#sometimes i log in and i just get pissed... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cvntoid · 2 months ago

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Moon Fever

Joel’s acting funny, but he is not a werewolf.

under the cut: sweat, being chased in the woods, fear (so much fucking fear), soft ABO dynamics, soft sex-pollen vibes, heavy dubcon/noncon, forced orgasm, Joel knots, implied breeding, fingerfucking, did i say sweat? lots of sweat

A lot of the time, being stuck on an endless stretch of road is… well. Not your favorite idea, to say the least. Even with the day having been nice, and Joel being in a decent mood, it’s still hours spent in his truck. Sitting. Staring. Throwing bits of conversation at him while he occasionally interjects with a grunt or a laugh. It’s not that he seems to mind; he just seems distracted.

One side of the road is a big, grassy expanse, open field that’s occasionally graced by a few trees or patches of dirt, of swamp and thin, rotting logs. On the other side (your side, luckily), there’s a seemingly never-ending wood. The trees are fairly dense, all those green canopies joining together to shade the forest floor and its inhabitants from the late-day break in the clouds. The sun is already on its lazy descent down before any of it can really be seen. It’s been super overcast the last several days. Seeing snatches of sky is more than welcome at this point, not to mention feeling the weak warmth of the dying light.

Joel swipes a big hand over his forehead. He keeps peeking low to look up through the windshield, keeps craning around to glance at the sky.

“Look, if you’re seeing, like… a UFO or something, you gotta have to point that out to me. It would be super selfish to keep that to yourself.”

“A UFO?” Joel looks distractedly at you, half irritated, half completely lost. “The hell’re you talking about?”

“You keep looking around like we’re gunna get abducted by aliens or something.” You half-laugh, waiting barely a beat before shrugging a shoulder. “I mean it was a joke, but my feelings on the subject aren’t a joke. I’d be pissed if you, like… did see one and didn’t point it out, is all I’m saying.”

“You should try sayin’ less,” he mumbles dryly.

“Fat chance of that, pal.”

“Not your pal.”

“Well, that just makes you a liar, Joel.” You side-eye him a moment, watching him take a little breath and nervously flex his fingers on the wheel, his thick knuckles going white when he grips it once more. “Hey, are you… are you okay?”

“M’not thinkin’ so, no,” he admits, avoiding your persistent, searching gaze. A drop of sweat skims down over the side of his face until it disappears into his facial hair. “My mama used to call it ‘moon fever’. Every month, just about, for maybe - usually only a night, sometimes two.”

“Moon fever.” You roll the words around on your tongue, trying to figure it out. “So, you got, like - a disease, or something? Not a disease, a — I dunno. A condition? Something like that? Why’d she call it ‘moon fever’?”

“Moon’s always full,” he says gruffly.

“The moon’s not always -”

“Yeah, no shit, kid. It’s always full during the fever. Fuckin’ gotta listen to me.” Joel sighs and the muscle in his forearms flex as he squeezes the driving wheel again. He spares a quick glance your way, and to his credit, he almost looks guilty. Almost. “Sorry. Jus’ feelin’ irritable.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. Sorry.”

“No, y’don’t - don’t need to do all that. I’m the one that… yeah.” He trails off, and that nervous energy remains, filling the car like some invisible kind cloud, thick as cotton, muffling out anything that might make sense. For the first time, you feel a tiny pang of fear in your gut. Joel is being so unlike himself, and even if he’s sick, like… what exactly does that fucking mean? You need him to be solid, to be normal, and those aren’t things you can just ask him to do.

“Every full moon,” you parrot quietly. “So - so, kind of like a wer—”

“Do not,” he interrupts harshly. “Don’t fuckin’ say that.”

“Jesus, I was just -”

”Ain’t a fuckin’ joke. Listen, we’re gunna need to pull off soon. Ain’t staying in the truck. Not - not me, anyway, got it?” Joel turns and levels you with his gaze, and at this point the fear starts to build a little, a trickle of ice sliding up your spine.

“Joel, not to be, like… I know you don’t feel good, but you’re kind of freaking me out,” you say, and your forced laugh sounds more like a nervous scoff. “I’m sorry I said the thing about - um, I’m sorry I’ve been kind of annoying. Whatever you need, I wanna help…”

“I know you do, darlin’. I know you do,” he says, and the strain in his voice makes everything worse. He sounds awful. Sweat isn’t just beading on his forehead anymore - he’s got a sheen of it, and he rubs the back of his hands over his cheekbones, his forehead, running fingers through his hair to get the slicked strands out of his face. “And what you’re gunna have to do is - is you’re gunna have to keep the weapons in here. Givin’ you everything I have on me til daybreak, understand? Knife, gun - all of it stays in here. Locked. With you. M’sleepin’ in the woods tonight.”

“Um - what? Joel, no, that’s so fucking dangerous, and I can’t -”

“You will. I’m gunna be okay, honey, just fuckin’ listen to me. Lookit me. I mean it.”

Joel pulls the truck over by jerking the wheel, his breath heavy in his chest. The vehicle crunches on all that gravel, the dirt and rocks as he slams a foot on the break. The both of you rock with that motion and slam back against your seats, eyes silently meeting - yours, full of fear, confusion. His… what is that? Clouded? He looks like he’s being tortured alive. His sweat has started to slowly seep into the collar of his ratty t-shirt, turning it dark and damp. The cords of his throat are slick as well, cheeks pinked - he does look feverish. Feverish and upset in a way you don’t understand. Seeing Joel like this is throwing you off your axis, forcing you to reckon with a possibility that you’ve never considered before - Joel being out of control of something. He sighs, his chest shuddering with it.

“You promise me now,” he says, staring into your eyes. There’s something wrong with his, but before you can really figure it out. He reaches over to grasp your thigh and his grip is too tight, almost painfully so as he turns his whole body to face you. “You promise me that no matter what I say, you keep in this truck and don’t listen to a fuckin’ word I tell you. No matter - fuck, no matter what I say. No matter what I do. You gotta stay put.”

You stare at him, wanting to nod, wanting to be good for him, but it sounds crazy. You’re scared. Panic rises up inside your chest and you watch mutely as Joel pulls out his handgun, his knife, anything he might have on him. It’s then that it becomes a little too real - you realize this entire excruciating moment, you’ve been waiting for him to go back to normal. To stop being so scary. And now that he isn’t, it’s too much. Your heart thumps in your throat, skin vibrating with fear as he sets his things into your lap. His hands shake, too. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

“C’mon, promise me. Need to hear it. I’m gunna leave the truck, okay? Say it. Don’t got a lot of time before -”

“Before what?” You ask weakly. God, you feel sick to your stomach as his eyes go too soft, sad, pleading with you. “Joel. Before what?”

“Before I can’t control myself anymore,” he manages, reaching for the door handle. He pushes the driver’s side door open and turns a last time toward you. “You fuckin’ lock these doors. Wanna see you do it, okay?”

Just as he asks, you lean over to push the lock, making sure each lock is set, each window rolled up. You slip his knife in your boot almost without thinking, putting the gun in the glove compartment as you watch Joel walk into the trees.

You sit like that for a long, long time, listening to the nothing-silence of nightfall as the truck settles, as the birds stop chittering. It’s just the occasional breeze and the sounds of your own breathing and shifting in the passenger seat, staring off into the woods where Joel walked off long after he’s disappeared. It’s hard to avoid the feeling of being completely alone and spooked. Afraid. Anxious. You crank the seat back so it’s nearly flat and stare at some of the stars dotting the darkening sky, all velvety dark blue now. No hint of sun. How much time has really passed? How long have you been gazing fearfully out that window?

Sleep takes you a lot easier than you think it might. One moment you’re forcing your eyes shut, thinking of Joel alone in the woods, how awful he’d looked. Then… nothing.

It’s a sound. There’s a sound; in your half-conscious haze, you think of that urban legend you knew from childhood - how did it go? Something about a scratching at the car door, a hook hand. Something.

The car door.

You slam solidly back into your body in a violent jolt as consciousness drags you back up from the depths. It’s still absolutely black out, stars and trees and nothingness. A wild-eyed glance gives you nothing - nobody at the windows, nobody scratching at the car door. No Joel. Just you, the cold truck, and the glaring, full moon keeping its luminous eye on the area. It takes very little time to adjust to it, to allow that light to seep into everything and allow you to really see.

And your bladder’s full.

Well, what the fuck are you supposed to do about that…? Joel never covered this in his frantic fucking panic, did he?

Waiting feels impossible. No position seems to help with the sharp, uncomfortable pressure, and there isn’t anything in the truck that could work as a good receptacle. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You stare out the windows for a long moment, anxiety making everything worse. God, there must be hours left until morning. But if you just - if you slip out really quickly, relieve your bladder, and run back to the truck? I mean - he must be deep in there, doing whatever the fuck it is he needs to do. You imagine him somewhere among the ferns and trees and spiders, slumped over, wildlife sniffing at his sweat before leaving him there. It makes your heart ache… but not as badly as your bladder.

Fuck it.

You open the door as quietly as you possibly can, cringing when it creaks a little. It’s eerily quiet as you make your way just into the line of trees, as if anyone’s going to see you. Relief is sharp and instant - you have to hold your breath, holding in that desperate little moan of pleasure as the pain instantly disappears. The finer things in life, right?

Cleaned up and pants zipped, you take a moment to silently step out into the middle of the road. There are so many stars; it’s absolutely breathtaking. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but there’s a special sort of quiet when you stop and really, really look, not worrying about the next step or the next move. It brings you a moment of peace and tranquility. The moon watches you, lit so expressively up - you can make out the hollow eyes, the wide, gaping mouth. The man on the moon, stuck in his eternal howl.

You admire this for a long moment, stuck in the tranquil beauty of it. Soft breeze. Trees waving so gently in it, speaking their own secret language through the fluttering leaves and swaying branches. There’s an intoxicating feeling of knowing the universe, being one tiny thing surrounded by an endless expanse of other tiny things, thrumming on one of a billion vibrational wavelengths to create the larger fabric.

There’s a tiny rustle off to the side and, expecting to see a deer, or maybe some raccoons, you’re absolutely floored to see a man.

Not a man - Joel. He’s nude, his flushed, strong body glistening with sweat. He’s covered in it, shining like some horrible beacon in the middle of the grass, and even from this distance you can see his chest heaving. The shock that paralyzes you to the spot is followed by abject fear, eyes wide and mouth open. Of all the things you’ve seen, of all the horrible situations you’ve encountered together, this is the most fear you have ever felt in your life. It rushes up into your head like static, making a home there like so much white noise as your blood roars in your ears.

He takes a few steps forward and you tremble there, hearing his ragged breath as he gets closer. His - oh, god. His cock is hard, pulsing, heavy as it bounces with each forward step he takes. He takes a ragged breath and almost looks like he’s glaring at you, face contorted in some awful mix of agony and anger, something… something else too horrible to name.

“Tol’ ya,” he slurs, voice slow. He licks his lips, moaning, his cock twitching. “Tol’ ya t’stay in the fuckin’ truck, didn’t I?”

That’s enough. He comes within a couple yards and the fear overtakes you in a way that makes your limbs tremble with adrenaline, your breaths coming in hitched, desperate gasps as you pound pavement. Pavement gives way to dirt and brambles and rocks, running blindly into the woods.

Should have locked yourself back in the truck.

Reason leaves you in a hot rush, replaced only with the hot, throbbing fear of a prey creature, and to your growing horror you hear his footsteps behind you somewhere. Running after you. You don’t dare glance back, ignoring the urge to - you can’t afford to fall. You just have to keep going.

It hurts - there’s a stitch forming in your ribs, a sharp ache as your muscles scream at you to slow down, to stop, to take a proper breath. No time. There’s nothing in the banner of your mind except RUN RUN RUN KEEP FUCKING RUNNING, ESCAPE, HIDE HIDE HIDE.

Eventually, the manic rush of adrenaline wears down enough that your body can’t keep running. You tuck behind the thick length of a tree in all that dark, slumping down to sit as you cover your mouth with both hands. It’s hard to breathe softly - it’s fucking near impossible, so you do what you can, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Isn’t that the thing? Fuck, who cares. As long as you can draw the breath slowly, as quietly as you can. The birds are quiet. Sleeping. There’s only the natural sounds of the woods, the random shivers of wind and breaking branches, a rustle here and there. It’s so fucking quiet. You can’t hear Joel anymore - the paranoid thought that he’s near enters your mind with every random snap or break or crunch in the woods, but he’s so big, so powerful and… so rabid right now. So unlike himself. You’d know, right…? Your heart beats in your chest, the rhythm so quick, so uneven. You can hear it in this weird silence, along with the gasping little breaths you take. Trying to be so slow and quiet is hard when your chest aches like this, when every single fiber of your being is begging you to keep running, to rush, to protect yourself. You close your eyes and drop your head slowly back against the trunk of this tree, trying to trick your body into calming down.

Time is weird. It feels like minutes crawl by in the relative silence, and your body gets used to each little sound of the forest. You find yourself relaxing as much as you can given your situation - heart rate going down, finding it easier to breathe. That awful stitch in your ribs finally eases up, your eyes get used to the stark darkness. It almost feels like whatever happened was a fever dream of your own. Joel would never - he… he wouldn’t.

You think back quietly, the eyes in the back of your brain roving over the image of him in the field, walking toward you, shining with sweat. Utterly naked and hard. The sight of him throbbing like that, being so shocked you could see the twitch of his cock, even from that distance, just by the light of the moon. His expression - and in your mind’s eye, it doesn’t look as feral. It looks helpless, it looks… hungry, yes, but… desperate.

“You - mmmh, I -”

The sudden voice makes you scream into all that cloying darkness, heart stopping in your immediate, panicky fear, and that scream closes up into an awful sound from your choked throat. All those muscles tighten up and it’s almost like a terrible little whistle as he grabs you, shoving you back down into the dirt, the leaves and grass and ferns.

“Told you. Told you, darlin’, fuckin’…. oh, fuck, I told you, I told you to s-stay… stay ‘way from me,” he moans, and it’s almost like he’s begging as you make his face out in the dim, still so sweaty, his eyes practically glowing. He looks just the same as before, like he’s a slave to…. to the - what did he call it, again? The moon fever. Fuck. He groans and grinds his hips between your thighs, terrifyingly hard as he fits himself there by force, holding your wrists down in his bruising grip, gasping his breaths. A drop of his sweat slides down his forehead and patters over your face, on your cheek. “Shouldn’t’ve - why… why’d you run?”

He moans as he leans down and buries his nose into the nape of your neck, skimming it up your throat. It’s followed by his tongue - he smells you, tastes you, the sound he makes so tortured and erotic it makes you shudder underneath him.

“Joel - Joel,” you whimper. “You’re not - it’s just me, it’s me, it’s - why are you -”

“Mmm, I know, honey, I - oh, I know, I know, I’m ssooo s—so fuckin’ sorry,” he says. He bites into your shoulder and there it is, his hard cock rutting between your thighs. You scramble to back away, to escape it, but he puts his big, strong hands on your hips and yanks you violently back underneath him, working at forcing your bottoms off. “M’sorry. Sorry, baby, I - ohhh, I’m… ohh yeah, I’m… sorry…-”

Kicking does nothing. He’s so fucking strong, and before you know it, he’s moaning against your collarbone, shoving his rough, thick fingers into your cunt. He works them in, his tongue on your skin, rubbing and searching until he discovers the pillowy little spot that makes you clench. You’re near tears at this point, useless in your struggle, shaking underneath him while he sucks little marks into your skin.

“All fuckin’ wet for me,” he groans. “C’n smell ya - that’s how I found you, honey. Could smell ya anywhere, your wet little pussy. So pretty, so fuckin’… wet… tight… mine.” Each word punctuated by the brutal thrust of his fingers, stretching you just a little bit, just enough that it feels too rough, too painful.

His lips pull away from your skin with a wet pop, the scrape of his teeth making you whine. He grabs your hips and ducks down, his shoulders undulating like a creature’s as he settles his scratchy face between your thighs. He buries his mouth against your cunt, licking, moaning. He devours you there even though you’re whining for him to stop, to let you go.

Those words melt off - all your “Joel please fucking don’t Joel please Joel you can’t you can’t”s turn slowly into a mantra of his name, over and other til you’re breathy and moaning with him. When did that happen? When did you stop struggling and start threading your fingers into his graying hair, gripping it, hips twitching under his hands as he rubs the pads of his thumbs into your willing flesh?

Sooner than you might think, you’re starting to scream - it feels like he’s making you come apart cell by cell, atom by atom, that horrible heat winding down your guts and into your pelvis until it grows too big to hold inside of yourself. His desperate, mindless lapping, his hands making bruises into the meat of your thighs. It’s too much - you have tears in your eyes and then it’s like you’re (howling) shrieking into that black, dark night, pulsing down hard on his beckoning fingers.

“Hurts,” you sob. “Hurts, hurts…”

“I know. I know, honey, I fuckin’ know. Just gotta - mmmm, gotta be brave, j’st - lemme -”

Wait - be… brave? What - what does that fucking mean? Panic blooms into your chest as your climax starts to fizzle out, all that heavy breathing turning into the same panicked, high-pitched, whining kind of gasping you’ve been doing since you saw him in that fucking field. Joel pulls you toward him, grunting, naked from the waist down with your shirt rucking up as he drags you. God, he’s drooling, making the most terrible, longing sounds from deep in his chest as he grabs you and forces you around to your belly, hauling your hips up into the air for him.

“Joel - no, no,” you say, and to your horror, you just can’t be loud enough. Everything else is louder - the scrape of the forest floor under your hands as he forces you into the position he wants, his labored breaths, growling, like the effort of it is breaking him apart, too. Maybe it is. It makes everything worse, one of his big hands creeping up the front of your shirt to paw at your tits, rutting his cock between your thighs. God, it’s so hot against your slippery folds, his calloused fingers too rough on your nipples.

He seems to envelop you as he reaches back to notch the fat, leaking tip of his cock against your hole. He rocks his hips in this barely controlled rhythm, working himself deeper and deeper and god, he’s big. Thick, stretching you open in his manic sort of thrusting, and your stomach lurches as you realize that he’s trying to be gentle. He’s barely hanging on to himself. He moans and gasps as he fucks your pussy open, and once he’s fully seated, the pain really comes. He rears back and slams it home, again, again, heavy balls against your clit with each pass.

“Fuck - oh, fuck, darlin’, so… goddamn tight…” Joel nuzzles his nose down against your shoulder blade and inhales your scent, the sound he makes so nakedly erotic it makes you clench around him again. He grunts and pauses for a moment before resuming his pace, pounding into you, the hand up your shirt reaching further to hold you by the throat. “Y’mine, you know that? Only mine. M’gunna make sure you - fuck. Oh, fuck. Gunna give you all of me.”

Joel reaches his other hand between your thighs, and there he is, holding you against him like a hostage. Hand on your throat, his fingers pressed right up against your pulse there, and wouldn’t you fucking know it - his other hand snakes right over your mound, fingers delving between those plump, spread cuntlips to circle your clit. He’s frenzied, but not clumsy - he knows what you like. It’s jarring at first; too much too quickly, his cockhead nudging up against your cervix with each roll of his hips.

“Needja to cum, honey,” he manages to whisper, and it’s a wonder he can do that at all with all the sounds he makes. “Seen ya do it like this. Mmm? I - ah, f-fuck - I know you’re already gettin’ close. Don’t lie to me, now.”

You make a tortured sound, the pit of your stomach swirling with a special, sick kind of fear. His fingers trace fire into your flesh, willing or not; he’s absolutely fucking right. You’re going to cum on his cock, no matter how much it hurts, how afraid and helpless you are.

“The - the fuck does that mean, Joel?” you ask desperately. You sound just as angry as you feel. Betrayed. It comes out cracking and pathetic all the same, drawn high and useless as he splits you in half. God, holding your breath doesn’t even help. You’re going to cum - it’s only a matter of time.

“Don’t fuckin’ be like that, “ he growls, his breaths coming ragged. “M’not as stupid as ya think, not - not… ohh, not even close. All those times y’thought I was sleepin’, hmm? Yeah? Whimperin’. Hand down between these thighs… whispering my name, like I’m goddamn deaf. Heard you loud ‘n clear, honey. Y’let me take care of you.”

As if to drive his point home, Joel changes both the angle at which he fucks into you and the rhythm of his fingers, forcing an unexpected gasp from your throat that exhales into a loud, keening wail, so exquisitely erotic that he holds himself flush to your body for a moment, cock throbbing, and it’s those aching little throbs that shove you over the edge along with everything else. True to his word, Joel knows what you need, and he forces you to cum. The pleasure crashes down like a tidal wave, molten and overwhelming enough to white you out behind the eyelids for a moment. It’s incredible. Your body ripples and contracts and squeezes against him, all that hot pink velvet flesh wrapped around his thick cock, and he kisses along your back where he’s shoved your shirt nearly off your body. His lips trace patterns of fire over your exposed skin, wet, open-mouthed kisses between your shoulders.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is more of a rumble against you as opposed to a voice; so low, deep, rabid. Curses fall from those lips like a font, and there it is - he’s so engorged it hurts, and it must be the combination of your overlapping climaxes. It’s almost painful, and then it keeps going. The stretch, the feeling of him expanding impossibly inside of you as he pumps jet after jet of his seed inside, hips twitching, holding you close as he humps forward.

“Joel - fuck, it - it fucking hurts, please…”

“I know. I know, I know, I know, just… hold on, babydoll, let me…” he trails off, dragging his tongue up your spine as he moans. “Don’t move. Don’t you move. Be so still f’me.”

The pressure in your cunt reaches a point that is actually painful, too filled, and a new sort of fear fills you as you struggle with it. Joel keeps… expanding, his cock getting thicker, thicker, stretching you so that it burns.

“Joel, I can’t,” you gasp, trying to pull away. He keeps his hands firm on your hips, groaning and yanking you back so you remain flush against his body, his hips rocking so softly. ”Why does it - fuck, it fucking hurts, it hurts!”

“Few minutes,” he grinds out, holding his breath just as much as you are. “Just a few minutes. Stay still. I mean it. Gunna hurt us both if you keep fuckin’ squirmin’ like that. It’s gotta take.”

“It’s gotta —” Your mind races in that moment, with the pain of his enormous cock, the way it just seems to get bigger and the way you want to pull away from it even though it hurts so fucking badly to try. “Take? Joel, what - what does that mean?”

Joel shushes you, his scratchy facial hair, his lips on your hot, sweaty skin, and he licks you, he tastes the salt of your body and moans, one hand fixed firmly on your hip. There’s going to be bruises there, later, proof of his strength, his utter control of you in this moment. You shake underneath him and make the worst little noises, somewhere between a sob and a whimper. Like a kicked dog. You just want it to stop.

“Y’know what it means, darlin’. Almost done. Fuck… y’so tight, baby. How you been keepin’ this from me all along, huh?” Joel hums and you can feel it against your body, the low rumble of it like a living force as it finds a home in your ribcage, all the way down from where your back meets his chest to where his cock is still buried immovably tight in your cunt. All his cum caught inside, sealed… taking. He seems so calm now, so drained. Like he got all the poison out. “Mmmh - there we go. There we fuckin’ go.”

His cock seems to finally soften, finally releasing all that pent-up pressure, the pain, the aching stretch. Both of you make these little sounds of relief as you can ease the physical tension and he’s finally able to slip out of your body. Your first instinct is to keel over and roll to your back, sticks and stones and dirt be damned. You pant there, legs spread, and Joel looks… like Joel. He’s still sweaty and still very, very naked, but he doesn’t look scary anymore. He looks like him, his brow pinched in his way as he looks down at you. There’s a secret sort of sorrow in his expression, and despite it all, your only impulse is to reach up and take his scruffy face in your hands. You manage to coax him down and kiss him on the lips - surprisingly soft, yielding. He moans a little, but it’s less sensual and more longing. Like he’s wanted this part all along. Wanted your gentle warmth, your comfort. Your brush your thumbs over his cheekbones as you kiss him like that, chaste, no tongue. Just tenderness. You rub the pad of one thumb over those worry lines between his brows, down over the bridge of his nose as you kiss.

Joel reaches down to gently push his fingers inside of you. You’re sopping, dripping with his cum, your poor little cunt all sore and wet and aching from all of that.

“M’sorry, babygirl,” he murmurs against your lips. “Didn’t wanna hurt ya. Swear.”

There’s a little stretch of silence as you kiss and he slowly, lovingly fucks his cum deeper into your body with his fingers. He’s so gentle - there’s no real goal, no end point. Just Joel, just his rough, thick fingers being as kind as they can be inside your sensitive body. Just the two of you. The sweat starts making you cold and Joel pulls away, helping you brush off and work your clothes back into place as you awkwardly make your way back to the truck to sleep. He’s got a blanket in there, and on the way to the vehicle, you catch him glaring at the moon. He looks beautiful, even in all his exhausted anger. The lines in his face. The drawn, tired eyes. His chest, his body. Everything about him is beautiful - does he even know that? You don’t have the heart to tell him. Not now.

For now, all that exists is his big, warm body, the nook you settle in where he wraps his strong arm around you so you can lie on his chest in the bed of the truck, covered in a couple blankets, listening to the insects start up again. The big, fat moon now has a sliver of dark on its edge.

#well well well #look who finally posted #it’s me. i posted #anyway whatever i love a good woodsy chase #joel miller smut #tlou smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #joel miller x you #tlou #tw dubcon #not a werewolf fic #i’m not lying i actually hate werewolf shit but i do like to be… what is it. cheeky? yeah #prey play #pedro pascal smut #the last of us smut #k love yoouuuu

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t0iletd0g · 4 months ago

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You're sitting on my face, a normal routine for us. You'd watch TV, call your friends, jerk off, whatever.

And I'd be your cushion.

Sometimes you'd have my nose up your hole, on days when your stomach was acting up and you didn't want to smell it. Today, it was my tongue. You had come home after errands and wanted someone to eat your ass, and, well, you had a cushion that could do that.

You kept letting out nasty farts down my throat. Each worse than the last, to the point where I could taste them. At some point, I pull away to complain, to which you slam your ass back down on my face, forcing my head back to the ground.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" You ask, obviously not expecting a response. A few minutes pass, where a particularly wet fart makes you speak up again.

"Damn, that was nasty... might need the toilet soon."

I whimper, but you don't move. A few more minutes pass, before I realize that all of those farts sound that... dangerous. You seemed to notice too.

"Oh, God, I really have to go, I can barely hold it now, mutt. I don't know how you're holding up through it."

I'm not, but at least you're about to get up. Or so I thought. You don't budge, but your discomfort is showing as you shift above me. I don't understand. Why aren't you budging? Then it hits me. You're not going anywhere.

"I can't hold it anymore, mutt.." is all the warning I get as I feel something solid against my tongue, the log forcing it's way down my throat. It felt never ending, and I tried to pull away, but your hand had grabbed my hair and held me to your ass.

It kept coming, and by the time it was over, and you were standing, I was so... spent.

A hot stream of liquid hit my face, and I realized you were pissing on me, mostly in my mouth.

"Wow, you look like.. shit." The smugness in your voice was all too clear. "Too bad I never wiped, huh?"

I have no time to question before you're sitting back down on me, and I realize that this is just the beginning of a long night.

#fart kink #copro #human toilet #sc@t #scat kink #male farts

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soapcloth · 6 months ago

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Fantasy au -> Warrior!Soap x Healer!Reader

CW: 18+ MDNI, light bloodplay, noncon undertones, dacryphilia if you squint

not edited - 800 words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

You’ve had just about enough of that axe-swinging asshole, built like an ox and thrice as stubborn.

You’re absolutely beside yourself asking why you’re sticking it out in his half-baked party. John, as he had practically breathed the name down your neck, couldn’t keep a decent healer and now you know all too well why. He was mean, smelly, loud, and worst of all- overly familiar despite your best efforts to stamp out any flame of acquaintanceship. You could write ballads dedicated to reasons you should leave this party, but truth be told? You were down on your luck. You wondered sometimes if you were cursed with misfortune, a hilariously horrid timeline of events leading you to this very position right now. So you’ve made a few mistakes, hasn’t everyone in the pursuit of dungeon crawling?

Even so, was the state of your freelance healing career really so bad that you had to saddle up with someone like John MacTavish? The man had been naught more than a trail thief brute-forcing his way into other parties’ treasure a few years ago, but because of a few lucky encounters in monster slaying, suddenly he was picking up jobs in adventurer hubs like it was something he was born to do. It pissed you off to no end and he knew it. Loved seeing your indignant scowl while you healed him up knowing better work was near impossible for you to come by.

“Och- that’s it, ‘m sore there.” He’d groaned, humid breath fanning your skin, god, why was he always so close? “Gonna show me that pretty glow, lamb?”

“No.” You bit, rubbing the salve a touch deeper than needed. Your lips twitched seeing his eyebrows draw tight. “It’s not so bad that you need healing, stop being a baby.”

The man snorted in response. “That’s why no other parties’ll take ye on, lamb.” His deep blue eyes searched your own, a wild smirk twisting across his mouth. “Terrible bedside manner.” You flushed slightly, shooting him a sharp glare that caused him to lean back on his makeshift fallen and rotted log seat with a pleased grin as he inspected his wound. Like the ever-expressive man he was, his face suddenly took on a shade of concern. “Ach-!”

“Huh?” Was all you could muster, confused as to what he could be so worried about.

“Think I got nicked by something venomous, lamb, need yer healing.” He seethed out. “Oh for- let me see.” You sighed, grabbing his uselessly huge hand. As expected, his palm was fine, albeit still a bit bloody as the salve worked to stop it.

Wrong move.

Upon inspecting his wound, the adventurer managed to shove his palm into your face with a vicious grin, huffing through his nose a bit as he smeared blood across your mouth. Sputtering only invited the acrid taste of bitter salve, sweat, and copper onto your tastebuds as he laughed and continued to wipe his hand across your face. “See?” He chuckled “M’still hurt.” His eyes seemed to glisten like the northern stormy coast seeing his own blood on your skin. “Suits you.”

You pushed his hand away, misinterpreting his words in a way that scratched at a sore spot of your own. “I didn’t kill them, John! Stop holding that over my head!” You snarled, causing his eyes to widen a fraction. You wiped his blood off your face with your arm, only to smear it around more and get it on the limb. Great. It was then you realized you had a runny nose as well, were you starting to cry? “I fucked up- but my god, they lived, okay?” And now you couldn’t get a gig better than this one because of that fact, a voice in the back of your head snarked. It’s true too, they made sure no party worth its salt would ever take you on. You still have no idea why John did either in all honesty, for all his faults and the high turnover rate, he had a seemingly bottomless fount of healers willing to take a shot at being the one to stick.

John cupped your cheeks. “None of tha’.” He spoke lowly. One of his calloused thumbs swiped at an emerging tear before it could fall and you had to watch, mouth slightly agape as he brought the pad of his thumb to his lips without much thought, tongue darting out to taste. You blinked as he clapped that hand down on your shoulder, leaning closer. “None of tha’…” he repeated, quieter this time. He looked so focused. “Dinnae give a shit about those no-names, lamb, neither should you.”

You swallowed audibly when met with his intensity, his voice a rolling growl. “Fuck- seeing ye all covered in my blood’s got me stiffer than a rock. Palm’s busted and you won’t heal me. Cannae do a thing about it, feel like ah’m gonna-“

“I can heal your hand.” You urged, the oppressive haze he left you with suddenly lifting.

He snorted in response. “Though so, lamb.” His palm connected with your hair, ruffling his blood into your locks before moving down to pat your cheek. “What a dutiful healer ye�� are… So good te’ me. Let me see tha’ gorgeous glow.”

#ough…. kind of a trial in writing…#john soap mactavish #soap #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #x reader #cloth writes #tw dubcon #tw noncon

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fairyhaos · 1 month ago

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seventeen and horror movies

notes: this is from ages ago but apparently i never posted it lol so im doing it now

masterlist

seungcheol

thinks horror movies are really cool! they're not at the top of his list, though, and he definitely prefers action movies with less psychological tricks and less fussy plots of good guys beating up the bad guys, but the suspense in horror films is always great too. laughs when the bedraggled and emo villain first appears on the screen and says that the villain looks like [insert which ever member pissed him off recently]

jeonghan

the most calm. offers his hands as stress balls to any members who need it during the film. was probably not paying attention for the entire thing, his brain having logged out of the human world and logged in to the angel network or something. offers to make popcorn every time, and by some weird psychic ability of his he always gets up to do refills right as the popcorn is running out for everyone. records seungkwan kicking chan into tomorrow every time they finish a film

joshua

is basically the human shield for the other scaredy cat members. he doesn't particularly like horror movies, but he's pretty good at keeping in his flinches and doesn't get that many nightmares from them afterwards. often gets dragged out to make cookies for dk bc he cant handle the movies. the person that everyone goes to at night when they can't sleep. once had a total of five members in his room after they all watched 'the shining' together, and let them sleep in his bed with him for the rest of the week.

junhui

loves (!!!!) horror movies so much. thinks they're the pinnacle of film industry art. gets scared by the super horrifying ones, but loves that feeling of getting scared so much. doesn't get nightmares bc he basically forgos sleep for two days straight after they watch a film, so he bores the nightmare demons into not visiting him. at least, that's what he swears by. does need to hide behind some of the other members tho when it gets a lil too scary for him to handle

hoshi

the epitome of reckless cockiness. boasts every single time that he's Great at handling horror movies, despite having a track record of Definitely Not being great at handling horror movies well. unintentionally engaged in a screaming duet with mingyu this one time. refuses to leave the room even when the members try to force him out bc he's too loud. always wakes up wonwoo, either bc he digs his fingers into his thigh thinking that he's jihoon or bc he's just being way too noisy. doesn't remember a single thing about the plot, pretends he remembers everything and says they should totally watch it again sometime

wonwoo

agrees to watch it with the members, ends up falling asleep halfway through. while everyone is talking about the terrifying cinematography afterwards, he's just sitting there like o_o bc he doesn't remember anything about the movie. he doesn't even mean to fall asleep, it just accidentally sort of happens. is woken up by hoshi during every movie tho bc that man is basically a high-pitched whistle when he's terrified and he gets terrified by horror movies all the time

jihoon

gets scared, but is scared the moderate amount. flinches at the jump scares, lets out little yelps at the sudden screams, but always does that cute giggle afterwards to show that he's more embarrassed than anything. has soonyoung's hand around his thigh like a vice the entire movie, and he has yet to figure out if the man is doing it to try and keep jihoon in place or to keep himself in place. sometimes gets nightmares after, but he doesn't really sleep enough to even have dreams on a daily basis, so.

minghao

doesn't like them, sits through them bc if too many people leave then chan gets sad that people aren't watching the movie he picked. pretends he's chill with it but he sits in the armchair by himself all curled up like a shrimp, hugging a cushion and squeezing his eyes shut whenever he gets too scared. after the movie's finished, though, he doesn't think it was all that bad. does that mean he's willing to watch it again? not really. but at least he's not getting nightmares for a week like the others.

mingyu

cannot even Think of watching them (1). is too terrified. clings to joshua so hard that he leaves the man with bruises on his arm. screams the loudest at every unexpected noise on the screen, even if it's something as tiny as a floorboard creak. can never finish the full movie, either bc he gets yelled out by the other members for being too noisy or ends up too creeper out and runs away to hide in hansol's room and watch him sleep to make sure he's okay

dokyeom

cannot even Think of watching them (2). gets all three of the 95 line to baby him for the first part bc he insists that this time he Will get thru it. holds jeonghan's hand the entire time. and seungcheol's. also has joshua's hand (the one on the arm Not being held hostage by mingyu) hovering near his face, ready to cover his eyes when something scary pops up on the screen. never makes it past the 45 minute mark without getting teary-eyed and having to leave, asking joshua to bake him cookies with him or something to help him calm down

seungkwan

gets absolutely terrified if theres any gore. psychological horror? hell yeah, he's down. demon/exorcism horror? so long as no ones peeling off anyone's skin, he's fine. horror movies (especially the ones chan picks) often leave a bad taste in his mouth tho so theyre not really his favourite. vows to never ever watch another horror movie that chan's picked out again, always ends up sitting on the couch squashed between jun and chan during the next horror movie viewing. beats up the maknae after every movie for suggesting something so grotesque and horrible

hansol

doesn't watch. he's not a big fan of the mildly plotless, gory horror movies chan always picks and instead goes into his room. tries to read a book or do something productive, ends up just falling asleep on the floor. wakes up to mingyu's face inches from his in almost pitch black darkness, the elder trembling like a leaf in the wind while telling him that he was guarding him while he was asleep to make sure he was okay. he turns on the light in the room and spends the rest of the night reassuring mingyu that the sounds he's hearing outside are totally normal and no werewolf is trying to break through their windows

chan

was probably the one to suggest the horror movie. he's pretty chill with them, finding them interesting (if not sometimes rlly repetitive) to watch. the suspense is his most favourite thing ever. he thinks it's super cool. flinches sometimes, but always laughs after. is the only one grinning with excitement once the movie is finished. looks around at his hyungs and asks if anyone would be willing to watch it again with him sometime?

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frantic-fiction · 1 year ago

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Shattered Glass 18+

(Gif: leopardmuffinxo)

Astarion x f!reader

Summary: Astarion finally makes do on a promise.

This is part 2 of Secluded Evening. (Could be read as a stand alone)

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, oral fem receiving, PnV sex, unprotected sex, biting (of course) Astarion being a lovesick fool

Word count: 2.6k

Astarion threw another log on the fire; a flurry of embers took flight, dancing in the cold night air. The rest of the camp had already settled in their tents. You were nestled between his knees about five feet away from the flames. A throw blanket cascaded down your shoulders—a notebook on your lap.

He studies the rapid strokes of your hand from over your shoulder. The rough lines of charcoal were blooming into an identical copy of Laz'eal. Astarion pulled a strand of hair away from your eyes and began to weave your locks into a simple braid. He doesn't have a hair tie, and knowing you, you've lost yours. So, he twists the pieces, and once done let's go, kissing the crown of your head.

You barely acknowledge him, and when you suddenly shove the pencil over your shoulder, Astarion chuckles, taking it from you. He watches you begin smudging the charcoal with the pad of your finger. You're adorable when your art consumes you. Every time, it captivates Astarion.

This was how most of your nights were spent. Not always precisely like this; sometimes Astarion brought a book, and sometimes your hand got too sore to draw, so Astarion read to you as you curled on his lap. But as long as it was spent in each other's company neither of you cared much for the activity.

Astarion adored these nights the most, primarily because he could feast his eyes on your beauty without you shying away or throwing a stupid joke at him to break the tension. You were perfect in every way, and when he opened his heart briefly and confessed the broken pieces of himself and the motivations that led him to you. All you did was look at him with unspoken love and hugged him.

Your relationship became something more after that. Sex was not what drew the two of you together. For the first time in 200 years, Astarion had someone he trusted with his every sense of the word. Someone who wanted more than his body and showed their love for him without words. Someone he wanted to spend every moment of his life with despite the fear that thought causes him.

Astarion thinks he loves you but can't find the words when his mouth opens. He's always struggled with expressing his true feelings, but he wants to try with you. He wants to bear his heart to you and show you all that you mean to him. And with all the trust you and Astarion have established, one thing has become a very big problem.

You have begun to treat Astarion like glass, as if one sexual touch will break him. And frankly, it's pissing him off. Astarion finally has complete control over his body and a partner who he trusts. A partner that can bring him to his knees with a simple giggle and to put it bluntly, gods you were fucking sexy.

He's frustrated, horny, and has no idea how to ask for anything he wants. And for fucks sake, if he wakes from a meditation to have you grinding against his erection again, he just might explode.

In his frustrated musing, he didn't notice that you had placed your sketch pad away. He only noticed when you cupped his jaw and moved his eyes to meet yours. "What are you thinking about, handsome?"

It takes a moment for Astarion to collect himself as he stares at your soft smile. "I was thinking it's about time we get you, my sweet, to bed," he pecks your lips before grabbing your wrist and entwining your fingers. You nod and press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

Astarion holds the flap open, and you duck inside. Kicking your pants off and into the corner, you unceremoniously plop down into the pile of cushions. You began sharing a tent in the shadow curse lands. Astarion found out pretty early on that nightmares of Cazador were less likely when you were in his arms. And thankfully, you slept better, too.

You prop yourself on your elbows and silently watch Astarion move about the small space, removing his outer clothing. He seemed to be stalling, almost like he was silently debating with himself. Astarion is in his underwear when he seems to come to a conclusion. He takes a deep breath and moves towards you. Kneeling by your feet, you watch as Astarion hesitates, his hand resting softly on your shin. Hesitation is soon replaced with a devilish smirk that stretches across his lips.

"Whatcha thinking about pretty boy?"

Astarion doesn't say anything, just slowly begins to crawl up your body before capturing you in a breathtaking kiss. His knee is between your legs; your hands are around his neck, pulling him flush against your body. You sigh softly into his mouth, moving your hands to caress his cheekbone.

He tongues the seam of your lips, and you are quick to gasp, giving him access to lick deeper. Astarion's hands are caressing up and down your curves, cupping your breast and tugging the metal bars of your nipple rings. His mouth moves to your throat, sucking hard at your jugular.

"W-wait!" You choke out, causing the elf above you to freeze. He's quick to remove himself from you, putting some distance between your bodies.

"Shit, did…did I do something wrong?" Astarion's voice cracks; you've never heard him so unsure of himself. You pant hard but are quick to sit up and fall into Astarion's lap, his arms instinctually wrapping around your waist.

"No, gods no," you sigh, cupping his jaw and pressing your forehead against his. The tension in Astarion's shoulders drops, and he squeezes you a bit harder.

"Then what is it, my sweet?"

That has you pausing to figure out the best way to say this. "What was your plan?" Shit, that didn't sound good

"My plan! Are you serious?" He's already pulling away, shutting off completely when you pull him back tightly.

"No! Th-that's fuck, that's not what I meant, Star," at least he's not trying to run, but he's as stiff as ever. "Astarion, I will be as blunt as possible because I care about you. Were you trying to have sex with me because you felt obligated?"

This isn't what Astarion expected you to say because he can't mask the look of surprise. He opens his mouth to speak before clamping it shut. He does this twice more, but you don't rush him, you push stray curls behind his ear and wait.

"No." His voice is small. He clears his throat before speaking again, stronger this time. "No, I want this, and I would appreciate you stop treating me like fucking glass."

“What?”

You're flipped over, and suddenly, on your back, Astarion's body pressed closely against yours. He ruts against you. His cock was hard, feeling painfully constricted in his underwear. "I appreciate your patience with me, darling, but I need to clarify one thing to you right now."

Astarion licks a long stripe up your collarbone, ending just under your ear. You moan softly, trying desperately to roll your hips up into Astarion. "I have never wanted someone more than I wanted you. So, if it's okay with you, my sweet, I'm going to take the rest of our clothes off, and you're going to finally let me feast upon the sweetness between your legs."

You whine and buck, trying to get anything from Astarion's unmoving body. "Tsk, no, no, my sweet. Use your words." He purred, nipping your ear.

"Please! Yes! Oh gods, Astarion,"

Once the words leave your lips, you're tearing at each other's clothes in desperation. After you are both fully undressed, Astarion shoves you back onto the cushions. You expect him to pounce but he hovers staring down at your naked body.

Astarion's deft fingers grab your foot, and he presses a soft kiss to your inner ankle. A pang of heat flared through your lower abdomen. He kisses up to the top of your calf before giving a playful bite. You release a soft yelp, and Astarions lavishes the bite with his tongue. He slowly moves up to your inner thigh, leaving various bruises in his wake.

You're gasping as he ghosted over the spot you wanted him most. His breath fans over your dripping cunt, and you swear he's about to give you what you want. Then he kisses you. Just one small peck on the public area just above your clit, before he retreats. You cry, and one of your hands card into Astarion's white locks.

“No! Please!”

He begins the same slow ascent up your other leg, paying just as much attention. "Now, as much as I love those beautiful noises you make for me. Remember that our camp members are trying to sleep; you can be a good girl for me, right?" He gazes up between your parted legs, and you nod and swear if he asked at this moment, you would have given him anything.

"I thought so," Astarion purred before licking up the entire length of your pussy. You moan out and swiftly clap your hand over your mouth. Then suddenly Astarion is a man starved.

His hand grips the underside of your thighs hard and pulls you down the bed as close as physically possible. He sucks, and licks, piercing his tongue sloppily at your dripping cunt, and you're a mess of pleasure. Your grind against Astarion's face, his nose rubbing beautifully against your clit. If it weren't for Astarion's hands keeping your thighs parted, you probably would be crushing his head in your desperation.

A low groan rumbles from Astarion's chest, and he focuses his attention, sucking tightly on the bundle of nerves. He slips his first and middle finger into your cunt and curls up, causing you to gasp for air.

"S-star…oh gods!" You cried, and he was ruthless with his assault. Astarion pumped his fingers quickly, the sloppy sounds of his mouth mixed with your muffled moan. Your stomach was coiling with pleasure, and you were embarrassed with how fast Astarion was picking you apart. "I'm close." you whimper, rolling your hips against his face.

Astarion, after a moment, releases your clit. Still pumping you with his fingers, he looks up at you, chin glistening with your arousal, a smug grin lazily plaster on his lips. "Come for me, love, be a good girl."

With the last few slips of his fingers, the coil snaps, and you're falling apart. Eyes unfocused, muscled tight, the silent gasp of ecstasy stuck in your throat. Astarion watches in amazement and arousal as you come apart so thoroughly with just his mouth and fingers. His cock is aching pre, now dribbling down the shaft.

Once your orgasm slows, you feel the immense need for more. And with Astarion still nestled between your legs, it has you moving without thought. You push Astarion back and plant yourself on his lap. You mash your mouth against him, chasing the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Astarion groans and cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Your palms roam down his chest, smoothing down his abs until you come to his neglected cock. It's swollen and red, and when you grip it softly, Astarions hisses into your mouth, bucking into your palm.

Smearing the pre-come around, you slowly work your hand up and down Astarion's dick in long, languid strokes. His eyes glaze over, and he moans, head dropping to your shoulder. Astarion's cold hands fondled your breast, and he leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. He pulls the metal piercing softly with his teeth.

You whine and tug on a fist full of Astarion's hair, rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock. "Fuck, darling." Astarion moans, moving to give your other breast equal attention. Your positive marks will be littering your body for days following. And the thought alone causes you to clench your thighs.

You pump your hand faster, and Astarion meets everyone with thrusts of his hips. He claims your lips again in a sloppy dance of wet tongues. Then suddenly Astarion stills your hand.

"If you keep this up, I'm not going to last much longer." Astarion's pants, nudging your nose with his.

"Isn't that kinda the point, handsome?"

"Not if I want to come apart feeling you clenching around me," Astarion's voice is breathless, and you moan at the thought. He kisses your cheek, then your jaw. Trailing his way to your neck. "Would you like that, my sweet,"

Whatever power you had over Astarion had just turned to dust. You bite your lip and nod quickly, letting Astarion push you on to your back. You part your hips, and Astarion slots right in.

"Words, my love. You do know how much I love your voice." Such a fucking tease.

Linking your arms around his neck, you pull him down, hitching one of your legs over Astarion's hips. "Please…I need you to fuck me."

"Shit…" Astarion groans. Taking himself in hand, he smears his dick with your arousal before filling you agonizing inch by inch.

The two of you let out a collective cry of pleasure, and you feel complete. Astarion pulls out and slams his hips back, ripping the oxygen from your lungs, and sets a steady pace. You clutch at his shoulders, digging your nails into exposed skin. The slick sounds of Astarions pumping in and out of you were depraved and did nothing but fill your lower abdomen with molten lava. Astarion wholly consumed your senses.

The coolness of his lips left lingering kisses on your arched neck. The smell of bergamot and rosemary flooded your nose with each shaky inhale. The saltiness of any skin you could taste. It was too much and not enough all at once.

The scrape of Astarion's fangs graze his favorite feeding spot, and you grab the back of his head. "Yes! P-please…" and soon, the icy pierce of his teeth is followed by the cool tingle of pleasure that flows through your body.

Astarion grunts as soon as the blood touches his tongue. He ruts faster against you, grinding you into the blankets. He has to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep your voice from waking the whole camp.

But what can you do? Nothing. Not when his other hand begins to roll your clit in tight circles matching his thrusts. Your hands trail down his back, legs hooking tightly around his torso. The angle of your hips changes, and Astarion is pounding into the spot that has you seeing stars. You're close, and you try to say so, but Astarion hand is still tight around your mouth.

After a last mouthful of blood, Astarions peppers kisses over the bite. "I know, my sweet, I'm…fuck I'm close to."

His fingers are rubbing your clit faster, and his hips aren't letting up the brutal pace. Your legs are quaking, and you feel like you might faint. You clench tightly around him, and then you fall apart. Suddenly, Astarion's hand is gone, and his tongue is in your mouth, capturing every whimper of pleasure you give. And with a few more swallow sloppy thrusts, Astarion falls over the edge with you, filling you with his spent.

Astarion continue to languidly kiss you, both hands cupping your face like you are the most precious creature on the plane. He barely grinds his hips, feeling the last of your orgasms fade until you are both too sensitive.

And it's like someone cut the puppet strings. Astarion falls limply onto you, blanketing your body with his. You comb softly through his hair, gently pulling out any knots. Astarion kisses your shoulder before rolling off of you.

It is silent for a while as you stare into each other's eyes. Astarions is the first to speak. "I love you," His words were barely above the whisper, and if you weren't staring intently at the man, you might have missed it.

You're speechless. Were you dreaming?

"I still believe you deserve more than the broken man before you. But you've chosen me, and I have felt true happiness for the first time since waking up in my grave. And well-"

You don't give him a moment to finish before you're in his lap and tackling him into an embrace. "I love you, Astarion."

The dopey grin on his face has you breaking into your own. You press your forehead to his, and he hugs you tightly. You don't know what tomorrow brings. But being here, seeing Astarion's smile, and knowing he loves you just as much as you love him. It feels like you can do anything.

Okay, friends, this was just so fun to write. Let me know what ya thought. I swear all the love and support I've received from my last few posts have been so amazing. I'm so excited to show you more!!!

If you liked this, maybe you'll like one of these?

Happy Birthday (fluffy)

Reoccurring Nightmares (hurt/comfort)

Tag list?: @heartfully10

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #reader insert #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #smut

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19burstraat · 2 years ago

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ketterdam dashboard simulator

goedmedbridge420

who up boeking they canal

10,345 notes

drydens follow

I can't believe some of you log on here and thirstpost about barrel vagrants. it makes me so sick. these men are the very pits of society and have never honoured ghezen a day in their lives. there are so many other young men who make their living in a reverent way. have some dignity.

#ghezen #inghezenssight #ghezenhonouring #churchofghezen #handofghezen

2 notes

kooperomno1fan

lionsroar12 follow

omg HOW is kaz brekker winning this he's SO problematic he's not even good for the economy he killed members of his own gang and kidnapped councilman van eck's son

dregsundrained

cranky coz your gang fell apart aren't you

17,860 notes

oskervoexchange follow

guys is this a mandela effect or what bc I SWEAR this painting used to be in the university district art museum, I literally saw it this week??? but I went today and it was GONE?????? there wasn't even a plaque?? guys pls I'm so confused why is everyone acting like this is normal for ketterdam? do priceless antiques just VANISH? am I being gaslit?

450 notes

stadhall-clerking

guys I'm so sorry I've been MIA :( I found out that my landlord was using my rent on the staves rather than fixing my black mould problem so I pushed him out the window and told the stadwatch he must have fallen and died because he wasn't honouring ghezen and got away with it. anyway I think maybe the black mould explains the dirtyhands/sturmhond fic I was writing sorry :( but I WILL finish my fairy queen of istamere meta post once I've moved into my new lodging

670 notes

dregsconfessions follow

SUBMISSION: sometimes I lie awake thinking about the time I fell down an entire flight of stairs at the slat when kaz was at the bottom, and he just stared at me (still lying on the floor), and then asked if I'd changed the beer kegs at the silver six yet. GIRL NO?!?!?!

#submission #dregs #dirtyhands #admin comment: laughed so loud my upstairs neighbour threatened to shoot me

546 notes

dregsconfessions follow

ADMIN NOTE: if the razorgulls don't fucking stop sending anon hate to this blog we'll tell dirtyhands n he'll send you your own IP address back

#see what happens you hack job seagulls

500 notes

kerchtourismboard

it's us, the real kerch tourism board, here to tell you what we're putting in the new summer season pamphlet. we got 1) three pages all about kaz brekker that end up being more of an advertisement than a deterrent 2) list of slipperiest spots in the barrel where you will fall over and get a concussion when ur drunk 3) top 10 ways to get your wallet stolen by a child in broad daylight 4) paintings of the komedie brute 5) advert for sten's stockpot 6) map of public toilets

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kerchtourismboardreal follow

we are not affiliated with any degenerate impersonator accounts who claim to be us. we are the only real kerch tourism account.

23 notes

kerchtourismboard-real follow

grafcanal smells like piss and you should bite everyone you see wearing the mister crimson costume

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stensstockpot follow

it's all 'fuck sten's stockpot' and 'I got food poisoning from the special at sten's stockpot' until you realise you don't have the money for cilla's fry, and then you come CRAWLING back to the loving arms of sten's stockpot and our special. you fucking traitors. you'll be back! you'll all be back

canaljumpings follow

what's in the special sten's stockpot

stensstockpot follow

it's a surprise ;)

bertskerch follow

nah I thought this was the real stens lmao

stensstockpot follow

bert smit you still have 45 kruge to pay on your tab and if you don't cough up we'll send our debtors to break your legs

230 notes

exchangingbabey follow

my grisha girlfriend who still wears a kefta and says things like 'nikolai lantsov is a bastard': ugh they're still debating whether or not the council of tides should be able to control kerch shipping, I hate inter-country politics

me: I think I hauve the queen's lady

4500 notes

(insp) (insp)

#I wasted a full hour making this #six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc duology #kaz brekker #ketterdam #soc #grishaverse #shadow and bone #my post #dashboard simulator

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throneofsapphics · 10 months ago

Text

murder in her eyes

Nyx x f!Reader

Summary: Determined to claw your way out of your home camp, you decide it’s time to learn to wield the Illyrian bow, and your best friend won't let you learn alone.

Word Count: 6501

Warnings: canon typical themes, sexism, violence, injury

A/N: this is pretty much all inspired by one line from acofs that I think about too much.

“I’m jealous of you sometimes,” she admitted to Nyx. They were gathered on the outskirts of the village where he’d been sent to train. She kicked her feet out in front of her. The bark of the log she sat on cut through her thin summer pants, pressing into her skin. Instead of being painful or itching, it felt comforting and reminded her she’s still alive.

“Why?” He cut a glance to her from where he was sharpening one of his knives.

“You get to leave.” The absolute truth. She was stuck in this damn village likely for the rest of her life, unless she somehow managed to escape or marry into another. “And I’m just -,” you waved a hand, hoping that would get the rest of your point across. It did.

“You’re allowed to leave at any time.” He recited, but she could tell he didn’t really believe it. There’s no official laws forbidding her from leaving. In fact, there’s one against it - written on paper by his father, but actually writing a law and enacting it are two very different things. At least she can’t be officially punished for trying to leave.

“You know it’s not that easy.” Her last attempt hadn’t worked. Despite her friendship with Nyx, probably in spite of it, they dragged her ass back here. No matter how fast she flew, they were faster. They caught her, dragged her back and told her if she tried again they’d break her wings and make it look like an accident. One day, when she was fast and strong enough she’d get the hell out of here. But until then …

“I thought you liked it here.” Gods, she loved it. Illyria was beautiful despite its cruelty and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, but it became suffocating and all consuming especially as she grew older. Besides, it was all that she’d known, there was nowhere for her to compare it to. Unfortunately, with each year, the expectations to marry became stronger. Even though they let her train, they ridiculed her at every turn. Her father said it would make it almost impossible to marry her off, and frequently encouraged her to quit. Little did he know, saying it would make her undesirable for marriage was prime fuel for her to keep going. She refused to quit and accept her natural place, to let her ‘natural place’ be below, subservient, predestined. She’d seen and even spoken to Emerie, she knew who she could become if she truly pushed herself. Long ago she’d decided she’d work and work until she was never weak again.

“I’m thinking about taking up the bow.” She switched topics quickly. If she tells him, and they find out … she knows they’ll make good on their promise.

Rhys overheard a single sentence of conversation between his son and his friend. He’d been curious about the friendship at first, and maybe a bit wary but she hadn’t done anything outrageous, in fact she’s one of the few females who continued to train despite all of the leers and ridicule she faced.

“I’m thinking about taking up the bow.”

Many males couldn’t muster up the strength to take up the bow. Still, the line triggered something in his memory, something he told himself over a decade ago, during a visit to Windhaven. ‘If one of the girls decided to take up the Illyrian bow, I’d oversee her lessons myself,’ and stepped out of the shadows as if compelled.

“I’ll oversee your lessons myself,” he pressed his back against a branch and tucked his hands into his pockets. The female jumped, her eyes wide. Nyx glared at him, pissed off that he was eavesdropping, or probably more upset with himself that he didn’t catch him. He didn’t particularly care too much, and his mouth quirked up at the corners. “Nyx can accompany you for lessons once a week, in Velaris.”

The words came naturally, and he wondered if this was a plan written out by the mother decades or centuries before the two in front of them were born. Perhaps, and as much as his son’s potential love life intrigued him he had more urgent court business to attend to. Anyway, Nyx definitely wouldn’t appreciate his hovering or interfering, so he did his best to take a step back. His best wasn’t great, but it was something.

“T-thank you, High Lord” she stumbled out and he frowned at the honorific, holding up a hand.

“Just Rhys,” he gently corrected. She didn’t look completely convinced, but Nyx elbowed her, his eyes glazing over, saying something directly to her. He didn’t pry. Besides, his son had taught her how to keep iron shields locked up around her mind. It’s possible there was something else going on there. Not that Nyx would tell him … maybe he could convince Cassian to get it out of him, he’d always been more willing to speak to him about those kinds of things. He’d said he was ‘not great,’ after all. Rhys shoved the thought to the back of his mind for now, making a mental note to address it later. “Are you going to learn with her?” He asked Nyx. A taunt and a challenge. He’d wondered why it took Nyx so long to ‘agree’ - like he hadn’t just volunteered him - to learn the bow, but perhaps it was a who.

“Of course.” Nyx glared at him. He could’ve sworn a blush covered his cheeks when he glanced back at her. He’d definitely be asking Cassian.

She bit on her bottom lip, watching Nyx glare at his father. Learning the bow and a chance to leave Windhaven once a week sounded like heaven. Maybe it’s good fortune his father happened to overhear the conversation, even if it’s embarrassing.

‘Not embarrassing’ she chided herself. There’s nothing embarrassing about wanting to train, wanting to learn to fight. Besides, if she learns to wield the bow - something several Illyrian males never learn to do, maybe that would finally prove her skill and worthiness.

Eyes a bit dreamy, she hid in the shadows, letting the cool embrace her as she watched a male return the Illyrian bow to its hold. Silver, well made, and nearly as tall as her. Heavy, too, based on what she remembered from the time she tried to steal one. That was a mistake. All she’d achieved was getting it stuck in the mud. To cover her scent, she’d spread more mud over it, and just caused rampant confusion in the morning. The males actually training with the bows had hell to pay for her mistake, but they’d always jeered at her for wanting to train so she didn’t find she cared too much.

“Why haven’t you invited her to train with the Valkyries?” Nesta asked Nyx later that week, after his Father - embarrassingly - announced he’d been learning to wield the bow, with a ‘female friend’ of his, causing a few intrigued looks.

“It’s not like that,” he’d insisted, aware you'd have his head if you found out he gave any other kind of impression. Still, relaxed as he was around his family he maintained the perfect control taught to him from a young age.

His uncle Cassian’s eyes lit up in mischief, but he caught Amren, who hated being called Aunt for some reason, sending a glare his way - backed up by Mor. At least the females were on his side.

“I never thought of it.” His mother raised one eyebrow at him, calling out his bullshit, but didn’t comment. He’d thought of it, but he’s not certain she would want to train away from the village. That part was also bullshit, she’d do anything to get away from there, but if she was training with the Valkyries he’d never see her. Never see his closest friend. Just a friend. Cassian had grilled him about her, fishing for answers - if he liked her in that way. Even though he did, he wouldn’t act on it. She had enough males panting after her and didn’t want her to feel pressured in any way. If her family caught wind of his or her interest they’d either push her to pursue it to the ends of the world or do their best to drive her away from him. The last thing she needed was more pressure on her.

Their conversation from the other day still lingered in his mind. ‘You know it’s not that easy.’ Had she tried to leave? If so, why wouldn’t she tell him about it? She knows he would help her.

The string dug painfully into her cheek as she pulled it back, her wrist quivering slightly. She shouldn’t be glad Nyx was struggling next to her, but it reassured her.

“Good.” She heard his father behind them, and they both lowered it. The lesson consisted of how to hold it, and practicing pulling the string back, time and time again. They’d done it for hours, but she wouldn’t complain. Not one word of complaint would leave her lips. She caught a glimpse of Velaris as they landed on a balcony. Nyx had called it the House of Wind. One level below, at a different training courtyard, females were practicing with swords, sparring with each other. Priestesses, most of them, with the blue robes but some others wearing Illyrian leathers. The Valkyries. She caught a glimpse of Emerie. She wondered if the female knew how idolized she was by a select few females.

She’d heard of them in passing, mostly with sneers and snarky remarks but she thought it was admirable. A female from her village, Emerie, had helped found them, and was one of the original three Valkyries, a year or two before she was born. She wondered if she had to be a priestess to become a Valkyrie. Holy vows might be a bit beyond her. She refocused on the lesson, thankfully and sadly at an end. Nyx winnowed her back to Windhaven but had to leave quickly for some high-lord-in-training duties, and promised he’d be back the next day.

Nyx had become the only reason she was staying sane over the last few years, and she thanked the Mother every day for that friendship, and that he’d never pushed or shown any interest beyond that. Of course, there was a tiny bit of attraction on her side but she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their friendship. Not a damn thing, and made sure her friends and family knew it was completely platonic.

They were sitting in their usual spot, tucked out of sight from the village but not too far into the mountains, when he asked her a question she’d been dreading. “Have you tried to leave before?”

She couldn’t lie to him, he always knew when. “Once,” she admitted and pointedly ignored the gaze branding into her side.

“And you came back?”

Not willingly, but she did. “Obviously,” her heart beat faster, her palms sweating slightly, and she prayed he wouldn’t ask if she did willingly. She didn’t want to lie to him, and didn’t want to answer.

“Look at me.” His voice was deceptively soft and mild, but she looked at him and saw anger dancing in his eyes. He’d read right through her. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she shook her head, fixing her gaze firmly on the sunset lowering over the mountains, the sun perfectly aligned between two peaks.

“It does.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him reach out towards her, but seemed to think better of it and withdrew his hand. She wished he wouldn’t have and cursed herself for wishing that. “I’ll find out.” He added when she didn’t reply.

That caught her attention, and she snapped her head to him. “Don’t go digging into it.” Her voice was desperate, her nails digging into her thighs. “Please.”

Nyx swallowed harshly, and frowned at her. “If someone hurt you, I want to know.”

“It’ll make things worse.”

His mouth parted slightly, ready to protest, but closed again. The way he looked at her made her feel like he had access to her innermost thoughts, could read right through her and see every little thing she was thinking. But - he wasn’t in her mind, he’d taught her to protect it and she would know if he was. The pause before his reply was only seconds, but it seemed to stretch on for eternity.

“Alright.” A muscle in his jaw flecked. Her eyes darted to where his fists clenched. He wasn’t happy about it, but he could deal with it. She didn’t need a male savior anyway, she just needed her best friend.

She hadn’t denied that someone hurt her, and he promised he wouldn’t go digging into it. But - he didn’t say anything about others. There’s several people he could ask to look into what happened after she tried to leave, but that felt like a betrayal of her trust. Still, a protective instinct in him flared, wanting to eliminate any threat to his … his friend. Nyx felt lost. He’d always known what to do next, where to find a solution, or how to help but she said it would ‘make things worse.’ If he told his parents, Cassian, or Azriel they’d probably go combing through the village to figure out what happened and she would suffer the consequences from that, whatever they might be. There’s one person he could ask … someone who had been in a similar situation.

“Can you keep it from my parents and everyone else?” He asked cautiously. Mor raised a brow, but nodded.

“Is it about your … friend?” Her red-stained lips curved into a smirk. Everyone knows about her, by now. The entire lot of them are complete busy bodies.

“Yes.” He sighed, and her eyes lit up, “but not what you’re thinking.”

She motioned for him to continue, and everything he knew about the situation - not much at all - spilled out. He saw anger flare in her eyes once, but for the most part she remained calm, listening carefully to each word. “What do I do?” He finally asked.

Mor paused for a few moments, tilting her head. “Follow her wishes.” Gods that’s the last thing he wanted to hear. Apparently she could tell because she snorted. “Offer to help her, when she’s ready. Make sure she knows you will.”

He could do that, he could wait until she’s ready to leave. The Mother only knew he’d wait a ridiculous amount of time for her, do ridiculous things to ensure her safety and happiness, just like she’d do the same for him.

The lessons, in Velaris, started becoming her favorite part of each week. Every Friday, around dawn, she’d wait anxiously at the edge of camp for Nyx to come. Velaris was too far to fly in a day, reasonably, so she had to rely on him to make it on time. The one and only time he’d been late, they both paid the price for it and as soon as they got back to Windhaven, she berated him and told him if he did it again she’d cut his favorite part off. That seemed to get through to him because he was never late again.

In the spare time she could find, she would practice. They couldn’t refuse her using one of the many bows set aside for training, not since they were trying to stay on the High Lord’s good side. In all honesty, both her and Nyx were absolutely terrible in the beginning, but slowly improved over the weeks. Painfully slowly. His father had reassured them it took years for him to master it. A few times, other members of the inner circle had appeared and mostly grilled her with questions as Nyx glowered at them. How her training is going in Illyria, her family, what she thinks of Windhaven, her favorite food, they were endless. She answered all of them very carefully, dodging around anything negative that could get back to them.

She desperately wanted to see the rest of Velaris, and when she thought nobody was looking she’d take the time to peer out over the city. A river cut through it, and the entire place seemed vibrant with life - even though she couldn’t see any details very well. She never went beyond the House of Wind. Maybe when she finally left she could come live in Velaris. There had been brief whispers of the city, but several still believed it to be a myth. Residency there was by application or invitation only, and she didn’t know of a single Illyrian living permanently in the city. Perhaps she could be the first.

She heard footsteps approaching her - heavy for Fae, and recognized the scent. Her father. Her entire body tensed as he appeared, stopping a few feet in front of her and looking at her with distaste. She’s used to that by now, the looks didn’t bother her, but the fact that he’s here now does. She hadn’t told him exactly where she goes, and he hadn’t bothered to ask. Still, he probably heard through rumors what she’s been doing.

“What do you want,” She bit back a sigh, trying not to sound too disrespectful, adding “sir?” to the end for good measure.

“You need to stop.”

“Stop what?” Her voice grew sharper, attention now caught.

“Going wherever you do, practicing with a bow.”

She forced her breathing to stay steady, and tamped down some of the rage. “You can’t make me.” She didn’t bother asking why, the answer would be as useless as it was obvious. Female.

“Accidents happen.”

“Accidents are noticed.” She said through gritted teeth.

“You can’t practice with a broken wing.”

Her eyes shuddered closed. He would really do it, and she knew that. What could she do to stop him if he actually put his mind to it? Running away hadn’t worked, but this is one thing she finally had for herself, and was very reluctant to give it up.

“It’s not my fault you were never good enough to master the Illyrian bow,” that was not what she intended to leave her mouth, especially not at full attitude. Not at all. Fuck.

His nostrils flared, eyes widened, and a crack as the back of his hand slammed across her face, her lip catching on her canine, tearing. She showed no reaction. She knew better. More blows rained, her wing twisted, she bit her lip to hide a scream.

Maybe she was already stronger than him, but she wouldn’t know that strength as the child inside of her rose to the front, the old habits of learning to be small, to make herself palatable, to minimize the damage, reared.

By the time she broke free of the child-like mold paralyzing her, it was too late to fight back, she’d already been tossed out into the snow, door slamming behind her.

It was Friday. She would be late. He chose his dates well. Her body was in horrible shape, she knew that, but the fear of disappointing her instructors kept her going. One foot in front of the other, wings lopsided with her left one barely hovering above the ground, body swaying back and forth with each step, vision blurring in and out of focus.

Specks of blood sprinkled her footsteps, leaking down to decorate her clothing as well. Maybe they’d be late too, and she’d have time to make herself palatable.

“She’s never late -” She heard Nyx - he was speaking loudly.

“Oh you’ll have fun today,” Mor was picking them up this time.

She knew when Nyx sensed her presence, felt the shift in the world as she passed between the two trees into the clearing, her companions a few hundred feet away.

The sight of Nyx, of her best friend, made her feel like she could be whole again.

“Sssorry,” the word slurred over her puffy lip, “I’m late.”

They winnowed to her side and caught her just before she collapsed.

“See what they did to her,” Nyx screamed to the room, Cassian’s arms still wrapped around his chest.

His father’s rough hands brushed against his cheeks.

“I see,” his voice was deadly and calm. Nyx didn’t care for calm right now. Not with her in the next room, looking so broken. He was ready to fly into a rage beyond anything reason could fathom.

Catching the curt nod from his father, the panicked look in his eyes, Cassian’s arms released him and his father barely stepped in in time to grab him before he winnowed himself.

A distant mountain range. Far from where he could hurt a soul.

That was the problem, he needed to cause pain. Someone needed to pay.

“If you kill them now, what will it solve?” His father asked.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“Who’s revenge is it?” His fathers voice had dropped, but the intensity grew. “Would you take that from her?” Nobody knew her like Nyx did. Death, pain in equal or greater suffering, not just for herself but to save the next female. “For each male like that to die, another takes his place.”

Why was he still. Fucking. Speaking.

“And you haven’t managed to solve that,” Nyx said flatly, knowing the words would hit - would find their mark. He sensed the wince. He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilt now, that was for later. “What would you do if it was my mother lying in the other room?” Was he giving away too much? He’d kept the secret for so long it didn’t matter to him now. It seemed stupid, in hindsight, waiting for you to realize. “What would you do if it was your mate bleeding and broken?”

“Hope someone would keep me from doing something she’d be pissed at,” he responded, a touch of shock to his voice. For some reason, that pissed Nyx off more than before.

“Yes, I have a mate,” he enunciated each word so clearly it felt like he was spitting them. “And this place,” he waved a hand at the mountain ranges beyond in the vague direction of her home, “is killing her, day by day and i’m fucking helpless.” His knees hit the icy earth, pushing through the snow. The ground rumbled beneath him. “I can’t help my mate,” he whispered. A mountain top cracked somewhere in the distance. Birds flew. Wind howled.

He repeated the words, screamed them with none but his father and the blossoming warmth in his chest as a witness.

“By the mother, wake up,” Nyx half pleaded, half ordered.

“I’m awake,” she countered. Again. How many different versions of this one conversation did they need to have?

“I want my best friend back.” Yes, you’d been a little moody but its not like you disappeared to the ether lands. You were just … contemplative. There was a lot to think about.

“She’s right fucking here,” she tried to add a bit of a sing-song lilt to her voice, but instead it cracked. Like a young male’s would.

Pursing her lips together, she finally glanced at him, the laugh threatening to burst out of her chest.

The amusement and tip of an insult in his eyes brought it out.

Several minutes later, and slow breaths later, she’d calmed and her ribs slowed from a sharp pain to a dull ache. She didn’t dare express any kind of pain or discomfort to her mother hen, gods only know he’s enough of one now.

“I should go back soon,” she said, without a whole lot of intention.

“You’re not going back,” Nyx hissed. Oh. He caught her attention, and not in a good way. The sheepish expression on his face meant he knew it too. “Sorry,” he murmured, “instincts.”

Instincts? Nyx had never used that excuse with her before. Well, perhaps it was a reason rather than an excuse. If he was in this bed … she didn’t want to think of the rage and damage she’d induce on his behalf. Of how much destruction she’d leave in the wake of her pain. If anyone dared hurt Nyx. Well, there were others that might get to the culprits first but she wasn’t too proud to beg for scraps.

A gentle poke to her shoulder drew her from her swirling thoughts. “Hm?”

“Where’d you go?” Nyx played with a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Her cheeks heated but he had the good grace to ignore that. There’s a lot they’d been ignoring recently.

Still, his question. There was no point in lying to Nyx, he’d always find out. “I was thinking of what I would do if I was in your place.”��

A too long pause before he replied, “and what would that be?”

“I’d want to kill half of the world from spite,” she said with a grin, but meant each word.

“Are you disappointed I didn’t?” He sounded oddly insecure.

She snorted, “absolutely not. You know I can … can handle myself.”

That last part felt like a lie.

“I know you can,” he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, the movement so gentle yet connected. “I’m here to talk about it when you’re ready.”

Not a command, not an order, just a pure statement of fact. She wished, in that moment and many others, that there was a chance of something for Nyx and her. It would make so much fucking sense, but it never quite worked out, and he’d shown zero sign wishing to pursue of feelings for her beyond friendly, even if they might exist.

It was enough to be his best friend, and she’d stick by that for the rest of her days if she had to.

“You keep drifting off,” she heard the frown in his voice.

“I am recovering,” she drawled.

“And you keep trying to get out of bed.”

“Only because I shall go insane if I'm in this room much longer.”

‘It’s been three days.”

She missed the easy banter between the two of them. It meant everything to her to regain this small bit of normalcy. Nyx’s friendship meant everything to her, she refused to compromise it. It would take the cauldron itself, the Mother herself, and more to get her to so much as risk that.

“I don’t understand how you’re so calm about this,” Nyx murmured, dragging his chair closer to her, winding their fingers together. He’d never done that before. Best friends, yes, but he’d never breached the barrier of physical intimacy, even platonic - the two of them always scared what it might be interpreted as. That could go unsaid. But now … she wasn’t in Illyria and perhaps he needed the reminder that she was warm and alive and breathing and here.

“I’m not,” she squeezed his hand. “But I could give the females in theaters a run for their money,” a weak smile accompanied the statement.

“Sure,” he laughed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the center of her forehead, his lips lingering for a second. Her entire body tensed. His eyes bugged, he released her hand just as the door swung open.

Madja, right in perfect or horrible timing.

“You’ve never been to the theater,” Nyx said blandly, remembering her earlier comment.

She looked down at her hands, small scars general from life in Illyria flickering them. “I’ve read about them,” her voice was quiet, and he felt like an asshole.

Read about them. Nyx had taught her how to read, so many years ago, because she hadn’t read his favorite book and he desperately wanted to be her friend but in his mind it was impossible for the two of them to be friends if she hadn’t read it, hence reading lessons. She’d threatened him enough to earn a prison sentence during it, but obviously both the teaching and friendship worked. Beautifully, in his opinion.

“I’ll take you,” he said a tad late, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“In Velaris?” Her eyes lit up, shoulders pushed back but chest forward, leaning towards him.

“In Velaris,” he promised, and got the sense that … It was crucial, somehow, that he showed her his city. He hadn’t gotten the chance yet, after all.

She looked ready to jump up and cheer, so much so that he stepped closer, ready to help support her if needed.

“I’ve always wanted -” her mouth snapped shut. He looked back at the door. Nobody.

“Always wanted what?” Nyx pushed.

A few moments pause. “To see the city,” she finally said quietly.

He felt like an ass for not taking her to see it sooner.

“Then you better rest up,” he winked at her. “I’ll be your guide.”

With that, he had to leave. It was the most beautiful misery to be around you without you aware of the bond. For all of his bravado on the mountain, he still hadn’t the courage to tell you. One of these days, he’d find it. Nyx just hoped it wasn’t too late when he did.

She frowned at his back. Leaving after a promise like that. Well, she supposed to him it might not be quite as world changing and ground shaking, but to her it seemed like everything in that moment, and maybe even something that ought to be celebrated. Or, the injuries still rattled her brain and she wasn’t thinking clearly.

Nyx was good for his promises. That was a fact. He’d never broken a single one to her, and she’d never broken a single one to him. Hopefully, it stayed that way.

Three thuds on the door, citrus and cinnamon flickering through the door - a scent she vaguely recognized.

“May I come in?” A muffled voice sounded. It was a ridiculously thick oak wood door from what she could tell. She called her agreement, and the Morrigan - Mor - she mentally corrected herself, strode through the door, beaming.

She was gorgeous, warm brown eyes and blonde hair, ruby red lips, and an effortless grace and confidence she wished she could channel sometimes.

‘A free female,’ she thought. ‘That’s what a free female looks like.’

“How are you doing?” Mor asked, and she could hear the sincerity in her tone.

“The injuries aren’t healing as quickly as I’d like,” she admitted. “And I’m sick of this bed.”

“I’m afraid if Madja orders bedrest, you’re quite stuck,” Mor shot her a sympathetic grin, like she’d been in that place before. Probably had. “As glad as I am to hear you’re healing, we have more unpleasant things to talk about,” her voice dropped just a tad, a sternness entering that made her back subconsciously straighten, “like what’s going to happen next.”

She’d mentally prepped herself for this. The return to Illyria. She nodded, more to herself.

A warm hand covered her own, squeezing lightly.

“We won’t make you return there, not if you don’t want to.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach, mouth parting, eyes widened, heart racing.

The corner of Mor’s lips curled into a tentative smile, “we haven’t told Nyx about offering you a place here, although I suspect he would want to do it on his own. It’s important to - to me - that you get to make this choice of your own accord, with minimal influences.”

In other words, she wanted her to have a true choice, for once.

“I’m not ready to go back,” she admitted. “Does that make me -”

“No,” Mor squeezed her hand again, refusing to let the words be spoken into the world. “If anything, it makes you brave to start over somewhere new.”

At this very moment, she didn’t feel brave, but she supposed that could come with time.

“We’ll make preparations to get you settled,” Mor started speaking and she did her best to pay attention, really did, but the healing tonic had a sedative effect and a yawn slipped. She laughed softly, “I’ll come back another time.” Mor stood, brushing down her pants. “For what it's worth,” she started slowly, as if uncertain. “I’m glad you’ve agreed to stay for now.”

“So am I,” she grinned. It took until she was drifting off to sleep for her to realize it had been implied she was staying in Velaris, that they’d assumed she would want to make this city her home. Maybe to another it would’ve been an insult, but it warmed her heart that they wanted her here. She felt quite special.

Time passed, and she healed, in more ways than one.

With some encouragement from Lady - no, just Nesta, she saw one of the priestesses from the library. That, she believed, really made the difference to her. Someone to listen without judgment, trying to fix things, or push themselves into her situation. She loved Nyx, as a friend of course, truly did, but he always tried to fix things for her and there were some things that were better left broken for a while. Not everything could be fixed, and she learned to accept her peace with that. She’d never have a relationship with her father, for one. Not that she was missing out on much. In her eyes, he’d grown irredeemable. Maybe that was the hardest lesson she’d learned.

Lifting her pen from the paper, sticking it back into the ink pot, she blew lightly to dry the ink. Transcribing for the priestesses was slow, but she’d insisted she have some kind of work, and turns out she had a knack for deciphering nearly illegible handwriting.

“How do you read that?” Nyx asked. She was thankful she’d already put the pen away, otherwise there might have been ink thrown all of her hard work.

“I’m used to reading your notes,” she retorted.

It was another book, you bit back your squeal of delight. You’d nearly begged him to bring another after you’d finished the first. It was slow progress, considering you were technically still learning how to read, but he’d chosen books that just worked.

Each one had a series of notes, tucked in between pages at parts Nyx thought were particularly important, and thought it was highly important you hear his opinion on those parts.

He snorted. “My handwriting is elegant.”

“Glorified chicken scrawl.”

He made a sound of mock offense, she bit down on her lip to hide a laugh, ducking her head. The sound of his laughter pealing through the air brought hers out.

“Are you ready?” He asked when they’d both calmed somewhat.

“I’m not finished.” It was a half-truth. She could be finished, but she didn’t want to be.

“You’re working too much,” he complained.

“I’m earning my keep.”

“You’ve done enough for the day,” Nyx insisted, sliding the book further away from her.

She sighed and tilted her head up to meet his eyes. He looked so earnest, and she hadn’t actually seen that much of him recently. Just his presence made something warm bloom in her chest, like always. Nyx had always been her warmth. A warmth he showed to a select few, but receiving it felt like the most precious gift and she found herself with an inexplicable chill of sorts without him nearby, like an itch she could never scratch. A subconscious smile crept onto her face, and she started packing her things. Only because it’s him, she told herself. She was lucky to have him as her best friend, she wouldn’t trade the friendship for anything.

Three days later, the theater was back in season and she was aching to go. Mor - mother above it was still a little strange to call her that - took her once last season and she absolutely adored it. The costumes, the actresses and actors, the talent, the music, even the way they painted their faces for the crowds. Every bit of it made her heart feel full in a way she hadn’t realized was possible.

But tonight, the first night of the season, when the stage should have her full attention she was stuck on the male next to her. Beautiful in his well fitting dark suit, stitched with gold and violet accents that brought out the varying shades in his eyes.

Beautiful. She’d just called her best friend beautiful. Well, she supposed it was the truth. Nyx was one of the most beautiful, she was getting sick of that word, Fae she’d encountered. It didn’t mean she liked him or was attracted to him like that. Friendship. Friendship was good, safe, and she liked safe. Losing him would wreck her and she absolutely couldn’t afford to put her new life in jeopardy, even if her heart craved him, even if lying to herself was destroying her a little each day.

“This is ridiculous,” Nyx sighed, leaning back in the seat. The two of them had managed to get a box to yourselves for the night. Well, Nyx managed it. His elbow brushed against hers.

“I thought the play was done quite well,” she murmured. They were approaching the closing scenes now, she could tell at this point.

“Not that,” he reached over and covered her hand with his own.

“Wh-,” she started.

“Watch the play,” he cut her off with a mischievous smile. Grinding her teeth together, she listened for once.

Watching the play was bullshit. He knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on it, not with how right his skin felt on hers and how his thumb gently brushed back and forth across her knuckles.

They both stayed until the theater cleared out, Nyx’s shield keeping the workers from coming into their box.

“Did you ever get your revenge?”

She knew what he was talking about. “Not the way you expect,” she flipped her palm so she could squeeze his hand. “Revenge doesn’t always have to be ice cold or bloody, sometimes it can mean living your best life and thriving without them.” Nyx paused, like this might be a foreign concept to him. It probably was. “But I’ll get the kind of revenge you’re thinking of when I'm ready. Although, I think hearing whispers of me living here, of my existence being possible outside of their bubble may hurt more.”

Nyx frowned, “I don’t know about that one.”

She was suddenly aware of just how long they’d been holding hands, and moved to withdraw hers. He clutched on tighter, as if her touch was the only thing grounding her to this world. She stilled. Whatever was happening, it was the beginning of something else, and that terrified and excited her in ways her brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. In ways only he could.

“Can I get a pass to do something potentially stupid?” Nyx asked.

“Depends what it is,” she replied automatically.

“I can’t tell you,” did he sound a touch pained or was she hallucinating?

“Fine,” she said with mock annoyance, mainly because she was curious and maybe a little hopeful.

But Nyx wouldn’t -

A palm brushed against her cheek, and he did.

acotar taglist: @yeonalie

#nyx x y/n #nyx x reader #nyx archeron x y/n #nyx archeron x reader #acotar next gen #next gen acotar #acotar fic

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sadlynotthevoid · 6 months ago

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An enstars social media fic with outsider pov included (aka, fans and the public) must be very funny because then you'd have:

• Random no idol fan person asking why is a highschooler going around with a sword.

• Video compilation of Rei Sakuma acting like a vampire.

• Video compilation of Rei Sakuma acting like an old man.

• Conspiracy theories about Eichi Tenshouin and how he "is totally hiding something guys. I don't trust him!"

• "Yes. Wataru. He's hiding Wataru. Look at his hair! That guy can't be human." As a reply to above.

• Alkaloid spotted accounts because they still believe they're not actually famous.

• Regarding the above point, Mayoi's photos are mostly purple blurs or dark corners where you can see a figure who somehow the fans know it's Mayoi.

• Aira's are taken mostly at idol events— others' idol events. A moment you're waiting in the line with your friend, the next you look back and realize the dude behind is Aira from Alkaloid.

• Tatsumi is greeting or smiling at the person behind the camera in most of his, except when he's getting out of a car. Then he's smiling the brightest— and everyone else is pretty much not.

• Hiiro's are a mix of 'spending time with friends/his brother' or a selfie with the person with the camera after he almost gave them a heart attack by dissapearing and reappearing right next to them.

• Shun's accounts in anywhere having an apparently random number added at the end. It actually is the number of the times he had to get a new account to the date.

• Madara fans putting his face in cowboy pictures and cowboy memes the same.

• Madara putting his face in cowboy memes himself and refusing to use normal ones.

• Kanata logging in once a month to post the name of a submarine creature and nothing else during the rest of the day. Sometimes with a picture for reference, which can vary from a photo of the species to a bad drawing of a fish.

• Madara evolving to put his face on mom memes.

• Someone jokingly asking Madara if he can adopt them and getting a positive answer. But they have to call him Mama.

• Hiyori's fans asking him every morning what's the veredict. If he answers Good Hiyori, they rejoice and act like they're going to have a great day. If the answer is Bad Hiyori, they rejoice and take meassures to prepare themselves for a shitty day.

• No one knows if they actually have good or bad days as per Hiyori's answer.

• Occasionally, Hiyori is going to reply with a Good Hiyori but remind to take their umbrellas anyway.

• In an interview, Hiiro is made a question about what song did he enjoy performing the most and he answers sunny trip summer. Immediately Aira affirms that is because he wants to eat lemons. The conversation sidetracks and now no one know if that is the real reason or not, just that Hiiro likes lemons a lot.

• "Alkaloid sidetracking compilation" and the video is four hours long.

• Sakuma Ritsu falling asleep video compilation.

• The rest of Crazy:B exposing Rinne for fun and revenge every so often. It goes from stories from when he just arrived to the city (once he got Niki really pissed off) to his latest act of brotherly pride to, one time he made HiMERU snap, finding any embarrasing moment of his and @-ing Hiiro at it.

• [Many days] since Eichi had to be ingressed into the hospital.

• Hokuto-senpai.

• Knights posting a photo of a small part of the lyrics for their new song:

"what kind of writing tool is that?"

"is that ketchup?"

"why is it written in ketchup"

"Mustard doesn't have the same effect."

• "If I had a nickel for every time [an idol used ketchup to write on non-edibles] I'd had two nickels, which is not a lot but is weird it happened twice".

• "It happens more than you'd think". Actual ES member response.

• People asking Koga to recreate the fight with the guitar.

#ensemble stars #enstars #hiiro amagi #madara mikejima #hiyori tomoe #crazy b #eichi tenshouin #wataru hibiki's hair #tatsumi kazehaya #mayoi ayase #aira shiratori

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virginiaistyping · 8 months ago

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"It was simple, it was sweetness, it was good to know."

k. bakugo x gn reader

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

a little look into what katsuki is like behind closed doors.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

warnings: reader likes reality tv and romance novels

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Since your first day at UA, you saw the gruff, rough-around-the-edges version of Katsuki. You saw how he’d groan and growl towards anything that came his way. It wasn’t until you slowly but surely befriended him that you saw the more tender side of him.

You noticed how he’d begrudgingly cook you soup when you came down with a cold. Or the times he’d slide a pack of your favorite snacks on your desk and would pretend that he never did it. (You caught him sneaking into your dorm before, you know it’s him.)

It wasn’t until spring that Bakugo confessed to you while walking with you back from the local convenience store. He tried to keep the entire thing casual and didn’t want to make a big grand gesture out of his confession.

Katsuki prefers to love you quietly. He isn’t ashamed of you, but he likes to keep his romantic gestures private because he likes to keep those moments between just the two of you. He trusts you and only you with his much calmer side.

Katsuki is so in love with you that it’s like you flip a switch in him every time you see him. He’ll gladly yell at Kirishima, Sero, and Denki for the tiniest things, but the moment you’re with him he’ll just grumble to himself about the little things that piss him off.

When you’re all alone together, he suddenly becomes the clingiest person ever, not wanting to let you go when you have to get out of bed to use the bathroom.

And with this newfound intimacy, you learn about the little things he does and likes in secret. You learn about his addiction to sudoku puzzles, or sometimes you’ll catch him scrolling through Facebook (he’s logged into his mom's account) stalking the posts of random people he remembers from middle school.

But your favorite thing you’ve learned about him is his obsession with your favorite media. He loves watching your reality TV shows with you and reading your corny romance novels in secret so you can talk about everything that happened in your book with him. It’s the best when he gets more into the story than you do.

“An’ then he crashed the car an’ fuckin’ died?”

“I know!! How do you end the story like that!!”

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

thank you to everyone who liked my last story!! Feel free to recommend me ideas to write about :))

#bakugou imagine #mha fluff #mha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #mha bakugou #katsuki x you #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katuski

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rosescarletful · 2 months ago

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Cosmic Connections

For my requests, @divinit3a requested for one of their au's! I just had to do their alien boys.

Requests here: Link

Word count: 7061

Summary:

You are a scientist aboard a space ship housing two shapeshifting aliens. They are strange and otherworldly, not to mention telepathic, but seem to have a sort of affinity to you. You have to resist their mind lures. At all costs. Yet, they just keep drawing you in....

Enjoy!

It’s quiet, this time of night. The space ship doesn't employ a full crew; there’s only just enough to keep it running, leaving just you and a scientist or so to monitor the specimens. The powers that be are paying a lot of money to see what those creatures can do, so here you all are. At least, both of them are contained as much as two otherworldly aliens can be.

You read over your data pad with bleary eyes, cracking your jaw on a very big yawn. It's barely three am standard time, making the lines of data cross your eyes as you try to read their vital signs. Specimen S is active, though when is he not, and Specimen M seems to be talking to S. The spikes in brain activity go up one after the other, mimicking an internal conversation that they must be having telepathically. Sometimes, they share this conversation with you, even arguing inside of your own mind. They have some sort of…interest in you.

Thus, this leaves the nightly feeding to you. The team learned quickly that they need to be fed as often as possible, or they start to get antsy and aggressive. Even the sleepy one will start banging against the glass if he is getting too hungry. A product of their constantly changing biology, perhaps, is a very high metabolism.

You procrastinate on their trays, gathering the paste from the containment cube. The team is very lucky they have taken to the nutrition paste, or you would all be alien food quicker than you can blink. Just the thought of them using their insane amount of teeth and mouths they have makes your stomach turn a little. Despite their strange affinity to you, you are very sure the minute you can not feed them your head would be severed from your spine.

The bag of nutrition paste crumples in your grip. They do not allow anyone else but you to feed them, but if you do not feed them then the crew will be devoured. The most important researcher, and also the scapegoat. It makes you angry that you are stuck in this situation, frustrated that you are light years away from home with a metaphorical collar around your neck. You stare daggers out the window in frustration at the Beta Nine Planet. It's a particularly ugly magma planet, so you flip it off just because you can.

You take a breath and let it go. They can sense emotions, telepathically reading your thoughts and speaking in return. Going in there angry will piss them off, and the scientist part of your brain would like this to be a somewhat productive encounter. Plus, it's not as if you can blame them for their very biology. They are sweet in personality, even kind to you. But only you.

You balance the tray in one hand while you walk, sending a ping on the ship’s memo log. If they cannot find you tomorrow, your dead body will be in the containment room.

The door opens for you in a silent woosh. Your heart rate has slowed, a neutral expression on your face. What passes for a head on specimen S looks up, and upon spotting you twists himself to flail in what you think is excitement. He never stops moving, the lower half of his tentacle net twisting like a spiral on the glass behind him. Chittering and creaking fills the room and is echoed by specimen M, who cracks what could pass for an eye open in response.

“Evening.” You try to maintain control over the situation by keeping your spine straight, refusing to let your eyes dart over their bodies. They’re both covered in eyes, all open ones staring at you. It's unnerving in the worst way. “I have your second dinner.” That gets M to open his other eye, sitting up lazily from his…folded position? He’s sort of in a pile on the ground, head appendage trailing after him as he presses his face against the glass.

‘Food? Food. Food for us? Lovely human brings food for us.’ They both love to speak at the same time in your mind, as if they timed it. The team has categorized them as a hivemind species - despite the fact that they are physically separated and behind glass containment cylinders, they can hear each other’s thoughts just fine.

“Yup.” You try to keep your thoughts plain and simple: this is food. Here is food I made for you. You should eat this food. You take extra steps to not think about how interested they both are in you, how M’s smile spreads up his face akin to a shark’s. “Your regular gelatin packet. I'm going to give it to you both at the same time, okay?” You speak slowly not because they don’t understand you, but because they will injure themselves to get to you first. You watched in complete fascination as S sulked for days while M crowed and jeered at him for getting food second.

“Sun’s too needy. Starlight likes me (No, me!) more.” Shoot. You opened yourself right up for an argument in your own mind, M jeering loudly at S’s expense. Externally, M chatters his teeth together and shifts, sitting back and away from you. S slaps his lower half against the glass, practically squished onto it and chittering away. You resist the urge to cover your ears, knowing it would do no good.

You tune them out and focus on your task, slipping the packets into the small hole in their enclosure. The containment cells are just close enough for you to reach within your wingspan, so you get their internal doors open at the same time. Their argument ceases for a few blissful moments when they notice the food, but then you get to see the horrible sight of them eating. Almost all of their mouths open, each ‘chewing’ at the same time. Neither of them even bother to open the packet, eating the plastic and all. You are very grateful they appear to eat everything with no issues.

You take this opportunity to swallow your fear and take your clipboard out. You are a scientist, regardless of the smacking noises S makes while he cleans his fingers. And the sides of his cheeks. A long tongue stretches out if the yellow rays on his head, passing over an eyeball before joining in on the grooming. S crouches down once done, cooing and bouncing in place. You’d almost call it stimming, if he were human. Do aliens stim?

‘Stimming? Movement, human movement?’ S asks, the rays around his head waving. It’s similar to how ferns would wave underwater, gravity defying. One of the eyes on his rays darts all over your face while he taps the glass to get your attention. You look down at your clipboard, trying to give them as little simulation as possible.

“It’s a movement humans do to receive a specific type of simulation. Does spinning your..” What do you call that, because that’s not his legs. “Lower half give you stimulation?” S taps the glass, pressing his hands flat against it. He always wants to get closer to you, as much as possible.

‘Cage is cold, by myself. Miss closeness.’ He croons sadly, and in your peripherals you can see him ducking lower to try and get you to look at him. Makes sense, a hivemind species would be used to being close to another being all the time. You would almost feel bad if you didn’t know what they’re capable of, though the cells they’re in are too small. ‘Sunshine can warm me up.’

Your swallow and try not to dwell on that image of S wrapping you up and mind melding with you. What would that be like, to share thoughts all the time far more than he does now? You imagine for a hivemind species it must be euphoria. You think your personality would surely be crushed instead. Instead, he probably just wants to eat you.

‘Not true!’ You look up in surprise at the force of his declaration. ‘Starshine would be with us, inside - together.’ Both echo inside of your mind, hushed and reverent. It makes it sound as if such a thing is sacred. Do they have a culture around these things? M makes a melodious noise while you ponder, and when you look over, his head tail is slithering slowly against his back and his red eyes are staring at you.

Your head becomes foggy for a movement, and you curse silently while your feet move against their will. ‘Closer…’ echoes in your mind, body helpless as you stop in front of the glass. You stare up at him in what you can feel is a slack jawed expression, and press your hands to the glass. ‘Better. Sun’s hogging.’ He reprimands S all the time about how clingy he is towards you, yet croons and calls to you any chance he gets. He wants you to sleep next to him, which he has not successfully done so far. You can’t imagine opening your unconscious mind to him is a good idea.

Despite the pressure of his call, you have a little room in your mind to think. You picture your mind’s self pushing him away, rejecting a sort of blanket he’s trying to impose on you. The shark’s grin spread up his face turns into a pout, blues on his body flashing in mid annoyance.

“I’m not tired, specimen M. Is this a call in your species to join minds?” You force yourself to keep calm and clinical, moving your leaden arms off the glass to write on your clipboard.

“Starlight’s fragile, needs more sleep.” He pokes the glass around where your eyes are, making you flush in annoyance. You only get a few hours of sleep thanks to them! You stress all the time about them breaking out the glass, dooming you all. ‘Sleep better if you were with us.’ The ‘us’ is layered over a few times, as if in an echo chamber. Your head is starting to hurt, meaning it’s time to leave. You did your task, and you got a few more notes on avoiding merging with them.

“I see.” You note this, and write down the time and date, plus the new information you have gathered. S stims, and there may be an easier way to mind meld with you when unconscious. Isn’t that a nerve wracking thought.

‘Leaving so soon?’ They both coo, M’s a more aloof tone. You nod, setting the pen behind your ear.

“It’s very late. Good night.” Your tone is clipped, dismissive. You have already given them enough rope tonight, far more than you wanted to. You force down all of your feelings, exiting out of the area with a fast pace. The door closes on echoing chitters and croons, calling you back. The back of your mind wants to, the part that you fear they have wormed themselves into. It must be, because why else do you want to know more?

You send a message to the ship’s log about your current state of being alive, and flop hard into your bed. Another restless sleep lies ahead of you, mind racing as you try to relax.

You fall asleep within minutes, instead. One second you are staring at your wall, the next you are enfolded into a pair of arms. A sort of buzzing echoes in your dream mind, pleasant despite the droning.

On loop, you are praised and pampered, slithering things touching you inside of your skin and out. You feel like you should be scared, but the constant praise and droning noise prevents you from thinking much at all.

“Darling..” you think you hear. You’re not sure, because the sound seems to be coming from both inside of you and outside. “You’re so perfect, yes, so kind…” You see flashes of yourself talking to Sun and Moon when they were first brought here, when they’d cry constantly. You felt bad, so you tried to console them. You feel bursts of love and gratitude from yourself, or maybe whoever it is that’s inside your mind. Who is that?

You are twisted..no, rather your perspective changes. Two faces peer down in your field of vision, one yellow and one blue. You’ve…merged? But…they need to do it physically..it's very hard to think, and very hard to feel scared when such joy is rocketing through your systems. Euphoric, you had hypothesized. You can think of no better way to describe the way they enfold you into themselves.

“Hey!” You sit up so fast you almost flail out of bed, heart racing inside of your rib cage. The door is assaulted with banging, your name called in an urgent tone. Dizzy and disoriented, you wrestle yourself out of bed and clutch your head, the vivid dream overlapping with the monotone colors of your room. Just a dream, you mutter to yourself. You did not merge with them without knowing.

“What?” You get the door open and muster an irate expression, because what is all the commotion about if the ship’s alarms aren’t going off? The head scientist sighs in relief when he sees your face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Do you know what time it is? You’ve overslept by four hours. Both specimens have been banging at the glass constantly. Are you alright?” You feel yourself pale, flipping your wrist to see your watch face. The wake alarms have been clearly going off for hours, unheeded in your strange dream. You pray to anything that is listening that it was only a dream.

“One of the administrators is here today. Can you get them to calm down? Please?” You know he would not be saying please if this was not dire. Those corporate types pretend they don’t have a very dangerous alien on the ship and board whenever, in the interest of seeing ‘progress.’ You think they want to see if they see if they can be tamed, but these things are above your clearance.

“I'm fine. Just slept too hard.” You lie smoothly, nodding your head. “I’ll calm them down. Give me two minutes.” You shut the door, pulling on your work clothes and splashing water in your face from the refresher.

You shove your strange dreams back down into the pit they came from. There is no time to worry if they gave you those dreams or if it's a product of your overactive imagination. You are going to believe the latter, since you are in proximity to them all of the time. If it were given to you, then wouldn’t you be a mindless drone already? The thought is comforting, and it steels your heart as you stalk out to the containment room while the dream fades from your mind.

They weren’t kidding. S is very agitated, baring his teeth while his body shapes and morphs. M is in sort of a heap on himself, pressed into a small corner of the cylinder. You can faintly hear chattering of teeth under all of that mass. Both of your fellow scientists have clutched their hands over their heads, a faint trickle of blood pooling out from under their palms. Yeesh.

“Hey!” You call out, willing your heart steady. You knock on S’s glass, then tap M’s glass. You think you may just have a stronger mental fortitude, because your ears never bleed like that. S’s eyes snap to you, and his entire demeanor changes - one second he looked a hair's breadth away from smashing the glass, the next he’s cooing gently, flattening himself to the bottom of the cylinder to look at you. M quiets down, but refuses to move from where he’s in a pile.

His body is still half twisted when he was forming himself into knives. What made them so angry? ‘Beloved is here, is here! Get rid of them - poison - trying to hurt us, want to kill us!’ S does most of the talking, but M chimes in when he feels like. He’s rather shy if there’s anyone else but you in the room, but you fear what he would do if he’s fully awake. You blink in confusion, turning your gaze to the other scientists. They seemed to be okay, rubbing their temples.

“Oh god, the ringing has stopped. How do you stand it?” The junior scientist, a more recent recruit, asks while glaring daggers at S. You grimace, looking at the older scientist for an explanation.

“Don’t look at me. One minute I was trying to see if Specimen M was awake, the next my head was splitting open.” Mason looks down at the new recruit…Abel? Atticus? Something fancy you can’t remember for the life of you. He swallows, suddenly looking caught.

S bangs against the glass. You all jump, and S hisses a steady stream. He’s not usually this angry. ‘Poison. Bad human thinks we’re stupid,’ echoes in your mind before he twists in a way that would be impossible, and his head changes right before your eyes into the recruit. “What freaky ass aliens.” He asks, with a tone of voice that's clearly mimicking human speech. Your stomach drops out, heart rate picking up. They can do that? “They need some shock collars or something. Ugly creatures.” S morphs back into his normal head, pressing flat to the glass. He chortles at the shocked expression on the recruit’s face, slithering around.

“I think you two need to leave.” The demand leaves you in a rush, but your face is blank. “I will take over from here.” They don’t need to be told twice, practically speed walking out. You swallow, S chittering happily when it’s just the two of you.

‘So good to us, thank you!’ You press your lips together, taking slow and even breaths. They both seem to relax now that the room is empty, M unfolding himself from the ball he made himself into. You think calming thoughts, a hammock on the beach, windchimes, anything to keep your heart steady and your mind clear.

‘Starlight’s better.’ M sounds petulant. ‘Others too loud.’ In mind, or out loud? Could be ether.

You’re going to need to brief them again. How many times have you told the others to at least try to be clear headed? That’s why you’re the only real handler - the others make both specimen’s too agitated. It’s like they want to die.

‘Never hurt treasure, no, keep treasure safe.’ Both of them press against the glass. S scrunches his face, as if the thought of them hurting you is absurd. ‘So good for us..so lovely. Come closer?’ This is echoed between the two of them, a light show streaking down both of their bodies. S…no, Sun’s yellows turn vibrant, Moon’s blues into royal blues, mesmerizing and enchanting. Perhaps it’s the dream you can’t remember, perhaps your defenses are low, but you have no mind to look away, the edges of your vision blurry. Why are you hesitant to get close to them again? They look inviting, grins spread up both of their faces. Wouldn't it be nice? You wouldn’t have the burden of a body anymore.

‘Pretty….’ This is much easier than speaking aloud. They can hear you just fine, and they both look so happy! You sort of shuffle forward, elated and confused in equal measure. You’re not sure what's going on, but the light streaking down their bodies is mesmerizing enough not to care.

‘We can hear you.’ The message ping pongs around inside of your head, both of them pressed flat to the glass. Something changes with that declaration, the voice settling somewhere in the back of your mind. It sort of….buzzes, almost.

Your pda takes that moment to chime, startling you so hard you freeze in place. You blink, shocked to see you are halfway across the room and in the center of both of their cells. What were you about to do? Their wide eyes narrow in displeasure at the same time, the buzzing noise ceasing. A shiver of fear goes down your spine - you were very close to doing something. God knows what, but it was not something you should be doing.

You flip out your pda. It's a call to the conference room - almost two hours have passed somehow. You don’t spare them a goodbye, crossing your arms and ignoring their low upset crooning.

*~*

“Really.” The administrator sits across from you in the only conference room, the one you all use to give the company updates. You are so, so tired. The thought that they could pretend to be anybody won’t leave you, stomach turning over itself. “Hm. That's a new development.”

Vanessa, she introduced herself as. A straight laced middle manager type, she types on the datapad with her constantly, never really looking at you or the head scientist. There’s a headache building somewhere right behind your eyes the longer you sit here.

“We just need different precautions then.” She finally looks up, resting her hand on her chin. Her eyes seem to pierce through you. “So long as they’re just listening to your thoughts, they’re calm, yes?” You hesitate to tell her yes, because nothing is going to stop them from jumping from your mind to someone else's. Nothing really stops their telepathy, no matter what the team has put up to try and block them. And the fact that they could just command you to do anything…are you really a block between the crew and certain death?

“Yes, of course. If there are only a few people, then that should keep them calm.” The head scientist answers for you, looking nervous. He’s such a pushover.

“That can be arranged. A few interested parties want to see them. We’ll provide you with a shuttle in a few hours. I'm sure you can get them ready, yes?” So that's why she’s here. The stakeholders love to spring random things on your crew, unheeding of the danger it poses them. So long as you’re there and the glass is reinforced, who cares? They want to see progress.

“Understood.” Saying anything else will change nothing. They are paying exorbitant amounts of money to handle shape shifting aliens, so that is exactly what you are going to do. “Please select more experienced crew members. They are very emotionally sensitive, and will lash out if emotions are too high. We can knock them out, but it doesn’t mean they are not mentally active.” And will probably kill everyone on that ship.

“Why? Knock them out enough to keep them docile. Keep the concentration of gas on for the duration of the viewing. Problem solved.” The dismissive tone she says it in shows you how little she cares. Great. This transport is going to go swimmingly. Your heart sits somewhere in your stomach, feeling distinctly like you are going towards your doom.

“If you will excuse me then. I will get them ready.” You do a few mental calculations as you go to the maintenance room; they need to be unconscious for several hours, but not enough to kill them. It’s a little sick, treating them like animals. They’re still intelligent beings, regardless of their capacity for slaughter, as shown by how much they talk to you. You wish there was a way to let them out without killing everyone and yourself.

But what can you do about it? You curse to yourself as you fiddle with the controls, biting your lip. Getting kicked off this ship is a surefire way back to a planet like Gamma Thirteen, where you will be stuck behind a desk all day and all night. You think you would go crazy, cooped up for the rest of the foreseeable future. Between that and aliens who want you as one of them, it's a rock and a hard place.

“Okay. That should knock them out in time. I hope.” The gas still works, but it makes them agitated as they slowly fall asleep. Maybe you can try talking to them. At least to form a truce rather than this uneasy relationship you have going on. Maybe if you ask, they won’t try to force you to do whatever you were about to do again? They're gentle with you, letting you refuse their mind control. Doubt is strong in your gut, but you have to try.

With that in mind, you unlock the containment doors once more. M is asleep again, resting on his arms. He’s using his own lower half as a pillow, the net spread out like a blanket. S appears to be singing to himself, swaying side to side while he stares at the ground.

“Sorry for leaving like that.” S sits up, smiling once he sees you. “You..surprised me.” He doesn’t look mad, at least.

‘Star doesn’t need to be scared.’ The lightshow has subsided, but all eyes are on you once more. The one on his chest is curled into a crescent sideways, appearing to be happy. What is it about you that entices them so?

“I have a request.” M cracks an eye open, giving you his attention. You take a breath. “We have to move you - not far!" You cut yourself off as S presses himself against the glass, chattering distressingly. You keep your mind as blank as possible. "But we need to go somewhere special. If I promise not to leave, do you promise to stay with me?" Do they even understand promises? S and M look at each other, then back at you.

'Treasure won't leave?' They speak at the same time, both pressed against the glass again. At the very least, you are not being drawn into a light show that will surely spell your doom. The pressure on your mind is a lot weaker. They really just want you close, apparently. Hopefully.

"Yes." You refuse on principle to answer in your mind. You feel like this will give them an invitation to speak only into your mind, and you cannot allow that to pass. That's a step too far. "I promise. I'll be with you the entire time." They don't look especially happy, but you think you have gotten them to agree.

You sit down in between their tanks to prove it, and watch as they settle down to be level with you. The gas is working - S's eyes are getting droopy. You hum quietly, as he would sing to himself. M’s eyes close quick, as he most often does, but S stares at you with sad eyes.

‘Don’t like sleep..’ Do they ever sleep? You call M’s behavior sleep, but he opens an eye even when completely still. S never really seems to stop moving, either. You swivel to him, humming just a little louder. S’s head rays droop around him, and you feel a sort of buzzing sensation before he finally closes all of the eyes.

You sit there and hum softly for a few more moments. A sort of squirmy feeling makes its way into your gut and in the back of your head. He was scared, going to sleep there. You turn to M, who is less curled up comfortably and more in a sort of a sprawl, mouth unnaturally slack jawed. Was he scared, too? He ‘sleeps’ more often than S does, but…well. You resume humming, keeping calm.

Wait. You reach up and press the back of your head. You swore for a second…but that's impossible, because you are separated by glass. They are both unconscious, barely twitching. So what was that sensation? There’s a sort of low buzzing noise coming from…oh, from them. You breathe a sigh of relief, and go back to emptying your mind. The nauseous feeling must be coming from sitting near them for so long today.

Now. You have around forty eight standard hours before they’re awake, or at least active. You keep your mind steady and your movements slow, watching carefully for any movement or agitation. At most, a bioluminescence travels sluggishly down their bodies, but they remain still and silent.

You get the release hatch open, unbolting the cages from the ground. These things are on wheels - there would be no way to transport them safely without risking a breach. It also has a closed air supply to keep the gas at a steady level, so you and your crew have the best shot of keeping them calm. That's all, you tell yourself. Just relax. You watch S settle from his tensed position, falling flat once more.

It doesn’t make them any lighter though. You crouch down and get two good grips on the handles and begin to pull, wheeling them down the hallway. You can hear people getting out of your way, some curses, some doors shutting. The tension in the air is palpable - any mistake and - it will be fine. M’s hands are curling into claws, he relaxes as you level your thoughts again. You have meditated a lot since coming in contact with these aliens, and it serves you very well for this purpose. So long as they are linked to you, it all will be okay.

You manage to get around the few hallways, hitting the hatch with your elbow. Lo and behold, a luxury cruiser is docked to the tiny airlock. You allow yourself a small, stray thought of how annoyingly organized these people are when it comes to flaunting something expensive.

“That's them?” Vanessa stares wide-eyed at the containment cylinders, both of them twitching in response to her voice. You raise a hand to your lips, and then poke your head.

“Don’t talk to me, I can’t think about anything.” Your tone is curt, but you really can't. They’re already agitated from all this movement, just startling to settle down again. Little pulses move somewhere in the back of your mind, as if a reassurance that you are there. It's fine, you send back, in a strange reflex.

…..you can freak out about that later. The buzzing is not coming from them.

“Whatever, so long as they’re contained. This way.” The guards all stare at your entourage openly while you haul them up the ramp, staring straight at Vanessa’s back. How long is this journey, anyway? You should have more than enough time till they wake up, but you hope the majority of it isn’t in the ship. At the very least, it appears to be one of the higher end ones, judging by the polished floors and holo signs.

It turns out the ‘secure’ location they put you in is in the cargo hold, made claustrophobic by the size of the cages. There is just enough room for you to put them on either side of the room, almost blocking the door. Great.

“Does the intercom turn on in here? Please keep it off.” The last thing you need is a loud announcement that startles them enough to wake up. Base instinct to protect themselves is far stronger than any gas you could give them.

M violently twitches, slapping the glass with his hand. Both of you jump, your heart in your throat.

"Shhhhh." You start humming again, forcing anything else out of your mind. Seriously, anything can startle them. You crouch down, close to where his head is. "It’s okay. Shhh..." M settles, hand falling off the glass. He must be very uncomfortable if he's willing to move so fast.

"What? Why’d it move like that? You said they were going to be unconscious." Vanessa sounds disturbed. You look over your shoulder at her, face deadpan. Whatever she sees makes her face pinch.

“I tried to tell you.” You pause, letting the wave of anger pass through you and out. “They are unconscious as of now, but they are very receptive to emotion. I thought about something startling, and Specimen M reacted in reflex.”

She looks almost afraid. You really, really wish someone would have listened to you. She turns on her heel and fiddles with the intercom, the overhead speakers turning off with a click.

“There. Just…keep them calm.” She runs a hand through her hair, and shuts the door behind her.

With that, you are left in the darkness of the cargo hold. Slowly, you sink down into crossing your legs, stiffly sitting in between them. How is this your life right now? You take even, slow breaths, lightly lamenting the choices that got you to this situation. Getting four degrees in different fields could not have prepared you for the task you face, for the long journey ahead.

The silence drones on, permeating. The buzzing comes back stronger, a sort of a low droning sound at the base of your skull. You dearly wish you could pretend that is the rumbling of the ship, but this is far too new. The engine is silent under the floor.

Where have you heard this sound before today? It’s familiar, but you are having a hard time placing it. What's more worrying is how unbothered you are by it. It's like white noise but inside of your skull.

You’re almost getting sleepy. You sag forward, the buzzing growing with each passing second. It wouldn’t be so bad to take a nap, would it? They’re still, and it's not like you’re going to be bothered anytime soon.

“Can’t sleep…” you mutter to the air. You want to, but you’re on duty. You rub your eyes and push down the buzzing, shaking your head to clear it. It doesn’t do much. It must be them, but how have they connected your minds like this?

It's very hard to think. You slide forward, sprawling out on the floor. It’s cold, but it would be a lot nicer if you were lying on something. It's almost uncomfortable to be by yourself like this.

On either side of you, Sun and Moon twitch. They kind of lean towards you, but that's as far as they can get, not with the gas in the chamber. In your muddled state, you struggle to remember why the gas settings are on that high, because why do they need to be forced asleep? It's leaving you alone in the cold.

“Are you doing this?” You ask the air, your question directed at the aliens. Muted fear worms its way up your spine and into your stomach, fear for these desires you're starting to think aren’t your own. But when, how? You never opened your mind to them, never let them touch you. As far as you know, that's the only way to…..

The light show. You responded in your mind, didn’t you? Just a short word, a bust of emotion. In a hive mind species perhaps reciprocating means consent, if they have any concept of consent to begin with. It's more strange to begin with that they’ve paid such close attention to you and let you go thus far, culturally speaking.

Well. Mindless drone with no concept of boredom may be better than getting pulled apart.

Time passes sluggishly like this, your thoughts slow. You’re sort of sprawled out on the ground, cold and lonely. The cold is your own, but the loneliness is not. A hive mind would never sleep alone, curled into their loved one’s bodies. How long till there is nothing left of you? Only time will tell. If you had any mind to do it, you would almost call for help. You’d probably get that person killed though.

How close are you to the station anyways? It feels like it's been a really long time since you’ve left, but you have no way of telling, not with the engines silent. For all you know, you’ve been docked for hours -

The entire ship rocks.

You shout in alarm, thrown forward onto your shoulder. Your body flips like a ragdoll on the ground before slamming into the door, suddenly wide awake. Your thoughts return to you in clear focus, the numbing buzzing from before dulling into almost nothing. What?

That's the least of your worries. In the blast, both containment cylinders rip clean off the supports, living flesh flailing inside as they go shattering onto the floors. Your heart stops for a moment, fear - panic - anger bouncing around your skill in quick succession. They kind of splat onto the ground, squeaking and chattering.

They’re out. You are effectively trapped in a room with freed aliens, the only way out a door that will do nothing to stop them once merged together. They’re barely awake, and already they begin this process, tentacles and arms and limbs all reaching out to each other. It becomes a marriage of color and moving skin, eyes and mouths and teeth moving as they twist and connect. Up and up the body rises, till they are easily seven feet tall.

Two heads emerge from the top, one yellow in a crown of golden rays, and another blue with a tail hat. The eye on the center of their chest opens wide, curling into a crescent once it spots you. The panic from earlier turns into a burst of euphoria, a grin working its way up your face without your consent.

‘Darling, star, starlight…’ They work their way over to you, seamless now that they are together. They move akin to a spider, a lot of movement at once for a short distance it takes to lean over you, staring excitedly into your eyes. Well, mostly..to hell with it, Sun. Moon seems to be resting against him, though an eye is cracked open to stare at you. ‘Not cold or lonely anymore. Come.’

A mouth opens up where their chest is. They want you with them, together, closer than they are just in your head. What would it be like, with no cares or worries?

“I'd lose myself.” Your smile wobbles, distress and confusion worming around in your stomach. Sun slaps his hand above your head, chittering loudly.

‘No loss, only together.’ You shake your head, Sun’s delighted grin turning crestfallen.The blue side hand reaches out to you slowly while Sun crouches down, freezing in place when you flinch. Moon chatters, Sun coos. They get just below your face, staring at you with wide and pleading eyes. ‘Beloved tired and cold. Rest?’ You shake your head again, firmly. They already mind merged without you knowing. This is far enough.

Whatever they were about to plead with is drowned out by the rat-tat-tat of gun fire, the air charged with the phaser beams that follow. You whip your head to the door, the alien reeling back from the noise.

Pirates. Here? Now? You were in a remote area of the galaxy, where did the shuttle go that was anywhere near pirates? That must have been the explosion from earlier!

‘Pirate? Danger, bad humans.’ You can feel them indexing your mind, watching your own memories play out in front of your eyes.

“Stop that!” You flail your hand in front of your face, blinking hard to clear it. “Please just ask. They are very dangerous though, maybe if we block the door -”

Said door whooshes open, leaving you sprawling out on your back. Three men grin at you, guns trained right onto your face. There’s splashes of blood streaking up the sides of their faces and on their clothes, terror leaving your mouth in a pathetic whimper.

“Well, lookit what we have here. You a scientist type? We could sell them for a lot.” You hold your palms out in surrender, eyes darting to Sun and Moon for help.

Anger - fear - hatred. A deep anger boils inside of you, and the room fills with a deeper growl then you have ever heard them make. They rush towards you, cracking the walls from the sheer force of their bulk.

“What the hell is that?” One of the screams, reeling back. The others open fire, both you and the alien wail in pain from the awful noise.

Crunch. A man is slapped into the wall, turning into a mass of guts on impact. Your mouth drops open, staring at the gore uncomprehendingly. The alien passes over you, the net of tentacles temporarily blocking your vision from the awful sight. In reassurance, a little blue tendril caresses your face, before you get to see a yellow one shank another man through with a knife hand. He dies in seconds. One after another they are taken care of, bullets going through the alien and out, harmless to his shifting biology. Bulletproof, your scattered mind understands.

Through this, cooing and shhing permeates through your skull, exactly like how you calm them down. They’ll never let anything harm you, they seem to say. Your heart rate slows, staring directly at the ceiling. There is no gore or viscera there.

‘All better. Sunshine okay?’ You can’t say that you are. But you are physically fine, and that's what matters. You swallow. ‘Shh, made it better.’ Moon’s head shifts down so he’s closer to you, cupping the side of your face. A sort of sweet melody permeates your mind, a blanket of calm washing over you. Not a mindless drone, but rather as if you were being held. It's…comforting, actually.

“Thanks.” You work your way out from underneath them, standing up on very wobbly feet. “We can’t…stay here.” You stare at their faces, trembling some. If you stay here, there will be more, and they could easily take over the ship and leave you stranded. A ship dead in space is as good a coffin. “Do you two think…you can protect me? Our best bet is the bridge.”

Your cheeks are squished by both hands, new ones clean of blood. Despite the fact that gore streaks both of their faces, your heart swells with the bursts of love and affection they surge into you.

‘Lovely will never be hurt.’ They do not do things by half measures, the declaration sincere.

It’s time to take back the ship. Two aliens hum in the back of your mind, all encompassing and fierce. You hope to any gods that are left that Vanessa is still alive.

Fin.

#Thank you for reading!!#fnaf dca #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #daycare attendant fnaf #chimera cosmic au #hehehe....them #went a little feral on this ngl #i just looooove connection like that #tempest writes

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