart melts.

That should be the bare minimum of having a best friend, catching up with each other every second you got and checking up on each other. But you felt so helpless when it came to your feelings for Eddie.

“Alright.” You simply replied. “Let’s catch up.”

Eddie then fills you in on what’s been going on. There’s some girl (you already hate her) and apparently, she stood him up on his date to go and hook up with some guy in an alleyway.

“Who was it?!” You asked.

Eddie chomps on another brownie, giving you a smirk. “Steve Harrington, who else would it be?”

…that’s ironic.

You had caught Steve Harrington making out with some girl in an alleyway the night you attacked him.

Oh.

Your face flushes with embarrassment and you sink down into the couch, hiding your blush with a pillow. Thankfully, Eddie doesn't notice, and he continues talking.

"And weirdly enough, he got attacked by something almost right after." He added.

The fact that the "something" he was talking about was YOU made you feel bad, but you were lowkey happy because you got to hurt someone that hurt Eddie.

"What did he get attacked by?" You asked, acting as clueless as you can.

Eddie shrugged, brushing a few brownie crumbs from his shirt and onto the floor which you'll sweep up later.

"Well, I talked to Steve earlier today when I stopped by Family Video, and he had a bandage on his neck. He told me the last thing he remembered was seeing a pair of red eyes." He explained.

That's what most people usually remember when they get bit by a vampire. It's either a pair of red eyes or a dark figure. If they noticed anything else, you clearly did something wrong. If you aren't careful enough, you could end up getting yourself hurt...or even killed.

You're always careful.

"What do you think attacked him?" You asked, curiously.

Eddie was lost in thought for a moment, his ringed fingers tapping against the arm of the couch. This action made you sit up straight, holding the pillow in your lap.

What was he not telling you?

As his best friend, you knew the signs of when Eddie was hiding something.

His chocolate brown eyes are gazing down at his fingers, sometimes stealing a glance at the black screen of the television.

His other hand is fidgeting with the fabric of a white fluffy pillow, picking at the fur.

"...Eddie?"

The sound of your voice startles him as he looks up, giving you a sheepish look. "Sorry, lost in thought."

Eddie lets out the world's longest and dramatic sigh, his head falling into your lap as he looks up at you. Why did he have to be so damn cute?!

"You're so dramatic." You say, ruffling his hair a bit.

"And you love it." He retorts quickly, flashing you a cheeky grin.

"And I love you, Eddie Munson." is what you want to say, but you can't.

Instead of that, you simply roll your eyes and push him off of you. He lands on the ground with a soft thud, bringing the whole blanket down with him.

"Hey! I bought that blanket, y'know."

Eddie laughs, covering himself with the blanket. He wraps it around his whole body while keeping his eyes on you, that same cheeky grin stays on his face. "Come and get it."

You immediately rush down to the floor, trying to rip the blanket from his grasp. Eddie's surprisingly very strong, despite his lanky form. But your vampire strength gives you an advantage. The bad news is that if you went too hard, let's just say that you would actually rip the blanket.

The two of you play around for a bit, smiling, laughing and teasing each other before laying on the floor in a heap of breathy giggles. Your legs are tangled together, and the blanket is thrown somewhere around the two of you.

The silence is comfortable and content.

The moment was calm and quiet.

"...I think a vampire attacked Steve."

...never mind.

“Vampire?” You said, trying to sound as clueless as possible. 

“Yeah, I mean, what else could it be? Plus, with all the shit we’ve been through, we shouldn’t rule it out too quickly.” Eddie explained. 

You nodded along to his words, even though there was a pit forming in your stomach, filled with nervousness and dread. 

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, absorbing the quietness. Hawkins was pretty peaceful at this time of night. You could hear the faint noises of cars passing by, but that was all the noise you could hear. Just as you’re about to close your eyes, you hear something. 

Something out of Eddie’s mouth that makes your eyes go wide. 

“Do ya think that getting bit by a vampire would feel good?” 

…woah. 

You sit up immediately, tilting your head to the side and giving him a confused look. 

“Uh, no? It probably hurts like hell.” 

Another moment of silence forms, and this time you’re not calm. You’re conflicted, confused yet curious all at the same time. Was Eddie into vampires? Everyone in Hawkins knew that Eddie was a freak, liking things that no other person would. But, honestly, having a biting kink was completely fine and normal. 

But having a thing for VAMPIRES? 

…it’s a problem considering the fact that YOU’RE a vampire. 

You snap out of your thoughts, hearing a little rant from Eddie as he makes wild and dramatic gestures with his hands. 

“But that’s the thing, would it hurt so bad that it would feel good? Imagine the mark it would leave afterwards, sweetheart. Did you not see Steve’s bandage? That shit was big.” 

You can only reply by hitting him with a nearby pillow, earning a yelp and a glare from your best friend. 

“Alright, you little masochist, it’s time for you to skedaddle.” 

Usually Eddie would spend the night, but you can’t face him after what he had just said. You didn’t know if you could even control yourself from giving into his desires…and your own. 

Eddie raises his hands in mock defense, getting up and grabbing his leather jacket from the back of the couch. He’s smiling, as if he hadn’t just told you that he wanted a vampire to bite into his skin and leave a mark. 

You walk him to the door, as you always do, with your arms crossed and the chilly Hawkin’s air hits you almost immediately as you step outside. It’s a great way to cool off, especially after tonight. 

Eddie pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you. 

His scent. 

His fucking scent. 

You close your eyes and lean into him, getting a whiff of his smell. This was definitely weird, but you couldn’t help it. Part of you wants to know what he tastes like, what he feels like… 

…but you won’t ever know. 

Clearing your throat, you break away from his embrace and watch him get into his car, giving him one final wave as he drives away in his truck. You can already hear the loud rock music slowly fading away in the distance. 

“...fuck.” 

[yorutsuki]

「 ✦ Surreptitious God ✦ 」

[ Mha x God!Reader ]

↳ The summary is; your a God, the God of balance—the Yin and Yang. You can bring life or death to anything and everything. But when it comes to war...could you really be called the God of balance?

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

War. The bloodshed is unbearable—left and right, below and above is death. Nothing but destruction in it's path. You'd live for hundreds of years but still couldn't bear the weight of the losses on the battlefield.

During your lifetime, you've experienced countless of battles from the moment quirks were brought into the world. But nothing could prepare you for this..

The destruction around you was nothing like you've ever encountered. Life forms were dimming almost to nothingness as the unraveling wrath spreaded like wildfire.

"How amusing, a God-related quirk user on the ground, their life dependent on the outcome of what I decide. How ironic isn't it? For all of time, everything known to exist were at your mercy. But how the tables have changed." The voice was rasped as his white haired danced from the ashes of destruction. "Y'know, we've been watching you for so long, but guess what? You're not the only powerful being of destruction." He sneered, following with a chuckle which then boomed into a manic laughter.

As the man grabbed your chin, he harshly forced it up before moving it to the side. "Look at all of this..all the blood-shed and destruction..and it wasn't just me who caused it." He chuckled sadistically, "your quirk controls anything destroyed as well can repair, so in contrary, this was your doing as well."

Your eyes gazed around the collapsed and burning buildings, the ashes that flickered throughout the wind—the fires that had spread all around—that dance in the wind almost seeming to taunt you.

As you watched your chin was roughly turned, as your eyes landed on blood-lusting red ones. The kind that can send chills just by a meekly gaze, ones that sadistically taunt you with no remorse.

"So tell me, descender of the God of Balance, how do you feel? Remorse? Guilt? Maybe even fear?" Tomura questioned amusingly before sighing as he shook his head. "No matter, in honesty I don't give a damn. I'm going to end you along with all those revolting 'heroes'."

His face etched a manic grin as he brought his hand closer towards your head.

For most of your life, you've never felt or shown fear..but this, this was different. For the first time, you weren't just scared, you were beyond mortified.

You've grown so close to everyone thats hurting—fighting to protect everything and yet, here you were...a literally fucking God, whose on the ground unable to even stand. How pathetic—a God who sustains unimaginable power at will is at mercy of others, a God who has control over life and death itself can't even help those around them, instead, watch as some succumb to their wounds.

Can you really call yourself a God? Nonetheless the God of balance.

Tears of fury, sorrow and fear all clouded your vision as the on slaughtering background noise diminished to only white as your ears rang. And then it finally dawned onto you,

You were useless..

.

.

"You don't really think that do you?"

You head slowly lifted. Your eyes widened as you no longer the midst of destruction, instead, you laid on bright grass as nature gleamed around you. Water rushed down a small rock formation into a minor lake, glistening. You got up with ease which confused you. Looking down at your body, you noticed you barred no scars.

As you looked around, your memories start fading back as you recalled this plain being a sacred meet up spot.

Your head shot towards a light chuckle, only to be met with the Goddess of nature, Kami.

"Worry not {name}, this plain is a conscious escape." She reassured. Your muscles relaxed as you walked towards her before sitting down at the makeshift-rock table. You sighed as you felt calm as weren't in midst of battle, yet in a place of solace. Though you couldn't help but feel anxious of what was happening in real time.

You were snapped from your state of worry as the Goddess began to speak. "You've done so much and worked quite the ways to get to where you are. Why would you think your useless?" She cocked her head to the side with a light smile.

"I..theres war going on. I'm the one responsible and the one in control of destruction and creation itself, to keep it all in balance, no? If I fail to do my job correctly..who am I to be called a God?" You looked down, fidgeting with a small carving of a star within the rock.

"But you are fulfilling your role. You aren't the God of peace, you are the God of balance. War is one of the factors—the other side of the positives. If destruction doesn't occur, then theres nothing life can contrast to." She informed, reassuring you as well. Getting up, she made her way towards you, a light smile of reassurance and encouragement placed on her lips as she sat down next to you.

"You may not see it yet, but even with your doubts you'll be able to find a way to tip the scale to make it equal. With this war, you'll find life, one way or another. Trust me on this."

You sighed before looking up towards her. "Thank you for this. I know you can't help physically but your words are just as encouraging."

Her smile seemed to brighten, "of coarse." She nodded.

...

You quickly summoned a dagger before quickly stabbing it through Tomura's hand. The man retracted his hand as he staggered back, clutching it in pain as the dagger dispersed. You were thankful time in the plain turned to be nothing int he overworld.

"You bitch!" He hissed, but as he looked up, you were gone. As your blade was about to strike down to his neck, he quickly countered it, grabbing ahold of it as it crumbled to dust.

...

A/N:

[Hi! Soooo as you can see this is clearly unfinished and quite sloppy towards the end. And thats because it is unfinished. Honestly might go back to this later but in the meantime I don't have a clue how to finish this off. I cannot write fighting scenes for my life without it sounding horrid. If you have any ideas on how this should end, please comment it and if I can use it, i'll tag you along with credits! ^^ Also rq, about shigi referring to her as a 'descender of the God ___' and her being a God isn't a writing error. Anyways, yea, use your imagination to however you'd like the ending to be.]

(I haven't watched or read the war-arc yet so I have no clue of Shigi's fighting style.)

......

[ Masterlist ]

[negative-speedforce]

OC Creator bingo- Snowed in

From @occreatorexchange's bingo

With: Kayla Pierce-Addams (OC) and Yelena Belova

Yelena groaned, leaning on the other operative's shoulder. The bullet in her leg made it impossible for her to walk unaided, sharp, throbbing pain shooting up her thigh from where it had ripped through her flesh. The HYDRA operative, a tall, broad woman with flame-red hair that reminded her of Natasha's, had torn off a piece of her undershirt and wrapped it around the wound, so their enemies wouldn't have a blood trail to follow in the knee-deep snow they were trudging through.

"So..." Yelena began, trying to distract herself from the pain. "What's your name?"

"Doesn't matter. Not anymore, at least." The Operative, as Yelena had dubbed her, replied. "Your name is Yelena. I already know that. I saw your file."

Yelena frowned. "Where are you from?"

"Colorado." The Operative replied, looking down at Yelena with a slight smirk. "Bet you weren't expecting that."

"So you're used to the cold."

"Maybe not as much as you." The Operative said. "You're Russian. I can hear it in your accent."

"And you read my file."

"And I read your file." She nodded.

"Is there anything you don't know about me?"

The Operative thought for a moment. "What food do you like? Because these survival rations? Not it."

"I haven't had macaroni since I was a kid." Yelena replied. She could almost taste the warm, cheesy flavor on the tip of her tongue. "I miss it."

"I was vegan before... all this." The Operative trailed off, suddenly swinging Yelena over her shoulders as she began to scale a large rock formation. "Big fan of tofu."

"Put me down!" Yelena insisted.

"I'm getting us out of the cold, you idiot." The Operative scoffed, pulling them both up into a small cave, the entrance facing against the wind. Immediately, Yelena felt the cold leave her bones, as the cold wind whipped past the cave's entrance, but didn't enter.

As her adrenaline rush wore off, Yelena collapsed to the ground, the strength in her leg completely gone, as the pain became unbearable.

"Hey. Hey, I got you." The Operative helped Yelena scoot to the cave wall, so her back was propped up against a rock. "I'll be right back, okay? There's some kind of steam vent in the back of this cave. I'm going to test to see if it's toxic or not."

Yelena nodded, barely registering The Operative's words. It felt like her thigh was on fire, and her head swam from all the blood loss. She blinked a few times, forcing the world to come back into focus. A moment later, the masked woman returned.

"It's safe. Come on, we can warm ourselves up and I can fish that bullet out of your leg." The Operative picked Yelena up bridal-style, carrying her over to the mall steam vent in the back of the cave. She pulled off the thick leather gloves that she wore, revealing scarred, callused hands. She reached into her equipment bag, pulling out a book of matches and a first aid kit.

The operative removed her belt, holding it out to Yelena. "Bite down on this." She then lit a match, holding a pair of tweezers in the flame until it burnt out, then leaned over Yelena, removing the impromptu wound dressing from her thigh. "You're lucky. Any closer and it would have clipped your femoral artery."

Yelena clenched her fists, biting down hard on the belt as The Operative dug the bullet out of her skin. A moment later, she could feel her sliding a needle and thread through the wound, stitching up the bullet's entry point. Once the wound was closed, Yelena collapsed, overwhelmed from the pain and the cold.

When Yelena woke up, the cave was significantly dimmer. A thin stream of light came from the cave's entrance, and a small battery-operated lantern was propped up on a rock near Yelena's foot. Her leg hurt significantly less, but she could tell that there was some kind of numbing agent on the wound from the tingling feeling around it.

"You're awake." The Operative seemingly appeared out of thin air, approaching Yelena from the shadows. Her mask was removed, revealing a young face, which was long and pale and had a slightly upturned button nose. "You were out for fourteen hours. We're completely snowed in. I managed to make a small hole for air and light to get in, but digging any deeper is going to take hours."

"How long do you think we'll be stuck here?" Yelena asked.

"I don't know. Snow's still falling fast, I've had to re-dig the air hole at least four times already. Combined, we have enough survival rations to last us four days. Let's hope we can get out of here before then."

"At least we're not going to freeze to death." Yelena leaned over the steam vent, warming her hands, before exhaustion pinned her back to the cave wall, sleep starting to overtake her again.

"Just rest. I'm going to see if I can get us out of here." The Operative squeezed Yelena's shoulder. As she was slowly dragged back down into unconsciousness, she heard the Operative speak one last time.

"Kayla. Before everything, my name was Kayla."

[shit-wcue-players-say]

his name is what

[emmersreads]

My Top 5 Worst Books of 2023

I read 119 books in 2023. Some of the were great, most of them were fine, but some of them were real stinkers. Here are my top five worst books of the year.

This year I didn't read any books that I expected to be bad. Each of these is a book with an interesting premise or perspective but that bungles the execution so badly that I hated the time I spent on it.

You can also read the whole thing on my blog!

Honourable Mention:

To Shape a Dragon’s Breath - Moniquill Blackgoose

You can feel extremely strongly about the themes in your book and still churn out absolute pure dogshit. This entry foreshadows a consistent theme to this year’s worst list but only places as an honourable mention because it’s the only book this year that I dnf’ed. To Shape a Dragon’s Breath takes the intriguing premise in the 18th century colonization of east coast North America but also everyone has dragons and then mangles it with the colonizers being a weird combination of the English and the Vikings. The novel interrogates the idea of ‘civilizing’ the indigenous people but without the underlying motivations of Christian and European supremacy and manifest destiny the messaging is confusing and weak. In addition to a coherent message, To Shape a Dragon’s Breath also lacks multidimensional characters and any plot at all. I dnf’ed at 85% completion when I realized that the book wasn’t going to generate a plot at that late hour.

Fifth Place:

Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma - Claire Dederer

I began Monsters with high hopes. There is a lot of meat on the bone of how to love art by the truly reprehensible. Unfortunately it falls victim to a problem shared by all memoirs: in order to be good, the subject has to be interesting. Claire Dederer’s genuinely pretty good discussion of Woody Allen and Roman Polanski devolves into condescending platitudes about why teens like J.K. Rowling, genuinely reprehensible comments about whether getting an abortion makes a woman a monster, and finally into outsourcing her final conclusion to Pearl Cleage’s Mad at Miles. You might as well just read that one instead. Some of Dederer’s commentary is bad because it is poorly researched (Nabokov, J.K. Rowling), but what really bothered me about this book was the nauseating suggesting that women’s monstrousness is exclusively their behaviour as parents, as if being a parent is the primary imperative, at least for women. But else could be described as ‘bad motherhood’? Suicide? Yes! Having an abortion? Absolutely! Not devoting full attention and effort to your children at every moment of your life? Why, you’re just like Woody Allen. The inclusion of some arguments are heinous and the exclusion of others undermines the value of the discussions that do scan. Where’s Kanye West? Surely there’s more to his career than a few lyrics about how his fans don’t know the read him… surely… Sure, committing suicide is super duper monstrous because you’re basically abandoning your kids (heavy sarcasm implied), but what of women like Nicki Minaj? At least for me, a big lesson of the recognition of Problematic Artists is that we don’t actually need to hear from everyone in the name of fairness. Dederer should learn that too.

Fourth Place:

The Idiot - Elif Bartuman

Spicy Hot Take Alert: The Idiot by Elif Bartuman sucks and I am judging you for liking it. I want to be clear about this: I did put this book on the worst list rather than the blandest specifically because it’s so popular. This book is all the more unbearably pretentious because it has nothing to say. It’s fatally boring and exhaustingly incurious. I’ve seen it described on bookstagram as about ‘the formation of the self’ and I suppose corporate middle managers need a formation of the self too. That doesn’t make it book-worthy. Also what the hell are ya’ll talking about this book being relatable?? When I was eighteen I knew fucking everything. Sorry, but I’m different.

Third Place:

The Cheerleaders - Kara Thomas

The Cheerleaders was the first book I finished in 2023 but the memory is not distant enough. For me this was a failure because it seems to hate its own genre. What is the point of a girl detective mystery where it turns out there was no interesting conspiracy behind the deaths and the protagonist doesn’t even pursue the case exhaustively enough to find this out. Sure, maybe its more realistic to suggest that a girl grieving the too-early death of her older sister might be making things up, but I’m not in this genre for the realism. The Cheerleaders doesn’t feel like it has anything interesting to say about subverting the conspiracy-murder, just that it wanted to have a subversion and then couldn’t figure out how to execute that, resorting instead to a deus ex omniscient narrator. It’s like if instead of Sherlock Holmes solving the case through deduction, Arthur Conan Doyle emerged from behind the curtain and told you to go fuck yourself. Read the full review on my website!

Second Place:

Disorientation - Elaine Hsieh Chou

Yellowface by R.F. Kuang was the darling of 2023 but it is not the first novel about a yellowface-ing author who fools the white literary establishment by selling them exactly the kind of bland and easily digestible Asian stories they are comfortable hearing. But it’s a good thing Yellowface did come out because Disorientation needed more time in the fucking oven. Like Yellowface this book attempts a comedic tone, but it chooses pure cringe comedy goofiness over irony and as a consequence rather than being a humourous reflection of Shit White People Do it’s more Making Up A Guy to Get Mad At. It’s greatest asset is an attempt at a discussion of the intriguing topic of sexual politics. Since white men demonstrably do fetsishize Asian women, is it possible to have an individual relationship that is not based on fetishization? Unfortunately, Disorientation doesn’t actually have anything to say about it and so just wibbles along to a nothing of an ending. It’s a scream of rage to be sure, but not all screams of rage are coherent. This is the second entry on this list that undermines its message because it couldn’t bear to kill a few of its darlings, but not the last!

Worst Book of 2023:

The Bone Witch - Rin Chupeco

We live in an era where ‘wish-fulfillment’ and ‘self-indulgent’ are no longer automatic condemnations, which is all well and good for the people writing them but what of me, the discerning reader? One detects great love and passion in this book but unfortunately that’s no replacement for writing ability. The Bone Witch is haunted above all by the knowledge that the author must have a truly colossal lore bible for this thing. It feels like every chapter the book treats itself of an extended tangent about the political system of one of its half-dozen fantasy nations, none of which are actually important to this book, and damningly, none of which are even well explained. As you might imagine, this leaves precious little time for boring things like plot or characters. The plot is little more than disconnected scenes that the author clearly thought would be cool but didn’t think about how they would link together, meaning that the last quarter acceleration to the climax is occupied by a sitcom b-plot ass arc about helping a friend get into the very special dance recital. The characters are even worse with none of them rising beyond an outlining epithet: angsty protagonist, broody love interest, gay best friend. The attempt at a dark and moody tone is childish and goofy. I found the Geisha theming to be overdone and appropriative, and the use of gay characters to be offensive. The only time the book threatens to have promise is with its beginning, where the protagonist accidentally raises her brother from the dead; however, The Bone Witch is quick to inform us that this changed nothing about him or about their relationship, wouldn’t we rather think about how stylish kimonos are?

[fatalism-and-villainy]

I truly hate the tumblr trend of attaching genuinely useful information, resources, or analysis to a self-reblog of a snappy two-sentence OP that's unbearably obnoxious, smug, and judgmental. Like, damn, this is useful information, but you've ensured that I'm never going to share it, because you've posted it in a format that necessitates me exposing people to your original sentiment. At least make a separate post, for fuck's sake.

(Yes, this is about that kink education post going around, which has some useful information in the first reblog but frankly appalling rhetoric in the OP. I find the snide remark about "your ex-boyfriend who choked you incorrectly" extremely offensive - I think inexperienced people engaging in unsafe kink practices, without necessarily having the recourse to learn more about how to do them in a more risk-aware way, is a pretty inappropriate thing to be flippant about. Furthermore, the post makes bizarrely hostile assumptions about people who are just.... making horny posts on the internet? Why does that inherently imply a lack of knowledge or experience? And if it does, why in god's name is that something to sneer at, as if that'll make these people more amenable to actually learning more? The original post feels much more like enforcing ingroup vs. outgroup boundaries than actually lamenting the stigma against kink/lack of dissemination of kink resources in leftist communities. And tacking useful information onto that kind of sentiment feels pretty irresponsible, and displays, in my mind, a lack of regard for the feelings and insecurities of people who may be new to this stuff.)

[miarage-art]

Shackles

(I apologize for the construction of phrases and formatting - English is not my native language)

(текст на русском языке vk.com/@mia_ra_ge-okovy)

Pain.

Burning pain engulfs his entire body, biting into red-hot needles everywhere at once. Penetrates through the skin to the very bones, without leaving behind a single coherent thought. From this pain, it reduces every muscle at the same time with aching pain that does not recede, and with sharp flashes point-by-point throughout the body.

Pain.

The sound of chains barely penetrates through the fog in his head, as if his ears are stuffed with cotton, but Leto knows it's not cotton wool. Blood is pulsing in his head, surging from another flash of pain. It is buzzing in his ears with a booming, rapid pulse, echoing with a dull ringing. The elf has been standing like this for many hours — on his knees, in shackles and with his arms twisted. The shoulder blades stopped hurting a long time ago — this pain is incomparable with the one that followed with the first singing spell of Danarius.

Beads of sweat trickle down his face, burning his cracked lips with an acrid unbearable itch. But that's nothing. Leto doesn't even notice this pain, just as he doesn't notice the burning sensation from the same droplets all over his body when they slip on fresh blue-white marks from lyrium and pure magic.

"Are you satisfied, Leto?" Danarius twirls in his fingers a strange device consisting of several needles and a flask with lyrium. "You sacrificed yourself for science, for my success! This will be talked about for centuries in every corner of Tevinter!"

"I'm not doing this… for your… experiments… master…" the elf gasps with a wheeze. He takes long pauses between words to breathe, and swallows saliva. It is thick and with a taste of iron, sticks to the tongue and throat, forming a lump. The breath squeezes again.

"Oh yeah!" the magister pretends to sigh. "Your sister and mother. Don't worry, my precious wolf cub, I'll keep my word. Now they are free and can go wherever they want and do whatever comes to their mind."

Danarius comes close to Leto. For a few minutes he looks at the elf crucified by chains, whose hair has turned white from pain and magic. A day ago, this hair was such a rich black color, as if there was an abyss between them. The Magister puts his hand to the back of Leto's head, buries his fingers in his hair. Gathering them into a strong tail, he pulls his hand and throws the elf's head back. Removes sweat-damp strands of bangs from the forehead.

"There are three tiny marks left to make on your stubborn forehead, Leto." the magister chuckles. "And it will all be over."

The pain pierces the whole body again. Crackling electricity wanders from the puncture site to every single mark that was already on the body. The skin on his forehead is stretched taut, Leto feels a vibration every time the needle pierces her. It seems to him that he feels the flow of the lyrium under the skin, as it penetrates into the vessels and veins, is absorbed into every cell. Burns them from the inside, invading like a parasite.

Not even a scream escapes from the throat — the voice is hopelessly torn off — but only wheezes and moans. Consciousness slips away, fades, but before a second passes, it flashes scarlet.

The ear catches the chanting spell with which the master completes the rite.

"What a pity you won't remember what happened before today, my dear Fenris. Now it will be your name." Danarius gives the tool to the servant.

The elf looks in front of him with a bleary gaze devoid of meaning. A thin trickle of blood flows from under the nose to the lips.

"As the master commands…" Fenris breathes hoarsely.

He doesn't remember who he is. Doesn't know where he is. Vague outlines of memories say only that he is a slave and belongs to this man.

But somewhere deep inside, a tiny spark is smoldering, pulsating in time with the pain that still pierces the body, even though the rite has been stopped.

Fenris hides this spark even deeper, but does not ignore it.

One day he will let it burn up.

One day he will remember.

[protect-daniel-james]

Hi!

For the ask game, 11 and 12?

11. Who is your favorite character(s) to write about and why?

I have lots of favorites tbh. Currently:

Frank Lampard - he's a sad jobless lump of issues. I'm not his biggest fan irl, but it's fun to explore all the fucked-up ways he might have been affected by the things that happened in his childhood and while growing up... Also, the "setting" of his life, his career, his jobs, it all makes a great setup for some in-depth explorations of... things. Family relationships, thatcherist England, gender roles and expectations, The Lads and their banter, homophobia in football... Honestly, I wouldn't be shocked if he came out one day, and admitted that he did all these things to be one of the lads, and to not disappoint his parents (mostly Dad), and to fit the role of a "perfect English player".

Unai Emery - obviously. I love him, I respect him, I wish him all the best. He's perfect for all the dorky, weird, strange, mysterious stuff. I want to write about him having wet dreams and nightmares about football, getting withdrawal symptoms when unemployed, thirsting for football desperately, fucking a real football /the object/, seeing formations in colors and shapes even when he just writes the names of players on the whiteboard, feeling unbearable pain when a part of a stadium is being demolished/rebuild... He's one with football, he belongs to it, and the Enfermo... stories with him are ultimately odes to football and places of football practice.

i love the ships of Barnes/Westwood, and Thomas Frank/Graham Potter because they are always an opportunity to write a tender hurt/comfort fic without the messed up toxicity that very often comes up in the other fics.

Diego Simeone - oh, I love him. And he's so hot. And he's passionate and obsessive... Tough guy who would kill, you know? But he has one weakness - Antoine. And I love it. I always try to make him not sappy/pathetic (like Frank is with Mason in the end), but truly El Cholo, the manager, in his dark suit, unbreakable spirit, devoted until the end to making his sweet French prince happy.

I love the Eddie/Jason dynamic, and hope to explore more the backstory, I think with @milfcaptainpike we figured out an interesting dynamic and reasons behind Jason's behavior and devotion... Let me say this. Jason the scruffed beaten up dog that never knew love and was used to "dog eat dog" mentality of the bad crowd in Mile End finding a protector in Eddie, and Eddie finding a fierce, loyal, growling dog that won't hesitate to bite if neccessary in JT...

I love exploring different personalities/behaviors with different characters, all while making them hopefully believable but also distinct? So that nobody could just "swap" the characters from Frank/Mason story for Cholo/Antoine for example, nah. The characters and personalities make stories.

12. What is your favorite theme/subject matter/trope/ship to write about? Why?

incest and breeding and stuffing and pissing

aahhhhh... Longing, jealousy, desperation? Wanting something you can't have, and either succombing to the desire, or struggling.... I've been told recently that I'm good at writing "the desperate, miserable, uncomfortable little wanks these men tend to indulge themselves with", thank you, and I think you're right? I can't tell if I'm good at it, but I certainly enjoy writing those! I feel like most of the smut I wrote recently has been pathetic rather than "hot" (although, well, Unai is not really pathetic in his love and horniness for football? it's just... that it's an inanimate thing). And sometimes, them being pathetic is hot.

Recently I found out about objectophilia and it's fascinating to me because I see some of the behavior/thinking in myself, so it's fun to explore with Unai in extreme - he's perfect for it.

I love when a fic touches...a deeper subject. Or is well done for a historical context/background, etc. I would love to do this with the Jamie in Liverpool fic - I think I said I want it to be a "love letter to Liverpool" (I've been there twice in the past year, wrote my thesis about it, and fell in love with it), even if it's in the sad Lampard context. Similarly, I'd love to include some academic stuff, experiences, and even works in the potential academic!au with Mikel and Unai. I brought home three books about ETA and Basque nationalism to have real life info for Txoria txori... And I could go on. I just love when there's a depth behind a story. I also enjoy a smutty PWP, of course, but the stories I love the most have a depth and references and "lore" and "-verse" I guess?

[birdylion]

15 Questions/15 People

Rules: Answer these 15 questions and tag 15 people.

Thank you @shakespearerants !

• Are you named after anyone? No, but my name is common enough and coincides with a wave of naming boys after an at the time famous person of that name, so people often think I am too.

• When was the last time you cried? I don't remember, as I rarely cry. But I teared up some time in the not-too-distant past thinking about my deceased grandmother.

• Do you have kids? No, and it's highly unlikely that I'm ever going to (want to) answer that with a yes.

• Do you use sarcasm a lot? In general, no, not at all. With one or two people I've made a habit of it.

• What's the first thing you notice about people? The role/context in which I meet them.

• What's your eye colour? Blue-grey

• Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings; I think the visual format is too intense for me for scary stuff. I read the occasional scary book though.

• Any special talents? I'm told I'm good at learning languages (amazing, considering how hard it is for me to express myself in any of them), and I'm good at picking up beginners' skills of new musical instruments quickly. In general, I'm good at learning the basics of new skills quickly enough that at first glance, it seems to look like I can do anything/everything.

• Where were you born? In the same place but in a different country than my father.

• What are your hobbies? Listing just the ones I do most often at the moment: rock climbing, tabletop rpg, written rpg, baking, carpet knotting, reading, playing random melodies on my instruments

• Do you have any pets? A dog! My tag for him here on tumblr is 'my dog is the best dog', which is equally true for every dog, but it's where I put the pictures on here

• What sports do you play/have you played? Tennis, table tennis, horse riding, sailing, filipino martial arts, aikido, skiing, going to the gym, quadball, bouldering, rock climbing, hiking. Only the last 6 are more or less current. Oh and I forgot ballroom dancing! Did that for a while but stopped before it was getting competitional.

• How tall are you? I jokingly compare myself to a hobbit sometimes. For a hobbit, I'm very attractive!

• Favourite subject in school? Every single one of them as long as the teacher didn't make it unbearable. Due to some good teachers, biology, geography, math, and physics particularly stood out. Sadly, math and physics were also made unbearable at times though.

• Dream job? Wandering through the woods and protecting Shirefolk from evils unknown to them.

Tagging @hermitknut, @somename, @caffeespresso, @chellsky, @bumblebee-and-tea, @asherlockstudy, @the-law-of-progress, @blowndandelion, @astronicht, @sympathischeufos, @caedharlowe, @sk-ew, @lordginger3rd, @thelightinthesky, @freizusein - only if you're enjoying these games! And also, let me know if you want me to refrain from tagging you in the future.