#granted that's a general thing for this blog but you know
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Been having varying levels of Rain World brain rot for the last while, so a good chunk of what I've been drawing lately are slugcats. Most of these are my own ideas because I've gotten more attached than I intended. I'll yell about them under the cut.
First is an attempt at a Hunter design featuring a slugpup I've been calling the Squire. My main idea is that before the end of Hunter's campaign, they leave Squire with Gourmand's colony, and Squire ends up acting as a guard there when they're older.
The second image is of the Cathode (green) and the Chameleon (black and white). They're both purposed organisms from a different group of iterators than those in-game. Cathode is resistant to electricity and can store electric charges to stun attackers, and they were made to help maintain a damaged iterator can. Chameleon is the obligatory part-lizard scug, being made with white lizard traits by a different iterator than Cathode. Chameleon was frequently overshadowed by their creator's other slugcat, though, so they end up leaving and being taken in by Cathode's creator. I imagine Cathode and Chameleon end up as a bonded pair and are pretty much inseparable after the Chameleon arrives.
The last is the Scholar (or at least my take on that idea, I've seen the title used by others). They'd be post-Saint, purposed by an iterator to investigate why communications have gone quiet. Design-wise, they'd be closer to Gourmand's build but very fluffy, and the darker fur around the eyes was meant to resemble glasses, but I realized it looked a bit like a raccoon's mask, resulting in the tail stripes.
#rain world#rainworld#art#digital art#fan art#App's art#January2024#rw hunter#fc#the squire#the cathode#the chameleon#the scholar#tags just in case I post more about them later#by which I mean feel free to ask about them#granted that's a general thing for this blog but you know#fandom stuff gets more attention so I'll say it for the rw fans who find this#in other news still not too sure how I want to draw these things#especially the back legs#I draw them one way when bipedal and another for everything else
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look at us | joel miller
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
words: 2748
warnings: 18+ blog; Smut, maybe even smut with no real plot, Nipple play, orgasm through nipple stimulation, praise, multiple orgasms, using arousal as lube, mutual masterbastion (f & m), cum eating/sharing, mirror watching, my horrible attempt at keeping a conversation flowing during sexy time, Joel can’t keep his hands to himself, fluff, established relationship, mentioned that reader is wearing a dress & bra but has zero descriptive features, can be read as no outbreak or prior to outbreak Joel, there’s no Sarah in this universe
notes: this is a reimagined version of an older fic i posted and didn’t really like for some reason. Switched the characters and reworked it a bit. Smut is so hard to write for me, I just question the whole thing in its entirety and never want to do it again. But I love this storyline so much more now as Joel that I honestly don’t even care if the smut is wonky— I just want joel now. This writer supports Palestine and does not share or support the views of tlou creator.
It’s a heady sensation.
Visceral. Demanding. Gratifying.
His touch. A grounding force that burns through you, igniting every nerve ending in its wake.
Plaint and warm, your body blooms with a carnal appetency.
He’s emboldened by every sound he plucks from you. The softest whimpers that fall from your lips, kiss every single inch of his dewy skin. He’s forever addicted to your willingness to take what he has to give you— always wanting more.
Generous. Attentive. Steadfast.
Earnestness bleeds into a lustrous selfishness. The anticipation palpable, watching as you come apart in his arms, your pleasure is his forevermore.
It’s intuitive, the way he’s drawn to you. Most mornings, taking advantage of what little time he has with you, before work is pulling you both in different directions. Then you’re reunited for the evening and he’s making up for lost time, devouring and satisfying, well into the next day.
An endless cycle of being connected and reconnecting.
When weekends come around, he’s selfish. Overindulging beyond his means. Knowing he has ample time to relish in the closeness. Met with endless opportunities to have you near in any capacity as the hours of the day tick on, time he doesn’t take for granted.
Today is no different. From the moment the truck backs out of the driveway, beginning the several mile drive across town in the direction of Tommy’s home, he’s reaching for your hand.
Palm to palm, fingers perfectly intertwined as your hands stay connected over the center console of his pickup. The afternoon sun streaming through the window, adding to the already budding warmth that’s building between you. The conversation is light. Joel listening intently as you share details from your week, his thumb working over your knuckles as you move through the highlights of your story.
The remainder of the drive has a comfortable lull as the miles roll by. Music streaming through the cab, the lyrics provoking a wave of affection. Joel’s lips find the top of your hand periodically, his gaze never breaking from the road ahead. Your heart racing instantly at his instinctual gesture.
The gathering of friends— barbecuing, music and laughter, doesn't deter him from keeping you within arms reach.
Joel’s hand settles on the small of your back, fingers lightly dragging back and forth over your tingling spine, as you both exchange hello’s and hugs to the group friends in attendance scattered around the backyard
While Tommy is busy tending to the food on the barbecue, Joel and you are caught up listening to Paul, Tommy’s old army buddy and the newest hire at Joel’s construction company, share stories from his and Tommy’s time together in the military. Both of you enthralled by the recounts of close calls and embarrassing moments for the younger Miller brother, only to be interrupted by a flustered Tommy calling for Paul to grab plates and napkins from inside.
The minute you’re alone his hand is wandering south, grabbing at the meat of your ass and pulling you flush against him. It’s the first moment you’ve been alone since arriving and he’ll be damned if he’s not going to take advantage of it.
You smile into his kiss, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as he leans in close, his hushed words fanning across your ear.
“You look so damn pretty in that dress. Can’t wait to get my hands on you later.” The husk in his voice nearly makes you melt further into him, not even surprised by the cool dampness coating the silk panties you chose today, just for him.
“Hmmm— your hands haven’t left me since we got here.” You muse.
“I like havin’ you close.”
“You’ve made that quite obvious, Miller.” You joke, before he’s silencing you with another less than chaste kiss.
Dinner is served as the sun begins its descent. The air dropping a few degrees cooler, has goosebumps pricking at your skin. But it’s nothing compared to the shiver Joel is causing you, his hand nestled between your legs under the table.
You find it hard to focus between all the lively conversations being volleyed across the table, dishes being passed around and laughter cutting through friendly onslaughts of fuck you’s.
Joel mindlessly massaging at your thigh as he talks. Filling everyone in on the projects he’s started around the house, while your brain is muddled with thoughts of Joel’s hands and only Joel’s hands.
You can’t be positive it’s a deliberate move— or is it? You’ve been with him long enough to know what a calculated man Joel is.
He leans forward to reach for the ketchup bottle, his other hand shifting further up your thighs, his demeanor is cool and even as his fingers brush over your clothed mound. His fingers slowly gliding over the very drenched fabric. You swallow a thick gasp as your hips cant forward on instinct, chasing his retreating hand, your cunt aching and desperate for more of his teasing.
The wink he shoots you as he settles back in his chair is all the evidence you need to know his plan worked.
“Look like you saw an infected zombie or somethin’. Everything okay, Baby?” You want to kiss the devilish smirk right off of his handsome face.
“Y-yeah.” Horny and desperate for you, but fine.
“Y’sure about that? Those perked nipples of yours are tellin’ a different story, Sweetheart.” He quietly calls you out. You glance down to see the thin fabric of your summer dress and lace bra are no match to conceal the hardened peaks— your body so easily betraying you is nothing new.
“We should head out soon.” You say softly, Joel nods immediately, the silent agreement has you eager for what’s in store when you arrive home.
The ongoing conversation among the others is now muted background noise as you stare into his needy eyes, your hand cupping the side of his face as your thumb traces over his plush lower lip.
“We’re headin’ out. Thanks for havin’ us, Tommy. Hope to see y’all again sometime soon. ‘Night.” Joel rushes through announcing your departure, pulling you from your seat, his body crowding behind you as he ushers you towards his truck.
“You’re not even gonna stay and help clean up?” Tommy pouts from his chair.
“You’re a big boy Tommy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Joel yells over his shoulder with a two finger wave as the gate clicks shut, home and you are the only thing cares about for the remainder of the evening.
“Fuuuuuuuck— Joel!” Your mind slowly seeping into a deep pleasured state.
There’s little recollection of leaving Tommy’s house and the drive home, other than Joel’s unrelenting need to have you close at all times— no complaints from you whatsoever.
Joel’s firm grip on your hand when he all but drags you to the bedroom of your shared home, clothes stripped at the foot of your bed in a hasty fashion.
The accumulation of Joel’s fiery touches throughout the day were merely effortless foreplay, all considered and aiding in his profound efforts that have been unfolding since arriving home.
“You look so fuckin’ good. Look at us, Baby.” The low gravel of his voice is overwhelming, but laced with pure authenticity. You lift your head just enough as your eyes slowly flutter open, trying to catch a glimpse of what he sees in the full length mirror positioned on the wall across from where you both are in bed— a mere coincidence that it was placed in there when you moved in.
“‘M l-looking, J-joel.”
It’s exquisitely striking how your cunt flutters madly against the cool air of the bedroom. The sight alone is better than any pornography you’ve consumed together.
Joel sitting up against the headboard holding your body close to his. Your back firm and tacky against his chest, breathing in rhythmic unity.
His feet hooked around your ankles, keeping your legs spread out as he hones in on the two luring forms glaring back in the mirror, a view that will forever edge out his own fantasies of you.
His large hands hold the weight of your breasts with pleasing dexterity, whispering the most beautiful obscene things into your ear.
I love your body. I love the way you moan. Missed your pussy all day. God, you’re always on my mind. Fuck, you’re makin’ me so hard. Louder. Fuck. Look at me.
Your gaze finally catches Joel’s in the reflection. It’s direct and overwhelming, his warm brown eyes flickering with a bold desire igniting a ripple of goosebumps over your body.
You’re both possessed by the new wave of arousal, glistening in the afternoon light, as it ardently drips from your pussy down to the bed sheets. Desperately craving to be devastated by this handsome man.
Joel’s thumbs swipe over your hard sensitive nipples, pulling a breathy gasp from your lips. Your head falling back into his shoulder as you let the sensation fully consume you.
“You like that don’t you?” You can only manage to hum in response, which encourages him to continue his work over the pebbled skin.
“Y-yes. You know how much I d-do.”
Joel knows this. Well enough too. It’s a normal occurrence that you find yourself in this identic state. Your body buzzing and exhausted, molded against Joel’s. His cock weeping and begging for relief, snuggly nestled between your roaring bodies. His skilled hands reducing you to putty.
Rolling. Pinching. Pulling. Flicking.
Each thorough caress sends an intense and deep feeling of delirium surging through you. Building and building the delicate structure for an elaborate release.
“So perfect all laid out for me. You gonna come for me?. I think you’re almost there, Baby. Just need a little more, huh?”
“Joel— I-I don’t think I can this time. N-need— oh fuck Joel! I need a little m-more.”
You’re cut off when you feel Joel’s fingers faintly slide over your throbbing clit and bypassing it completely. He swipes through your wet folds. You think he might finally give in. Plunge one, maybe two of his thick fingers into your aching heat, caress your velvet walls until you’re coming undone. Your body jolts as he gathers your arousal on his fingers, then abandons the ache and returns to his previous ministrations.
His arousal slick digits glide over each of your perked nipples. The wet eager strokes have your back arching as you moan into the room, your body tense and vibrating.
“Joel— yes! That feels so good! fuckfuckfuck! I— I’m so close Joel! D-don’t stop!” You let out a sharp moan.
“I ain’t stoppin’, Sweetheart. So fuckin’ beautiful. Can’t wait to see you come, Baby— just let go.” His hushed words paired with the way he rolls your stiff nubs between his fingers is just the push you needed, your climax vibrant and beautiful as it erupts, spreading through you faster than you can announce its existence.
Joel watches you fall apart in the mirror. Your breathless state has his hips grinding against your lower back as he continues to clutch your breasts. The glimmering beads of sweat rolling down your throat and chest, joining the layer pooling between your bodies.
It’s the view of your cunt that nearly takes him out, empty and pulsating, he’s never been so proud of a sight. He adds the mental snapshot to his backlog of imagery he’ll store of you until the end of his days.
“God, Joel. That— that was amazing!.” You say, peeling your satiated body from his.
Turning to face him, you sit in the space between where his legs are sprawled open, your hands massaging at his calves. You take in how enticing he looks, laid back on the stack of pillows, a slack grin on his handsome face as he slowly pumps his hardened cock.
You’re completely entranced by the sight, all thick and tempting. Biting at your lip teasingly, a hand all but subtly slips between your legs and your fingers begin delicately tracing circles over your clit.
Husked gasps falling from Joel’s parted lips as he alternates his movements. Long languid strokes over the length of his shaft then pausing briefly, his grip stilled and tight around the base as the reddened tip slowly leaks.
You gasp as the warmth of your sex engulfs your fingers triggering another gush of arousal to trickle down your thighs. Your other hand still connected to Joel’s leg, grounding your floating form to him.
Joel's eyes scan you, absorbing your blissed-out state, his hand matching your own steady movements, rhythmically moving over himself, his breaths now emerging as heavy pants.
Your fingers enthusiastically moving in and out with ease as your hips writhe keenly in search of the perfect position. The remnants of your previous orgasm are still lingering, beautifully aiding in the build up of the next. Your brows pinched in pleasure.
The room is dense with sexual humidity. Doused in a mixture of the ambered vanilla candle you burn frequently and a sweet ambrosial musk.
“Fuck— how’d I get so fuckin’ lucky with a woman like you? fuck!.” His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, neck taut and nose flared as he tries to breathe through how good he’s making himself feel. “Why don’t you— shit —c’mere.”
“Mmm-ah! T-tempting, Baby. ohgod! Think I’ll stay put. I’m actually enjoying the view quite nicely from here. You look so good like this, Joel.” Seeing him accept your praise is a vision you’ll never get tired of, allowing himself to give in and take what he needs.
Your fingers graze over that delicious little spot with success, a cresting wave set in motion, the sensation causing your walls to convulse. A moan escapes your lips, paralleling with Joel’s own sounds. Your head involuntarily tilts back, as you ride out the euphoric moment.
“Shit! Sweetheart, I’m— I’m gonna— Hnng!Fuuuck!”
Joel’s fist erratically pumps over his length, his eyes locked on your naked form, ragged breaths and eager moans. Your eyes struggle to stay focused through the hazy chaos, drawn to his flushed body, paralyzed with an ample dose of desire as he nears his finish.
“Come for me, Joel.” You’ve shifted yourself a little closer to where he’s eagerly working himself over, encouraging him to let go.
He does— white hot ropes of cum paint his stomach, his actions slowing as the last few drops spill over his hand. He breathes out a deep sigh, giving you a lopsided grin as his arms fall to his sides. Eyes heavy with a mixture of lust and love.
“Fuck— now will you c’mere?”
You draw your lower lip between your teeth, now hovering over where his now softening dick rests against his stomach. You don’t break eye contact as you lean down and lick at the sticky mess.
“Goddamn— Ah!” Joel hisses, the warmth of your tongue dragging up the length of his cock. Lapping at the dappled layer of silky brininess covering his lower abdomen, purring with satisfaction as you swallow it.
“God.Damn.” You echo his words back to him, your lips move over his— he groans at the taste of himself still on your tongue.
A slow, content smile forms on your face as you tenderly kiss his neck, followed by a series of soft kisses down his chest and stomach.
“Gimme a minute— just need to regroup and then I’ll be ready to go again.”
“Whatever you say, my love.” Joel’s arms wrap a you and you melt into him. “Or I can draw us a hot bath and we can soak until we’re prunes.” A yawn perfectly placed at the end of your suggestion.
“Sounds like a plan. How ‘bout we nap then soak?” You sleepily hum in response.
"Love you, Sweetheart," Joel whispers, before pressing his lips to the top of your head.
“Mmm— love you, Joel.”
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#no outbreak!joel miller#pre outbreak!joel#pedro pascal#wildemaven writes#pedrostories
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i found this blog by accident (i think the tumblr recommendations code or whatever figured out i have a polls addiction) and have had zero interest and experience in this topic but now. now i am so here. but i was wondering where i could go to watch movies with all these actors?? like i’m sure prime video or smthg might have a few classics hanging around but is there a service/website (of any legality) that specialises in vintage films and stuff? or is it really just physical media to get a lot of them? sry if this throws off your askbox, i didn’t know where else to ask! tyia <3
Hi!! I love this ask. Thanks for being here!
I don't know of any service that specializes in old movies, though HBO had a deal with TCM for a while that meant they had several classics on Max—I don't know if that's still a thing. In the meantime, though, the following websites all have "classic" channels that will be filled with great vintage movies to try:
Tubi—free streaming service that includes:
The Manchurian Candidate (Frank Sinatra, James Edwards)
The Philadelphia Story (James Stewart, Cary Grant)
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (Dick Van Dyke)
On The Town (Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra)
House on Haunted Hill (Vincent Price)
The Adventures of Robin Hood (Errol Flynn, Basil Rathbone)
A Streetcar Named Desire (Marlon Brando)
The Maltese Falcon (Humphrey Bogart)
Hoopla—free through many libraries:
The Court Jester (Danny Kaye, Basil Rathbone)
War and Peace (Jeremy Brett)
Barefoot in the Park (Robert Redford)
Cabin in the Sky (Rex Ingram)
Wings (Gary Cooper)
Kanopy—free through many libraries:
The General (Buster Keaton)
Flower Drum Song (James Shigeta)
Roman Holiday (Gregory Peck)
Seven Samurai (Toshiro Mifune)
His Girl Friday (Cary Grant)
Wuthering Heights (Laurence Olivier)
Sabrina (Humphrey Bogart)
Paris Blues (Sidney Poitier, Paul Newman)
Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Conrad Veidt)
Youtube also has TONS of movies that have slipped through copyright or "accidentally" ended up there:
Charade (Cary Grant)
The Gay Divorcee (Fred Astaire)
Lying Lips (Carman Newsome, Robert Earl Jones, Oscar Micheaux)
Stormy Weather (Harold Nicholas)
Rebecca (Laurence Olivier)
The Cheat (Sessue Hayakawa)
The Lady Vanishes (Michael Redgrave)
Jungle Book (Sabu Dastagir)
To Sir, With Love (Sidney Poitier)
It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World (Peter Falk)
What a Way to Go! (Dick Van Dyke, Gene Kelly, Paul Newman)
And of course there are methods of other legality if you want to go searching for titles by hand :)
I haven't seen all of the movies I list here—this is just a sampling of some famous ones, and a few of my secret faves—so be careful if you have trigger warnings and things. Hope you find some great movies!
#:D#i went a bit insane there. but you see. hot men!#if i had to pick one i'd say tubi has the best rotating selection?#anyway good luck anon!#asks#hotvintagethoughts
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Hello are you still doing the SAGAU for reader gets mad and blowing up at people for certain characters? If you are can you do traveler or Lumine if you don’t want to do a general head cannon and fischl still? I’m so angry about how many NPC world quests that now seem like a pattern of traveler helps and then gets backstabbed and left to die and just really think those NPC need to under stand the gravity and anger of the players.
Hello, @celestialsiren! Yes, supposedly, I am still doing this series lol—I don't see why I should end it, seeing as there's always new characters that people request for. Ofc I'll do the Traveler!
Click Me For Part 1!
Click Me For Part 2!
Click Me For Part 3!
Reader Defending the Traveler! (Also No Vice Versa)
(Disclaimers: This May be OOC, And This Post Will Mainly be Using Lumine as "The Traveler." However, This Post Still Can Be Read as GN!Traveler or Aether.)
Lumine
To be frankly honest, I think you (the Reader) would feel pretty connected to Lumine. She's understanding, she's calm, and most importantly, she gets what it's like not to be from Teyvat. She's passed the celestial atlas to venture the world that is Teyvat, only to be prevented by the Unknown God.
Safe to say, you both were like two peas in a pod. And you were willing to travel with her and find her brother. Lumine gets you a lot, and you refuse any harm coming her way.
That includes verbal complaints. Like, honestly—Lumine's done so much for Teyvat for an outlander, and this is how they treat her?! You weren't having it.
So you planted your foot down, and boy, was your glare menacing. Your words were harsher than the blizzards of Dragonspine, and your glare was as menacing as the Dead Skeleton of Orobashi in Watatsumi Island.
Anyone who you deemed as enemy—in this situation, these good-for-nothing, took-for-granted gossipers—was paling at the seems of the Almighty Creator stomping their egos down. And, not gonna lie, Lumine kinda likes watching some of them. Some of the insults you used were actually used in other worlds—something only Lumine would know, but others didn't. It was kind of hilarious.
Alas, she can't have you go around and go all out all the time. Someone needs to make sure that the Creator doesn't try to decimate random folks, even if they are pretty infuriating.
"Your Grace." Lumine puts her hand on your shoulder. "Let's hurry up and finish this commission. We still need to get those rewards." You huff, but you let the insulters go, without a threatening note.
Yeah...she was not expecting to be an occurrence with so many other characters, but hey! Lumine's not gonna stop you :)
Ghost Rebel Side Notes: And we're done! Sorry if it's really low quality lol—I am so tired as I'm writing this :') I do hope you guys enjoyed it, though! Don't feel discouraged to keep sending me requests!
At this rate requests are probably the only thing that's keeping my blog alive. My blog is on constant life support LOL
✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦
#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#sagau x reader#genshin self aware#sagau#sagau genshin#yandere sagau#sagau brainrot#genshin cult au#sagau cult au#sagau lumine#sagau aether#sagau traveler
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄
PAIRING: bucky barnes x f!reader
SUMMARY: bucky barnes and the domesticity he deserves.
WORD COUNT: 1.1k
RATING + WARNINGS: general audiences, domestic themes, fluff. use of she/her, more fluff, use of y/n, more fluff. in my head reader works outside lolzies
NOTES: marvel!? again!? it never ended!! just switched to something else for a bit but hesthermay will always be a multifandom blog! i quite literally am attached to too many things for it to just be one anymore lmao. anyways!! this is apart of the lady may universe, all works will be labelled as such but remember they do not need to be read in any order or together at all! they can be read as standalone stories because they are all apart of a collection!!
MARVEL MASTERLIST LADY MAY UNIVERSE
The sun had just finished setting, the dark sky staring back at him as he stood in front of the kitchen window.
Bucky Barnes wiped his flesh hand on his jeans before reaching up to readjust the phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder before it could fall. His other remained submerged in the soapy dishwater, metal fingers clutching the wine glass more delicately than his past self ever thought he could as he secured the device. “No, Steve—if you need me, I can come back.”
The blonde man shot him down immediately, insisting that it would only be a waste. Bucky sighed deeply and quietly, knowing his friend was as stubborn as they came.. “Alright, punk; if you say so.”
Truth be told, he did not want to go back just yet. As tired as he’d gotten over the years, the fight most likely wouldn’t ever leave James Buchanan Barnes’ life and that was just something he was going to have to accept. But when he’s here, in the tiny town in the middle of nowhere that was his very slice of paradise, there was no fighting. Only hard work and long days, warm evenings and calm nights, and loud laughter and dinners shared between two.
The life that Y/N L/N had given him was not one he had predicted, but one he would never take for granted. It was…all he could possibly want. If the world were to end tomorrow, he would spend his last moments with his lips on hers.
A tail hitting against his calf was what caught his attention and momentarily pulled him away from the conversation, glancing down at the plump dog stood next to him. Her eyes were trained on the doorway of the kitchen and the brunette knew exactly what she’d picked up on, a grin growing on his face as the last dish was dried and put away.
“Steve, I gotta go, Y/N/N just got home…okay, okay—I’ll tell her,” he chuckled as his metal hand swiped a rag over the counter quickly.
“Tell who what?” A voice piped up from behind him and the cloth was soon abandoned as he whirled around. There she was, standing in the doorway dressed for work and looking like it’d been a long day of it, while still radiating the kind of beauty he swore he’d never get tired of.
Bucky’s grin grew into a smile impossibly fast for a man who used to be a shell, a weapon, but that wasn’t unusual for him these days. “Ah, speak of the devil and she shall appear,” he remarked, and was met with an eye roll from his love and a laugh from his friend, before pulling the phone away from his ear.
With one click, Steve Rogers was put on speaker phone and thrown under the bus. “Stevie says you owe him a dinner from when he kicked your ass in beer pong.”
“I did not say that!”
Y/N’s laugh echoed around the kitchen and filled Bucky’s chest with joy. “Oh, well quit your complaining and get your ass down here then!” She called out as she made her way to the fridge, boots thumping against the floor. “And last I recall, there was no ass kicking. You barely beat me, Rogers.”
Steve and Y/N got along great, and it had become obvious to Bucky very quickly that they acted just like siblings. Their dynamic mimicked that of an older brother and younger sister, and if they didn’t look so different it’d be hard to tell they weren’t related. If they were, Bucky knew she’d give Steve a run for his money.
“I’m all booked up for the next few weeks unfortunately,” the captain’s voice filtered through the speaker, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to a visit after I clear everything up.”
“Oh,” Bucky drawled out as he leaned against the counter, arms and ankles crossed in the very name of ease, “I bet you wouldn’t. Grandma’s cooking’s pretty good, right?”
Another laugh was accompanied by the popping of a beer bottle’s cap coming off and the clinging sound of it hitting the floor. “You’re damn right!” Leaning down to pick up the trash, Y/N continued to speak to Steve but the mechanic had already gained tunnel vision.
His eyes were on her everywhere she went, observing the way her lips formed the words but not really hearing what they were, the way her eyes flitted over to him every few minutes because she was just as obsessed with him as he was her.
The life that Y/N L/N had given him was not one he predicted, but one he would rather die than take for granted. It was his greatest gift.
The sound of his name broke his concentration and he was brought back to the present, tuning in to the conversation to hear Steve saying his goodbyes, throwing a ‘talk to ya later, Buck!’ at the end before he hung up. The phone was forgotten, remaining in the same spot with a black screen as the family of two now focused solely on one another. Y/N walked to the sink, beginning to wash her hands as she looked at the man before her with a semi serious face. “I sure am glad Steve let you have a break even with this long mission. I was starting to go a little crazy,” she chuckled.
“I’ll always find a way back to you, lover girl,” he replied smoothly with that crooked grin as one hand reached out to swipe a thumb across her cheek, wiping off the smudge of dirt left over from her day at work. She beamed at him and he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop himself from pulling her in for a kiss; a kiss that conveyed how much he’d missed her, how long he’d waited for her, and just how much he loved her.
When they broke apart she laughed ever so softly, eyes a little out of focus as she recovered from the display of affection. “You gonna let me set the table, Barnes?”
“I suppose I could,” he feigned reluctance, waiting until the very last second to release his hold on her face, hands slowly pulling away from her face where they were gently resting.
“Thank you for making dinner, by the way,” she threw over shoulder as she made her way into the next room with the plates and silverware stacked in her hands, and he followed her with the trays of food he had prepared for them.
“Of course, doll,” he assured, knowing that if not for her he wouldn’t be able to make this meal nor would he have the motivation to learn how to. This domesticity, the routine of home life, was utter bliss.
The life that Bucky Barnes had gained was not one he ever thought was possible for him, but it was one he would never let go of. It was all he needed, all he wanted, all he’d dreamt of.
all works on this blog belong to hesthermay.tumblr.com: do not copy, repost onto other sites, or claim my work as your own.
#the witch: writes#—marvel#—lady may universe#—signed; barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes oneshot#james barnes x reader#james barnes x you#james barnes imagine#marvel au#avengers au#avengers x reader#cannon divergence#domestic!bucky#mechanic!bucky
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In The Stands
summary: bradley makes sure you know that you're his biggest fangirl.
pairing: bradley bradshaw x female reader.
warnings: no use of y/n. fluff, mentions of sex. bradley is a biter idc!! 18+ blog in general.
olympic swimmer au
take your marks masterlist.
While you would love to say that you were Bradley’s biggest fan, you were well aware that it was a title you had to earn rather than be automatically granted as his girlfriend.
Though you had to admit, it was definitely a struggle to stay afloat in the rocky waters comprised of Bradley's fangirls. After all, they were always a bit extreme when it came to exhausting their free time towards deep-diving into your boyfriend’s life.
The unwavering adoration they had for their favorite swimmer propelled them to know even the most obscure details about him—from which energy drinks he chugged before a medley to which brand of underwear he wore.
Anyone would have fallen to your knees like you did after finding out other girls knew of your boyfriend’s love for Calvin Klein.
So what better way to take your righteous title as his number one fan from under their noses, than to corner the athlete after practice—demand said athlete to surrender unfounded information about himself—and transcribe every single word that leaves his mouth right into your notes app.
Rest assured, Bradley was more than pleased to have you perched on his muscled thigh while he was drying off on the rest bench. Enough so, that he started to run a line of kisses from your shoulder up to the familiar spot behind your ear as he diligently attends to your flurry of questions.
“If you could switch bodies with anyone for a day, who would it be? And what would be the first thing you do?” You make sure to specify, thumbs eagerly hovering over your phone’s keyboard.
“Easy, Seresin. And I’d hop out the nearest window,” he quietly hums, trailing his nose along your shoulder blade before capturing a piece of your flesh between his teeth, out of boredom.
Too engrossed with the task at hand, his actions all go unnoticed by you. Luckily for Bradley, the rest of his team coming up for air at the starting blocks are also oblivious to it.
“…Seresin,” you absentmindedly mutter to yourself, eyes searching for ‘S’ on your keyboard. Hearing that, Bradley’s mouth latches onto an untouched spot near your pulse.
Instead of acknowledging the intentional nip, you hastily pound the backspace button to correct your misspell of ‘nearest window’ with a huff.
About twenty minutes into your interrogation, the frustration stitching your brows together gradually lets up with Bradley’s cooperation. And between each question, the swimmer leans back, face glowing with a grin as he surveys the marks scattered across the right side of your neck.
Readjusting yourself in his lap, you let out a relieved breath. “Okay, last one. What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re bored?”
Bradley smiles against the curve of your neck, sheepish response weighing down his tongue. “M’ not sure if you wanna know my answer to that sweetheart.”
Stuck in interviewer mode, the insinuation goes flying right over your head and you twist your neck to shoot him an offended look.
“Yes I do! Did you know your fans on twitter have baby pictures of you that I haven’t even seen before?! I’m like, the worst fan ever!” You complain, accidentally veering off on a tangent.
At the mention of your rank in his fanbase, Bradley sighs, playful expression fading from his face. “Bubbles, is that what this is all about?”
Instead of answering him, you quietly remain seated on his leg like some empty ventriloquist doll, wooden legs stiffly hung over his knee and hinged mouth clamped shut because that’s exactly what this is all about.
Taking the nervous dart of your eyes into account, Bradley pries your fingers off your overheated phone, dropping it inside the mesh swim bag by his feet.
Sometimes, Bradley forgets that you’re unaware of his disinterest for things like that—the special attention from journalists, the throng of girls gathered outside venues to see him, and the endless clamoring for his signature. Because a part of him assumed that you already knew that.
It was in moments where his head broke the surface of the water, that Bradley knew he never needed fulfillment from other people—not when he instinctively searched for your proud face in the stands, rather than checking his own team’s placement on the scoreboard.
Turning you in his lap to face him, Bradley leans in to kiss your nose, making it scrunch under contact. “I don’t know why you think you got competition. I’m pretty sure you’re the only girl I take up to my room after a win,” he lightly teases, poking your shoulder.
Slowly, a shy smile makes its way to your face. “I’d hope that I’m the only one. If not, we're gonna have some problems,” you playfully warn, kicking his ankle.
“Uh oh. We might have some problems on our hands,” Bradley shrugs, struggling to contain his laugh in his throat.
“Hey! That’s—that’s not funny,” you break out into a fit of giggles, prompting him to join you with a slap to his bare chest.
With you bending forward to simmer your laughter, Bradley takes the chance to extend his arm back into his bag, plucking your phone from the mess of swim caps and snacks.
All you do is confusingly look on as he types in your passcode, large thumb swerving to open the camera app.
“What are you—”
The words instantly die on your tongue when he flips your phone, and you notice the litter of bite marks on your neckline.
“You did not!” You shriek, hand flying to touch your bruised skin in disbelief.
“Oh but I did Bubbles, for my biggest fan,” he settles with a shameless grin, clicking the side of the device to snap a picture.
note: i will say although i sprinkle random swimming analogies in all the fics for this au i had the most fun doing it here hehe. as always, thank you for reading, and reblog are greatly appreciated!
join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!
tags: @Genius2050@eli2447 @katieshook02 @mak-32 @domeafavour505 @s-u-t @averyhotchner @et-homephone @sgt-barnesveins @olymosity @wkndwlff @diorrfairy @cruelmissdior @eternallyvenus @laneylovesglen @queerqueenlynn @taytaylala12 @sushiwriterhere @ravenhood2792 @Natdrunk @theweekndhistorybook @goosterroose @Moon42flight
#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster x y/n#bradley rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradsaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x y/n#bradley bradshaw au#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw blurb#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley x you#bradley x reader#rooster fic#rooster fluff#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster imagine#tgm fic#tgm au#tgm imagine#take your marks
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So happy you're back after all this time! I have a question, do you happen to know how people fought in ancient rome? Particularly gladiators and soldiers? Sorry if this isn't the blog for this question tho!
I think we've covered both of these questions independently over the years.
Gladiators were a performance sport. It was more about glorifying the Roman Empire and its victories, than a conventional fight. As a result, most Gladiators were armed with specific variant, “loadouts,” designed to cosplay as various enemies that The Empire had conquered, and they only fought against specific countering variants. Specifically, the variants would be matched in such a way that it would be difficult for either combatant to have a decisive advantage over the other, with an eye towards creating situations that would result in a lot of visible injuries, without serious harm to either participant.
In case it needs to be said, gladiators were a significant financial investment, and they weren't casually killed in the arena. The point was for visible injuries, and a bloody spectacle, not a slaughter. Sometimes someone would die, but having them die on the field wasn't the intention, and they generated a lot of money, and on the rare cases when they were killed, it was meant to be a climactic moment, not someone taking a blade to the gut and collapsing mid-fight.
Obviously, I'm barely scratching the surface here, because it gets a lot deeper, but the simple answer is that in the vast majority of cases, gladiators were armed with weapons that were designed to make seriously harming their foe difficult to impossible. Also, the gladiators were something that evolved and became more complicated over time. When they first started in the Republic, it was a much more stripped down structure with prisoners of war being given a sword and shield and forced to face off against one another.
As for the Roman Legions. I'm not sure I've ever seen a comprehensive description of their training techniques. The Testudo, (or Tortoise) is one of the more famous examples of their specific combat style. Legionaries would create a shield wall, and the soldiers behind the front line would raise their shields to cover the formation against attacks from above (usually arrow fire, or thrown spears.) While being able to strike with javelins. In practice, the formation had issues, including being vulnerable to siege fire, and mounted archers were able to easily flank the formation. It's a neat story, but the formation had serious limitations.
One thing we haven't talked about before (I think) was the Roman's use of biological warfare. During sieges, they would load (locally sourced, I assume) corpses onto catapults, and then launch them into the besieged city.
Beyond, the major thing about the Legions was the extremely disciplined and orderly combat formations, with a lot of attention paid to managing battlefield movement. It wasn't so much about exceptional individual performance, so much as their ability to operate as a unit. This isn't a particularly mind blowing concept today, but in an era when professional soldiers were the exception, or limited to the elite forces, it had slightly more impact.
Regarding the details of their training, I've never seen any of that come up. Now, granted, I've really tried to research that degree of Roman history. So, if you're asking, “how, exactly, did they swing the gladius?” I don't know, and I don't remember ever seeing anyone credibly claim they had that insight. As far as I know, the only surviving Roman training manual was De Re Militari, (there's around 200 surviving Latin copies) which is far more concerned with overall strategic planning and command. If you're trying to write Roman era military fiction, it's probably worth reading. So, I'm not sure this is exactly what you were looking for, but I do hope it helps.
-Starke
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#writing reference#writing advice#writing tips#how to fight write#starke answers#roman empire#history
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Strawberry Fields (sonhei com campos de morango) - Alastor X Reader fic
Summary: On a dreadful night, Alastor goes to collect one of his contracts. Something goes terribly wrong. He finds you.
Warnings: fem!reader, Human!reader, smut, 18+, period sex, overstimulation, light cannibalism, blood, A LOT OF BLOOD, general creeppiness, Alastor is in hell for a reason, oral sex, alastor kind of hunts reader down, possessive!Alastor
A/N: Soooo!! This was a long time coming but here it is. This idea has been on my mind for a long time now and I wanted to test the waters before i commit to a long fic. I hope you guys like it, i'm kinda on the fence about it. I'm working on the requests and they should be out soon I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Also I got a little carried away, i'm sorry. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's always a pleasure to write for you. The visuals and the title for this fic are heavily inspire by this music video. Not the lyrics tho, i always felt like the singer did a poor job with this concept and i wanted to do it justice.
Taglist: @markster666@jyoongim@stygianoir @pepperycookie@fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman@polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.
You curse when another sharp stone cuts your feet.
You regret it a second later when you hear the ominous sounds that reverberate through the trees. They are closing in on you.
You don’t know how you got here, you just know now you are running for your life inside these woods now. The only guiding light, a full moon that looks weirdly otherworldly.
Adrenaline burns inside your bloodstream, the forest seems devoid of any living thing. It’s only you and whoever is chasing you. You wish you could hear gunshots, you wish you could hear screams. Anything besides the occasional twig snap or wind caressing the pine trees’ leaves. The eerie silence is deafening, and worse: the eerie silence makes you even more aware of your situation.
It’s incredible how everything gets clearer when you’re about to die.
Maybe you shouldn’t have traveled alone, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go somewhere where the closest thing to civilization is the village’s old-yet-charming dinner.
You just wanted a little bit of quiet, a place that made introspection inviting. Next time you should go for a beach vacation.
Next time? why does next time sound so… far away? Somehow your feet carry you away from the forest’s well marked path and deeper into the thick vegetation, hiding behind a large tree. You gained a few minutes on them by taking a detour.
Breathe. Remember to breathe.
Right, your mind remembers. You’re being hunted down like prey in the creepy horror film woods, time to focus on surviving again. You can overthink later.
You assess your options: you can keep going into the woods, a deadly game of hide and seek. Zig-zag through the trees, keep them guessing. There’s a good chance you will find wildlife as you go deeper. This could be a problem, it’s too dark to make anything out, an encounter could cause enough of a distraction, you could take advantage of that. Or you could end up mauled. Plus, you are absolutely positive there are bear traps somewhere. If you're gonna die, make your death less dumb. Quite an embarrassing topic of discussion in the afterlife, saying that you died like horror film pretty girls making dumb decisions that you clearly would never make in a situation like that. You just know they are incredible hunters, you need to take them out of their element, expose them.
So yeah, going deeper isn't an option.
Something catches your eye, there’s a big opening in the thick vegetation, there’s a clearing ahead and… sparks? You definitely see a light. You were told by the locals how the population is scattered across acres and acres of practically untouched wilderness, there’s also the park’s rangers stationed on specific places that grant them a visual advantage in case of emergencies. A big clearing is perfect for that. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope.
Of course bolting there will make you terribly exposed, they will know your position all the time, and they can still hunt you hidden by the edge of the trail. Besides there’s no guarantee of what awaits you when you reach the promised land, they could have a partner waiting, there could be nothing at all there. Taking this risk for nothing sounds worse than being lured into a trap. You just have this gut feeling that’s where you should go. Your brain starts to pick the plan apart, this doesn’t sound good. Hesitation can be fatal. But you are all adrenaline and primal flight intistic -
The decision was made for you, you start running again. Taking advantage of the final stretch of cover you still have until you hit the trail again, you take several deep breaths. Oxygen needs to keep coming, so you can make decisions, so your limbs can respond quickly. Your peripheral catches something that’s also running. It’s a stag.
He’s also prey. He’s an omen. He’s your cue.
You leap across some fallen branches and your scratched feet land on the main trial. As soon as you complete your first step you hear movement and hurried voices. They are onto you. “What do we say to the good of death? Not today” you give yourself a pep-talk as you keep running. Maybe thinking this is all fiction will help you survive this, detach yourself from the situation, don’t think about the consequences, just act.
And like that, you don’t stop running. You sing your abcs to focus and stop spiraling. Evolution is truly amazing, the cuts you suffered don’t hurt anymore, precious shooting adrenaline, adrenaline that makes you tunnel vision towards your objective. By now you know where to step, when to dodge, when to slow down and when to go faster. Millennia of sheer force of survival catching up to you.
breathe, remember to breathe.
You inhale a good chunk of oxygen and look ahead. There’s a man on the edge of the tree line and a few meters left. Your mind wants to sing in victory, but you refrain from that, you know better than that it only ends when it’s over-
You’re positively sprinting towards the man right now, like he is your assured salvation. Something inside you screams louder and louder guiding you to him and you follow the sound.
You hear gunshots.
So noooooow they bring out the guns? That’s low.
But that’s a good thing right? If they are shooting they are getting out of time. A single gunshot can take you down and they can smoothly and swiftly carry you away, like it’s a normal hunt. No one will question shooting something they didn’t see getting shot so deep into these woods. But shooting a girl in front of a witness? that’s for amateurs right? So, the man is not a partner you decide.
remember to breathe, you are not breathing.
You are so close now, you see an outstretched hand coming your way only a few more steps
breathe.
You don’t, instead you leap towards your loosely established finish line and take the hand an-
Dirt greets your face as you fall face first into the trail, and you crawl like a zombie that just rose from its grave. You have a collection of new cuts and scrapes now, it hurts and you can’t bite your lip to suppress the pain. Still, you intertwine your fingers with his, your other arm aggressively seeking for leverage, clinging to your flesh lifeline. You blur out a bunch of incoherent things as he effortlessly lifts you up in one swift motion.
“Get behind me, my dear.” he asks. He has a weird voice almost like it leaves something in the air that caresses your skin, an inviting voice nonetheless. You hide yourself inside the crook of his arm, giving you the ability to witness just a little bit of the action there’s about to happen. You never let go of his hand. Your prince charming feels awfully cold.
Alastor waits, rather impatiently, for his clients to arrive. Making a deal with a human is his ticket topside and Hell is still terribly boring, even with the hotel. The Radio Demon was no stranger to contracts with humans, they were a win-win situation. Those who seek him always have a taste for the wicked and deranged, so it’s easy to figure out what they want and twist it for his own benefit. When they inevitably die, be it death by old age or death by occupational hazard, Alastor gets useful men from the moment they manifest in Hell. They always know exactly where they are and why, they are not confused sinners, petty crime or moral crime sinners. They are, most times, skilled killers who take no trouble doing Alastor’s bidding. An accomplished killer in life makes an even better prolific hellish soldier, someone who will continue indulging in their desires without the constraints of society, but eternally tied down by Alastor’s constraints. With the right incentive, they can rise in the ranks and become treasured resources for the overlord. Plus, the camaraderie isn’t all bad. Takes one to know one, they say.
However, humans these days are getting careless, sloppy. This entire display is proof of that, they should be over to kill and cover their tracks alone. The basics, for hell’s sake.
Alastor only takes care of the details. Tampering with some evidence here, getting a victim on the right place at the right time there. The occasional final encouragement to give into the darkness and finally kill, some advice. A self respecting killer should be able to kill and get away with it without the demon’s aid. He’s there for consulting and making sure there are no loose ends.
But never this. Having to intervene in the middle of a kill because his client made a very very big mess that screams “you’re getting caught!” is below him. Amateurs are not worth Alastor's time.
The two men approach the tree line, clearly worked up from the hunt and shocked to see him there. If Alastor is withholding a victim, something went very, very wrong.
“Good night my good fellows!” the greeting leaves his lips in an overly-chirpy tone. Is that static in his voice? Radio static? Is that what’s leaving goosebumps on your skin? The stress and the adrenaline are making you imagine things. You took the “pretend this is all a fantasy and you the main character” too seriously. Because now you are hiding behind Darth Vader’s skirts. That’s impossible, right? right?
“Great.” you can see the sarcasm dripping from one of your aggressors. “You’re here to watch?” the question asked all passive aggressive with an edgy tone. That’s definitely a teenager. What the fuck? you were being chased by a high school kid? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how can a teen pull this off? And you almost died? What? Your mind starts spirling.
Alastor ignores the son, is the father he cares about. They’ve known each other for years now, and he’s underperforming to say the least. He waits for the father to address him, it’s his mess after all. The older man gives his son a stern look and finally breaks the silence.
“Goodnight. We didn’t expect to see you here tonight, to be honest.’”
The second voice is much older. That doesn’t quiet your thoughts at all. Is this a cult initiation thing? Hunting girls down like they are prey? WHY DID YOU TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??? OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE CULTS HERE, DUUUUH. IF I WAS IN A CULT THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT PLACE TO HIDE. There are so many voices screaming inside your head now, you are shivering. With anger, anticipation, fear. Your inner monologue overrides your brain and you are not sure you can cope with everything that’s going on. The voices, all the voices, sound wrong. They land weirdly inside your ear and you need to think hard to understand the words, you know how crucial every piece of information is. They could make all the difference when you talk to the police. They could help a conviction when you are on the stand, giving your official statement. You are surviving this. You are going to watch these fuckers get life in prision or worse. You are surviving this right? There’s so much you haven’t thought through. Whose hand are you holding again?
“Oh please. Don’t act all coy now, it doesn’t suit you old friend” Alastor is starting to cross the line from nuisance to anger. He twirls his microphone in annoyance, and makes sure to sink it deep into the moist ground. “Let me remind you about the terms of our agreement. For each 2 kills you make, one soul is mine to take. Or am I wrong?”
“No. You aren’t”. The father answers through gritted teeth. “But I never thought you would want to collec-” Alastor tilts his head, his grin widens and he snaps “Never thought what? That I would claim what I am owed at my leisure? That I would stop waiting patiently for you, acting at your whim? You earned the privilege of killing unbothered by my vigilance. Because you always delivered your side of the bargain with excellence. I can revoke said privilege whenever I want. Especially after this pitiful performance.” The seasoned killer seems to slightly cower at Alastor’s words. Good. He always regarded the demon without fear or trepidation. His work was meticulous, spotless, basically perfect. And that gave him the justifiable confidence for going toe to toe with the Radio Demon during conversations, a bargaining chip during dealings of his contracts. Few could say that.
You feel nauseous. Reality is crashing down at you hard and fast. How many people have these people killed? They are trading lives like it is the stock market, and yet you can’t let go of your prince charming’s hand. There’s no rational thought to justify it, actually rational thought is also being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb tonight, because despite the gigantic red flags you are not letting go of this man’s hands. Everything about him screams danger, everything about him screams your safety. He’s the type of paradoxical that messes with your primal senses, that makes a moth go to the lights that will kill it.
From the crook of his arm you finally gather the courage to open your eyes. You try to look up to your prince charming, but his face is concealed by the shadows of the night. Actually, everything of importance seems to be conveniently hidden from you. Your aggressor’s faces look distorted, recognizable traits melting together like watercolor painted by 100 shades of darkness, voices and words fuse together creating only cacophony. You hear things, you see things, but you can’t discern them. The three men keep going back and forth, but their conversation seems to dissipate into the air. Everything about this feels like a dream.
Of course you can’t register anything of importance. Alastor makes sure of it. You are a potential victim after all. A liability, capable of making a positive identification. It’s wishful thinking that someone would take your account of what’s happening on this dreadful night seriously.
Alastor has no shame in using the prejudices of your world to his advantage. If you were to tell, everyone would make the assumption that you are “just another hysterical woman, thinking too much about folktales”. You had too much to drink, partied too hard. Hallucinogens are a common party drug and this is the result of a bad trip. At worst, “someone tried to spike your drink, but nothing happened. You should be thankful, not getting in the way of important police work”. Alastor also knows that injustice is no real crime, and yet he decided to spare you. It doesn’t feel fair for you to perish in such crude ways, a practice run for a post pubescent, obnoxious serial killer in training. A precious thing like you should be honored, savored. In the odd chance that your voice was heard, the Radio Demon guarantees that no reliable information will come out of your mouth. His clients might be lacking, but in the dealmaking business your words are your worth and Alastor has a silvertongue. Surely that pretty mouth of yours won’t be a problem.
“I’m afraid I have to insist, my good friend. The pair of you caused enough damage already with these sloppy, impetuous spree killings. Your law enforcement is already on your scent, tracking the pattern and by the looks of it tonight’s mess will send quite a message. A message that I will have to make sure is delivered faultlessly. I will uphold my hand of the bargain, you will uphold yours. The girl will be spared. There’s plenty of prey out there, plus her death would only act as an aggravation, she’s not your type, and trust me, they will know you made a mistake, you will be exposed.” The Radio Demon’s patience is wearing thin. He shouldn’t have to justify his actions to humans. There’s no compromise to be found here, they went to him and the deal is always on his terms. You squeeze his hand really tight during the discussion of your scheduled demise, like a reminder that you are still there. Still afraid.
How cute. Alastor thinks. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off, dissipating into the cool forest breeze and opening space for a strong sense of false security, equally as inebriating. The smell of your sweet fear laced blood is unmistakable, assaulting your savior’s nostrils. Your knees buckle, and you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, clinging to prince charming’s hand for dear life. “Breathe darling, you are forgetting to breathe” He turns quickly towards you, his voice impossibly soft, shooting. You try to look up at charming’s face again, the only new discovery made is that he's awfully tall, and his face is still hidden by opaque darkness. You work really hard on breathing normally again, but you want to keep looking. Their faces are a monstrous distortion, vacant eyes that seem to cry blood. Your entire body tingles, you feel weird goosebumps. It takes all of your willpower to keep standing. You won’t lay yourself at their feat, defeated, like the corpse they would drag from these woods. But you just can’t keep looking, so you shut your eyes and grip the hand that has become your lifeline even tighter.
“You won’t even truly use the bitch, she’s no use for you” The entitled brat opens his mouth again. That’s the trigger.
The Radio Demon grows as tall as the native pine trees, his antlers furiously expanding and casting a shadow so dark over the two serial killers that the moon is completely obstructed. The only source of light in the forest now is the burning red dials of his eyes. The father sees the burning inferno of Alastor’s eyes and for the first time he is speechless. Maybe the realization of where destiny is sending him finally happens. The son sees raw, untamed power for the first time in his life and cowers like a scared puppy. Pathetic.
“Now let’s get something clear here. I’m only tolerating your insolence because of my decade long relationship with your father.” You shut your eyes harder, your eyelids a shield from whatever is about to happen. Foreboding making the forest air too thick for you to breathe. You finally break down and start crying, too fucking much. Alastor’s face meets the son on eye level. His teeth are bared, static picks up around the group to the point both men are struggling to breathe. A clawed hand traps the father’s face, a trail of blood dripping from the older serial killer’s cheek.“He’s as close to a professional as our kind gets. Shame the same thing can’t be said about you. This juvenile outburst does not make you more feared nor does it assert your dominance. It displays how weak you are, inept to succeed on this because you can’t keep your entitled demeanor in check. You are not owed anything in this lifestyle, if you want something you need to prove you’re worthy of it by taking it yourself. Whining like a petulant child won’t get you anywhere” You feel dizzy, the earth beneath your feet quakes, whoever, whatever is holding your hand is sheeting with rage so consuming the ground shakes with the intensity of their emotions.
Alastor’s attention is now focused on the father, the red inferno from his eyes making the man feel genuine fear for the first time in his long, violence-filled life. “Teach your spawn some manners and proper work, otherwise get him out of my sight. This was a courtesy. Fulfillment failings lead to contract termination, and contract termination means a lot of details appearing. You do not wish to make an enemy of me” Alastor delivers his last threat with a snarl. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the intensity of his words, you feel a powerful rush of wind, leaves ruffling, hurried steps and suddenly the world is at a standstill. The forest seems devoid of life excluding you, your mysterious prince charming and your two aggressors. All of your senses are assaulted with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness… darkness. Darkness that feels like the most luxurious silky dress on your skin, the most intense look of a passionate lover. It feels dangerously alluring and your will power is being gladly tempted by it.
You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for hours, the rollercoaster of adrenaline inducing hyperventilation and conscious calming breaths making your brain enter some sort of high. Is that what people felt after a battle in ancient times? Is that what It means to stare death in the face and come out victorious? You don’t understand what you are feeling, but when oxygen finally feels normal again, tall, dark and handsome is escorting you deeper into the woods and you don’t even care.
You’ve just slayed the dragon with your bare hands. You don’t care. You just want to bask on the feeling. To fucking feel. To remind yourself that you are still alive.
Alastor is drunk on something that he rarely indulges in. Desire. Pure, raw carnality that makes him antagonize one of his greatests clients. Someone Alastor awaited his inevitable death with anxiety and hopefulness, someone he could actually call more than a partner in crime when in hell. A friend. A friendship born from blood and gore but bathed in kinship and inexplicable understanding of one’s dark nature. And the Radio Demon almost killed the man and his useless spawn and fucked everything up because when he saw your running for your life something ignited inside him. When you squeezed his hand so tightly, with such abandon and trust, like he was an Angel sent from heaven to protect you when reality was the most wicked antonym.
Alastor spared you because you were prey. Beautiful, delicious prey that defied your destiny by accepting the nature of your condition. You didn’t dare to fight, you didn’t dare to think you could stand a chance against your hunters. You just fled. You fled and was perfectly lured into another trap, you doubled the bet when you held his hand and didn’t let go, serving all of your vulnerability on a silver platter to someone you deep down knew was way worse than any serial killer.
Prey, that will chew its own leg to get out of a trap. Prey, that will offer herself to the most ungodly creature around if it means she can survive a few more moments, just to spite those who started the chase. Prey, that now holds his hand completely carefree and all giggles while she is led to a much more final and insidious type of slaughter. Prey that he was now going to claim.
Your wounded feet start to land on soft squishy things, a familiar scent invades your nostris. From the scent of sweat, blood and gore now to the scent of juicy, plump strawberries.
“Hey, are we on a strawberry field?” it’s the first time you addressed him directly. You trail behind him, hurried steps crushing the strawberries on your way. You look up and for the first time you can see open skies. “You don’t need to worry my dear, you are perfectly safe now”
Are you?
You decide that he doesn’t sound like Darth Vader anymore, his voice is impossibly staticy, it prickles your skin and it feels like goosebumps that accompany butterflies on your stomach. He sounds like someone you would meet at a ball and have a cinderella moment with. The blanket of stars that illuminates the clearing you ferociously fought for grants you a better vision of his figure: scarlet red, snug tailcoat, perfectly tailored. Long legs and trousers that fit like skinny jeans. He dresses like the lead singer from a classic emo band. You can’t say you are complaining, you always loved the idea of a tall dark and handsome prince charming.
“So, you have some weird friends don’t you?” you ask him. You can hear him chuckle, it is a very pleasant sound. Suddenly the twirls you, a fucking disney princess’ musical number twirl, and you find yourself in front of very big bed.
With impeccable white sheets, you mind adds. Must be really hard to maintain white sheets in the middle of a strawberry field. Wait, what is a king size bed doing in the middle of th-
“Ah, I don’t really do friends, more like reluctant colleagues” bootleg brandon urie is the melancholic type, then.
Alastor finally takes a good look at you when you take your seat on the bed with a contented sigh. You look marvelous. Your hair is messy and wild, your cheeks and neck flushed red from the effort. Your eyes big and pliant, waiting for his answers. You look so human, so deliciously alive. He desperately wants to be the cause of your disarray, to make the blood rush to your face under his materfully wicked touch. To feel your pulse fluttering when he touches your neck.
You still can’t see all of him though. There’s stars, a big full moon whose light outstretches far, bathing the clearing in ethereal silver. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, your savior is always in the shadows.
By now you know he is purposefully hiding his identity from you, but you always liked a game. Plus you don’t really have anything to lose now, you just want to forget everything that happened to you tonight, you just want to inebriate yourself, and charming really looks like someone who could show you a good time.
Either that or you are having a psychotic break after enduring life threatening stress.
Anyway, you decide to bite. One possible psychotic murder, funny, charming murderer is better than two lukewarm ones.
“Do you always take random women to a creepy bed with impeccable white sheets in the middle of the woods or am I just special?” not a chuckle now, a laugh. A beautiful, full laugh. The residual static on your skin making you shiver.
Alastor completely understands what you are trying to do, and it’s truly hilarious. Your petulance and sarcasm towards him means to an end. You’re so precious, talking to him like this, thinking you could take him at his own game. What a beauty! Seeing you think you are succeeding in this only for him to take that conviction away from you at the last minute is going to be so entertaining. He wants you to dig your own grave, lay yourself at his feet.
He doesn’t indulge you, instead he takes a thick, silky strand of your hair and inhales deeply. You smell like sweet innocence and summer. It makes Alastor euphoric.
His head tilts down as he smells your hair. You don’t that’s creepy, it looks creepy, it sounds creepy, but you feel reverence in his action.
And then out of the shadows comes a revelation, you see his horns. You suspected his unhumanity, but the confirmation of it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes widen, you simply cannot make sense of this night, everything feels too surreal and raw reality at the same time, it’s giving you whiplash.
“Are you the devil?” you ask him without much consideration of the weight of this question. You do your best to keep your voice from failing but it’s impossible. You never dropped his hand, in fact you feel like you are permanently attached to him, like a marble statue. Your fingers open and interlock again and again, reflecting your anxiety, but you don’t let go.
You can’t see it, but Alastor’s grin is as big as a cheshire cat’s.
“Do you seek the devil?” answering a question with a question. Smoke and mirrors. Alastor waits for you to answer, but you don’t. You don’t know what to answer, you try to contemplate if enganding further could mean eternal damnation, or if you are already damned. Is he going to make you an offer you can’t refuse? an offer you aren’t allowed to refuse? Alastor will blame it on lack of patience, but the fact is he can’t wait anymore to taste you, there’s a burning desire inside him, that only gets more and more ferocious as he tastes the inebriating smell of your fear blessing the air he breathes again.
He removes your interlocking fingers, his hand quickly trapping your tiny wrist inside. You hear heavy breathing.
“Or do you seek a taste of the forbidden fruit?” The demon licks the long cut across our open palm. His tongue is sensual and cold, the sensation of it slowly dragging across your wounded skin a soothing balm. You moan, he growls. “Forbidden fruit it is.” he announces, delivered like a sentence.
You are completely free of his touch for the first time since it all began, but it feels like you just suffered an enormous loss. You feel taunted, like someone just dangled a shiny new thing in front of you and took it away. It’s like your entire being has become tunnel vision and you need to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. Consequences be damned.
You watch closely as your paranormal paramour moves towards the bed, he is completely concealed by the darkness. Darkness deep and palpable, he morphs within it. The visuals are beautiful, it looks like one of the art’s greatest masters is painting a watercolor in front of you. Darkness from absence of light floating and mixing with otherworldly opaque darkness, flowing like a river. You wonder if it would run through your fingers like water if you touch it.
Antlers. He has antlers, not horns.
The not-devil settles himself behind you, back against the headboard. He quickly maneuvers you onto his lap, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal in surprise as more of him touches you, now pressed flush against his hard chest you feel something you shouldn’t be feeling, nonetheless resistance is futile, you spread your legs giving him more access. He has barely touched you, and yet you are completely surrendered to him.
Alastor wasn’t joking when he established that a woman like you should be savored, slowly consumed so he can extract everything you have to offer. He knows your mind is exhausting itself trying to discern what is happening, how the body and the spirit get more susceptible to succumb to desire after surviving imminent death, and he intends to take full advantage of it. Alastor wants to see you writhe under his touch, pain and pleasure. He wants to torment you and make you pay for existing near him, for making him careless. For making him indulge in carnality and arousal. But mainly, he wants to punish you, because you battled so hard for your survival against them. When you should fear him.
The Radio Demon touches your neck, exactly where your pulse is, where he can feel your beating heart, full of life pulsing. Life that taunts him and seduces him. The thump thump thump of your heart beneath his fingers like a moth going directly to the light that will kill it. He holds your entire life, your entire existence under his clawed finger, it makes him delirious.
You feel a sharp sting on your neck, fangs that break your skin and spill your blood, red and ready for his taking. Holding your breath while he sucks the life out of you, your head swims, and you drown on the feelings. You feel pleasure, forbidden pleasure from having something hurting and feasting on you.
“If you are not the devil, are you a vampire?” It might be a dumb question, but it’s the logical one. Sometimes the obvious needs to be said. He laughs again, a full deep laugh,mockery dripping from it.
“Why? If I were a vampire would it make you feel better about spilling your blood for me?” he dodges the question again. Bait and switch. He’s feeding on you and you are enjoying it.. You don’t know what he is, you don’t know his name. It only spurs the burning desire in the pit on your stomach.
Alastor licks the entire length of your neck, his other hand applying light pressure on your pulse point. He bites down on you again, harder, going deeper. You roll your eyes and moan obscenely as he sucks on it. This is going to leave a mark for sure, but you don’t care, because whatever he’s doing to you feels delirious, it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.
Your blood is dripping from Alastor’s lips, he licks it not wanting to waste a drop. He can taste your eagerness, your fear, your essence, your soul. The red liquid is solid proof of how alive and defenseless you are, completely at his mercy. You keep moaning and melting on his lap at his ministrations, a finger starts tracing your arm, feather light touch that leaves you shivering in anticipation.
He’s gently scratching, teasingly. It’s a claw, you realize. Another part of his unhumanity making you scared and deliciously trembling in anticipation. It’s Alastor’s turn to moan now, his clawed finger comes to torment your clothed nipple, he makes sure to do it tantalizing slow to give you just a taste of what it could be. He wants to hear you ask for it, beg even.
“I’m afraid I’m way worse than the Devil, little doe” his low, threatening tone makes you close your legs together and rub, desperately seeking friction, some relief.
“Re–really? You don’t sound that bad” A lie. You just want to say something back.
Your paramour laughs again, he takes your hand in his and starts making his way downwards.
“How precious are you, lying like that to me” He stops both of your hands on your lower belly, threatening to cross the point of no return. You squeal and struggle on a desperate attempt to raise your hips and get something more, anything.
Delighted in seeing you writhe this badly when he has not even properly touched you, Alastor squeezes your neck tighter, inflicting just enough pain and pressure to make you sing. The Radio Demon finally makes the decision and drops any pretense of moderation, hastily dropping the band of your panties and guiding your joined hands to your slit. “I can taste the fear in your blood, how your sense of pleasure has been forever skewed”.
The two digits tease your entrance that is coated with arousal and something more, his touch is masterful, like he knows the ways of the human body the same way a talented musician knows their way around an instrument. He makes you moan, he makes you sing with only the possibility of his actions. The idea of being taken by something unholy.
At last, Alastor finally enters your tight wet pussy, his finger guides yours as he undoes you in ways that should not be allowed. He pumps your cunt mercilessly, gone are the careful, calculated touches, he wants to make you crash and burn as quick as possible, he wants to make you understand that you crossed the most important line of your life. There’s no going back now, your pretty mortal body is forever tainted by unholiness, by his darkness.
“You spread yourself like this for me, a wanton little thing while I choke and feast on your blood”. Alastor curls the fingers inside you repeatedly making you move your hips in the maniac rhythm he has set. You ride your joined digits, moaning like a whore while your lover’s grip on your throat tightens and releases making your brain short circuits in pure unknown carnal feeling. “You are not the demure, feisty thing like you desperately tried to prove earlier. It only takes the slight touch of something forbidden to make you moan like a common whore” he adds another one of his huge fingers and starts scissoring inside you, the combination of two of his digits and your little one only adds insult to injury. You will never be able to replicate these ministrations, the feeling of being this full and stretched, you had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you are high on it and you will never get another hit on your own.
Alastor alternates between choking you and curling the fingers inside you, your lightheadedness combined with the assaulting pleasure making you feel feverishly delirious. Your body is hot from desire and adrenaline combined, a starking contrast to your mysterious lover’s touch, ice cold. The two of you distinct seasons, distinct stages of existence mixing together, life and death tethering each other, blurring the lines of worlds that shouldn’t exist together.
Orgasm building quickly, you grip the white sheets tighter and tighter and tighter but your fingers feel wet, you look down to see a mess of redness leaking from your core.
Oh fuck, you are on your period. You completely forgot about it. In normal circumstances you would feel mortified about being fingered like this while bleeding, but right now it makes things even more erotic, you’ve learned that your lover may not be a vampire, but he definitely has a thing for blood and something inside you ignites at the idea of letting him feast on your blood, eat you out while you bleed for him.
Your pussy flutters with the fantasy of that tongue working your pussy and with a particularly harsh pinch on your clit you are off. Waves of pleasure spread across your entire body like wildfire, he chokes you merciless making the urge to scream to the universe how fucking good you feel impossible. You want to scream his name, but you don’t know who he is, what he is. You just want more.
While you ride the waves of your orgasm unbothered Alastor takes the opportunity to take fingers from your pussy to his mouth, red with blood and slick with arousal, he moans audibly as he tastes you, the most intimate parts of you. Only a little bit of it inebriates him, this is better than 70% of what he does in Hell. This feels better than closing a new deal, watching the princess of Hell fail miserably at rehabilitating sinners. You taste so sweet, so alive and afraid. He’s hard with the conviction of how scared you are, of how he has permanently tainted something so innocent and pure. How you stupidly threw yourself to his mercy. Perishing at the hand of those serial killers is more merciful than him. And now you will know.
You must have babbled something while you came, about wanting to scream his name and not knowing it, because now you find yourself completely lying down, the bed feels soft like a cloud and you are sprawled like an angel, and he finally reveals something about him of his own volition.
“The name is Alastor, my dear. It has definitely been a pleasure meeting you.” Alastor, now you know, settles himself between your thighs and the pooling redness from your core. You feel him running his claws across the impossibly soft flesh of your inner thighs, you cover your face with your arm.
“Alastor I’ve never… No one has ever…” you trail off, you shouldn’t be embarrassed at this point, but nevertheless you feel your cheeks burning. Is he really going to eat your bloody pussy? fuck.
Alastor’s name on your lips sounds so soft, so pure. He wants to ruin it. He wants to destroy the careful constructed cognitive dissonance that makes you feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants you to be completely afraid and craving being scared of him, disrupting your sense of pleasure so he can ruin you completely, getting you hooked on him and delirious for more, willing to do anything for another taste of the forbidden fruit.
So, he makes you look.
“Look at me” you don’t want to. You feel a lot of things right now, but mainly you feel as if you really take a look at your dark lover tragedy is going to happen. Eros and psyche all over again, but bloodier.
He claws your thighs, you hiss at the delicious pain, but still disobey him.
“Look. At. Me” he snarls, definitely a threat. You feel yourself getting wetter.
Alastor slaps your ass, hard. He’s losing patience, his temper turning quick at the realization that you not knowing who he is isn’t a perfect plan.
You moan from the pain, from the sting. It feels wickedly erotic. You almost want him to hit you again. Since when pain felt so fucking good?
So you do, you finally look at him.
Red. The first thing that your brain fixates on is how much red there is. Scarlet red hair, red blood running down your core and staining the white sheets. Red claws that pierce your skin.
Red eyes. Burning red eyes that entrap you. It’s like you can see the blazing fire that tortures the damned inside those eyes.
If this is why people fall from grace, you totally understand the appeal now.
The second thing, the thing that makes you transfixed at the sight of him is how wrong he looks. His antlers are beautiful, growing from his scarlet hair beautifully adorning ears that look extremely soft, non-threatening, like a crown. His eyes are big and sharp, close together
while he stares at your soul, eyes of a predator in the middle of softness of prey. His grin is completely predatory, dangerous, sharp teeth that hurt and maul, but at the same time bite you just the right way to make you moan in raw carnality. The skin is pale, not in a michael-jackson-thriller-way but in an ethereal way. His voice is static that seems to tickle your skin, sometimes more than others. He’s paradoxical, everything you should be afraid of and the comfort you should seek at the same time. A force you shouldn’t meddle with. Primal and raw.
You may not know what exactly he is, but one thing is certain: he’s dangerously alluring, and you completely fell into his trap. But it hardly matters anymore, because he is about to drink blood from your pussy with that marvelous silvertongue of his.
“Fucking beautiful” you blur out, not realising he’s going to hear you.
One of Alastor’s eyebrows shoots up. He’s not regarded as beautiful often. Alluring, maybe.
He wants to make you pay for all the soft ideas you have about him.
You soon learn how hard it is to hold the gaze of your lover’s eyes, his burning red irises entrap you. It's impossible to look away but overwhelming to stare into.
“If all the mortal men you’ve been with are weak and pathetic enough to decline the dark gift of your bleeding cunt, then I’m honored to be your first” and without much more warning you feel a delicious cold tongue licking your entrance and you are off
Alastor isn’t eating you out, he’s feasting on you like you are his last chance of salvation. His face is completely buried deep in between your legs as his tongue assaults you at a merciless pace. He makes sure not to waste a drop of anything your gushing pussy gives him. His tongue enters you and the contrast between your tight heat and his coldness makes you delirious. Exquisite carnal pleasure, you could cum from it alone.
Alastor is having a hard time navigating this double edged knife: you don’t know who he is what is capable of, which means your aren’t near as scared of being this vulnerable with him as you should be, a literal cannibal delighting in your soft flesh, drinking the warmth of your sacred blood. You must taste delicious terrified. But the silver lining is that the fear he inspires would make any woman who knows more compliant to this, even offering this to him freely. You have no idea about his exploits, he can and he will tarnish you with all of his unholy darkness, wrecking your world during the eleventh hour when you realize what you’ve done, who you’ve so easily corrupted your morals and your spirit for. You’re so beautiful, so naive, so trusting, so alive. You moan “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor” soft ohhhs and aaaahs as he polishes your cunt, every sound you make, every twitch of your legs and roll of your lips reminding your ungodly lover of how delicate and rare you are, aiding him on his mission. Gripping the sheets isn’t enough anymore, you instinctively place your hands on his antlers, the texture indescribable. Again, the contradiction of the softness of his velvet and the sharpness of his teeth, wickedness of his tongue giving you whiplash. You start rubbing them furiously, trying to mirror his ministries on your swollen folds. It definitely is doing something to him because he drags his teeth along your inner tie, breaking more skin, drawing more blood, hissing. You scream at the heavenly pain mixed with unholy pleasure.
Normally, Alastor wouldn’t let anyone near his antlers, arguably the most sensitive part of his body. If worked right, the sensations take him to another level of desire, insane carnality. But you taste so sweet, rich blood mixed with erotic arousal on a soft flesh platter, he consumes your innocence as he coaxes another orgasm from you. You hold on to dear life on his antlers, his velvet shedding and bloodying your hands, running through adding to the painting of reds that connects you two. Something ignites on you and it’s the most intense orgasm of your life, you feel every nerve burning from everlasting fire, that transforms and transforms until it explodes in a supernova. You don’t have the strength to scream, so you whisper Alastor’s name like a filthy prayer.
He looks up grinning like a devil. Something makes you open your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure. There’s so much blood, blood dripping from his lips, blood on his nose, blood cascading down his bewitching face mixing in a flowing current of red, it ends in a glistening red pool where you meet each other in immoral sin, so inviting you could jump in. It’s like what would happen if the killers had caught you, but twisted into wicked, ungodly pleasure, it’s almost worse. Because well, if you’re killed you’d be dead and would never have experienced this, but now you have and the ephemerality of this night crashes on you and you feel conned, betrayed.
He licks his lips and stares right at you, a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes, you almost cum again.
Alastor feels delirious from the bloody mess in front of him, carnality so powerful it makes him insane, he needs to finish this. He needs to sink his cook deep into your slick cunt. Pushing himself up, he starts to position his cock on your entrance. He’s so tall, the shadows of his bloodied antlers cover you and hide the welcoming silver lighting of the moon. The stars look so different today, and the welcoming sight of a full moon looks merciless, devoid of warmth and hope.
“Women like you are not meant for mortal men. They cannot honor you, they cannot savor you, they cannot satisfy you. Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit you understand your place. Pliant and submissive beneath me. To be ravished and tamed by something beyond puny mortality. You are made to me fucked, to be owned by the better man who defied destiny and transcended what the hands of fate enforced on him. You are Helen of Troy, tailor made to fit my cock, satisfy my thirst”
He teases your entrance with just the tip, making you greedly roll your hips towards him, a primal response to the ravishing words. Alastor laughs mockling at you attempt of getting him to fuck you on your terms, your time. You may not be aware of everything but by now you know you can’t outfox and fox on his own game.
“please. please. PLEASE” you scream the last word, you can’t take it anymore. A second without him touching your body feels like an eternity.
“Tsk. You look so pretty when you beg” the condescending compliment lands like music on your ears and he finally enters you. Inch after inch he spreads your tight walls open, practically breaking you. You understand now why people in times before yours had sex after battle. It’s the most rare and coveted feeling in existence, to greet imminent death, escape her fatal calling and then do the thing that undoubtedly proves you are alive. Only to meet her again at the finish line of carnal sensations and no rational thought. Primal need to feel, to live.
Alastor finally bottoms out with an animalistic growl, making your shiver under him. He fucks you at a merciless pace, he fucks you with haste, with urgency and abandon. He knows what he needs and he is going to take it.
“Hoooooly FUCK Alastor” you scream.
“There’s nothing holy here. Everything that’s holy has abandoned you. There’s only me, your wicked god who has you completely at his mercy, to fuck, to break” he takes it all out and enters you at once. You try so bad to look at him, to hold his piercing gaze with adamantine conviction but you can’t. It’s too much, overstimulation creeps on you and everything hurts. You shut your eyes.
“Look at me. Fucking look at me or I will stop” it’s not an order, it’s a threat. You should be scared, you feel scared, but tonight fear is diesel to your desire, and the pain makes you enter a mind numbing stage. The lines of torture and relief blurring together until you can’t discern a thing, you feel.
You do as you’re told. You look at him as he fucks you, thrusting like a mad man, obscene sounds reverberating throughout, you are being so loud you are sure they can hear you back on the village. The village, your cabin. You had a life before tonight. Will there be life after tonight?
You don’t have time to have an existential crisis because what Alastor does next gets your undivided attention.
“You will look at the demon who is ruining you, fucking you. You are no immaculate maiden anymore. You are a common whore for the Radio Demon” your eyes widen at the revelation. He is not a vampire, he’s not the devil. The fact that he is a demon and not satan makes you even more mortified, like you’ve settled for less. Just a little demon is what it takes to completely undo you.
Alastor keeps thrusting at a breakneck pace, feeling vindicated. He did exactly what he said he would do, he took the last fiber of comfort, of dignity away from you. He can see your entire world shattering on your beautiful doe eyes, making you finally feel the right amount of horror on the edge of a rapturous orgasm.
You feel true terror now, there was still a slimmer hope that he wasn’ evil incarnated, that he had a redeeming quality. After all, he saved you. Didn’t he save you? Or did you start something you are not even close to understanding? You feel terrified because there’s a demon fucking you, biting you, feasting on your blood and you fucking love it, you want it every night. You really took a bite from the forbidden fruit and ruined yourself.
“It’s too much, Alastor I can’t” the words leave your lips and feel like confession, like somehow if you admit your complete surrender it will absolve you of something.
“Too. Bad.” Alastor punctuates his point with delicious sharp trust after each word. He finally tainted you with his darkness and made you aware of it. He feels delirious, he feels like victory incarnated. Your moans grow louder and louder, now pleasure means pain, hell means rapture. Things that should not exist together making you feel the best you have ever felt. Tears spill from your eyes, the overstimulation something you’ve never felt before, mind numbing and life-altering.
In an act of paradoxical mercy, your demon lover rubs your clit and you’re out like a light. Your walls tighten around Alastor’s cock, and white hot pain, blinding red pleasure overcomes you. You feel like falling, you feel your literal fall from grace as your body tingles and burns with ineffable, forbidden pleasure. Alastor howls and cums inside you.
You land on silky, comfortable, alluring darkness.
-
The cool forest breeze greets your abused skin, it stings but feels soothing at the same time. Paradoxical, like everything from this night. Alastor holds you tight, cradling your head on his chest, petting your hair. He draws lazy circles on your hip bone, featherlight touch, careful and coy. You turn on your side to face him.
“Can you see it now? It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful” your mind asks you. You agree.
You start giggling, laughing. It is also so funny.
“What’s so funny, little doe?” Alastor asks you, genuinely amused. He feels elated from this night. He feels satiated, contented. It’s a very rare feeling for him.
“For a while I seriously considered you are an alien” you tell him, you can’t contain your laughter now. You are so silly. Alastor’s eyebrow shoots up, quizzical. He chuckles and indulges you. “Alien, is so mundane. You could never be an Alien, it’s way too easy”. What your giddy minds means is that now you know Alastor is anything but easy, actually there’s nothing like him. He’s something else. Something entirely different, a delicious mystery that creeps inside your heart, haunts you forever.
You stop laughing when realization hits you.
“Will I ever see you again, Alastor?” you ask him, your voice failing, nothing more than a whisper. You feel the ephemerality of this night, you feel daylight closing, ruthless sun rising that ends this everlasting dream.
Alastor stares deeply into your eyes, he sees your wanton desire, your trepidant expectations. “That depends entirely on you, my dear doe. It’s time to make a decision.” his voice is so soft it fucking hurts.
You look at the fading moon on the horizon, the distant stars judge you, the earliest of birds sing for you.
Yet from those starts, no light but rather, darkness visible.
-
You open your eyes, you feel impossibly rested. Your bed feels soft and you want to visit dreamland again, but the noise stops you.
Songbirds and blazing sirens mix together a cacophony of urgency. You get up fast, trying to remember little bits and pieces of the crazy dream you had and run to the big window across the room.
You look down, you see ambulances, police cars, lab coats and tall guys in FBI jackets.
Something definitely happened here last night.
That explains it then, the nature of your murderous dreams. The sirens creeped their way into your subconscious making that murderous, dreadful dream. You take a quick look and your hands and see nothing. Perfect, unblemished skin.
It felt so real. Strawberry fields and blood.
Your neighbor from across the street gestures manically at you from her window.
Fuck, it must have been really bad. There’s a lot of people at your doorstep.
Hurrying to put your robe on, you fly down the stairs towards the bustling crowd outside.
You are dying to know what happened. You were always a vivid dreamer.
You reach the hall and open the door, a polite officer starts talking to you.
You don’t notice the old radio on your vanity, or the opaque darkness that followed you from the corner of your room to the world outside.
#alastor x reader#alastor x reader smut#alastor x you#alastor fanfic#hazbin hotel x reader#the radio demon x you#im insaneeeeeeeee#baixaria#im sorry everyone#alastor#the radio demon
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spider-verse masterlist // link to my general masterlist
General Warnings -
🕷️ This blog is 18+
🕸️ This particular masterlist contains tasm!Peter Parker, tasm!Harry Osborn, & MCU!Peter Parker fics
🕷️ Some of my fic's contain dark themes or content that is considered inappropriate by some readers, so adhere warnings! I am not responsible for your content consumption; so please read responsibly!
🕸️ If you happen to notice that something is not tagged appropriately or you feel a fic needs a particular warning, please let me know and I will do my best to correct this mistake.
🕷️ And, as always, happy reading!
SPIDER-BOY
🕷️ SUMMARY - Thinking he has no chance with y/n as himself, Peter begins approaching them as Spider-Man.
🕸️ WARNINGS - older work
THINGS CHANGE
🕷️ SUMMARY - Your ex-boyfriend, Peter Parker, finds out that you're planning on going out with Harry Osborn, and he's definitely not happy about it.
🕸️ WARNINGS - sexual situations, slight degradation kink if you squint, no true smut, older work
GUTS
🕷️ SUMMARY - Peter gets seriously hurt saving someones life, in the midst of panic your true feelings for him come out.
🕸️ WARNINGS - stabbing, blood, violence, some fluff, older work
HANDS
🕷️ SUMMARY - Peter is completely oblivious to just how horny you get while watching him work.
🕸️ WARNINGS - sexual themes, older work
SWEAT & SPANDEX
🕷️ SUMMARY - You tell Peter about an idea you had, he makes it a reality.
🕸️ WARNINGS - breaking & entering, rough handling, bad smut, potentially could be seen as con-non-con
SHUTTER
🕷️ SUMMARY - You barely even remember Peter's name, but that hasn't stopped him from forming a dangerous obsession with you.
🕸️ WARNINGS - mature themes, stalking, some non-con acts (taking pictures), -creep/perv!peter
OUR GIRL ft. Harry Osborn
🕷️ SUMMARY - You're forced into attending a gala with Peter and Harry, where your best friends unintentionally plant a tempting idea in your head.
🕸️ WARNINGS - pining, light alcohol consumption, banter, alludes to sexual content, best friend harry/peter
PLAY NICE ft. Harry Osborn
🕷️ SUMMARY - Peter and Harry both want a turn with you.
🕸️ WARNINGS - light smut, threesome, degradation
FOREVER INDEBTED
🕷️ SUMMARY - Peter Parker might’ve saved your life, but Harry Osborn owns your heart.
🕸️ WARNINGS - mature themes, cheating
OUR GIRL ft. Peter Parker
🕷️ SUMMARY - You're forced into attending a gala with Peter and Harry, where your best friends unintentionally plant a tempting idea in your head.
🕸️ WARNINGS - pining, light alcohol consumption, banter, alludes to sexual content, best friend harry/peter
PLAY NICE ft. Harry Osborn
🕷️ SUMMARY - Peter and Harry both want a turn with you.
🕸️ WARNINGS - light smut, threesome, degradation
SPLIT LIP
🕷️ SUMMARY - Harry gets into a fight and emotions start to unfold.
🕸️ WARNINGS - angst, fighting, lil fluff, smut, blood, unprotected sex
ANTI-HERO - unfinished - part I // part II
🕷️ SUMMARY - In their personal lives, they're both head over heels for one another, their friendship finally blossoming into something more. But as vigilantes? It's complicated.
🕸️ WARNINGS - fighting, blood, potentially mature content
INFINITELY YOU - series masterlist linked here
🕷️ SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.
🕸️ WARNINGS - story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion
A DARK AGE - on hold
part one // part two
#spider-stark masterlist#spider-stark spiderman masterlist#spiderman masterlist#peter parker masterlist#my work
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Goodbye post :]
Hello & also - goodbye!
This is a formal post to mark this account as an archive - aka I’m just gonna be logging out & not deleting it for sentimentality reasons (also technically my main and other sides, granted they’re all tied together)
Thank you all for the support, there have been a lot of times in these past 7 years where I wouldn’t have been nearly as safe if it wasn’t for yalls help. Doing commissions & getting donos ocassionally through this account has saved me on multiple occasions; ranging from homelessness, feeding my cats, textbook/college tuition, and other situations I don’t know how I would have fared in if I had no income at the time. I seriously can’t explain how much this blog and all of you meant for me during such a painful & dangerous period of my life.
If for whatever reason you would like to get in contact; be it for commissions or anything else - my old art insta @CartoonyEyes will be the only way to reach me after tomorrow.
~
More context for my leaving below for the sake of getting it off my chest, but content warning for general mentions of abuse.
~
When I first made this account in highschool, I was going through some pretty horrific abuse at home, and I wasn’t ever really in a good state of mind during its prime. This blog was a form of escapism that made me feel seen, appreciated, and happy at a time in my life where I wasn’t getting that anywhere else. Because of that & my general naivety due to active grooming at the time, I also made a lot of ignorant shitty decisions, and had a lot of wild overreactions on here. Unfortunately, every post has a memory behind it, and despite the fact that I’ve done my best to scrub this blog of those old behaviors and posts- I still know at one point they existed. I can’t expect myself to comb through 7+ years of untagged posts, but I also don’t want to lose everything I posted here - it was such an important moment in my life. I have since left the shitty home situation, and I’m in MUCH better circumstances and spirits these days - but I still find myself not wanting to post because I’m anxious of possibly having some cringe ass behavior brought back up from a time where I should have known better, but didn’t.
That all being said, I will be remaking a new tumblr and a new side minecraft blog - I just won’t be directly associating it back to this account. Fresh slate kinda thing, even though there’s really no such thing on the internet. It’s just a little more distance between me and a period of my life I’d rather not have reminding of every time I look at my notifications. If you notice a new blog might be me? No u don’t!
Thank you, and toodles!
-Oli
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AITA for tattling on a guy who was cheating with me?
So for a few weeks I was long-distance sexting this guy. (I am also a man, if it's relevant.) It started off as mostly just a really exciting connection because I wasn't expecting to wind up SO compatible with someone from the site I found him on, either sexually or emotionally. We wound up both having tumblr accounts, incidentally, and started chatting and following each other here. And really quickly our conversations were hitting a balance of like 90% sexual, 10% lowkey romantic, and the latter was increasing by the day. Nothing really overtly serious especially considering how little time passed, but we were also talking almost constantly for several days at a time, and with both of our sexual tastes involving a flavor of tenderness, tbf we were kind of inarguably acting like real lovers. Wake-up texts, goodnight texts, "i love you"s (granted in the context of sexual rp), talking about how we'd cuddle afterward, etc.
Then one day he texts me with a confession to make: that he has a boyfriend, and he was afraid to mention it before but he thinks I should know, and this isn't at all him saying he wants to stop what we're doing bc he's been really happy talking to me. He just doesn't want me to have to find out by any other means about him having a long-term relationship and be surprised, in case the two of us get more serious. He told me that he and his bf are stable together but not sexually compatible anymore and emotionally drifting apart in general, and what we'd been talking about were all the things he was missing from his sex life and whatnot.
I can respect that he wanted me to hear it from his own mouth that he has a pre-existing relationship, but I couldn't respect the fact that he was cheating in the first place. Admittedly I also hated to feel like I was someone's side piece, whatever their reason for wanting one was. Part of it was specifically that at night we'd talk like we were each lonely and needing to be touched meanwhile he actually did have his boyfriend right next to him. It just rubbed me SO wrong.
So after that, for the first time I went out of my way to search his blog and I pretty easily found the account of his bf and I sent him screencaps of the conversation, including the confession. I thought he deserved to know that his partner of 2 years was trying to have an affair.
...And this is where I've been made to feel like maybe I went too far, in fact I've been told by friends specifically that I did go too far, either in including screencaps of that guy specifically detailing his relationship, or in reaching out to his bf at all. But idk, I have a pretty strong reaction to cheating bc I feel it's one of the worst ways you can hurt someone. And in a way I feel cheated on, too? Given the few weeks that I was under the impression I was talking to someone who was single and lonely just like myself rather than partnered and just bored. I expected to get some kind of angry response so I preemptively blocked the guy I'd been sexting and I have no idea what he might have tried to say to me, if anything. AITA?
What are these acronyms?
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im sure you probably get asked this a lot, but i have no idea what the whole deal with israel and palestine is
the only thing ive heard is from someone i overheard next to me in a lecture that palestine terrorists attacked israel or something but im starting to think im missing a lot of important context with that
Hi, thanks for sending this in. I've had this in my inbox for a while now because I feel like I didn't know where to start. There is this new crash course online that educates about history and information regarding Palestine's colonization and the history leading up to October 7th, 2023. I recommend taking a look at this resource first:
Generally, a quick rundown is that on October 7th, a group of resistance fighters launched a coordinates attack on the state of Israel and took some hostages back to Gaza. They had done this specifically because Gaza was experiencing a critical point on the 20 year seige the Israeli state imposed on them — even before this they were struggling to find clean water and their economy was severely damaged since their imports were calculated by the calorie by Israel. So they were starved and malnourished, many people with medical issues were not granted access to seek help outside of Gaza if they needed specialized care.
In 2018, Gazans had launched the "Great March Of Return" where they marched en masse to the militarized fence separating Gaza and "Israel." This was, by all accounts, a peaceful protest, though the Israeli government responded with brutal force, killing children as small as 2 years old and elderly people as old as about 80 years old.
This had gone on for a while in 2018, after every Friday prayer, and hundreds died. Even if they were not killed, a large number of them were critically wounded. There are many Palestinians disabled from bullet wounds, and the Israeli government purposefully does not allow them to seek treatment if they require it.
This, coupled with the estimation that Gaza would be absolutely unlivable in a couple years, caused an armed resistance to break out, which is what you hear with the "terrorists" attacking Israeli settlements. Now the reports of who killed Israeli civilians is widely argued, with many claiming that Hamas (some of the resistance fighters) did not kill the majority of Israeli casualties, like in this account from a survivor in which they described that the majority of deaths from the kibbutz were because of Israeli indiscriminate firing:
I can't say I totally understand what is going on now with the resistance fighters, but I know that Israel has tried, and failed, a number of times to invade gaza, always getting fended off by the resistance.
Now, gazans are suffering collective punishment where they are bombed indiscriminately in residential areas, hospitals, and schools, all under the excuse that there are "Hamas tunnels" they wish to destroy that lie under Gaza. They provide no evidence of this — they just claim it and drop the bombs. About 10,000 Palestinians have died from the bombing, many of them in pieces, about half of them children. They are also suffering an unprecedented siege where absolutely NO water, fuel, or food is allowed in Gaza (except for like 20 trucks one time) since October 7th. Gazans are reported to have completely run out of clean water. A vast majority of them are showing symptoms from drinking dirty water like vomiting and diarrhea. The water in Gaza does not work, so they are suffering from sanitation issues that will no doubt make the spread of disease proliferate.
I can go on about the issues the Gazans face, but you can scroll through my blog to learn more. Right now Gaza is suffering a humanitarian crisis and genocide. Palestinians in the west Bank are getting arrested en masse, tortured and humiliated by Israeli police and settlers. They are also getting shot randomly. Right now is the collective effort to completely erase Palestinians off the face of the earth, led by Israel and the United States, all for their own selfish interests.
Check out some posts here as well:
Please let me know if you have any questions about anything. Feel free to dm.
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my friend @beloveddawn-blog helpfully sent me a list of questions to help me get my creative juices flowing in this massive bout of writing struggles i got going on. ily mwah.
1. Do you prefer in-denial Lance or pining Lance? How about Keith?
basic cop-out answer but it changes from fic to fic. in a more comedic fic, i like to go for lance who is both pining AND in-denial, aka he knows he’s in love and is mad at it, or i like to make keith like so painfully oblivious to lances blatant PLEASE DATE MEs that it’s funny. generally tho i go for gooey whipped mutual pining.
2. Do you prefer Keith to be baffled by Lance's flirting or just baffled Lance is flirting with him?
baffled that lance is flirting with him. the I Do Not Deserve To Be Loved -complex is my favourite complex to give keith bc i have problems and he’s just so easy to blorbo
3. What's your favourite episode and why?
i’m gonna be so real with you voltron was so bad that once i finished s6 at like 15 yrs old i vowed never to watch it again 💀💀 six years later this vow holds true. however i remember liking the first episode, the mermaid episode, the space mall episode, and the episode where keith chases lotor in the black lion and lance is like dude you fucked up. dumbass. but he’s very obviously fond and he’s THERE and they’re gonna fix it together and that is the first time keith realises that lance fully and completely has his back. that is the moment he fell in love to me
4. What's your favourite character beat and why?
i don’t know what a character beat is BUT i am a lance stan as you may have guessed. interestingly, i used to watch voltron with my siblings and as with all character things we did together, we each picked a favourite and then only that one character was allowed to be your favourite. lance was picked before i could pick him but i got keith (and thus have the most merch of him). and honestly….keith is kind of my favourite i never stop thinking about him and also i write in his pov the most (granted, about lance lol).
5. What's your favourite line you've ever written.
oh that’s a hard one! not to toot my own horn or anything but i’ve had some stellar lines, at least i think. i have a lot of lines that are profound or whatever but to this day i’m proudest of the “i’m anaemic” “oh i didn’t know you had an eating disorder” line like i made myself laugh out loud 💀
6. What's your favourite fic you've ever written
eighty percent of my fics are my faves bc i write to indulge myself lol. BUT i’m rly super proud of my look so good longfic, i love the applebees universe, and the beauty and the beast au is dear to me. i’m also obsessed with this fic that only exists in my head bc i have typed nothing yet. it’s a theatre school taming of the shrew au.
7. What is your favourite type of AU? Do you prefer complete AUs (like BatB) or detail AUs (that angsty thing you wrote where Lance leaves after the game show)?
i love modern aus really. i’m a fan of the mundane. as a close second i like redoing movies/songs/books that aren’t usually au’ed. and i like complete aus WAY better, i just have trouble actually completing them 😭😭
#thank u for asking ily <3333#if anyone else has questions feel free to ask#just general or about specific fics/universes#vld
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i saw in ur pinned post that ur into horror & am curious if you’ve extended that into fics at all? do you have recommendations?
i recently got SLIGHTLY into drarry + horror-ish vibes in fics and only read a few but i fell in LOVE with “Yours Is The Earth (Hold On, Hold On)” by chickenlivesinpumpkin - and it was like just the right amount of fucked up & just the right amount of like ‘holy shit??? DAMN’ with normal drarry in it.
was wondering if u had any similiar spooky time recs for drarry fics- maybe??
(‘: thank u so much ( ur works are so large they scare me a bit but i’ve bookmarked them for a less coward me in the future )
🦇 SPOOKY DRARRY RECS! 👹
hullo and THANK YOU for this rec! i am dearly thankful to get 100k+ of deliciously dark writing to sink into!
unfortunately, while i know i've read some really great drarry horror, it's lost to my AO3 history instead of bookmarked, so i'll be damned if i could remember or find any of it ☠️ my bad.
instead, i asked some fandom buds for their spooky drarry favs. in no particular order, here they are:
🔪 cruel blade by @wheezykat
Drowning in his grief after the murder of his husband, Draco will do anything to bring him back.
But this is not Harry. This is something else entirely.
🧠 mastermind by @schmem14
Draco Malfoy has been with Hermione Granger, is currently dating Harry Potter, and he's determined to have Ron Weasley at any cost. He has to complete his set of three, after all…
🌊 saltwater stain by @the-starryknight
Seven days stuck on a boat investigating a rogue ghost wouldn't be so bad if Harry didn't want Draco so much. Draco has his rules and Harry's content to follow them, but the air feels different away from the shore. Is it possible that the sea could offer Harry something impossible on land?
📚 i demand a soft epilogue by @the-starryknight
James didn't arrive on the Hogwarts Express, and so Harry hasn't slept in a week. Something has brought him back to the stoop outside a building marked "Library" in gold letters. He's going to go inside. Maybe the Librarian can help.
🩸 in our blood by @secretsalex-blog
Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.
🎃 the other cottage by @corvuscrowned
If Pansy wasn’t shagging Ginny Weasley, Draco would never have been dragged to Luna’s ridiculous Halloween party in the first place - meaning he wouldn't be sitting in the corner of the room with Harry Potter all night.
But when a strange comet passes overhead, things start to get even weirder than usual.
As the night unfolds, Harry and Draco are forced to grapple with strange realities, reckon with new sides of themselves, and find their way back before the comet finishes crossing the sky.
👻 on the last day by @thusspoketrish
Draco is still mourning the recent loss of his mother when the Wizarding World is struck with the tragic news of Harry Potter’s untimely death. It’s just his luck that Potter not only comes back as a ghost, but seems intent on haunting Draco as he’s the only one that can see him. It’s a race against time to retrace the last few days of Potter’s life in order to find his body before he’s lost to the living or spiritual realm forever. On their journey, they’ll uncover secrets, betrayals, and a horrific truth that will disrupt both the living and the dead.
🏚️ the manor by @kittycargo
There was something wrong with the Manor.
✨bonus points / non-Drarry✨
🐓 tidewracked, sidetracked by @vukovich (Luna/Theo)
A Cursed professor. An attractive Cursebreaker. A hut that grew chicken legs and rampaged around Hogwarts.
☁️ flour & flesh by anon (Pansy/Hermione)
The cottage on the hill is shrouded in clouds like a secret. Our secret. In some muggle neighborhood lore, I’m sure we’re the witches inside, granting a glimpse of the future in exchange for a rusted penny. And no one else could find us unless they knew the way.
i'll shamelessly self-rec my whumptober collection and this erotic body horror fic replete with puns for you to sample as well.
do you have a fav spooky drarry fic to share? leave your recs in the comments/links in a reblog!
thx to @prolix- @kittycargo @the-starryknight @fictional @schmem14 @nv-md @citrusses @vukovich & @kittycargo for the recs xo
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hello!! I was wondering if there is a plot moment you have from the blog or even just a concept in general that you have yet to see someone else draw that you just really want to see drawn from someone else’s hand. u know like the whole “food tastes better when you’re not the one who made it” thing
ouugh! man, if i were to pick a blog thing that always brings me joy that i kind of always love to see - it's the bahama boys, i think. i just - i love to see those boys. they live in my heart. wade and peter, in tropical bliss. i think more people should draw wade and peter in their tropical bliss. i think the world would be a better place if we saw more of the bahama boys. more of wade and peter, lying on beaches together drinking bahama mamas, please.
asides from that, it's no secret my biggest love in the world that i always beg for and do not ever get enough of is seeing wade wilson in his cheerleader outfit. it's my favourite.
i also think it's a crime that nobody else has ventured to draw peter in his oops i did it again get-up. it granted me so much joy to draw, and it seems criminal that i'm the only one experiencing that joy.
try it. try drawing him in that outfit. i promise you you won't regret it. it's so, so gratifying.
and i think i just about cry whenever anyone draws any sort of art based on any of my fics. it doesn't happen very often,, but the few times it's happened, i've cried.
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Are they or aren't they?
I know I'm not the most jikook-centric blog around here and I don't go on and on about them every time content drops. (Or do I? 🤔)
I am not here to convince anyone of anything. I just say what I think about what I see and that's pretty much all there is to it.
I guess I take it for granted that most see what I see and it’s not necessary for me to point out the obvious all the time.
But for some reason today, I started thinking about Jimin and Jungkook and what they are to each other and how that has manifested itself to us this past year. Even though we see very little of it all, speaking for myself, I still see what I see and its all fine.
A super-long ramble:
The past year's solo era has definitely been an eye-opener for me as far as learning more about ALL the member's individual personalities, of how they work and how they view each other.
As far as Jimin and Jungkook, as time goes on, I don't sense anything that makes me feel whatever they are to each other has diminished at all. If anything, I feel like it is even more intense.
It is not so much what I see between Jimin and Jungkook because dang, there has not been very much to see with them in the same room has there?
But if we aren't seeing them together, I just sound delulu right? I just said I say what think from what I SEE... how can I see anything, you ask?... well...
Hear me out...
I see Jungkook figuring out this new phase himself... he has said in the past he still had some maturing left to do. I think he has shown us plenty of his true self and maturity this past year.
We know all this because he's shared a lot with us via his lives. He's been living his introverted life his way until its his time to get to work.
He likes to cook. He likes to watch TV. He loves to sing. He's keeping up with his boxing training. He has a goofy sense of humor. He's trying to be a normal person and go out in the world and eat at restaurants and attend concerts and hang out with friends. We've seen him being his "rebellious" 25 year old self. We know he has serious stalkers and he is very direct about it. He shows no fear to us.
We know he's most comfortable when he knows we are there with him. Unfortunately we've also seen him suffer through loss and we've seen him working through some feelings that have made him emotional. We've seen quite a bit from JK.
He has spoken to us about serious things and not so serious things. He is very good at phrasing things and expressing things clearly.
Jungkook is figuring it all out.
Kookie has spent a lot of time showing us himself and where he lives. He has had a lot of time to do so.
I see Jimin, on the other hand, has returned to being somewhat more like the Jimin we knew before the pandemic. The perfectionist workaholic. Also a new (to me) layer of sweetness and gratitude that exudes from him no matter where he is, interacting with fans at a radio station, in the audience of a performance, interacting with others in general and during his lives or just walking through the airport, Jimin is thankful for it all. This extra-strength gratitude manifests itself in the way he takes his time to thank just about EVERYONE and how he always seems genuinely surprised to see the outpouring of love.
Earlier last year it was obvious to me (me who pays very close attention to Jimin) that he was not himself. During photoshoots and promotion recordings he was not engaged. His mind was elsewhere. They all looked less than thrilled don't you think?
But since about last October, Jimin has been the happiest I've seen him in AGES during his lives. His music is making him happy. Working is making him happy. He says it at least once during every live: "I am happy."
And the sassy has returned. Jimin is SO HAPPY that we are seeing the re-emergence of a more assertive Jimin during a live broadcast! We haven't really seen this Jimin since... a long time.
This most recent live, I see a Jimin who is doing well and taking control of his life again. A Jimin who knows what is coming and is going to meet it head on.
From what I've seen, I can say that Jimin and Jungkook's time together was most probably curtailed this past year. I think a lot of people agree with that assessment. We infer this because Jimin was working his ass off and therefore he was elsewhere busy with schedules. I think the bulk of this was for his Face album but he was also busy with his new brand ambassador responsibilities. Side note: I saw that Robert Pattinson was getting $12 million dollars for his deal with Dior so I think its safe to say Jimin is getting at least that if not more for his deal. And he also has the Tiffany deal... Jimin is doing very well...
So where does this leave any sort of relationship (whatever it may be) between Jimin and Jungkook? How can they be "together" if that is what they are? Or how can they even be "close"?
JK has made it clear and obvious that he is very thrilled to see Jimin commenting during his lives. We've all seen it. He spontaneously combusts when he would see Jimin commenting.
[When someone commented that Jimin did not come live to tell us the Rainy Day Fight story so Kookie proceeded to spill the tea.]
My opinion from what I see: I think JK started looking for Jimin in the comments after a few times of having him show up there. I think he craved the interaction with Jimin. The knowing that Jimin was aware of him and took the time to acknowledge means something to JK.
And finally it clicked and Kookie realized "wow, turn on notifs and I too can know when JM goes live!" And so he did when Jimin was in the car and JK proceeded to have a full blown conversation while Jimin was on his way home from work.
When Jimin's album release date got closer Jungkook was giving us spoilers of some of Jimin's work via some of the songs on the playlist while doing a live broadcast. We weren't aware those were spoilers until Jimin's album and other songs came out: Muni Long, JVKE, the butterfly hair twisty thingy, playing Letter on the guitar... and then just outright telling us something amazing was coming out at midnight when Set Me Free Pt. 2 dropped.
... something amazing... I'm pretty sure JK knew how much work Jimin put into this first album and what it meant to Jimin to purge some emotional demons that had been plaguing him for some time. I would even say that JK was proud of Jimin and therefore, made sure to hype it up even though we saw that JK had some sort of emotional moment by himself on White Day back in March.
The lives progressed into Jungkook just outright spending either the entire live or big chunks of time totally ignoring Armys and focused solely on Jimin content.
He turns on a live because there is some sort of comfort to him knowing Army is present and then he turns his attention to Jimin...
He does all of that on purpose. Without just saying the words: "I adore Jimin and support him wholeheartedly" he has proven that he feels that way with his actions. He figured out a way to express this even when Jimin was who knows where.
If he didn't want us to think that, he wouldn't have done what he did, would he? Why would he spend so much time focused on Jimin?
We know JK's stopped having a presence on social media except for Weverse. And using just Weverse Live, he's been able to accomplish more visible support for Jimin than any other member has shown for any other member during this solo era.
And if he's doing all of this on Weverse, what else is he doing behind the scenes, in person, with Jimin?
We know they spent time recording Run BTS episodes last year.
We know of at least one instance of JK visiting Jimin while he was working hard.
Having Jungkook's support is probably one of the best feelings for Jimin.
"But Jimin asked JK to visit again and JK said 'no'." And yet JK contradicted himself telling Jimin he'd come to a music show recording but Jimin said it was too late, and that it was ok because JK had already visited him during this dance practice above.
"Jimin said that JK has not cooked ramyeon for him yet." Jimin also said it is off limits, he's eating a high protein diet. JK has also mentioned in the last year that he should be eating less gluten so sounds like they both avoid the type of noodles that are high in carbs and gluten. FYI: "ramen" is technically the Japanese style noodles with a milder flavor and "ramyeon" is the Korean version which is spicier. I have a habit of calling it "ramen" when I mean "ramyeon".
"Jimin doesn't hug JK like he does Hobi." Uh... yeah he does:
And then we have started seeing this pattern... coincidence? Not anymore... of Jungkook coming on live right after Jimin has left the country. And then we get the same thing from Jimin the other day after Jungkook leaves.
My opinion from what I've seen:
These two are very close and have worked out how they deal with separation. They spend time together when they can. When they can't they share things like everyone else does, by texting and phone calling and face timing and all that.
From what I've seen them say during their own lives, I think they spend time together talking about work. I especially think JK has participated in helping Jimin rehearse, practice and just generally hanging out. I think they spend time eating together and watching tv or youtube together.
I think they are fine and are navigating their relationship (whatever it is) very well, regardless of their careers and impending military service, existing as global superstars as well as being normal day-to-day Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin. They are making it work because they've been doing this for at least ten years already.
So, long ramble to say, I will continue to not state the obvious every time we see something, because to me, its obvious everything is going well for them.
#long ramble#if you made it this far thank you for reading the obvious#jimin#jungkook#jikook#kookmin#chapter two and all that#its obvious and if you think they are playing hide the sausage#well good for them#and if they aren't good for them too
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