#it's over 2k now and keeps trying to grow a plot

[syndrossi]

Help, they're too cute, all of them! (Not me writing more of Daemon-wakes-up-before-the-twins-are-born!AU because the current scene in Resonant is kicking my ass...)

Daemon bundled them into thick furs, taking care to make sure their heads and ears were covered, until only small wisps of black and silver escaped along the sides of their round little faces. He grinned at the sight of them swallowed by the furs, nearly spherical in either arm, and crept out with his bounty, both utterly silent for the entirety of the walk to Caraxes’s enclosure. There was a trace of warmth in the light breeze, a promise of spring, and the air lacked the bite of months before. When spring came, Daemon guessed, it would come quickly to melt the snow that remained on the ground. Caraxes snuffed at his sons, and they both happily babbled at the dragon for the few minutes Daemon left them on the ground beside him to fetch his own personal saddle, as he’d taken to calling it. He secured them to it first before fastening the straps around his own chest, and when he was finished, he had one on either side of his back, peering over his shoulders.

[pleaktale]

Bleaky!! I'm just a girl asking for a request for our man Ekko where in episode 3 of s2 he brought you with heimerdinger and he's trying to protect you from the hexcore 'exploding' please and thank you!! 🥺👉👈 Muah 😘 take your time!!

-katy ❤️

it took a life of it's own but after I figured out the plot it went smoooooth 🤭 I'm sorry for the long wait though! I hope it's worth it Word count: 2k Warnings: death mention, swearing, time travel (?) Tags: Ekko x firelight!Reader, mention of Y/N, no description of Reader other than hair, CW alternate universes, CW death, gender neutral Reader, CW time travel (kinda), hurt/comfort Enjoy!

Maybe coming along wasn’t the best idea.

It’s what you think about when Jayce guides the group towards the hexgate core, a big room with glass floors and lights shining everywhere, a giant ball with runes and lights and intricate patterns standing in the middle of the room. It felt like you should be afraid of it, but you put on your brave mask.

Ekko insisted you should come along, saying you were his ‘right-hand’ and ‘his engineer partner’, Heimerdinger didn’t have much of a choice and brought you with them to the lab of Piltover.

At least it was a fun adventure to get there, with Heimer thinking you guys were in a secret spy mission of sorts, doing hand signs created on the spot and rolling over ducts. You and Ekko couldn’t help but chuckle at the scenes unfolding.

Once in the lab, and with Heimerdinger making the presentations, you remember to hold in a laugh at Ekko trying to appear taller when talking to Jayce, even though he was a good amount shorter than him. Nonetheless, he was still your short king. He just wouldn’t know.

Now in front of this… thing, both you and Ekko exchange glances, you could see the worry in his eyes that quickly were replaced with determination as he tugged you by the sleeve of your shirt to tag along. Closer, in preference.

“I thought this was underground,” Ekko noticed, looking around before landing eyes on Jayce. His tone started to grow stern.

“The mesh is, this is just a fell safe as we were not sure what would happen if the gates overloaded,” he explained, making you scoff at this brilliant idea.

“So it would explode on us?” You ask back, eyebrows furrowed together as, once again, Piltover proves to not care about Zaun’s safety. At all. “Pretty wise for a scholar genius.”

“These are far from the city, it wouldn’t explode on anyone,” Jayce is immediately on defensive mode, even though, deep down, he knows this wasn’t made thinking about the others. Ekko walked closer, also getting defensive at his tone at you.

“These are our utility ducts! The ones that carry our water and guide our ventilation,” this time, Ekko was the one to confront him, taking a few steps closer.

Ekko continued with his arguments, but a shift in light caught your attention, turning around to see Heimerdinger looking at something on the ground, you also took a step closer to see what he was doing.

“Heimer? What is that?” you asked, and as the professor touched it again, something clicked.

Everything turned white, there were no floors nor walls, just a completely blank space of nothing. Well, nothing except for a massive sphere of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. But it had the same patterns as the leaves of the tree.

“A… wild rune?” you ask, walking a little closer in awe, just to be held back by Ekko, his gloved hand keeping you from going further close.

Meanwhile, Jayce was right in front of it, almost completely mesmerized by it. Everyone in the room was, in a way, even Heimerdinger who also got close, but Ekko didn’t keep him from walking.

“Ekko…” you called, taking him out of some kind of trance as he shook his head lightly, looking back at you, his eyes wide and with slight confusion. “It’s alright,” he reassured you, or tried to, staring back at Jayce who seemed to be approaching even more the sphere.

“Jayce!” Ekko shouted, trying to get him to stop going further into touching that warping thing of organic patterns and fluid geometries, but his voice sounded like it was below water. He heard himself like some twisted and warped sound.

You feel a tingle in your spine, taking a few steps back as the sphere started to lash parts of itself as Jayce got closer, your hand reached for Ekko, but it felt like you were a ghost, touching on nothing and lacking any physical parts on you.

Panic starts to settle, and you’re frozen in place, Ekko watches as Jayce grabs ahold of his hammer, aiming it for the sphere who twisted and warped and angrily reacted to the environment, tendril-like shapes lashing and gushing out of the sphere.

You heard a faint sound that was twisted and too dense for your ears to fully comprehend, but you made out as Ekko trying to stop him.

Then the hammer went full force on it.

Jayce’s skin warped and twisted, creating shapes and geometries around him, something weirdly two dimensional, like a thin piece of paper that follows your eyes. You look back, a line of copies of you, endlessly repeating, constantly copying your every action. Like time ripples out of place and creates thousands and thousands of versions of the same moment in splashes of color and shapes.

A mismatched sound fills your ears, something familiar yet strange, you look back ahead, Ekko is staring at you with desperation in his eyes. You see Heimerdinger exploding in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, something akin to oil amidst water, his eyes multiplying, following the lines.

You feel out of breath, screaming for Ekko but your voice comes out like some reversed echo, warped in the chaos that’s happening in that room. You can make out a repeated “run” screamed from Ekko, who is also trying to run away from it.

He jumps in your direction, copies of him flashing around your eyes, he’s close yet far, you can’t make out the distance in this weird time space you’re locked in. You try to reach for him too, your hand doubling into a thousand others, pops of color lashing out of your skin.

Ekko makes it to you, his arms enveloping your form tightly, the first time you’ve felt weight like you’re supposed to, something unearthly heavier than it should. You both fall into some form of flooring, but it still was just a blank space, you try to make the fall easier but your head finds one of the screws in what would be the real world.

And things go from blank to black.

-

Time wraps itself around, twisting and tugging and moving in an all time high, like being tossed into some sort of infinite blender that you’ll never reach the blades. Ekko feels it on his body for a mere second, but it feels like forever.

But then it stills.

“And I…” he stops, hands holding yours, or was it you? You had a different hair, your smile seemed brighter, but still he felt unfamiliarity. He continues without even knowing he was talking.

“I think I love you,” Ekko smiles, eyes squinting from how big it is, his heart feels full, but something on the back of his mind itches. You’re almost tearing up, or was you? With a short nod, you whisper a soft ‘me too’ that almost doesn't reach his ears, your arms circling around him.

He feels full. And then it stills.

“… that day was fun, y’know?” Ekko says, eyes staring down at some flowers in a vase, above a grave. Your grave, your name beautifully displayed with carvings of fireflies and your favorite flower around it. Something’s amiss, but he can’t quite scratch that itch in the back of his mind.

“I miss you,” he whispers, feeling his eyes tear up. It felt weird, he thought he was past it on his grief. Guess not. Feeling his lungs with fresh air, Ekko leaves a shaky breath, smiling to himself despite the pain in his heart.

He feels empty. And then it stills.

“Y/N, do you accept Ekko as your spouse?” Scar says, keeping a small smile after looking towards you. Ekko swears he’d never seen you so beautiful before. Or were you? Is it you?

“I do,” you answer, smiling almost ear to ear, hands clasped together. You feel his hands get a little clammy after your reply.

“Ekko, do you accept Y/N as your spouse?” Scar continues, now looking back at Ekko, who smiles with eyes shiny from the unshed tears. You squint your eyes, waiting for his reply, your heart almost beating out of your chest despite knowing the answer.

“I do,” he replies, “absolutely do,” and then adds. He feels full seeing your smile, the way you’re also almost tearing up, despite the itch on the back of his mind. Ekko just takes you in.

He feels complete. And then it stills.

Over and over and over and over.

“Y/N! Come out! We’ll miss the opening!” Ekko calls, he feels younger, he is younger, he’s still a kid. You’re a kid too. You’re running to him, hair bouncing as you halt almost atop of him. Your hands on his arm, shaking him.

“C’mon! We can’t miss it!” You sound so happy, so full of life. Or were you?

“Stop shaking me and let’s go!” Ekko holds your wrist, running the two of you towards the bridge to watch the opening of the shops. Benzo tried to call you two to wait, but he was a bit late. Benzo. Another itch he can’t scratch.

Time stills once again.

“Hey, don’t run on the stairs!”

Your voice echoes through the tree house, watching closely on your kid. His kid too. Our kid. Ekko smiles to himself, taking his cup of coffee from the pot. “It’s the nerves, firefly, first day of school,” he says to you, sipping on his mug.

“I know! But safety-”

“-always comes first.” He continues your phrase, making you smile in amusement and annoyance. He feels his chest warm up with a chuckle.

“C’mon, loosen up a little, will you?” His arm circles your waist, pulling you closer while his mug with hot coffee is kept far from your body.

The way you roll your eyes and lean on him makes it all worth it. But that damn itch. This weird feeling.

Time doesn’t stop this time, though.

BOOM!

A groan of pain escapes his lips, his arms tightly holding onto you. His body hit something physical for once, the weird feeling was gone, the memories still there.

Despite himself, Ekko just lays there for a moment, half scared of what he’d encounter by opening his eyes. When the courage comes, he slowly shifts, feeling you first, leaning onto his elbows to get himself up. His eyes are greeted by your knocked out form, but you’re still breathing peacefully. Almost like you’re asleep.

“Hey,” he calls quietly, gently shaking you, your eyes fluttering up brings relief to his heart.

You’re still drowsy, a stinging pain on the back of your head. Sitting up, Ekko is still checking up on you, his hand gently touching your elbow. “What happened?” you ask, feeling like you’ve slept for way too long.

“I.. I’m not sure,” he replies, looking around and seeing Heimendinger on the floor and no trace of Jayce. The hexcore was dimmed, with no power coming from it. He turns back at you, seeing you scratch the back of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice gentle and low. Unlikely so.

“Yeah, I think I just hit my head when that thing.. exploded, I guess.” Sighing, you stop for a moment, sitting up on the floor with him. “Are you?”

Your question pulls him from the memories he’s still drowning himself into. He couldn’t quite tell what that was; alternate universes? Another kind of dream? Whole different dimensions? Daydream? Had he hit his head too? But it felt too real, your touch was too real, the smells were too real, the warmth of the sun on his skin were too real. But that itch on the back of his mind was also too real.

One thing he knew was that you were the constant on his equation. Despite the changes, you were his equivalent.

Taking your hand in his, fingers intertwining. A sigh leaves his lips, eyes briefly closing before looking back up to your own. A smile of relief on his face.

“I am.”

Ekko feels full. And time is back to the right place, with you.

THANK YOU FOR READINGGG <33 ngl I kinda went crazy with this one, writing the wraps of time was fun!!! ALSO THANK YOUUU @the-kr8tor for all the yap sessions about this <3

© pleaktale

[sadiestarrs]

Pray For A Sign

Warnings: slight internal homophobia mentions, idk that’s it ig

A/N: this was released early bcs i love you guys 🤍🤍 this is proofread and also inspired by this fic!!! thank you so so much for liking cherry red, my other fic! idk when pt2 will be released tho😔

Plot: after being dared by ellie to deface school property, the two of you end up in detention together

Word count: less than 2k (i think)

You had never imagined yourself in detention, let alone for four hours.

It was unfortunate how you were the only one caught on that night, spray painting a rather foul image on the school banner. None of it was your fault though. You couldn’t back out. Especially because Ellie had dared you.

Everyone snuck out after curfew, meeting at the back of the canteen and hanging out. You had never participated in this congregation: there was too much homework and studying to be done. But you were dragged out by some new friends, whilst half-asleep, encouraging you to try something new.

At first, you sat there like a stiff wall, not really joining in until someone called out to play truth or dare. As soon as the circle is formed, you “accidentally” lay your eyes on the gorgeously toned person sitting directly in front of you, who also happened to be staring.

There’s too much happening to notice the two of you eye fucking each other, but the growing heat inside your chest and on your cheeks was very noticeable.

The bottle spun countless times before it landed on you. And when it does, she’s the first to give you a command. Spray-paint a dick on the school banner outside.

You didn’t want to do it, not at all, but she was staring at you—they all were. An intrigued, mischievous stare straight into your soul. Before long, a brand new can of neon green paint is placed into your hands, paired with meticulous sneaking through the quiet halls.

She sticks near you the entire time, not close enough to worry, but enough to make your breath quicken. Just do it and run away. It’s just a dare. No big deal. You try everything under the sun to keep yourself from freaking out but nothing works. Your parents raised you to be a rule-following, obedient person, if they saw you defacing school property, they’d ship you to the middle of the ocean.

“You don’t have to look so nervous, you know.”

It takes a while to register that she was talking to you. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep the ladder steady, just make sure to hold your dress down.”

You look down and realise that you were still wearing a nightgown, cut short by your mid-thighs with little frills and lace edges. Could this be more embarrassing? Ellie smirks before walking ahead, leaving you in heated self-consciousness.

All you wanted was to be back in your dorm. Would they notice if you left? Yes. Yes, they would. And you would never hear the end of it. If you were dared, you had to follow through or be left with social isolation.

A strong breeze hits your bare skin, making you hold your arms close and minimise movement. As you do this, you see her staring, standing in front of everyone and waiting for the coast to be clear.

She lets everyone go past and sticks behind, leaving just the two of you. “You cold?” Pulling off her light grey, Ellie hands it over, insisting that you take it. “No, it’s fine, keep it.”

Instead of accepting, she pushes the hoodie into your hands, walking away before you can say anything. It’s all too much. You had never even had a conversation with her before and now she’s giving you things? You didn't even want to put it on, but feel another gust of wind and quickly change your mind. It smells exactly how you imagined. Just like Ellie would.

She had a reputation for being “bad” and unreliable. You had never personally seen that side of her but you had heard about it many times. So seeing her now act friendly and even caring was more than strange. It was suspicious.

“Go on, Newbie.”

The group waits for you to ascend the ladder, menacingly laying their eyes on you. Just like she said, Ellie stands nearby, holding the rickety object in place.

Please God, if you’re going to answer my prayers, please answer this one. You receive no response. Instead, you have to make your way up, stopping every two rails to take a deep breath. Heights were never your strong point.

“Come on! We don’t have all day.”

Were they getting off seeing you suffer? This was all new. You never hung out or joined in on their group antics. This was a mistake. All of it was. You shouldn't have given into peer pressure. That's all they taught at your school, for God's sake.

When you reach the top, after a painfully long extent, you open the can and begin spraying, receiving splatters of the neon chemicals on your face.

Quiet cheers could be heard from below, and if you weren’t busy simultaneously trying not to fall and keep your dress down, you would have enjoyed it.

When you're done, a breath you didn’t know you were holding is released from deep in your chest. Now you might finally get their approval.

“Shit.”

They scramble from below, everyone separating and running in different directions. No one bothered to help you down or even warn you that a Sister was coming.

“Hurry up!”

The only person left. You didn’t realise she stayed. Ellie.

Briskly helping you get down, and holding your hand for milliseconds, the two of you try to escape before being stopped by another Sister.

That was how you ended up in detention.

✦

“Graffiti. Damaging public property. Public indecency. The odds are stacked against you two.”

You sit in a century-old wooden chair, dust-coated on every surface whilst listening to the Sister reprimand you. And Ellie.

Luckily, she was the only person left when everyone had run. You couldn’t tell the Sister that you were dared, anyway. If anyone found out that you snitched, then you really would have to leave the country. It was funny how she considered your night dress as indecency, though. You barely manage to stifle your laugh.

“It wasn’t her, I promise. I’m responsible because I told her to do it.” Despite her efforts, the Sister doesn’t listen to Ellie, raising her eyebrows and sitting at her desk, leaning back before falling asleep in a matter of seconds.

Ellie gets up, making you look at her from across the room. “Are you mad at me?”

It’s a dumb question. So dumb that you don’t bother responding.

“Hey, you can’t say that I didn’t try. It’s not my fault that I’m a great darer.”

“That’s not a thing,” you bitterly respond, turning away and stewing in your own little rage. Four hours. Four hours that could have been dedicated to studying or sleeping. Wasted by sitting in an old room with someone who you couldn’t stand looking at for longer than three seconds.

Ellie wanders around the class for a bit, lifting books and analysing small things. She even stands next to the Sister, messing around with her pens but receives no laugh from you. Before long, she makes her way to a window, cracking it open and stepping out before coming back in.

“You coming with?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

Not only was she breaking the rule about not leaving your seat in detention, she was leaving the room.

“No, Ellie, of course I’m not coming with you. I’ve already gotten in enough trouble and my parents are probably gonna pull me out of here by the end of the week.”

“Well let’s spend your last few days having fun. Please?”

She was convincing but you had to remind yourself that she was the one who put you here in the first place. You shake your head no and continue staring forward, not being tempted by her longing gaze.

You hear a sigh before the window opens and twigs snap underneath her feet.

✦

“I’m sure you’ve learnt your lesson now, child.”

You shake your head eagerly hoping that it will make her stop talking. “Don’t forget that the eyes of God are always watching.” Mhm. “Keep out of trouble or you’ll be sitting here once again.” Mhm.

Finally, you’re able to go back to your dorm after a back-breaking four hours in that cold, clogged classroom. You hope for the walk to be quiet and pleasant but are proved wrong after seeing the same auburnette sitting outside. Waiting for you.

You can’t come up with a reason why she would wait. Ellie had gotten away with sneaking out and still managed to be there for you.

“Can I walk you to your dorm?”

The answer that leaves your mouth is no when your heart truly wants to say yes. But you couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that to yourself. No. Ellie was bad news. A name you hear and shudder after. Not someone that the likes of you should be walking with.

But still, you let her, awkwardly avoiding any and every type of contact, audial and physical. She still tries, though, making small talk and little guesses about your personality.

“Let me guess, your parents sent you here so that you could become a better person? Yeah, that’s most of the stories around here.”

She continues this one-sided conversation, yapping to herself in an honestly cute and almost funny way.

“Why don’t you hang out with anyone? I’ve never really seen you around, and I know most people here.”

The real answer was not due to shyness or lack of confidence. It was because of something deeper inside you. Something that you couldn’t explain. Something that only came out when you were around Ellie. You had always known what it was but never tried to face it. It was pushed to the back of your mind, left to be forgotten about. The way it should be.

When the two of you finally make it to your dorm, Ellie pushes her way through despite not being invited in.

“Damn, you keep your room really clean. You should see mine, it’s a mess.” The mere thought of being in Ellie’s room makes your heart skip a beat.

She fiddles with a few things around, smelling each perfume and examining the few stuffed animals on your twin bed. “This is by far the nicest dorm in the school. I should visit more often.” A small wink is passed your way.

You don’t object to her snooping. In fact, you begin to welcome it, now answering her questions and entertaining the conversation.

“What happened to that hoodie I gave you?”

The hoodie. Was it shameful that you held it in bed with you every night since that day? Yes, definitely yes. But it smelled like her. And it was probably the closest you’ll ever get to her.

“Do you want it back?” You begin to look under your covers for it before grabbing it from underneath a bunched-up blanket.

“No, no it’s fine, keep it. I like how you have it in your bed.”

God, this was mortifying. You don’t respond, quickly chucking it back onto the bed. “I have plenty more hoodies if you want any.” She offers you a list of her belongings just about stopping at underwear.

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes and instead look at the clock. 8 PM. You had missed so much studying time because of detention and needed to catch up on thousands of subjects.

“I’m sorry, Ellie, but I have homework and studying and-”

“You want me to leave, don’t worry, I got it. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Instead of moving towards the door, she takes a step closer, closing the already small space between the two of you. Your breath hitches in your throat. What was she doing? She examined you like she did in detention. Only now in your room.

“Nice work on the banner.”

With that, she gives a small smile, one with something hidden behind it. Something that only your heart could see. The thing you had buried inside yourself.

“Bye, Newbie.”

[wormm-mom]

When The Wrath Comes

Summary: When a traveling interactive haunted house pops up near your hometown, your best friend Alex knows this will be the perfect way to get you into the Halloween spirit. Unfortunately for you, she left out a few key details. Word Count: 2k Disclaimer: This is not about the men behind the masks. I’m basing this solely off of their on-stage personas. Author Note: idk what happened to the plot but II NATION COME GET YALL JUICE CW: slight sexual themes, weapons, fear

Looking through the now opened doorway, you’re greeted with a large set of spiraling stone steps. Even with the cobblestone walls lined by illuminating torches, the bottom is drenched in inky black. You can hear distant metal clanking and scraping as you stand on the top step, already feeling your nerves building back up. “Fucking hell what have I gotten myself into,” you mutter before taking a deep breath and descending the staircase. The heavy door creaks shut, sealing you in with a thud.

As you make your way down, you let your hand glide along the cold, damp wall to keep your balance. The carved steps are bumpy and uneven, which only adds to your anxiety. If a heart attack from the scares won’t kill you, tripping and falling surely will. It seems to take forever, but the bottom finally comes into view as the torches on either side of you fade into your periphery. You find yourself standing in another corridor, metal clanking louder than before, and a pungent copper-like metallic smell wafting through the stale air.

The ceiling above you is arched with lanterns hanging from it, while what look to be jail cells line the walls. You’ve seen enough scary movies to know someone is hiding in them, waiting til you walk past to jump out. The dim light doesn’t reach far, so you’re left to either get further into your head or find out. You choose the latter, knees trembling as you walk down the hall, trying your best to stay in the center so you won’t be grabbed at. You pass the first couple of cells unscathed, your steps gaining confidence as no one has emerged from the darkness behind those iron bars yet. 

Though, you aren’t allowed to get too cocky before a scare actor flings themselves at you, begging and pleading for you to save them. “Jesus fuck,” a scream is ripped from your throat, your feet inadvertently carrying you towards the opposite wall. You can see they are wearing dirtied peasant attire, sections of their clothing torn away, and gaping wounds poking out from the ripped fabric. Their look of desperation is soon mimicked on your own face as a pair of arms wrap around your midsection, holding you tight against the cell, metal rods prodding into your back.

Another scream leaves your body, echoing across the hall and bouncing between the cement walls. You thrash against the arms holding you in place, clawing at their forearms and using your foot as leverage against one of the bars to push away. After a few seconds of struggle, one of the limbs leaves your waist to plant a firm grip over your mouth. You freeze up, eyes wide and beginning to water as the unknown person leans in, “No one will hear you, be nice and maybe your punishment won’t be so bad.” There’s a sneer in his voice, and you take the warning to heart. With that, you’re let go and immediately sprinting the rest of the way down the hall.

You don’t notice the cells trickling off behind you, or the light growing dimmer, or even the metal scraping that once sounded like nails on a chalkboard, now dissipating. With your heart pounding in your ears and every breath becoming a struggle, you don’t notice you’ve made your way to the next area until you stop in the middle of the room to catch your breath. Standing hunched over with your hands on your knees, you keep reminding yourself to take deep breaths. In and out, each cycle letting your lungs fill with more air.

As your breathing becomes steadier, your eyes flutter open. Though you keep your head down, still not ready to face reality yet. Whoever was in charge of this room was graciously letting you take your time, so you continue letting yourself recover for just this brief moment. You focus on the floor beneath your feet, rust colored splotches decorating the cracked cement fill your vision as you’re hit with the realization of what that metallic smell really was. 

Jolting upright, the oxidized blood fills your senses making you dizzy. You reach a hand up to your nose to check if it’s yours, but you know it’s not. That blood has been here for a while, and it came from someone else. It could be from multiple people for all you know. Looking around the room, you’re met with tables covered in medical devices. Saws, syringes, clamps, and other items that seem like they came from another time period. Chains with bolted cuffs hang from the ceiling and wooden beds adorned in leather straps sit near the far left wall.

Flails and maces, along with other weapons are secured on the walls around you, and while you can’t tell if they’re historically accurate, you can’t find it in you to care. The one flickering lightbulb above your head adding to the growing headache you’ve just become aware of. Drying your clammy hands on your pants once more, you walk over to one of the tables to inspect it closer when the metal scraping begins again. It seems whoever was in here was done waiting. 

You’re barely given the chance to turn and run before a man dragging a morning star behind him appears from the shadows. His gaze set on you, and you alone. His boots echo between the four walls as he makes his way toward you. With each step forward, you take two back, trying desperately to keep the distance between you two. You keep your eyes trained on him, trying to find any hint of humanity behind the burlap sack he has over his head, but you’re only met with a pair of stone cold eyes. 

You won’t get anywhere just cowering like this, so you try to come up with a plan. Darting your eyes around, you locate the entrance and exit. You can’t go back the way you came, so you make a mental note of the iron door with a singular padlock. Thinking back to the groundskeeper, you wish he had given you a key instead of that flower. But now, with freedom in sight, you just have to get past the muscular man standing in front of you.

Your gaze flickers between the door and the man who you assume to be playing an executioner. If he knows what you’re about to do, he’s doing a damn good job at hiding it. Taking a deep breath, you pivot to the side and dart past him towards the door. You had to get out of here, and he wasn’t stopping you. Tunnel vision starts to kick in as the exit nears. Now standing at the door, you pull at its handle but it won’t budge. The lock you thought was just for decoration turned out to be real, your stomach dropping as panic boils over. 

Your body seems to be acting on its own accord, pushing and pulling at the door, unable to fathom that it won’t be opening. After a few more tries, you give up, reality crashing into you. Staring blankly at the door, everything starts to feel heavy. You’ve lost track of time and the exertion is starting to make itself known. Slowly, you turn around, only to be faced with the executioner standing under that flickering lightbulb, staring straight at you.

Now in a face-off with this man, you can’t help but feel like you’re trapped in with a wild animal. You’re both caged, and with that last stunt you pulled, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to be let out anytime soon. The tension in the air is palpable, but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, the glimmer in his eyes gives you a feeling that he likes it. Cocking his head to the side, he takes the morning star and toys with it in his hands, awaiting your next move.

“Okay, so I need to find the key, then I can get out of here,” you think to yourself. Looking towards the table of tools, you narrow your eyes before looking back at the executioner, almost as if to challenge him. You dart over to the selection of items, rummaging through them as you hear footsteps get louder behind you. Turning around with a huff and empty handed, you’re faced with the executioner standing closer than you’d like, staring directly into your soul.

“Oh shit, uh hi,” is all you can mutter out, internally cursing yourself for just how stupid you sounded. In your defense, this whole experience has had your brain running on fear alone. You press yourself further back into the table, only for the man to step closer. Eyes wide and a blush tinging your cheeks, you can’t tell if you want to fuck him or disappear entirely, but you’re snapped from your daydream when he grunts and narrows his eyes at you, mirroring your actions at the door.

A nervous laugh leaves your body as you start to shimmy your way to the side, remembering why you’re even here in the first place. You have to get out, and soon. Your attempt to run is thwarted when he sticks his leg out, successfully tripping you. Once again, you’re met with the blood-stained cement. With all rationale now lost on you, you stumble from your knees to your backside. You try to crawl away, but something tells you to keep an eye on him, so you do.

Something shiny catches your eye in the process though. A key. Not just any key, the key to getting out of here, which is attached to a rope wrapped around the executioner’s waist. You stare at it slack-jawed, weighing your options. You could reach for it and have your hand easily grabbed, or… actually there doesn’t seem to be a second choice here. Looking back up at the man, you can see the corners of his eyes crinkle up behind the cut out eyeholes of the burlap sack. 

A chuckle from him sends a shiver up your spine, and him basically standing over you doesn’t help either. Furrowing your brows, you tear your eyes away from his face and back to the key. You reach out to grab it, only to have your hand swatted away, another grunt leaving his chest. With a huff, you look back at him, “What do you want then, huh? How am I supposed to get out of here with you hogging the key?” Your voice trembled, but the annoyance in it was loud and clear.

Lifting his free hand, he points to your pocket. You look down and realize he’s pointing to the flower Ivy had given you. Confused but complying, you reach into your pocket to retrieve the plant and hold it out to him. He takes the flower from your hand and inspects it. After a few tense seconds, he tosses it to the ground and smushes it with his foot. “No!” A strangled cry leaves your lips before you’re reaching towards the flower, now crushed and wilted on the pavement. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to mourn before grabbing your wrist and pulling you to your feet. With a yelp and a bit of a stumble, you’re now back to standing and being pulled towards the exit. While being tugged along, you keep your eyes locked on the flower, only looking away when the man’s iron grip leaves your wrist. You take a small step back and carefully watch as the man takes the key from his side to unlock the door. With a click, he removes the padlock, opens the door, and pushes you out without even a glance. 

The door behind you slams shut and you’re left dazed on what looks to be a porch or veranda. The sun has fully set leaving you outside, a couple yards from the treeline, alone. Stepping down the few steps in front of you, you let yourself sit and regain your composure. Stars peek through the blanket of deep blue that paints the night sky, along with a full moon. The breeze is cool, just enough to lower your body temperature. Taking a deep breath, you wipe the sweat off your forehead and stare down the path into the woods.

[9151967]

I know they dropped it owing to adaptation difficulties if not a changed opinion (it is possibly too melodramatic, if not a callback to The Tholian Web), but the thing I appreciate about the initial plan for The Search for Spock was how the crew would be able to see Spock's ghost and talk to it, to be haunted by it. For Kirk, that would have been the ultimate manifestation of his guilt at losing Spock. It would've connected that much harder to Saavik's words and David's echo that he has never faced death in The Wrath of Khan.

Using a read more for the screencaps and a rambling 2k or so wordcount. (This took me 3 days to write and edit, good night.)

Unless this is developed further in the novelization, it is worth noting that Saavik's impression of Kirk would come from Spock and David's impression is skewed at best owing to his distrust and hatred of Starfleet, on top of growing up with an absent father who he knows is a part of Starfleet. Kirk and Carol may have had good intentions with staying separated and keeping David ignorant, but it's clearly backfired now that the two must meet. In other words, one character sees an idealized version of Kirk whereas the other might as well be looking at the Kirk Drift. Neither character really knows Kirk, so neither can really understand the impact of this phrase. In both cases, Saavik and David are making an observation. It may seem harsh of them, but neither say it lightly given Saavik is still upset over her own test performance and David is trying to apologize to his father after they just held a funeral service for Spock. (His decision to use it as a lead-in is certainly a choice! But in David's defense, Kirk was about to hightail it out of there (just like he did in Amok Time when McCoy tried telling him about Spock) so David says the one thing to get him to pause and sit down.)

The Wrath of Khan repeats the words "you have never faced death" to Kirk in order to highlight how resilient and downright lucky Kirk is. A captain can hardly afford to become emotional or fall apart when the inevitable death occurs, and Kirk had resilience forged into him early with his childhood on Tarsus IV. Likewise, despite difficult and dangerous missions, Kirk still manages to keep the majority of his crew alive and the ship intact (the TMP novelization makes this clearer in that Kirk's mission was the only mission that did not result in major deaths or loss of a ship). Perhaps luck is not the best word to describe how successful Kirk was as a captain, but there is a degree of it in how he is able to keep beating the odds and survive, and it's that exceptional reputation he earned in his youth that he is struggling against now that he is older and risen to the rank of admiral. Is he still this same Kirk who could seemingly pull off the impossible or has he changed too much and for the worse? (Is it a lazy rehash of his plot line from TMP? Maybe, but TWK pushes the stakes on it beyond what TMP did by killing Spock. There's no undoing this, no going back.)

With the exception of his past on the USS Farragut, Kirk is not shown to fall to pieces over what their five year mission asks of them, the possibility of death. He's regretted decisions that led to unnecessary crew deaths and has come close to tears over losing someone like Edith Keeler or Miramanee to be sure, but we don't ever see Kirk being stopped or questioning himself because of those deaths. (The Apple aside; he absolutely questions his actions in that episode but he's not questioning his entire perspective, not like he does after Spock dies, and crucially it takes both McCoy and Spock to talk Kirk out of where he's going with his guilt. David, for all of his earlier callousness to Kirk, is trying to help him walk through this painful experience in the same way in TWK. Talk about growth and a change of heart.) He keeps moving forward despite the pain, even when it is the deaths of his own brother and sister-in-law.

(As an aside, Rayna is an interesting outlier in my mind, despite how he is shown to be deeply affected by her death, to the point of Spock choosing to wipe his memory of her. He acts out of character in Requiem for Methuselah and more like the Kirk Drift with how impulsive and emotional he is, to the point where I wonder if he was drugged or just plain drunk after drinking the alcohol. Kirk does want love but he never chooses it over his career. Carol is living proof of that with how they chose to stay apart for their work. Well, for the most part it holds true—Amok Time, "I can't let Spock die, can I, Bones? And he will if we go to Altair. I owe him my life a dozen times over. Isn't that worth a career? He's my friend." Insane way to show Kirk cares about Spock in an episode where the writers were concerned Kirk looked callous compared to McCoy, lol. That choice didn't lead to anything big in the fandom, nope.)

Pair all of this with the revelation that Kirk is the only cadet to ever beat the no-win scenario of the Kobayashi Maru test and a pattern emerges of someone who has seen and experienced death, but has yet to be fully stopped or altered by it. This is why he is told twice that "you have never faced death" and why he only agrees with that sentiment after losing Spock, responding that he has cheated death and tricked his way out of it. To face death would be to accept it fully as its own natural outcome rather than changing conditions to create a new outcome like he had done with the Kobayashi Maru.* Spock's death is not something he could have changed or prevented, no matter how creative he is. It goes against those past successes and eleventh hour miracles from his youth.

*Kirk's solution to the Kobayashi Maru is probably its own post subject. It's not cheating to my mind both because David is clearly biased when he says it and because Kirk's choice to take it multiple times until he found the solution he wanted shows a strong sense of will. He failed twice but was undeterred and would not accept a simulation guaranteed to result in someone's death. That's still a quality Starfleet would want in its officers, to say nothing of his creativity in the face of pressure. Starfleet would be foolish to pass over that. It's a test of character on multiple fronts—it tests the cadet as a person, what they stand for, and it tests the strength of their loyalty and oath given the test specifically uses the political hot potato of The Neutral Zone and all that entering it entails for The Federation. Given what Kirk's solution does, why wouldn't Starfleet want to keep a cadet like that?

A lot of what Kirk says here is a rebuke of his past success with the Kobayashi Maru rather than past events he has experienced as a captain, although if one really wants to make this painful, it still holds that Kirk is reassessing everything in this moment given the "no, not like this" comment.

Kirk uses the word "cheated" to now describe his actions whereas before he rejected the word. Kirk is now using it in the same way David had originally scoffed at his solution to the test, "He cheated."

Spock calls his own sacrifice his solution to the Kobayashi Maru, so when Kirk now says "patted myself on the back for my ingenuity," it's recalling his earlier "commendation for original thinking" comment and finding it hollow now that Spock is dead.

And when Kirk says he knows nothing, what he means is that Spock's death is different from everything he has experienced before.

It hits far closer to home for Kirk to lose his first officer, his lead science officer, and his friend after all the time they have worked together and survived dangerous missions. Had it been McCoy that sacrificed his life to save the ship, Kirk would still be saying the above because McCoy is his only other friend on the Enterprise. It's one part the closeness of their relationships and one part a matter of their shared backgrounds as members of Starfleet who have agreed to the risks of their work. After all, both Spock and McCoy have found their lives endangered over the course of the five year mission, but each and every time they stay alive, be it parasites, rare diseases, Vulcan biology, freak accidents, and so on. The same goes for the rest of the core crew of Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, Scotty, and Chapel.

It is with the death of Spock that Kirk has to finally face death as it is. There was no miracle cure, no quick thinking to prevent it, nothing he or McCoy could've done. Either Spock gave his life to save the ship or everyone on the USS Enterprise died. (Hell of a Kobayashi Maru test, one part the acceptance of death, one part a test of commitment and loyalty. Loyalty to who (one's captain or one's self?) or what (Starfleet or The Federation or one's beliefs?) is left to the individual's choice, hence it being a test of character.)

Crucially, this is all coming from a Kirk who has gone into the admiralty after completing his five year mission as captain of the Enterprise and has stayed in the position since the events of TMP (why he stayed... I don't get it, unless the message is supposed to be that he realizes he is too old for it all, but that makes the open ending of TMP a wasted opportunity in order to repeat the same issue again for TWK. But I haven't read the novelization for TWK so if they explain it, I wouldn't know). It's the terrible confirmation of his fears of being too old for his chosen work, that he is right to stay out of the captaincy. Spock is dead now that Kirk is older and years removed from his experiences as a captain, but such an event had never happened when Kirk was younger. They always found a way to avoid death in his younger days. Spock himself has escaped death before, even when he chose to risk his own life (The Galileo Seven, Operation: Annihilate, and The Immunity Syndrome come to mind). Until this one time, Spock has always lived but Kirk couldn't get to him fast enough, not that doing so could have changed anything, and that is what cuts Kirk to his core: His record-breaking, commendation for creativity, and all the other praise means nothing now because he couldn't save Spock. "Not like this ... I know nothing."

For Kirk to then see Spock's image and hear his voice in SFS would follow from this new-found failure and guilt ("I don't like to lose" as he tells Saavik), and it would act as the literal fulfillment of his facing death by having to confront Spock's ghost.

("Noblest part of myself" "our dearest blood" and what if I just start wailing? Especially when Spock holds the very qualities we value in humans and ascribe to humanity—compassion and empathy—and how Spock managed to bring Kirk and McCoy back to their selves in TMP. It's fine, this choice of words.)

It is still chilling to see Spock's voice and mannerisms come from McCoy and what that means for them—that McCoy is not fully himself, that Kirk stands to lose his two closest friends in one go if Spock's katra cannot be returned. (I'm just guessing here as I still need to finish the film. Yes, I stopped watching to write this. Kirkinsanity is a hell of my own making. I don't know if McCoy could physically and mentally withstand that long term, you know? Would it be exhausting carrying another person's consciousness within you, regardless of your prior relationship with them? Or would it be easy, like putting on a glove and taking it back off? Or would it be a third thing and their two consciousnesses merge together into something new, someone new, the longer the two are joined?)

(I know Kirk says that as in "Are you losing your grip on reality?" but it also fits with how McCoy holds Spock's very essence. Yeah, McCoy could be losing his mind to Spock, Kirk.)

[summerroseart]

Do you have any ideas about sonic boom childhood?

Okay, sO

I ABSOLUTLY do. I'm incredibly unwell about them. I'm like this constantly ⬇

I'm SO sorry this took so long for me to answer. My brain is a nightmare land, where there is no passage of time, and consistency and organization are nonexistent; but I finally got something that makes a bit of narrative sense down in docs.

I'm gonna put it under a cut, though, because it's pretty long. Enjoy my over 2k words of vaguely plot-shaped ramblings <3

Now, first off... You probably had something specific in mind when you asked, but I wasn't entirely sure if you meant backstories in my Paradise Lost AU, or just in Boom.

I'm gonna go with the latter, (the characters' childhoods in Sonic Boom) because it's… A bit simpler.

I pretty much have two parallel AUs: my general 'Boom is the Sequel to Underground' worldbuilding, which has backstories for the main Boom timeline, (what I'll be going into here); and PL, which takes place after the events of Sonic Boom, but in which most of Sonic Underground is not canon. The plot of Paradise Lost is based on Aleena not listening to the prophecy, and so the forewarned 'deadly fate' comes to fruition. (A lot of things are consistent across both stories, though, so Paradise Lost is… An AU of this AU. Sorta.)

Now, For Sonic Boom as it's own thing, I do think it's fine to leave it ambiguous, and consistent with what's established in the general Sonic canon, and to think of it as taking place a few years after the mainline games, or just letting it be what it is, because it's Very hard to tie it to anything else.

But! There's also a lot of really weird one-liners and episodes that made me think WAY too hard about the possible world building; and somehow, Sonic Underground fits really well into the vague narrative that exists in Boom. And so that's where my AU headcanons come in. :D

Anyway.

In this one, the events of Sonic Underground are pretty much all still canon. There are a few things I'd retcon (mostly just Angel Island lore– see Knuckles' section), but for the most part, it would stay as-is. Tragic Character Backstories™ for the triplets, as explained in Origins episodes, are also still the same.

After the single season of Underground that we got, I'd like to think there would still be a lot of wild-goose-chase scenarios, but a few plot-heavy ones as well.

Early on, I have the (altered) SA2 storyline. Sonic, Sonia, and Manic are all still somewhat inexperienced heroes (in comparison to Sonic in-game). There are no active Chaos Emeralds, so the crystal they're trying to prevent Robotnik from using to power the ARK, is a shard of the Master Emerald. The triplets use their music to inspire Shadow to help them redirect the ARK's crash-course for the planet, and then things go wrong, with Shadow plummeting to earth and losing his memories, while the triplets think he dies. None of them are really sure they consider it a win.

They meet Tails not too long after that, on a routine mission to Westside Island. He had been abandoned as a baby and was raised by flickies in the woods. Sonic rescued him from some bullies, and he helped Manic to fix their van after it had broken down. After growing attached, the boys convinced Sonia to let him tag along, (she gave in because he was adorable and she didn't want him to be left alone out in the forest anymore).

Even though he's brilliant, and they love having him around, they get worried about his safety after getting caught up in a few battles with SWATbots and Sleet and Dingo, (especially after what happened on the ARK) and soon decide to bring him to Sanctuary.

Tails decides he's going to prove that he can keep up with them, and ditches Sanctuary to try and infiltrate a Robotnik base. He gets caught, and the triplets have to go and save him, but he still manages to copy a bunch of plans and files onto a hard drive, and bring it back to the Resistance. The triplets reassure him that they were just trying to look out for him, and keep him safe, but ultimately they cave and let him stick with them.

As far as Eggman goes, he's a modified clone of Robotnik; created to act as an heir to his empire (in the same vein as Robotnik Jr. from AoSTH). He briefly teams up with the Freedom Fighters and helps take down Robotnik.

I'm bad at conceptualizing battles RIP but after all's said and done, Aleena reclaims the throne; Sonic, Sonia, and Manic are declared her heirs; Tails and Knuckles are honorarily knighted for their efforts, and things are on their way to officiate the Council of Four.

After all that, Knuckles returns to Angel Island, and Tails was offered a place in the palace, helping with tech and security and such.

Unfortunately for Sonic, he quickly begins to realize that this Council of Four "destiny" really isn't what he wants in life, and he doesn't think he's suited to run a kingdom. In the spur-of-the-moment decision after an argument with Sonia and Manic, he chooses to leave. Tails offers to go with him, and they steal a small fighter jet from the palace hangar and take off, with the intent to have as many adventures as possible, and learn about all that the world has to offer, before Sonic's family inevitably drags him back to Mobodoon. (They have to catch him first).

They eventually find out Eggman (who doesn't really know what to do with himself anymore because his whole purpose was to take over Robotnik's empire) is beginning to walk in Robotnik’s footsteps… Sorta. The siblings had encouraged him to follow his dreams, and make his own path in life. So, Eggman decided that what he really wanted was to build a theme park in his own image, but he goes about it in like,,, the worst way possible (If he somehow achieves world domination along the way then it's a win-win). So Sonic shows up whenever he starts wreaking complete havoc. (Which happens regularly.)

Sonic also eventually finds out Shadow is alive, but doesn't remember who he is, and he once again finds Sonic completely insufferable. So, thanks to Shadow's very thin patience, they tend to either beat each other up, or ignore each other. Sonic sort of tries to be his friend, since he knows Shadow has the potential for good, but they don't resolve their issues before the events of Boom.

Knuckles' backstory is pretty standard. He still grew up alone on Angel Island, but the differences lie in the lore of the Chaos Emeralds and Master Emerald.

The Chaos Emeralds are in stasis– think the Special Zones in the early games or like… smth like how they were kept on the Starfall Islands in Frontiers. None of the characters have access to them (yet)

The Master Emerald was shattered by the Guardian Priestess in order to keep it out of Robotnik’s hands, leaving Angel Island to fall into the ocean. The pieces were scattered, but the shards still hold a lot of power. However, because they're broken, they're incredibly unstable. Knuckles only ever found a few pieces, and just thought they were the Chaos Emeralds.

He has an extremely poor memory thanks to a head injury he received during the fight for the master emerald (he was only like 4 or smth), paired with the trauma of losing his entire tribe. He hardly remembers any of it by the time he meets the triplets. What he does know, is that he's the guardian of the island, and that he's supposed to protect the 'chaos emerald', and outsiders are bad news.

He mostly stayed away from the temples, after everyone had been killed, preferring to keep to the older city ruins, taking care of chao and his pet salamander*, and sticking to his routines, when he hasn't been called on to help the triplets.

*I've decided that Chomps, his "dinosaur" (salamander) is actually the same species as the one used to create the Bio Lizard

I'm retconning Althair being a living character because I said so. He should've been a spirit– or even better, Tikal.

Amy, I headcanon as Knuckles' sister. (I don't think it'll ever be canon, but I like having fun with the concept). They were separated as children, with Amy being taken to Mobius as a baby in order to protect her, and they don't know they're related.

- Amy is a hybrid, while Knuckles is fully Echidna. She was documented as a hedgehog because those traits were a lot more prominent when she was a baby. (General hc that mobian children tend to take after one parent species or the other, and hybrids are comparatively rare. They're often still documented as one species or the other because it's not always obvious at first or it's 'easier.' Blended species families tend to have actual last names instead of their species for consistency*.)

*I have more headcanons about naming conventions, too, but this is getting tangential <3

Their mom was a Priestess for the Master Emerald, similar to Tikal. Both Amy and Knuckles inherited her strength, though Amy's clairvoyance would end up being stronger. She was blessed by the Fates of Chaos (thing I made up) as an infant, and gifted her hammer for protection and deliverance of justice, and her fortune cards to help guide her. When the war started, Robotnik aimed to go after anyone with oracular abilities, in order to absolve himself of any possible "fated" loss. (He was unsuccessful in defeating the Oracle of Delphius).

In order to protect her, Amy's mother had her father take her back to Mobius, where she could be hidden from Robotnik under the guise of being a hedgehog.

Her father was never super hands-on, tending to leave her alone for long periods of time as he went out to aid the Freedom Fighters. Amy started visiting Vanilla when she was six, not too long after Cream was born, because she needed to borrow some vegetables, and the nice-looking lady down the road had a pretty garden.

Her dad stopped coming back when she was eight (he was caught by Robotnik and roboticized). She knew that he would stop coming home eventually– her cards had told her as much– but it was still hard to understand. She spent a lot more time with Vanilla after that, but still grew to be extremely independent.

After the war ended, Amy began helping Vanilla's friend, Vector, and his detective agency with finding people's missing family members. She would sometimes use her cards on particularly difficult cases, and in her off time, would regularly play matchmaker for Vector and Vanilla.

On her thirteenth birthday, she went to Little Planet, following her cards in search of her own destiny. Unfortunately, this was at the same time that Eggman decided it would be the perfect place to put a theme park, and so she got caught up in the crossfire of his and Sonic's ensuing battle.

She fell for Sonic pretty much immediately. He was cute, and witty, and strong, and basically the epitome of a teen hero. But he was also extremely arrogant and egotistical. Tails, she found, was pretty much Sonic's yes-man. Sonic never put him down, or anything, and obviously loved the kid a lot; but he tended to follow Sonic's lead, and both of them were fairly brash and dismissive towards her��� Something she really wasn't a fan of. She still flirted with Sonic quite a bit, but her short temper meant that they end up butting heads even more.

They ultimately parted ways, though she still felt somewhat drawn to Sonic; and she was still hopeful that they could become friends. They bumped into each other a few more times after that, but they didn't stick together as an official team, until the Rise of Lyric incident.

Craving adventure, and fascinated by Little Planet and the ruins that were there before Eggman got to it, is what inspired her to pursue archeology, and anthropology.

Amy and Knuckles officially met each other for the first time on Angel Island. Amy was there on an archeological expedition, interning with Cliff, and they were exploring the ruins there. Knuckles decided to follow them around to prevent them from causing any trouble, or disturbing any remains. They spent the entire time squabbling over the 'correct' way to do things, until Cliff reassured them both that they would respect Knuckles' culture and wishes, even if that meant leaving the island altogether.

While they were there, Eggman targeted Angel Island as another Potential Theme Park Location, and Amy and Knuckles had to team up to stop him. At the end of it all, Amy invites Knuckles to go back to Seaside with her. He accepts, ultimately tired of the isolation, and figures he can be a treasure hunter like her. (The explanation that treasure hunting was a completely different thing went right over his head.)

Sticks was raised by her great aunt, who took her in after her parents died. (Mentioned offhandedly in Closed Door Policy as the one who gave her the beehive. I've decided her name was Honey, because puns.)

Honey had gone completely off-grid during the war, and taught Sticks most of her survival skills. She kept up with what was going on via newspaper, and didn't throw much of anything away because it could be useful. The paranoia, delusions, and auditory hallucinations were genetic, which contributed to both Sticks' and Honey's isolation.

Honey died of an illness when Sticks was about seven, and she was on her own after that. She rarely went into the village during the day unless it was for something she needed, or if she got lonely, but she still never really interacted with anyone. It was the villagers that regularly called her a feral, and most of them went out of their way to avoid her.

So, she had a lot of time to herself, and mostly spent it making complex traps and defense systems, or wandering around the island; having to figure out how to get herself out of countless dangerous situations on her own.

She was twelve when the others arrived on the island, and Knuckles got caught in one of her traps while exploring the jungle, and when she finally let him down, he brought her back to officially meet the others. They thought she was a little strange, but so were the rest of them. She was nice enough. She joined their team after an Eggman attack where they found she could hold her own really well against his bots, while keeping up with the rest of them.

A few other little things:

The brown scarf Sonic wears was a gift from Tails, as an easy way to hide his medallion, so they wouldn't get caught. The only reason it's brown, is because Tails is colorblind and thought it matched Sonic's red shoes. (Sonic didn't correct him.)

---

Tails' goggles in Boom are made from polarized red glass, because the tint helps to enhance the differences between red and green. He wears them when flying his plane, or engineering, in order to quickly read light signals and differentiate wiring colors.

---

Amy's bengals are also inhibitor rings, designed specifically to temper her clairvoyance, but also put a cap on her chaos energy. She can use Chaos Control to summon her hammer, and put it away, but only if she knows its exact location (which is why she keeps it on a hook near her door, and why she freaks out if she loses it). Without her inhibitors, her powers become stronger, but less stable.

---

The necklace Sticks wears is made from her mom's old wedding ring. When she was five, she turned it into a necklace with a few random beads and shells she had collected from the beach. She never takes it off, but she's had to repair and replace the cord a couple of times.

She really does keep the burrow spotless– old food draws in pests, and she doesn't actually have much trash, as most items in her home are made of natural materials. When something breaks, she either repairs it or throws it out without issue.

She's really good at spear fishing, which is the main reason she can hold her breath for so long, and dive so deep without any gear.

Idk what else to add, so I'm gonna leave it here for now. Thanks for the ask :D

[voxofthevoid]

what is your process, from idea to completion?

It's changed a lot over the years, but currently, it's a pretty straightforward process of conception -> realization -> publication.

Conception

Sparks: I get wisps of ideas all the time, like random scenes or lines of dialogue. Or a premise, scenario, concept, etc. Generally, I know when it's something I want to develop, and sometimes, the development happens soon after the conception, so by the time I'm noting the idea down, I already have hundreds to thousands of words of an outline. At others, I just write down the general premise plus a few plot points or themes I want to tackle. Sometimes, ideas that I’ve dismissed as ones I won’t ever write or ones I was previously content to hash out in the DMs with @nearalways (this is a recent phenomenon exclusive to JJK—I’m generally not the brainstorming kind; Tender just makes me extra insane) will emerge from the ether to haunt me, and then they get their own outline doc and folder.

Outlines: I keep a specific doc for each plot bunny. Like I said above, they can be just a few lines of explanation or extensive description. At present, my outline docs range from 200 words to 5000 words. I add to these whenever I get further ideas for a specific plot bunny, and some of them are complex enough that they’re divided into sections—e.g., general notes, chronological scenes, and thematic elements. Several are my chats with Tender copied straight over.

Realization

Writing and Outline Development: These are concurrent processes. I write while consulting the outline, but my outlines are rarely complete when I start writing. Even in the few cases I’ve got all the major plot points nailed down, my way of writing leaves a lot of room for expansion. Specifically, while I have a decent idea of how the characters will behave in or react to specific situations, their interior monologue develops organically as I’m writing. This often includes motifs, running gags, and callbacks—things that give a story coherence. (Yes, I prefer to rawdog this—that’s half the appeal, won’t lie.) But this also means that parts of my outline will need to be changed or discarded entirely. I also typically rely on what I’ve already written to fill in the gaps in the outline—building bridges between what has happened in the fic and what I have planned, basically. So the outline grows as my fic doc grows. For instance, the outline for every version of the story had been 2k when I started writing it, but by the end, it was 13k.

The Great Rotting: Once written, I leave the fic to sit in my hard drive till it grows fungi. I do read it, though not all of them get the same degree of attention. I also typically don’t read them from start to finish. I try to keep the editing brain turned off when I do this, though I do note down and later correct any obvious typos or similar issues. Despite the name, this tends to the period in which I enjoy my stories the most. They’re just mine—crafted perfectly to my tastes, without any of the potential emotional stresses (e.g., worrying whether people will like it, haunting my inbox to see if anyone’s commented, dealing with drive-by assholes) that arise from posting them.

Publication

Editing: I edit the fics chapter by chapter as I post them. This mostly happens the day or week before I post each one on Ao3. I used to do two rounds, but now I don’t have the time, so it’s just one round.

Posting: Into the great big Ao3 she goes! I rarely read my fics again after this point, but since I tend to engage with my commenters pretty thoroughly, I also inevitably delve deep into the story at this stage, though this depends on the nature of the comments and how recent the story is.

[ladymorghul]

Idk if you’re on other social medias but the response to the helaemond scene on GA spaces like IG, FB, YT are all very different from how the green stans here are perceiving it. Locals are all bringing up that he recognizes she’s there before she speaks, she’s comfortable enough to confront him in the first place, and he doesn’t display any anger or upset towards her about it. And then you come on here or twitter and a post about how Aemond is likely going to kill her will have 2k likes 😭

you are right. some express their rage at the events of rook's rest and aemond through their opinions of what might happen. and it's also a bit of unwillingness to keep an open mind. did i hate the way they did rook's rest? yeah. like i said before, i had hoped aemond would only arrive a little late, but i've talked to people who could simply not to see any of aemond's real, tangible resentment growing over the years. and to a degree i didn't blame them for a while because it sucks when you want to see a story and it's not the one you get, but their unwillingness to see aemond's buildup @ aegon in season 1 as well made them more shocked and more enraged than they could have been had they realized the writers are not telling the story they (and sometimes i) want to see. and mind you i had my moments when people brought up this theory to me shortly after s1 that i fought internally against, but the show had already disappointed me enough to keep an open mind about plot lines i disliked.

that being said the idea that aemond is gonna kill helaena now is quite ridiculous. i don't see any of that at this moment, especially because helaena has no intention of playing any game so whatever she knows will not likely make it to anybody's ears. the confrontation isn't about some righteous anger helaena has, she seems both intrigued and apprehensive, and to a degree she acts like his own consciousness in that moment, but she's not there to berate him and then run off and tell everyone what he's done. that's not, imo, what they're trying to show.

more than that aegon likely knows what happened to a degree and we already see a second confrontation in episode 6, unless it is a hallucination, which i've heard is not.

but to end this long tirade you're right. the divide is big bc now a lot of the greens hate aemond (and they hated helaemond before) so they're projecting that rage into their opinions.

[aeonphantasia]

Warning: I'm going to let off some steam and talk about heavy topics and private stuff in here since I feel this is the only safe space I have left.

So I've been working on my fic for the akuroku BB event in the past few days. It's all very exciting, I love the plot I picked and I'm looking forward the main event. I don't feel like I'm great at community, especially when there are many people involved but I'm trying to focus on my work and keep my space safe.

However, it seems like I've hit a wall. Creatively and emotionally. My fic is going to lean heavily on the fluff side because it's what I'm comfortable with. I planned to insert a couple of smutty scenes because I feel they could be good for the fic and they can flesh out the narrative and character's development. All in all i feel very proud of my fic's plot.

Often, especially for longer projects, it happens that I can't write in a chronological, linear way and instead I start by focusing on a scene that could be in the middle or at the end of the fic. This time, I decided to start working on the smut first because I know I struggle a lot with those scenes. Today I spent all day, since 10am to 5 pm writing the scene. In seven hours of work, barely 800 words came out of it. My goal was 2k.

Now I know already that I struggle with writing in English since it's not my main language and that slows things down quite a bit. This however is a new low. I realized that the smut was the culprit. I have struggled all day trying to find the right emotional tone, the right words.

I've been reading a lot of explicit fics especially in the last twelve months. I used to write it and I have a couple of explicit fics in my collection from 2023. It's not been that long. Still, today was a disaster. I kept reading the text over and over and the more i looked at it, the more disgusted I started to feel as if everything was wrong: the tone, the words, the depth. I had a breakdown. I've been crying for an hour and my clinical depression hit again. To the point where now I feel completely useless, I'm mad that I wasted my time over something that I will probably delete and won't be putting in my fic. I'll probably be forced to remove the explicit content from my fic since I'm so terrible at it.

Again, I used to write explicit things without any concern. I've tried to understand why is it so difficult now. Might be because of a job that's mentally draining. But the great sense of disgust I feel, I fear it might stem from other reasons. Than it hit me, the reason why. Because I'm a neurodivergent aromantic.

The previous times I've written smut, there were no emotions involved. I just wrote pwp fics. Rhe emotional side wasn't important to explore for me. The characters were already in an established relationship. I didn't feel the need to explore their emotional connection.

With this fic is different. The characters are falling in love, they have strong emotions for each other. Emotions that I feel the need to highlight in writing.

And I started thinking about my life, about my lack of positive emotions growing up because of the bad situation I was born in. I don’t know positive emotions. In my 35 years, I've never fallen in love once. I've never experienced the nice feelings that most people usually go through. I've never experience parental affection or love growing up in that shitty place. For me, life has always been only hurt and sadness. I'm incapable of feeling anything else. My intimate experiences have never been linked to positive feelings. Everything has always been mechanical and nobody had ever sticked long enough to allow me to discover a different side of things.

Of course I can't write emotional intimacy. I can't write something I know nothing about. And I'm even incapable of faking it.

This is devastating for me and it's killing me inside even more. It's discouraging on a painful level. I'm doubting myself, my skills. Now I don't even know if I can keep going with this fic.

I feel helpless and hurt. I feel weird and out of place. I always knew I didn't belong in this world as a person. Now I feel like even my creativity has no place in it. Not if it's so void of emotions. So empty.

I feel like, no matter what, I'll always be just an empty shell. A ghost passing by, waiting for all the pain to end.

[greywolfheirs]

So I've put off posting this because this fic is unfinished but there is very little plot and mostly just fluffy vibes so even as is I think it can still be enjoyable. Plus this seems to be one of my most popular fics in terms of engagement which is less about me showing off and more me taking other people's word that it's good? So if figure I should post about it here in case anyone else wants to join in :)

We're at 9 (8.5) chapters and nearly 20k words and I wrote nearly 2k more on my phone last night because I'm weirdly addicted to this thing. Come check it out if you want!

Oh yeah also have an excerpt below!

Vash’s greeting was cut off by a sharp shriek from a child. The two men whipped their heads around to the source to find a little girl on the floor, gripping her knee. The blood was visible from where Vash was standing, as she seemed to have fallen directly on her toy, splitting her knee open. Her mom picked her up, and Vash assumed it would be taken care of from there. He turned back to his customer but met empty space where the man had been. Wolfwood had gone over to the girl as her mom dug through her purse for a band-aid. He knelt in front of her.

“That looks like it hurt,” he told the girl, who nodded. “Looks like your mom’s got this handled, but I figure–if it’s ok with her–a little candy might help.”

He pulled out a lollipop from his pocket and held it out, but waited for the mom’s approval. The girl looked up at her mom as well, and she smiled and nodded. She thanked Wolfwood as the girl quickly unwrapped the candy and stuck it in her mouth. She swiped the stray tears from her cheeks.

Job done, Wolfwood headed back to the counter. Before Vash could say anything, he laughed. “There’s that smile.”

“Huh?”

Wolfwood shook his head. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just seen your customer service smile until the other day when you laughed. Now your real smile’s back. Looks better than that face you were making when I came in.”

“Oh…” Vash breathed, processing this.

“Nick, you making kids cry again?” Livio suddenly called from behind Vash.

“That’s practically my job,” Wolfwood laughed.

“Well keep that shit at work.”

“Let the newbie make my coffee and maybe I will,” Wolfwood said. “Yours tastes like shit.”

Livio gasped theatrically, throwing a hand to his chest. “I make you coffee every day for years and you tell me you hate it now ?”

“Nah, it’s fine, blondie just makes it better,” Wolfwood said. He turned back to Vash, who was still trying to recover. “Please make my coffee before my brother gives me his shit.”

“It’s the same coffee!” Livio exclaimed.

Vash let the brothers bicker, glad to not have to contribute to conversation as he made the coffee. He felt his vague crush grow one size bigger, fed even more by the vague compliments about his coffee and his smile. His real smile. This was the third time they’d met and Wolfwood was able to tell Vash’s smiles apart?

He gave the coffee to Livio, who handed it to Wolfwood mid-argument. Vash moved on to wiping down tables as the brothers’ bickering dwindled to a real conversation. As Wolfwood exited, he passed the table Vash was working on.

“Cheer up, darlin’,” he said. “I want to see that smile some more.”

Vash was speechless as Wolfwood exited

[audrxyweasley]

Not me being behind on my writing schedule whilst also getting the keys to my house in like 10 days folks, you might have to like,,,bear with me a little here unless I end up stress writing like 10k over two days exclusively between like 12-5am which honestly is a none zero possibility because it means I can avoid the crisis that comes with growing up in poverty to buying a house with my partner at like 22. Like I was homeless on my seventeenth birthday this is whack but yeah anyway updates may be hinky

I have like half of Keep Moving Forward written and I meant to post that like yesterday but everytime I try writing for that I just HATE it passionately write now maybe because it’s like an awkward length fic compared to what I normally write given in my head this was meant to be like 15k whack it out and boom then I’ve added like a b plot to it and like it was literally just something I posted cos I had a bit of a gap cos it was meant to be a one shot then it wasn’t by the time I had the first chap and honestly this is why I need to have fics written entirely before posting. like 100% once rebuilding bridges is done I’m writing the follow ups in whole and then starting to post. Speaking of RB I’ve got like 5k of Molly written, then like 2k of the chapter after that so there’s that at least, then the Ron conundrum I’ve got part two finished then maybe like 4K of part three and then there’ll defo be a break whilst I get like the next 30k minimum written and figure out the transition to a series of longer fics that I’ll maybe separate out by like year in canon just for ease, and likely shorten the chapters down to like Rebuilding Bridges length which compared to like part two and three (at least planned on the latter) of TRC would just mean like,,,chopping them in half potentially??

Like I love the loooong chapters as both a reader and a writer personally, but given the upcoming chapter of TRC is literally 13k there’s 100% a case for shorter chapters and if I stick to the same like fortnightly schedule it gives me the breathing room of not having the gaps between fics to bulk write that I’ve had so far?

Anyway this is literally just a stream of consciousness of decisions I’m not certain on like the niggling in the back of my mind to break even from canon on Percy’s career in a series of fiascos to the point I’m almost tempted to post the spare ideas so I don’t end up scrapping and replanning AGAIN but I mean if nothing else this is probably a great insight into the chaos that is my writing process lmao

[sapphic-woes]

Abby x Fem!Reader - Locked Up

A/N: I dunno lmao this might be plot what plot. In which Abby is a gangster and you tutor Lev and Yara. Warnings for possessiveness, threats, brutality, etc. MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2k AO3 link

______________

“You keep twitching,” her thick, cold fingers rammed into you, filling your dripping hole with the base of her knuckles. Abby’s deep voice drawled in your ear, mocking you. “Baby…do you need more than just my fingers inside of you?” 

Abby knew you couldn’t answer her. She’d ruined any chance you had at forming a coherent thought, let alone words. However, she liked to watch you try anyway.

“Ngh…haah…” You let out noises reminiscent of something, eyes glazed over. Your body was riddled with tremors, oversensitive as you jolted from every thrust of her hands. You didn’t know what to do with the pleasure, losing yourself to the width of her digits pivoting into your sodden folds and yelping as she pressed particularly deep into your sweet spot again.

My mind is going blank… The ecstasy she brought you wasn’t kind. The gangster was never gentle as you thought lovers were supposed to be, despite her claiming that’s what you both were. Whether your body was shuddering from pain or pleasure under her touch…most times you didn’t know. Even now, your skin was battered and bruised with markings of Abby’s own doing. It was red all over, throbbing from harsh choke holds and unyielding grasps, bright with both new and old bite marks. The torment was sweet. It was cruel. It muddled your mind until all you could muster was incoherent sounds of wanting, and she was more than happy to oblige.

“Since you’ve been good…” You gasped as she removed her fingers, soiling your hair with your own taste as she grabbed the back of your head to jerk it down. Your lips brushed against the tip of her strap, and you looked up into Abby’s sinister smile. “I’ll give you what you want. Get it nice and wet for me, baby.” 

Clumsily you obeyed, taking her cock into your mouth. She hummed, eyes trained on watching you suck the silicone toy with growing need. The gangster had a strap the size of her fucking ego, and you found yourself already struggling to take it all in before you were halfway down. You tried your best to take it regardless, sloppily drooling over her strap with the messy state you were in. You could feel her grip on your hair slowly tighten, and you cast your gaze up. 

You saw the veins on her thick arms protrude as her muscles flexed. A further glance upwards caught her locked jaw. Oh. As you made eye contact with the storm of blue irises above you, you had the quick realization that Abby wasn’t about to be tender with you.

Suddenly, you were choking on her plastic toy as she firmly gripped your head, holding it still as she mercilessly thrust into your mouth. You couldn’t breathe, feeling tears swell up in the corner of your eyes as Abby continuously abused your drooling mouth. Saliva smeared all over the strap and your bruised lips, and Abby loved the sight of it, pushing in just to watch spit drip from your mouth and down her cock. She couldn’t get enough of the tears falling like pearls from your hazy eyes, or the look of your twitching throat as you struggled to breathe. The desperation in those doe eyes made her weak, it drove her mad–and all she could think about was locking you up, breaking you more, making it so that you couldn’t live without her–

“Fuck.” Abby grunted, ramming her strap down to the back of your throat and…keeping you there. You gagged, pushing at her hips in a desperate attempt to let her know you needed air. But she knew that. You knew she knew that. Just as well as you knew how much she loved to make you plead with her. To reduce you to useless pawing and clawing at her hands. To remind you that even now, she held your life in her hands. 

Her wicked sneer at your suffering blurred before you blinked your tears away. Those blue eyes took the disoriented, fading gaze you fixed on her down hungrily. The way she massaged your temples with her thumbs as you fought for breath was almost sweet. Almost loving.

Almost.

When she let you go, you violently wrenched away, hacking as you took in much needed oxygen. Abby didn’t wait for you to recover–she never really did anyway–placing her hands on your thighs. Unceremoniously, she spread your legs, exposing your drenched heat.  You squeaked, eyes wide as she hooked her arms under your knees, hands gripping your waist. She lifted your hips off the bed, positioning your cunt to take her strap.

“Wai-wait–Abby sto–!” The noise she tore from you was ungodly, a twisted cry into the air as Abby pounded into you.  The force of her strength rocked you forward only for her sadistic reign of your hips to drag you back down toward her again, and you sobbed, broken down into constant pleading whimpers. 

“D-don’t m-move. Please, I–I can’t…it’s too…!” She drank in the sounds of your distress, a wicked glint in her eyes you could only describe as predatory. Carnal with a lust to swallow you whole. You felt like prey laying down helplessly before her, and Abby's sinister grin as she watched you unravel didn’t help. Neither did her leaning down to bite your tender neck, forcing out a whine of pain. Tears fell as you felt her teeth sink in hard enough to draw blood, staining the sheets with crimson. 

“How deep am I?” She nibbled at the curve of your ear, growling out the question. You shivered, flinching as she pressed her hand over your stomach.  Your voice was a feeble jumble of words, and she didn’t do much to help, grinding the base of her strap within you. She stared, watching your eyes roll back as you let out a fractured moan. “Tell me.” 

You couldn’t. Hell, you could hardly breathe, let alone speak. Instead you wrapped the edge of her fingers around your trembling own, weakly guiding Abby until she could feel the outline of its tip inside of you. She looked down at your hand for a second, before looking back up–meeting your tear soaked face as you finally managed a whisper.

“T-there. It’s so deep, s-so deep Abby I can’t think…” Abby’s jaw locked so fast you could hear it snap, eyes darkening as her grip at your waist tightened. In hindsight, you should have known showing her just how much she’d ruined you would affect her, but it was already too late. 

“But if you can speak…” Now, she pulled out with a feverish look in her eyes, tutting softly. She smiled as if your frightened face only turned her on more…you knew you were fucked. 

“You can think, can’t you baby?” She drove her thick strap all the way into you again, stretching you out in one fluid motion. You wept, crying out as Abby abused your hole. Your brain felt like it was shut off, and frantically you babbled, begging her to let you go. She merely let out a breathless laugh, thrusting into you as a sheen of sweat glistened over her body.

“God…do you know what goes through my mind when you cry like this?” She snarled as she pounded into you, watching your body quiver and face melt from the mind-numbing pleasure. “Doubt it. If you did…”

Abby wrapped her hand around your neck as she shoved you deeper into the mattress, lips curling as she darkly spoke.

“You’d never cry in front of me again.”

___________

When you woke up, it was heavy.

Rays of light made you squint, and you frowned, feeling a weight over your body holding you close. Abby had her arm wrapped around you, snoring away. I passed out again, didn’t I? From the way your body throbbed, you guessed you had, frowning as you wiggled out of her grip.

Unlike her, you couldn’t just sleep around all day, you had a legitimate job–

You yelped, crashing to the floor when your legs gave out from under you. Bastard. Why didn’t she go easy on you when she knew you had work today? Why didn’t she care to ever go easy on you? You grumbled as you struggled to rise, legs wobbling. By the time you managed to walk again and get ready, Abby finally woke up, blinking sleepily at you as you straightened up your dress.

“...You’re up early…” You raised an eyebrow at the gangster.

“I have work, Abby.” The woman blinked some more before her lips pressed into a thin line together as she remembered. 

“Right…you got the job.” A beat of silence followed. It made the hairs at the back of your neck stand as you tried to look uninterested. She’d let you find your own job this time–outside of tutoring Lev and Yara–and you knew she was itching to know about it. However, to your surprise Abby only let out an annoyed hum, sinking her face deeper into the pillows.

“Well, hope the little shits don’t make you too crazy.” It was your turn to blink back at her, staring before words slipped past your lips. 

“That’s…it?” Abby opened her eyes again, and the sleep was gone from them. Shit. You hadn’t meant that.

“N-no I mean–”

“Where is this school?” You jolted from her hardened voice, tastefully hoarser in the morning. 

“When do your classes end?” Abby rose, sheets giving way to her bare, tatted, toned body. You flinched, cheeks aflame as she came towards you.

“Uh, um–”

“Who else works with you? What exactly will you be doing with them? How much do you have to interact with them?”  

“W-wait–!” You didn’t realize you’d stepped back until your back hit the wall. You swallowed, shrinking into yourself as the gangster placed her arm above your head, looming. It was hard to know where to look–faced with her breasts directly in front of you, and the rest of her muscular body blocking you off from finding a spot to stare at. In the end, you could only focus on her furrowed brows and disheveled, dirty blonde strands, unable to meet the eyes that assessed you so meticulously. Abby herself was drilling her eyes into your face, taking in the bright blush on your cheeks and averted gaze before she softly murmured.

“You’re new job…you like it?” Hesitantly you nodded, and she nodded back, tilting her head as she continued. “Then it’s okay. I won’t ask any of those questions–or snoop. As long as you say you’re safe, it's okay with me.” You let out the tiniest sigh of relief, skin warming as she gingerly caressed your cheek.

“But baby…if your idea of “safe” is different from mine?” Abby’s thick, scarred fingers moved to cup your chin. It was a firm yet gentle grip. However, you knew damn well what it could become…and the gangster knew you did too.

“There’s no telling what I’ll do.” Abby’s voice was deceptively calm. You would have thought the gangster was composed if not for the faint, crazed spark in her eyes that seemed to never go away. “If you come back here with so much as a scratch on this body…” Her hands traveled down, lightly squeezing around your neck. Panic sparked in your eyes, but Abby merely continued, eerily slow.

“I’ll break your arms and even your legs if I have to. Lock you up where no one can ever find you again. Then I’ll train you till you're feeding outta my hand and can’t imagine living without me. Do you understand, baby? How patient I’m being with you right now?"

Ah. At times like this, you found it really hard to imagine…how you'd fallen in love with someone as crazy as her in the first place.

[mythos-writes]

To Be So Lonely

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Plot: (Based on 'To Be So Lonely' by Harry Styles) Tommy and (Y/N) used to date when they were young, but when the business started to grow, he broke up with her. But after Grace leaves, they see each other again, making Tommy rethink his feelings…

This is for @runnning-outof-time Halfway to 2K celebration and I am so happy to take part in this. You have been so nice to me by interacting with my work. You, and others, have made me feel welcomed in the Peaky Blinders fan club.

Word Count: 1.1K

Warning: none really... just some angst at the end

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

I do not give permission for anyone to repost/ post my stories, with or without credit. Reblogs, comments, etc. are more than welcomed, but please DO NOT copy and paste my stories that you may like onto another platform.

"Don't blame me for falling, I was just a little boy"

“You want to what?” she yells, standing in the empty betting shop. 

“With everything that has happened, I’ve grown apart from you (Y/N),” Tommy confesses. 

“Have you really or do you just miss sticking your dick into any woman that throws themselves at you?” she defends, hoping to hit him where it hurts him. Tommy went to open his mouth to defend himself but she beat him to it. 

“I’ve heard the rumours, Thomas. You go in and out of the brothels, flirting with women at the bars. I thought that they were lying. But you know what, you can be lonely by yourself Thomas Shelby,” she spits before racing out of the shop, trying to keep the tears at bay. Tommy called after her but she could care less now. She was by his side since they were little and helped them when they started their little gig races and other things. When they got older their feelings started to grow for each other. Then the war came and many things changed. But (Y/N) still stood by him and helped Polly and Ada. 

‘If Tommy wanted to throw all that we’ve been through that's fine then’ she thinks while walking quickly through the crowd that was forming along the muddy Small Heath streets.

"I was away, And I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch who can't admit when he's sorry"

Years have passed since she last talked to Thomas. She would keep in contact with Polly but drifted away from the Shelby siblings. Polly kept her informed about what has been happening with everyone, from John, marrying Esme to Tommy’s relationship with Grace. For the first year or so, it was still hard not to have Tommy by her side, to do the plans they had set up. But to he did them with Grace. Watching their planned life unfold without her in the picture broke her heart.  

(Y/N) was walking back from the market, the streets of Birmingham never really changed. As she was moving through the busy streets, she passed the Garrison. She would stop in once in a while, just to see if anything had changed, but nothing never did. 

“Is that (Y/N)?” she hears someone asks. She turned her head to see three people she wouldn’t have thought she would see again. 

“Why hello Arthur, John… Thomas,” she says walking over to greet the brothers. 

“Haven’t seen you around lately, thinking you skipped town or something,” John jokes causing her to roll her eyes. 

“If I had the money I would have already done it,” she says with a smile. She observed the three and they all look grown up and mature, even if they didn’t act like they were. 

“I see the business has been doing well,” she comments, admiring their suits, clearly they had cost them a pretty penny to get.  

“Yeah, and you seem you’re doing well yourself,” Arthur says, gesturing to her clothes for the day. 

“Yeah for on my own, not too bad,” she says. She checks the sun seeing that it was getting lower. “Well, I have to get back home before the sun gets too low. It was good to see you three again, maybe I’ll have to stop by the Garrison sometime,” she says before making her way back down the road. The three boys watch her down the road. 

“Bloody hell, you missed out on that Tommy,” John says. Tommy just gives him a look before finishing his always-present cigarette. His gaze falling back onto (Y/N) fading figure.

"Don't call me, "Baby" again, You got your reasons"

That night, as (Y/N) was sitting in the front room reading her book in front of the fire, a knock broke the quietness. She was surprised to get a knock this late.

She grabbed the fire poker for some type of protection before going to the door. When she opened the door a little, she sees Tommy standing there. He was the last person she was expecting standing there. 

“Tommy?” she questions, opening the door wider.

“I uh… could I come in?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable that he had pushed himself to see her again. 

She moves to let him in. She was nervous to have her former lover wanted to visit after all these years of no contact. He saw what she was holding and let out a breathy laugh. She looks down at the iron rode she grabbed. 

“You really think that would have stopped someone trying to get in?” he questions, 

“If you didn’t see it coming it would,” she defends. (Y/N) ushered him into the drawing room. He sat down in one of the chairs. 

“Do you want anything at all?” she questions. He shakes his head before lighting a cigarette. He observes the room, seeing that not a lot has changed since he was last here all those years ago. 

“Don’t blame me for falling in love with you Tommy,” she states, breaking the silence that fell. 

“I wasn’t. Because I fell just as hard as you did,” he replies. “I was merely a little boy who couldn’t explain what those feelings were,” he continued. 

“And what are those feeling now?” she questions, still standing by the fireplace. Tommy stood up from his spot and walked over to her. 

“Well it seems that those feelings never left,” he states, standing in front of her. 

“But you broke it off with me,” she states, giving Tommy a pointed look. 

“If we are being honest here. I was scared of my feelings and with our business growing I didn’t want anything to happen to you,” he confesses. (Y/N) looks into Tommy’s eyes, to see if he was lying, but all she saw was the man she fell in love with. 

“I haven’t seen this side of Thomas Shelby in a very long time,” she says, playing with buttons on his shirt. He playfully rolled his eyes before wrapping his arm around her waist and brought her closer. 

“It was a lonely time without you my dear,” he says just above a whisper. (Y/N) smiles. 

“To be so lonely Tommy, we’ve been lonely together then,” she says before placing a kiss on his lips. He backs her against the door frame, taking dominance quickly. Her hands graze against his buzzed sides to the soft mop of dark hair on top. 

“Not so lonely anymore are we?” he asks, his breath coming out in heavy breaths. 

“No I don’t think we are,” she says with a cocky smile.

Be so lonely, To be so lonely

[mindninjax]

WHORE

Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: Brat taming, titty fucking (duh), oral sex (male receiving), orgasm denial, porn without plot folks

WC: 2k

a/n: I told y’all the titty fucking was coming. This is dedicated to both @tiphandoms for being the horny Angel on my shoulder and @karikarasuno for being the love of my life and screaming with me about titty fucking with Katsu. And also for letting me continuously corrupt your brain with my Katsu agenda. Bahahah . Anywhoo enjoy lol. 💖

It’s not fair how perfect he is.

You cross your arms over your chest and pout as you watch your pro hero boyfriend waltz out of the bathroom. He’s glistening with droplets he missed wiping from his chest and in the retreating sunlight he looks like one of those smooth statues you see in an art building.

All of his muscles are chiseled to perfection, and even all the scars littering his body from the hero work over the years look like they belong, like they’re meant to be there to make him look even more gorgeous than he already is.

His underwear hangs low on his hips, the angled “v” extremely present and tempting along with a few sparse blonde hairs leading up to his happy trail. The boxer briefs he wears are tight around his groin, compressing his sizeable length and squeezing around his thick muscular thighs. He strolls into the kitchen and opens the fridge to take a sip from the orange juice container.

“Use a glass you whore,” you shout from your space on the couch in the living room.

He wipes his mouth, returns the carton to the fridge, then glares at you as he stomps into the living room. “Who the hell are you calling a whore, brat” he grumbles.

You try not to be distracted by how stupidly attractive he is and hold your glare. It’s true, it’s petty when you get into your moments of riling him up, but it’s so damn fun to see him get flustered and angry. Plus, it’s not like he doesn’t do the same to you, all the damn time.

“You. I’m calling you a whore. Look at you, parading around with your tits out,” you say, gesturing to him. Your gaze lingers on his shoulders, on the water dripping down his chest, on his raised nipples and down his well-defined abs. You roll your eyes. It’s. Not. Fair.

“They’re called pecs, idiot! I don’t have tits. That’s what you have,” he says glaring at you.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his bulging muscles flexing in the sun and you bite your lip to hold back the whimper trapped in your throat. God you’re such a simp.

“When they’re as big as yours, they’re called tits. Those are the rules,” you say smirking and closing the book you’re no longer paying attention to.

He scoffs and stomps over to stand in front of you. You’re at the perfect height to suck his dick. You're not going to, obviously, but it’s important to note, you could if you wanted. He grabs your face in one hulking hand, squeezing your cheeks and making your lips pucker.

“Says who?” he challenges.

He looks down on you with a eyebrow raised, probably amused at how stupid your face looks right now puckered between his thick fingers. You keep your sassy expression, trying as best you can to purse your lips, raise an eyebrow, and swivel your neck sassily.

“Says me, Whore.” You exaggerate the word while looking up at him and he growls intimidatingly.

“Watch it,” he warns, dropping your face and giving your cheek a tiny playful pat.

You see his cock twitch in his briefs when he turns to sit down next to you on the couch. You bite your lip and smirk, fully prepared to keep fucking with him, especially if you know he’s totally into it despite his annoyed tone.

You turn to look at him, your smirk growing into a wily grin and then you challenge him. “Or what? You’ll smother me in your big ole titties?” you ask in a snarky tone.

He side-eyes you as he grabs his phone from where it’s charging next to the couch. You know it’s another warning glance. He takes a deep breath and the veins in his neck flex. You squeeze your thighs together, heat pooling in your core as you bite your lip and smile again. Then your expression changes, and you have an innocent wide eye stare as you look at him.

“Ya know, it’s ok to have big tits, Katsu. You shouldn't be ashamed. In fact, I like your big tits. It’s why I keep telling you to put them away. So no one else has the chance to stare at how absolutely massive your boobies are,” you say giggling.

In a second, his phone is dropped, he’s growling and hovering over you. He’s pushed you onto your back on the couch, a thick thigh wedged between your legs and grinding against your clothed cunt. The huge t-shirt you’re wearing is hiked up your body, exposing your thighs and panties. He looks pissed, but his pupils are blown so you know he's also turned on. And if that weren’t a dead give away, the inflation of his cock against your belly is definitely a sign of it.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do ya Princess?” he growls through his teeth.

His hands run down your body, palming your tits in his ginormous palms and twisting your nipples. You don’t moan yet, but your breathing increases and you intake a sharp breath through your teeth.

“And you just don’t know how to handle the truth,” you say back, giggling.

He takes a deep breath in and out, grinding his teeth as he stares into your playful eyes. You hold his stare, not paying attention to the way his hands have dipped between your bodies until his finger brushes against your clothed clit. You arch your back up into his touch and he grins impishly. He pushes your head to the side to bite down on your neck and suck graciously at the sensitive skin below your ear. A satisfied little purr escapes you and Katsuki chuckles deeply.

“Now who’s the whore?” he questions sassily.

“S...still… still you…” you insist.

He pulls your shirt up and over your head and you're bare before him now. When he bends down to lick up your body, pop your nipple into his mouth and bite down, you groan and fist your fingers into his hair. You can feel the precum beading at the tip of his cock and leaking through his boxers to squish against your thigh as he hungrily plays with the bud. You arch up into his touch, moan his name as his finger increases it’s pace on your clit. When he pulls your panties aside to push a finger into your tight heat, you cry out in pleasure.

Fuck, in addition to being way too fucking hot, he’s also too good at making you come so hard your legs shake. In the midst of your coming orgasm, you think again about how absolutely unfair it is but how absolutely grateful you are to be with him. Your eyes are squeezed shut as he adds another finger and angles them to press against the ribbed spongy spot that will have you gasping for breath. The coil tightens, ready to snap as you arch your back as much as you can and he increases his pace.

You’re right on the edge until—

He pulls out of you suddenly and your eyes pop open. You let out an anguished cry as you feel the peak of your orgasm fall away like a dying leaf fluttering to the ground.

“What the f—” you say looking angrily at him but you stop when you see the slightly dangerous glint in his eye.

You’re fucked.

“You think a brat like you deserves to come? After all the shit you were talkin’?” he says, licking his fingers and groaning at your flavor.

Your eyes grow wide, you’d almost forgotten all of the teasing you’d done. Yes, he is that good.

“Wha-”

He puts a finger to your lips and shushes you. “I’m gonna show you what tits are and what they’re for since you seem to be confused,” he growls in your ear.

His breath is hot on your neck and you shiver as the sensation moves though your body straight to your clit. He quickly pulls his briefs down and tosses them over his shoulder. He grabs two of the throw pillows and stuffs them behind your head so you’re at an incline. Then he takes your breast in his hands and squeezes them together, massaging them as he stares down at you with that same impish grin.

“Yeah, your tits are perfect for fuckin’. And that smart mouth of yours, perfect for suckin’,” he says.

Your eyes grow wide as he moves over you, sitting right over your chest. He squeezes and slaps your breast and you mewl pathetically.

He pinches your nipples again, leans back to rub circles on your clit and stops abruptly before you can come.

“Mmmm Katsu please…” you plead and he laughs darkly.

“Yeah that’s what I wanna hear. No more snarky comments?” he asks, pushing your boobs together and slotting his dick between the tight space he’s created.

“N...no… more… promise…” you say through labored breaths.

He chuckles, “Atta girl. Be a good girl and suck my cock, and maybe I’ll forgive you and let you come.”

You nod and open your mouth, tongue hanging out to welcome the head of his leaking dick. He pushes his hips forward, letting you suck the head and swirl your tongue around it before he slots his dick between the plump flesh of your boobs again. He makes you hold them together tightly and pushes in between them.

“Ffffuccckkk, baby, your tits feel so good,” he groans.

You look up at his face, lip curled up over his teeth as he gnaws on the bottom one. His eyes are shut tight and his face is flushed a bright pink as he rocks his hips back and forth. His dick is so warm and hard as it slips between your breast, and when the tip of his head pokes out the top you bless him with little kitten licks that coat your tongue with the pre cum oozing from it. When he pushes his cock down your throat you moan around it, purring as he clenches a fist into your hair and throws his head back in ecstasy.

There’s nothing better than seeing him completely engrossed in the pleasure he gets from fucking you. Katsuki pulls his cock free from your suctioned lips and pulls your breasts back together to slide in between them. You spit between them and he groans in approval. “Atta girl, so filthy.”

His balls drag against your chest, heavy and full and the squelching wet sounds and his grunts and pants have your pussy dribbling slick down your inner thighs and soaking the couch below you. Katsuki switches between fucking your tits and fucking your throat. He demands you to look up at him as his pace becomes erratic and he grasps the mounds of flesh to push them tighter around his cock.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck baby, I’m gonna come. ‘M gonna come all over these,” he groans, rocking his hips faster, sloppier, deeper.

He’s playing with your nipples again and you’re whining, selfishly wanting to be full of him.

“Mmm please.. Katsu...wanna taste you,” you whimper and his ruby eyes spark with light.

“Yeah? Want my cum baby? I’ll give it to you, such a good girl.”

His hips stagger and a long groan fills the room as he shoots cum all over your chest, chin, and tongue. He rocks his hips slowly back and forth, messily spreading his cum all over your body and looking down at your spit covered face. He bends down to lick some of the cum from your chest and kiss you passionately. You taste him on his tongue and moan into his mouth at the revelation.

The kiss becomes feverish when he lies on top of you and grinds his still hard cock against your stomach. When he pulls back to look into your eyes, you’re panting and he’s smiling cockily at you.

“I guess since you were good I’ll let you come on my cock,” he says, smiling wickedly and rubbing your clit. “That is, if you’ve truly learned the difference between tits and pecs.”

You don’t get the chance to respond before he’s pushing into your cunt and fucking you passionately. He takes your moans and cries as his answer.

--

Thanks for reading!

[junisfics]

insatiable* — armin arlert

pairing: armin x reader

word count: 2k

content: established relationship, porn no plot, kitchen sex

content warnings: smut / nsfw 18 + (daddy kink, dom armin, slight s&m, spit, choking, dumbification, slight cum play)

summary: n/a

notes: this is straight porn. i was hungry for armin after seeing him w an undercut and the daddy kink ended up coming out to play.

minors can read, but please don't interact (like, comment, reblog)

you knew, the moment he slipped his hands around your waist, you knew that he wanted something from you.

he stands behind you as his fingers toy with the hem of the tee-shirt you wear, which just so happened to be one of his. they slip underneath, brushing against the soft of your stomach, he brings his chin to rest on your shoulder.

“hi,” you mumble, pressing your cheek into his and relishing in the warmth.

“whatcha doing?” he asks, pressing his lips against your ear and giving a kiss. it makes you shiver.

“figuring out what to make for dinner, got any suggestions?” you smile, flipping another page in your cook book.

he presses a gentle kiss below your ear, where your jaw meets your neck. low in your stomach, arousal begins to pool as his tongue licks over the kiss. you could feel his breath hot against the skin of your neck.

“i got an idea...” he chuckles, his finger tips slipping under your waistband and teasing the skin below your navel.

“you do, huh... what is it?” you tilt your head away from the kiss, exposing the fragile skin of your neck, scattered in goosebumps.

you know his answer, you know exactly what he wants. and he’s real goddamn lucky that you want it too... and that you weren’t in the mood for cooking.

he teases at the erogenous zone below your waistline, teeth taking tiny nips at your neck. it was all teasing, gentle and sensual teasing that had you grinding back into his hips.

“you,” he mutters, sliding his right hand further down to brush over your clit. 

your mouth falls open, head falling back to his shoulder. he’s barely got a hand on you and your melting right in his grasp. you were on your toes, twitching around in his arms as one hand flattens against your stomach and the other circles your clit.

“want you so bad.” he whispers, pressing himself into your ass and grinding his cock up against you. even though it was direct, you could feel your pussy throb as he slides himself against you.

“have me.” you breathe, a hand coming off the counter to grab ahold of his wrist that toys with you while the other grips onto the counter ledge.

the had that once was against the plush skin of your stomach slides up and under your shirt, up your chest, and grips your throat as the other plays with you.

“say please.”

“please, daddy.” you whimper.

his hips rut against your backside at your words, his cock throbbing in his sweatpants and leaking precum. he could feel your pulse fluttering under his fingertips as he continues to tease your cunt, now leaking arousal into your panties.

“good girl.” he says, sliding his fingers through your slick and slipping his middle finger inside you. you let out a breathy moan as he does so, knees already growing weak and shaky and your back is sent into a pretty arch for him.

he sucks at the fragile skin of your neck, hard and hot, trying to get it to bruise under his lips. he was always possessive like that, marking your skin with dark dark purple marks. they were always in the most visible places. his tongue soothes over his damage.

his finger curls real nice, deep inside you and teasing your sweet spot. he’s gentle with it, teasing at your pleasure. he wasn’t trying to get you off with this, he was just loosening you up for him, getting you all nice and ready for his cock.

“armin —” you whine, voice strained. your eyes have fluttered and your jaw opens and closes as you let out pathetic moans for him.

“what do you need, baby?” he purrs, running his nose along the side of your throat and taking in the sweet scent of your skin.

“need you — so bad.” you push your ass against him, sliding it over the length of his stiff cock.

you were always a mess for him, all needy and reduced to nothing when he touched you. he knew what he could do too, and he always used it to his advantage. he takes his time playing with your cunt until you’re dripping and begging for his cock like your life was on the line. 

“my girl want her daddy’s cock?” he teases, changing the way he fingers you. his finger goes from sensual curling to languid pumping, sliding in and out of your cunt. then he adds one.

“yeah.” you grind against his hand, aiding his shallow thrusts.

"alright baby, turn around for me." he whispers, pulling out his fingers slowly and letting his hands slide across your waist as you turn in his grasp.

he traps you between him and the counter top, taking your lips in his and grabbing at the backs of your thighs to hoist you atop it. he slips his waist between your legs and squeezes your thighs as he swallows your shallow moans

armin's fingers grab ahold of your waistband, tugging down the curve of your thighs and down your legs to discard your shorts to the floor. he returns between your thighs as he tugs his shirt over his head, abs flexing as he pulls at the collar.

you drink in the sight of his lean, milky skin, so pretty and pale before you. you were planning out where to mark him up, where to sink your teeth in and suck until a nice visible bruise appears.

armin grabs ahold of your shirt and peels it off of you, letting your chest fall bare to his eyes. he kisses you again, palms coming up to squeeze at the soft fat of your chest as he grinds his stiff cock against your clothed cunt.

"please, please" you whimper, rutting your hips into his, but he his hands fall to your thighs as his lips trail down your neck.

he keeps you still as he resumes his assault on the fragile skin, biting and licking at your neck real nice.

"be patient," he mumbles against the dewy skin of your chest.

he allows his fingers to slip under the band of your panties, hooking around it and peeling it down your thighs the same as he did your shorts,

"look at that pretty cunt, so wet for me, hm?" he licks a broad strip up the valley of your breasts before meeting your lips again.

his hands come off you to push his boxers down his thighs, just enough to free his hard cock and let it slap against your clit.

"armin!" your cry is muffled by his tongue, your back arching your stomach against him and your hands clawing at his back to bring him closer.

while he licks at your open mouth, one hand comes to the base of him to line him up with your drooling pussy. he slides the head around a few times, listening to the slick sounds that come from the motions.

"please — daddy, please" you whine, but he just swallows your noises down with his tongue.

but he listens to you, he listens to his sweet girl and pushes the head of his cock into your needy cunt. he lets you pull him in, clenching around the first inch of him as he stretches you out.

"there you go, pretty girl." he groans, tilting his hips to slide more of him in you.

it was always such a good stretch, his fat cock dragging through your cunt real nice as your walls hug the length of him. it was an easy entrance, you were so wet for him that there was little to no resistance. but he always takes it slow for you.

your mouth drops open, eyes squeezing shut as he pushes himself to your hilt. his hands snake around your waist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

"oh m'god."

"fuck, that's my girl." he grunts, finally reaching his hilt. his hips flush against yours.

your legs were kicking and shaking around him, heels knocking against the lower cabinet.

"taking me so fucking well, so good for her daddy..." he groans, pulling his cock out real slow.

"i love you — love you, thank you." you cry, fingers pressing into the meat of his shoulders and nails etching the skin.

his thrusts start slow, just using the tilting of his hips to pull himself out and sheath himself back in. his hands come down to grip the fat of your ass in his palms, squeezing the meat in his fingertips and using his grip to grind you against him.

you could feel him shifting around deep inside you as he grinds after every thrust. his pelvis swiveling and rubbing up against your clitt with sweet friction. his forehead rests against yours as he thrusts, jaw slacked and soft groans leaving his lips. 

“you feel so good, so tight.” he hisses.

his hands release your ass to bring one to the back of your right knee and tugging it upwards. your foot rests on the edge of the counter as he holds your leg upright, sending his cock into your sweet spot over and over.  with his hand still pressing into the back of your thigh, his other grips your hip to steady you as he picks up his pace.

“fuck, fuck, fuck” you cry, hands sliding up to his neck and holding on to him as he pounds himself into you, hooked around the back of his neck, the short buzz of his undercut scratching at your palms. 

“feel good baby? is daddy fucking you nice and dumb?”

you were overwhelmed by pleasure, entire body coursing with red hot arousal. your brain felt all fuzzy already, mouth fallen open because you don’t have the strength to keep it closed. you can hear the lewd squelching of your cunt as he pulls out and thrusts back in.

the hand on his hip comes to your front, thumb sneaking to your clit and applying pressure. he takes your lips in his again, tongue sliding of your own and licking into your open mouth... all sloppy and wet.

“feels — feels s’good.” you babble, speaking into his mouth as he continues to kiss you, “’m gonna cum.”

“do it, cum on my cock, cum on my fucking cock.” he spits.

he can feel your pussy gush around him, fluttering over the length of his cock as you let out a broken moan. your head falls back on your shoulders and your whole body spasms and shakes in his grasp. your thigh that’s propped up on the counter trembles in his fingers and your other legs thrashes against his body.

“fuck — so good,” armin watches you clench around his cock, dragging him towards his own release, “where?”

“on me,” you whimper, still shaking before him, orgasm still coursing through your veins.

armin pulls his cock out of you, using your release as lubrication as he jerks himself through his orgasm, “want me to cum on your pretty body?”

“yes, yes daddy. please, please.” you beg, watching the head of his cock disappear then reappear in his fist.

with a low groan, he spurts his cum all over your stomach. its thick and hot, splattering across the plush fat and marking you up real pretty. 

“g — god.” he breathes, sliding his thumb over the tip as he continues to milk himself dry, cum dripping down the length of him and joining his fist in jerking him.

he drags his release out, slowing his jerks until they’re long and languid and nothing comes out of the tip anymore. he lets his eyes flit up to you, your body in a sheen of sweat and chest rising and falling as you regain your composure. you were all spread out for him, your eyes foggy with pleasure and arousal.

“pretty girl,” he mutters, a smirk upturning his lips, “so good for daddy.”

JUNISFICS © 2021

[eclectickss]

Make Me Feel Special (2/2)

Pairing: Milf!Agatha Harkness x fem!Reader

Summary: You are angry at your best friend for turning down the opportunity for something that you would give your life for: a mother.

Link to Part One also tags: @bowtothewitch <3

Warnings: no plot, mommy issues/kink, major age gap (reader is of age), cursing, smut- praise kink, use of strap-on, tell me if i missed something!

Word Count: 2k?

A/N: if anybody was wondering, this Agatha is a mix of episode 9 Agatha and Eve Fletcher because i’m a whore for Eve Fletcher. Also this is my first time writing a strap-on so pls let me know if i did it right :/ALSO THANK YOU FOR 50 60 FOLLOWERS!!!

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“I want you to make me feel special, mommy.”

She stared at you with your large duffle bag at your feet, and you couldn’t decide whether her gaze was desperate or thankful. She wanted someone to take care of, and here you were, asking her to do just that.

“What made you make up your mind, darling?” She was struggling to not give into the temptation of dragging you inside and taking you on the steps right then and there.

“Jane called you a selfish bitch when she doesn’t even try to understand me and what I want. And what I want is somebody to take care of me, for once. I want somebody in charge of me. I want somebody on top of me. To help of me. To comfort me, to touch me... to lov-“

Agatha walked up to you and put a finger on your lips, putting a silence to your voice.

“I know, babygirl.” Agatha dragged her finger off of your mouth and brought her hand around to the back of your neck, pulling your lips ever so close to hers.

“I’m not going to make you feel special, honey. I’m going to remind you that you already are.”

And with that, her lips grazed yours, and finally met in a rage of lust and desire.

Agatha snaked her other hand around your waist and up your spine, somehow managing to pull you closer than before. When the strong kiss broke, you groaned, Agatha’s taste lingering on the tip of your tongue like an ingrained memory that you never wanted to forget.

The two of you shared heavy breaths, reminiscing in the other’s gaze.

“C’mon babygirl. Let’s get you inside.” She whispered, picking up the bag at your feet. She dragged you by the wrist, not giving you much time to take in the beauty of her home. You caught a glimpse of a grand kitchen and living space, but you were tripping up the stairs before you could register anything else.

“I will show you your room tomorrow.” She dropped your bag at the top of the steps. “Something else needs my immediate attention.” She continued to drag you along as she started down a hallway. She stopped at the last door and pulled you up against the wall next to it.

“Are you sure about this?” In all seriousness, she met your lustful eyes with her own.

“Fuck, yes.” You almost whined, but a shock of pain was sent through your body as she pressed you into the wall.

“Yes, what?... babygirl.” You groaned as the added pressure only turned you on. “Try that again for me.”

“Please fuck me, mommy.”

Agatha almost growled from hearing that, finally opening the door and pulling you in with her.

“Up.” She ran her hands down the back of your thighs and you jumped up to squeeze her hips, surprised to find out that there was no struggle to keep you up. She was strong.

Your arms wrapped around her neck as you pulled her into a deep kiss, and soon after, her own lips made contact with the skin just below your ear. She moved her playful bites around until you flinched, meaning she had found your sweet spot.

“Oh, god,” You grumbled, trying to pull her head in closer. You could feel her smirk against your growing bruises. It all felt so wrong, but so incredibly right.

She made her way over to the bed with you still on her hips, finally setting you down on the mattress just before your legs went numb. You watched as Agatha pulled her purple top off and did the same with your loose t-shirt. Your eyes stared at her chest, knowing you should meet her eyes, but incapable of finding the will to do so.

She groped at your breasts before sliding her hands to the top of your sweatpants, fingers dancing around the tie before finally pulling the string lose. Agatha noticed how you stared at her image as she pulled off your bottoms, leaving you only in a bra and panties.

“Now tonight is all about you, babygirl. You can touch whatever you like, moan how ever loud you want... ask anything of me...” She breathed. “It won’t always be like this, but tonight is all about you.”

You whimpered are her words. “But I want mommy to be proud of me. I want mommy to feel good too.”

“You want to lick this cunt?” Agatha asked as she pulled down her jeans, revealing her black lace panties. She now crawled on top of you, her face hovering over your own.

You nodded at her question.

“Use your words.”

“Yes please, mommy.” You whined as Agatha pressed her lips back onto yours.

“Undress me, then. I’m all yours tonight, babygirl.” She smirked, leaving you with another breathtaking kiss. You happily snaked your hands around her back, unclasping her bra and immediately attaching your lips to one of her nipples, beginning to twist and pinch the other with your hand.

Agatha groaned above you, and the slickness in-between your legs screamed. Your other hand slid to the top of her underwear, and when you moved your mouth to her other breast, you used both hands to slide the garment down her body.

She helped you the rest of the way, and finally moved to hover her dripping pussy above your face. You could feel the heat above you, and the taunting smell almost drove you insane.

you latched your hands onto her hips as you closed the distance between your mouth and her cunt, relishing in the moan that escaped her body when your tongue finally reached her aching core.

“Babygirl...” You dragged through her wetness, quickly flicking her clit before diving into Agatha’s center. Your hands reached up to hold her down and play with her breasts while you slowly explored her insides. “That feels so good.”

You smiled. I made my mommy feel like that. I make her happy.

You brought one of your hands down and replaced a finger for your tongue, sliding it in as your mouth paid attention to her clit. You began to pump and suck slowly, paying attention to how Agatha reacted to your every move.

“Mommy wants more.” You groaned at the request, sending Agatha even higher into heaven as your vibrations ripped through her pussy.

You picked up your speed and inserted another finger. You also tested out different things with your tongue, noticing how your pointed tongue made her squirm, your flat one made her head roll back, and your sucking made her do all the above and more.

“Mommy is gonna cum, babygirl. Let her cum.”

You hummed and put a little more pressure in all the right places, finally witnessing her come unraveled on top of you.

Agatha twitched as you helped her off of her high, cleaning up the mess that you left behind.

“You did so good, honey. Mommy is so proud.” You blushed as she sat back to kiss you, her leftover cum rubbing onto the base of your stomach. She tasted herself in your mouth and smirked.

“Is my baby ready to be rewarded?” Agatha taunted, carrying her light touch across your chest.

“Please, mommy.” You went to slip your bra off of your shoulders, but she stopped you.

“No, honey. Let me do that.” She reached under your arched back to unclasp the article, allowing it to thud onto the floor.

“Oh, baby, mommy is so excited to play with you,” Agatha spoke seductively while staring at your exposed chest, and if your cunt wasn’t begging for attention before, it sure as hell was now.

She reached her hands down to stroke your thighs, and you whimpered.

“Patience, darling.” She chuckled as she slid down further on you and started biting at your breasts. You moaned so loud, but you didn’t feel guilty about it whatsoever. One of Agatha’s long fingers danced over your covered core, and your hips bucked.

She laughed. “Alright honey, i’m done teasing.” You gave a breath of relief. She slid off the of the bed, pulling your panties along with her. She discarded the garment as she walked over to the nightstand, swaying her hips because she knew that you were watching.

“What are you doing?” She opened the bottom drawer to the piece of furniture. Without saying anything, she pulled out a large purple dildo, and you eyes widened.

“It’s ok, babygirl. we’ll take it nice and slow. I’ll even lube it up for you, although i’m sure you’re wet enough to take it dry.” You whined, knowing that she was probably right.

“Okay, mommy.” You follwed her movements as she strapped into the toy, picking up the lube and getting some on her hands. She climbed back on the bed and straddled your hips, making sure you had a good view.

She took her hands and began covering the dildo, and your insides turned as you watched her stroke and rub the lube all over.

“Are you ready for mommy’s cock, darling?” She smirked up at you.

“Yes mommy. Please.” You whined, begging her to fuck you senseless.

“Good girl.” She lifted your knees up to your chest, and you wrapped your arms around your shins to hold your legs in place.

Agatha ran one of her long fingers through your cunt, bringing it up to her mouth and moaning at the taste of you.

“You taste amazing, honey.” She said as she slowly slipped the toy inside of you, earning another whine out of your mouth. You sounded like a whore, but you didn’t care.

Once Agatha’s skin was flush with yours and the toy was as far in as it could go, she paused.

“Let mommy know when you’re ready to start.” Agatha reached down and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, making you nod and lean into the touch. Once you felt comfortable, you replied.

“I’m ready for you to fuck me, mommy.” You nearly whispered in anticipation.

“Good girl,” She hummed, slowly pumping the dildo in and out of you. You watched as her breasts moved with her thrusts, feeling sensations that matched her movements perfectly.

Eventually, the need for more arose, and you started rocking in time with her pumps.

“Shh, baby,” Agatha held your body still. “Let mommy do the work.” You relished in the way that her hands ran their way up and around your torso and chest, soon enough finding their way to your clit as her speed increased.

The moan that you released made Agatha smile, as she started applying more pressure and sending the dildo deeper. You could hear your dripping pussy as she railed into you, your body bouncing with her sheer force.

“I think i’m gonna cum, mommy. Can I cum?” You whined, throwing your head back from the stimulation.

“Of course, babygirl.” Agatha stroked. “Soak my cock, honey, whenever your ready.” She met your gaze, and her glare is finally what pushed you over the edge. You silently screamed, arching your back as far as you could in that position and squeezing your thighs to your chest.

Instead of slowing down, though, Agatha pushed you into another orgasam, and but the time you had realized what she had done, you couldn’t process any information.

It took a moment for you to slow your breath, but when you finally did, you found Agatha staring at you with an expression that you couldn’t recognize yet.

“What?” You blushed, watching her slowly pull out of you and take the strap-on off. You twitched at one spot, and she gave you a soft smirk.

“Thank you.” You looked at her funny.

“What for?”

“Letting me take care of you.” She replied sincerely. You sheepishly smiled, catching the glint in her eyes.

“Anytime.” You said, repositioning yourself to sit up. You leaned in to give her a kiss, and you felt her smile against your lips.

“Alright, c’mon now baby. Let’s get you cleaned up and tucked in.” She grabbed your hand and helped you off of the mattress, holding onto your shoulder as the two of you made your way to the shower.

This was someone you could get used to.