#kindness in a world that was unkind. kindness in a Body that was unkind. being soft when you're built for violence

[zincbot]

i think it's fun to sprinkle a little personal issue into a dnd character, exaggerate it to make it that much easier to dissect

[sugarpasteltmnt]

"Acolyte" Michelangelo has joined the group chat

THANK U AGAIN TO @anixolt for accepting this commission request!!! Looks like 'Dino'-tello has unexpected company 👀

Hailing from his own alternate reality, "Acolyte" Mikey & his brothers had a very different childhood than the mad Dogs we all know and love. Set in a feudal Japan-esque world, Mikey and his brothers were raised under the Ninja Tribunal in a remote temple as future protectors of humanity...

However, fate was unkind to the lackadaisical Michelangelo who doubted the legend of the foretold 'Krang Invasion'-- let alone it happening much sooner than anticipated.

[link to twitter thread]

More lore below! (but heed the content warnings!!)

CW: implied family death, implied child abuse

Inspired by the 2003 "Acolyte" Arc, Mikey and his brothers were given to the Ninja Tribunal as children to raise as warriors on account of being gifted with mystic abilities; something very rare and unheard of in their universe.

Mikey was the most mystically inclined of his brothers. Because of this, he doesn't take training very seriously. He's also the oldest brother in his universe, but takes that role very, very seriously.

Splinter was their "father"... however, he was the one who gave them to the Ninja Tribunal. And they weren't exactly 'lenient' with children. Not when their purpose was to become warriors to defend the world. Because of this, Mikey hates Splinter. With every fiber in his body.

But despite their upbringing, Mikey was fun and kind.

But homie cannot cook to save his life

However, due to events during the invasion... Mikey is the last man standing. On the whole planet.

And he Snaps

With elevated powers and grief, Mikey traverses the heavens to hunt Krang and their settlements.

He uses dried Krang blood as his mask, having lost his in battle (and Krang blood dries orange when oxidized)

He dots his yellow spots with a drop of Krang blood to mirror Krang eyes. Using mystic abilities, the faux eyes can move and "look" around too. Terrifying.

However, due to classic Hamato shenanigans— 'Acolyte' Mikey may find himself drawn to a very, very different place than a Krang settlement 👀👀👀

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can I request headcanons for Remy, Logan, and Wade would think about his female s/o walking in on him instead please?

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

Remy is used to being smooth and in control, but when you accidentally walk in on him changing, you catch him off guard—though only for a moment. He’s shirtless, mid-way through pulling on a fresh pair of pants, and when he sees you, his signature smirk immediately appears. He’s not shy about his body, so he quickly recovers and turns on the charm.

“Cher, if you wanted a private show, all you had to do was ask,” he teases, his voice dripping with that Cajun accent that never fails to make your heart flutter. He’d probably even strike a pose or flex just a bit to make you blush. He loves how flustered you get, and he’d be all too happy to take full advantage of the situation, maybe even pulling you closer for a playful kiss. To Remy, this is just another opportunity to flirt and remind you of the undeniable chemistry between you two.

Logan (Wolverine)

Logan is all about privacy, and he’s not the kind of guy who’s comfortable with vulnerability. When you accidentally walk in on him changing, he’s immediately tense, freezing mid-motion with his shirt half-off or his jeans unbuttoned. He’s got scars all over his body, reminders of his long and brutal past, and he’s not exactly eager to show them off. He’d grunt something like, “Darlin’, a little privacy would be nice,” his voice gruff but not unkind.

You’d see the flicker of embarrassment in his eyes, which is rare for someone as tough as Logan, but it’s there. If you stay in the room, he might turn his back to you, finishing getting dressed quickly. He wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, but you might catch a glimpse of his softer side when he looks at you afterward, a little sheepish. Deep down, he wouldn’t mind the fact that you saw him—especially if he knows you accept every part of him, scars and all.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

Wade would be the most unpredictable and chaotic in this situation. The moment you walk in on him changing, all bets are off. He’s likely to make a huge, dramatic scene out of it, gasping loudly and covering himself up with whatever’s closest—be it a shirt, pants, or even a stuffed unicorn he just happens to have lying around.

“Whoa, babe, you can’t handle this level of sexy without proper warning!” he’d exclaim, completely hamming it up. He’d probably start posing like he’s in some sort of superhero pin-up calendar, making you laugh whether you want to or not. Wade has no shame, and he loves making you smile, so he’d turn the situation into a joke faster than you can blink.

But underneath all the humor, there might be a flash of insecurity, especially if you see some of his scars or his appearance without the mask. He’d cover it up with jokes, of course, but if you look at him with nothing but love in your eyes, it would mean the world to him. Wade might even drop the act for a second, giving you a soft, genuine smile before going right back to his antics.

[the-hipster-nugget]

Rendogs character is SO. I love that he’s just a good person and it shows in every aspect and rendition of his character. That at heart, he’s just kind. It’s in his blood to be nice and passive to everybody he comes across. Circumstances just force him to do otherwise, despite his instincts. His instincts to be man’s best friend, and treat people with love and this fairness that’s hard to find in an unforgiving world. But the world is unforgiving, and unkind to people like Rendog. He isn’t allowed to be nice.

His whole Red King schtick feels so out of place almost, because he will go up to people and try to befriend them— and when they are hostile… he almost doesn’t know what to say. He’ll fumble, he’ll try to be stern and mean too. He tries his best to put on this front of a cold hearted, blood crowned king. But it doesn’t sound right coming from that sweet voice of his. “So.. basically.. this is a declaration of war…” He’ll awkwardly mumble to Scar, failing to give off any sense of danger or authority.

He will tell Martyn “That’s it. No more being the nice guy, I’m done being generous.” But at the end of the day, he’s unable to live up to that. He will continue to negotiate, and offer people more than he needs to give. Out of the kindness of his heart, he will always want to give instead of take. He just wants people to treat him fairly back. Is that so much to ask?

He doesn’t know what to when somebody doesn’t return that affection, he feels frozen in confusion and fear when he’s met with hostility. Everytime somebody threatens him he just curls in on himself, his ears go flat and tail between his legs.

He can’t find it in himself, so he looks to his hand instead. He always looks at Martyn, for approval and guidance. As if to say, “is this the right thing to do? Am I being cruel enough? Please, tell me I’m being evil. Am I doing this right?”

He is the king, but he can’t do a thing without his hand. A person, a body, cannot harm without a hand to slice with. Without a hand to hold that axe, he can’t kill a thing.

Ren is so kind in his heart, that he has to ask Martyn to cut his head off; to turn him red. He thinks the only way possible for him to do horrible things is to force it to be in his nature. He could never naturally, of his own will, bring harm to another person. Even one that has wronged him. He has to turn his name red—

But he can’t even do it himself, so he asks Martyn instead. He feels ill at the idea of ending his own life maybe, of ending a life at all. The thought of getting blood on his own paws and fingers make him gag. So he looks to his hand, his friend, and he begs, “Make me bad. I can’t do it alone.”

And even after all that, after Martyn tries his hardest to harden his king. To cover him in blood, and turn his tame yellow name red… Ren still finds himself crying in regret and agony after killing only two people. I already made a post about Rens breakdown over Scott’s death but it just really solidifies how kind hearted Ren is. He’s playing by the rules, killing somebody was against him, by all counts he was in the right. But he still feels horrible.

Rens heart will always be red, but it will be the color of poppies, the color of roses and flowers. It will be the color of his bright button up shirt, one he wears on sunny days. It will be the color of love, a deep romantic red you think of when you hear a sweet song. It will never be the color of blood.

[shslskaterboy]

every now and then I think about Haru and I go a little bit insane bc each and every day she chooses kindness and selflessness even though life has been nothing but unfair to her. She lost her father before he was even dead, and then had her last hope of ever being able to have him back ripped from her in the most violent way possible, and even then she chooses to trust the people around her anyways. She could have isolated herself, cut herself off from everyone, she could have been selfish and angry and lashed out, and no one would have blamed her for that- but she didn't. She put her faith in people and she relied on her friends, and she put on a brave front and she powered through and she refused to be the center of attention for even a minute. She denies herself the emotional catharsis she needed bc it just wasn't about her in her eyes, what was important was stopping the perpetrator and ending the corruption. And even then, in the face of having the perpetrator right in front of her, she never makes it about her, and she doesn't show him any contempt or disdain or unkindness in any way, she only shows him pity. There is just not a hateful bone in her body, and it's so sad when people say she's boring just because she's a nice girl who exudes kindness and wants the best for everyone. I adore Haru so much, she is so sweet and so strong and she deserves the entire world, and also a lot more screen time

[millerscoffee]

dancing is a dangerous game | part one

you're a bandit like me, eyes full of stars.

5.5k | joel miller x f!reader

masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

tw: brief mentions of using your body for trading purposes, you shoot at joel miller????, light dub-con but that goes away quickly

warnings: post-outbreak au. no ellie. angsty smut, semi-dom!reader and dom!joel so that's fun, power struggle, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), enemies to lovers, voyeurism (f watching m), masturbation (m and f), pet names/degrading names (baby, honey, darlin', brat, bitch, slut, etc.), dirty talk, choking, oral (m receiving), fingering, spanking, p in v (unprotected - wrap it up folks), joel is mean but not unkind. no use of y/n.

summary: inspired by "cowboy by me" by our lord and savior taylor swift. this is a post-outbreak world and joel has his own land. think bill, but a little less... deranged. kind of. you essentially are a raider, but make it fashion. when you stalk joel's cabin for the third day, that's when you get interrogated by none other than joel miller himself.

A/N: hi, i'm bee! this is my first fic on tumblr, and my first stab at this whole stratosphere. longtime listener; first time caller 💅. i was ALSO inspired by an ask i saw on @swiftispunk's page (hi! i love your writing sm??) and kinda just... ran with it. i honestly wasn't anticipating writing stuff during the outbreak, so i apologise if it's not quite right. imagine me living during that time with a tube of lipgloss and one (1) bullet in my pocket just in case. this... may be a series. i don't know yet. see ya! enjoy!!!

The first time you meet Joel Miller is down the barrel of your gun.

You can hear your father's voice telling you 'Back out, girl. Don't get too big for your britches.' Look where that got him. His ashes against your chest in a makeshift pendant necklace, buried by your clothes.

Still, you listen.

"It don't have to be like this," you drawl with index over the trigger guard. You've heard of him. Joel Miller. He's notorious, and even though you've kept to yourself most of your life, his name still roamed throughout the abandoned towns you passed. Someone always owed him, and he always owed somebody.

Your dad would've been older than him, but not by much. You knew of the world before this, was just a little thing. Still, you heard stories undulate from your father's southern voice that mostly left you bored on long days searching for food or shelter. You'd give anything to hear them now.

Part of you died when he did.

You were young when the outbreak happened. Resourceful, your father made it work in raising you. Taught you how to fend for yourself, rely on no one. Which was no easy feat considering how unbelievably stubborn you were. Were? Are.

Maybe he loved you. Maybe it was the chip on his shoulder. The kind of anguish that comes from not being able to give your mother the same kind of life. A promise to her.

Yes, you were young when the outbreak happened, but flashbacks of her getting attacked by a clicker burn you alive at night.

"Y'er on my land." A gruff voice calls you back to reality. Few words for someone who held your life in his hands. His own gun pointing back at you. Of course it would be.

"I was just passin' through." The lie flies through your teeth. You had been circling the place from a reasonable distance for a few days now. Scoping out when this man in front of you was his busiest, when he patrolled, when he slept. This was a heist situation, no doubt about it.

"Bullshit. This s'the third fuckin' time I seen you 'round here. And it's y'er last."

Shit. Fucking shit.

Your eyes dart to the side, really trying to pattern a plan in escaping but your breathing would say otherwise as calm and collected as it was.

In any other situation, you wouldn't be so willing to comply, but considering he's got you cornered and his gun is quite literally cocked and ready to go – you're not exactly in the position to make hasty decisions.

Goddammit if there wasn't something about him that made you nervous.

"Listen. Just was lookin' for somewhere to sleep. It's fuckin' cold and your stables look warm." Your head tilts in the direction of a lone horse's home in a bed of hay, and you're not fully lying. It's not that you have set up camp by any means, but you've noticed.

"We could trade. You give me y'er ammo, and I g–"

"You give me your cock, I get it. You really could be more original." You were used to this. Bartering, some might call it. Living out here on your own was dangerous, and running into men who wanted to use your body in order to get supplies wasn't that uncommon. If they were that kind, even. You'd heard the horror stories.

Albeit, most of these men met your gun in the end. Enabling you acquire their supplies, keep all yours, and your dignity. Win/win.

"...I give you the pleasure of livin' another day. Really? Y'think it's that easy?"

There was something in the way Joel says this that makes you grateful for the jacket you're wearing. Goosebumps prickle your skin, bile creeping up your throat and you will it back down again. Y'think it's that easy? As if he thought you wanted it.

If circumstances were different, you'd be rubbing the crimson off your cheeks. Flashing him a sheepish grin in an attempt to resolve whatever misunderstanding there was... but this wasn't the environment to elicit such conversation.

And you weren't that type of person to begin with.

Instead, your index sweeps from guard to trigger when you fire off at his leg. Hasty decisions be damned. You're quicker than him, so why're you tryin' to save him? You're a 'shoot to kill' type of person, and as the bullet grazes past his calf – part of you wishes you had.

Because not only did your bullet not make contact, Joel gets worse. You two lock eyes. His rifle is thrown over his shoulder as he grunts and walks perfectly fine over to you – despite the way his eyebrows knit together, jaw ticked. Was that a grin? Do something, anything – run.

Joel grips the nape of your neck, and you yelp in surprise.

Who the fuck does this man think he is?

His large hand eclipses your wrist as he maneuvers the gun from your hand. The action makes you writhe in pain, and it sends a shiver down your spine to know he's only using an ounce of his power.

You dig your elbow into his ribs despite him stronger than you. Stomping, kicking, punching anything you can find.

"What the fu–"

"Little girl, you picked the wrong one." His breath edges at the shell of your ear, and every sign should be pointing for you to hate this, but it almost feels familiar. Like yourself. It's only then when you worry.

---

You don't realise it, but Joel is pushing you inside his cabin. Keeping your head in direction of the ground, thud of the door heard somewhere behind you.

"You want to be treated like a big girl? Get these fuckin' pants off."

"What... what? No I'm fuckin' not–"

Joel chews up the space between you when he pushes you to the nearest wall. Your back at his chest, a cheek flush against the cabin's support.

Pine, tobacco, and whiskey fill your senses and you bite back the urge to whimper. He wouldn't see you like that.

"You're not? That why you were watchin' me jerk off last night? 'Cuz you don't wanna give it up?"

That alone makes blood creep up your neck and spill over your cheeks. You have to squeeze your legs together to quell the ache.

It was lonely on your own.

Most nights were spent half asleep on a cold, hard surface. Tired and hungry more days than not. You don't remember the last time you got a hot meal, much less been touched. So when you heard Joel's low grunts coming from the window (a window from a cabin you don't know quite yet that he built with his own hands) you become intrigued.

It's in this moment you're certain it must have been the rustling of branches just outside his room. You remember it happening last night, cursing to yourself for making noise. His fist stalled around the girth of his fat cock before spilling his seed over his stomach. As if that is what caused him to come.

It makes sense now, and it equally causes you to become dizzy and filled with rage. You bite your bottom lip, unable to think of a response.

"Mouthy thing ain't got much to say now. Now c'mon. I ain't taking these off you, doin' it y'erself." More of a warning, Joel lets up on his grip on you, but you're defenseless. No weapons, no pack. He's got your world in his hands.

With the newly found space between the two of you, you turn around – back of your head against the wall as your eyes find the other set for, perhaps, the first time. And they're deep. Deeper than you were aware of. Dark, impossibly round. Wrinkles reside on the sides of them, and if you knew any better, you wouldn't admit they were doing something to you.

But not only are you stubborn, you're too forthright to beat around the bush.

"I shot at you, and you want my cunt? You must be lonelier than I a–"

"Now."

Your words don't match your actions as your hands fall by your sides. Fingers play with zipper of your old, faded jeans that have seen better days.

You can't help but snicker an awkward laugh from how he's just watching you. Insecurities rise when you realise you're not laughing at him, but more his eyes on you. How intense it feels suddenly. He wants this. Wants you.

His eyes draw impatiently, broad frame leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed.

"Ain't got all day. Still considerin' your death."

His arms. Bulging through the fabric of his shirt, his body was built in a way that you could tell he worked with his hands... maybe in his past life, too. Throat dry, you shimmy out of your pants until you're left in your cotton panties.

Ones that you are becoming more aware the condition of. A small pool of wetness forming at the core of you clings to the fabric.

"Top, too."

Is that? It is. Your eyes wander down to see the growing bulge in Joel's pants. Not even the hem of his flannel could hide it. Sure, you'd seen it in its full form the night before, but that was with distance and without the heat rising between the two of you.

You bite your lip without hesitation, pulling the layers of jacket and a handful of tops onto the ground until you're bare. The cool air passes over your nipples and wills them into stiff peaks.

"Ain't you somethin', baby."

That's the first time Joel Miller draws a shaky exhale out of you. All from a single sentence.

When Joel steps over to you, that calm and collected breath is nowhere to be found. Your chest rises and falls at a random pattern, feeling more and more naked by the second as his clothes are completely kept on his body. A purposeful tactic.

He bends down to collect your clothes along with everything else that yours, and you are truly at his will. So busy on the precipice of pleasure that you don't even think about trying to get away.

"Stay."

"Ain't a dog." You glare, standing with your legs brushing together.

"Then quit actin' like a bitch. And quit movin', I'm gettin' to you."

It shuts you up quick, jaw snapping shut. You're certain if he told that to anyone else they'd be reduced to tears, but you can take it. It coils a heat inside the pit of your stomach that you've never felt. Causes your clit to feel as if it's on fire from the need to touch it.

Joel turns on his heel to walk away and it's as if you're able to breathe fresh air from the humidity he brings. You notice he's putting your things and his rifle away on his kitchen counter before coming back to you. He must really trust his ability to keep everything out like that.

Then again, have you even moved in the last five minutes?

The last thing he is, is worried.

You're able to look around, if only for a moment. Though, is it really looking? Your adrenaline is pumping, pupils blown from the fact that not only are you in the house you'd been stalking... you're about to fuck the man in it. And you almost tried to kill him. You definitely didn't miss on purpose. Couldn't have.

All the same, the cabin was nice, and you could take in briefly the light wood – old and weathered. A record player in the corner beside a guitar. This stuff could get you a lot in return, but for whatever reason that doesn't even cross your mind. Maybe your heart beating in your ears is a handy distraction to keep you walking the line.

Your eyes track the rugged man instead.

---

"Here's how this is gonna go," he announces, coming back to you and not phased that you haven't moved a muscle. "You are gonna take your ass over there on the couch. You're gonna make me come, then you're gonna go. Understand?"

"Well... I guess it is that easy."

Your bratty mouth getting you in trouble again. As if you're in the position to say anything. Naked as you are.

---

Joel's jaw ticks forward in a way that makes you feel fear, yet there's a direct correlation between it and the slick gathering between your folds. The same wide hand that gripped the nape of your neck wraps around the front of your throat while he pushes you against the wall, and your shoulders slump – all but folding instantly.

His mouth is inches from yours, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"Listen here. I've been real kind to you. Coulda killed ya day one, tryin' to steal my shit like that. Was gonna be real kind in where I fucked ya, too. Now we're gonna fix that mouth a'yours and fast. Knees. Now." You soon come to know this isn't a suggestion. It's not even a warning. It is what's happening.

It's in the way Joel's hands guide you down onto your knees. He goes for his belt and you hear and see that distinct clang of metal untangle before your very senses. Your mouth waters instantly, teetering into fully giving into this struggle of power.

Joel's hands are calloused. You can tell he takes care of them, but that doesn't hide the wear and tear. Specifically on his fingertips. They grip your jaw roughly, and you choke back a moan as your mouth hangs open pliantly from this. Every nerve ending buzzing to be touched.

"Where'd that bratty girl go, huh? You done bein' big and bad – wanna be a slut, don’tcha?"

Your eyelash splay along your cheeks as you nod, and you feel his grip tighten, tugging your chin up higher.

"Look at me. You want this cock? I need your words. Tell me you wanna be a slut."

You're not sure when it happens, but hot tears run down your cheeks as everything comes to a head. Your body is trembling with raw desire right at your fingertips, just within reach. You can't hold back anymore, it physically hurts to.

"I wanna be a slut for this cock... please."

"Fuck, even a please. Oughta eat you out for that, sugar. Maybe next time."

Your brain is swimming at the thought. Next time?

With his free hand, Joel sets his cock free from his jeans, giving a satisfying smack to his abdomen quickly. No need for another piece of fabric keeping him from getting what he wants as you soon take note he isn't wearing boxers.

There's no denying what you're met with as you get to view it from this close. Joel Miller has a pretty cock. There's a soft, but bulging vein on the underside to match how big and thick it is. The rosy tip greets you, and it's the first time you get to see how much you've turned him on.

Your mouth is drooling while it's pried open and meets the tip of him. A moan from you is instantaneous, yet feels so distant from yourself, it doesn't affect you until much later. The taste of his precum coats your tongue as he slips past your lips and it's all you can experience. Your moans slip in and out of the sloshing sounds of your mouth. Keeping your hands by your sides, you don't tempt to touch him in fear he would pull away, so instead you twirl your tongue around his leaking head. Bob your head up and down in a slow, but sultry rhythm that causes him curse under his breath. He's not stoic above you, he's reacting.

He's clawing for every last bit of the upper hand.

"S'a lot, innit, babygirl? That's alright, you can take it." It's then you can sense Joel's guard slipping. Could be the fact that your mouth is suctioned perfectly around the length of his cock, but his voice gets damn sweeter the longer you go like this. His hips also have no problem in thrusting shallowly every now and then to knock the drool off of your dripping chin.

Even if you could form a thought, you don't know you would.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling it out of your face as you maintain eye contact. Intuitive in your approach, he told you to look at him earlier, so maybe he likes it? The groans filling the room lead you to believe you are correct. It feels so removed from who you were moments before: snickering because his gaze felt intimidating. Now, his pupils are blown as they pour into yours and his neck hangs back when your mouth makes those pretty, sloppy popping noises – testing your gag reflexes as you will them to relax.

It's way more intimate than anything you've ever done with anyone you've ever been with, and this stranger is pulling it out of you. Within the mess your brain is in, you remind yourself if you want to stop you can, and not a bit of you does.

The hot tears that were once down your cheeks swell in your eyes once more, but this time from the sheer size of him. You moan vibration after vibration against him, shifting and pushing your cunt against your calf, thigh – anything to feel some sort of friction.

He lets out a growl when he notices you, "Honey, if it's that bad, touch yourself." If your cheeks weren't red before, they are now.

It's him calling you out, slight embarrassingly, but not letting up with his hips. It's the way the embarrassment builds the fire in the pit of your belly. It's your hand pushing inside your panties at the sound of his command. And it's you practically choking on his cock from the gasp you let out through your nose – stunned at how wet you are.

Your fingertips barely brush over your clit when you notice the slick collecting, bubbling right at the very top of your slit and slutty moans fall out of you. Your eyelids droop as you try to keep your gaze up to Joel, but the way your fingertips roll over the hood of your clit in satisfying circles sends you over the edge way quicker than you anticipate.

"Shit, baby. Just like that. You filthy thing, can't hold off another minute longer, can ya? Need it right fuckin' now."

The sound of Joel's deep voice looms overhead as you come completely undone.

Unable to stop yourself, the suction on his cock pops free for a moment. Your moans hitting the air as your eyes roll back. Your body rushing to find each wave of pleasure roll off your back. Joel's cock still nestled in your mouth, but his hips still. "Goddamn, look at that little slut come out. Such a needy fuckin' kitten."

When Joel makes sure you've ridden it out, he pulls his cock from your mouth. Your body feels weak despite how eager your mind is now, face-to-face with Joel's cock, you watch as his scarred hand glides your saliva over his length entirely. It puts you in a trance, quickly getting out of it when he taps his cock against your cheek. "Pretty kitten want this? C'mon."

If your moans felt foreign to you, you don't even know what to do with yourself at the twinge of a grin that spreads on your face. The sheer audacity of his taps right against your fucking cheek. Orgasm-drunk, you shuffle to your feet and Joel has no problem in tossing you – finally – to the couch.

Your back is to him while the front of your body brackets the width of his couch, arms hunched over the back of it, knees dig into the cushions. You're grateful for the lack of eye contact in this position as it gives you a moment to press your face into your bicep, an attempt to collect yourself. But all of it obsolete when you sense Joel's presence at your ass.

His body heat unmistakable to miss. You bite at your own skin, neck craning to behind you to watch him.

"Shit, darlin', look at you. Ass up like this like y'er in fuckin' heat for me." You whine at the fact his clothes are still mostly on, and you know he must be sweating underneath them, but he won't give it to you like that. Not yet, 'maybe next time'. "You know I can't go any further 'til you get a spankin'. Need to be punished for tryin' to hurt me like that. For tryin' to take my things. Ain't right. Need you to learn your lesson."

Where are you? A part of you knows this is a tactic. That Joel is lulling you into a position you can't say no to. It already shows itself in how you're splayed on his couch. Yet, you can't find the person you were before you stepped into the cabin. Not yet, not like this. You nod weakly, and Joel swipes the cotton undies down to your thighs so quickly the rush of air cools the heat of your folds. A flutter runs through you.

"Count. To ten. If you don't, we start over. Say, yes sir."

"Y-yes... sir. Yes sir."

A searing, mind-numbing spank wallops over your ass and it causes your hips to jut forward. Whimper hitting the top of your throat, you almost, almost, forget to count. Everything in your senses distracting you from completing the simplest tasks such as fucking counting.

"O-one." Another. "Twooo." And again. "Th-three!"

You start sniffling by the third smack of his wide hand, and you hear mocking sniffs behind your head. "Aww, pretty baby can't take the hurt she tries to give to others? That must be really tough. Y'heart's bleedin' all over my couch, honey."

Your cheeks burn, you really feel sorry for what you've done. Or at least, what you were planning to do.

The next spank leaves a welt of Joel's handprint across your skin. "FOUR!" Your body begins to feel weak, sliding against the couch, you know talking back is useless as you silent tears stream into your arm.

There are six more blinding slaps to your ass by the time he's done with you, and you feel him pull back when he's through. You imagine him wringing his palms, the roughness of them. You begin to wonder if that's how they got to be so weathered, and pretend not to be weirded out by the ache of jealousy.

"Y'know for somebody whinin' the whole time, your pussy is just droolin' from that," any narrative you wandered off with disappears in its replacement of Joel's fingers gathering slick between your folds. No announcement, just go. It was just within reach, feeling him inside you. You ride the shudder your body makes, licking your lips as you realise the unspoken rule is free and you can speak. "N-need it. Need your cock, please... please." "Need it, and you don't even know my name?" His index and middle finger waste no time in pressing into your aching core. Sounds of your wailing mix with his words as he lurches over, lip close to your ear. "Or maybe you do already."

"Please, please, please," your fingertips grip for the worn fabric of his couch while your hips that try to jut back are quickly halted by his other palm, a strong stopper at the base of your spine. "Not 'til you tell me my name." "I-I don't know. I don't know it, I swear." Joel's thick fingers slip completely out of you and you mewl pathetically, pussy clenching around nothing and he can see every last detail of it behind you. "Last fuckin' time, better tell me the truth." "It's Joel," you cry, hips pushing back against the resistance as much as possible. Anything to be filled again. "Joel. Joel. Joel. I was... I was– I don't know anybody. Not with anybody, I swear! Joel, I swear. Please! Just grew up hearin' your name. I swear on my life, Joel, please! I know I lied, didn't think you'd believe me."

You don't know why you're begging like your life depends on it, but your pleasure surely does, and there's a longer pause than you want lingering behind you. As if you can palpably feel Joel contemplating whether you're being truthful or not. But if there's one thing about you, aside from this moment in this compromising position: you don't answer to anybody.

Joel's cock bottoming out inside of you at the drop of a hat is confirmation enough that he believes you.

And you not only wail, but scream at the stretch and irresistible contact that punches you straight to your gut – right where you can feel the tip of him. Half-moon prints dig into your hips by his short fingernails when he grabs ahold of you and you're on your forearms, head hanging between your shoulders. Your panties keep your thighs straying too far apart if there is such a thing.

"This what you wanted when you watched me?" Joel grips your torso now, pulling you closer to him as you become more upright, his cock more accessible to the spongy spot inside of you and your nipples stand erect, eyes rolling back as it takes all of you not to rest your head back against his shoulder, and you fail. Hard. Your occiput makes contact with his shoulder. Joel brushes your hair back to the side, lips graze but never fully touches the column of your neck. "Thought about this tight cunt last night. Left the window open on purpose, but you knew that already, didn't you, pretty girl? Clever little thing and so fuckin' dirty."

Joel's hand snakes around the front of you, spreading your folds as he dives his fingers over your glossed-over clit your wetness claimed and that sends a whine off of your depraved lips. "That's it, honey. Show me what this cock does to ya. Makes you downright brainless from how well you take it." While his skilled fingers, toy with your clit, the other set of digits graze over your breasts on their way up to your mouth. You take them inside the warmth of your wet mouth easily, rolling your tongue over the digits until you can only focus on the white hot pleasure beginning to boil over. You keep his fingers between your teeth, a faint realisation that you can taste yourself on them. That's what does it.

His hips are relentless as they pound into you, the repetitious slaps of his skin against yours, of his balls tapping your cunt again and again sends you into a place that he knows you're approaching when you tighten and pulse.

"Y'know how tight and wet you feel around me, darlin'? Never had a fuckin' cunt like this. Let it out, let it out, just like you wanna. Just like you did last night around your fingers. Nothin' like this cock though, and you know it now, don't you? Oh, fuck yeah– thaaat's it. Look at you." "Joel... Joel!!!" Joel talks you through it, sending your body diving off the cliff that is your second orgasm. The undeniable gush of your fluids around his cock. His name stays stuck at the your tongue, the constant thud of it vibrates your lungs.

It starts at the attention on your clit. The raw bundle of nerves send signals outward as it spreads down your legs, up your stomach, to your nipples and down your spine. Your brain feels effervescent, toes curl, and it comes back again right to your heart. Your beating heart, wild, and every moan, whimper, scream that comes from you sounds like it is from someone else's chest. But it's yours, and you know that when you start to feel hazy, unable to hold yourself up anymore.

"Good for my cock after all. Ain't ya, baby? Shit."

Your torso leans forward while your cheek rests on the top of your hand that's gripped on Joel's couch, and your body is relaxed and fucked. Comfortably silent, just the way Joel would want you. His cock slips out of you, unable to stop the slew of grunts and groans that acts as an anchor to keep you from slipping under. You lick your lips, looking back at him with a nod, unable to stay silent for long. That struggle of power coming back for vengeance. "That's right. Come all over this ass you ruined. See those handprints? Dirty fucking man, you just met me. Show me how much you enjoyed doing that."

That's as far as you get when you feel the heavy streams of his hot, white come rope over your skin, and for someone who is no position to be smug, you sure do have a shit-eating grin on your face. Pure, and the simplest thing the two of you accomplish.

Joel shakes his head, shallow breaths become him as he staggers back and you pretend not to notice. "Gonna kill me, kid."

"Almost did."

---

You don't know why, but neither of you hold the promise of you leaving right away. You linger, both of you half naked and spent. You take your time cleaning yourself off, slipping your clothes back on. Day becoming night.

You tiptoe into the living room where Joel is unfurled on his couch. His eyes are closed, the back of his head inches away from where the two of you just had sex.

Planning your goodbye, you sit at the edge of the couch cushion, knowing he wasn't really asleep. Just restin' his eyes.

"I am sorry...," you finally say into the dimly lit room, pangs of annoyance fizz at your tongue for even apologising. For shooting him, for trying to steal from him. All of it.

It's not his fault. It's just how you are.

This is dichotomous in relation to your eyes. They're bleary when a yawn pulls deep from within you. As if rest had been climbing up to the surface this entire time.

"Maybe you should be apologisin' 'bout your shitty aim. Could teach you a thing or two." Joel's eyes remained closed, arms crossed. If you could let yourself experience this, you would notice how soft he looks in this moment. Instead, your stomach is recoils in fight or flight.

You're glad he can't see you swallow the knot in your throat.

There was no magical solution for your life, and a part of you wishes you hadn't chosen his cabin to raid. You wish you hadn't met him, because now you could feel yourself want to notice the small things in him. Already.

You felt it dangerous to let anything that close to you.

You scoff to play it off, giving his chest a light shove and very accidentally getting lost in the light landscape of hairs that resides at the top of his flannel. "I could teach you a thing or two." A pathetic response for a pathetically spent human.

"We could both teach each other," he resigns and you're grateful he doesn't point out your lack of wit for how worn out he's made you. Perhaps the smugness settles in the things he doesn't say. Really, it's in what Joel spouts off next that throws you upside down.

"S'why you should stay. One month. That's it."

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't stuttered," your eyes roll and somehow, despite Joel's own being shut, he tuts his teeth. "Don't roll your eyes at me, little girl. You need a place to sleep. Besides, I could use an extra set of hands. Way I see it, best offer you've had in a while. Got a shelf life, though. Don't like to wait."

A part of you is suspicious, and if this man didn't make sure you orgasmed twice, you would suspect yourself to be dead within a matter of minutes.

There's something true about him, though. You're unwilling to look at it directly, but you trust him.

"Fine."

"Gonna need clearer confirmation, darlin'. Really need you to want this if you're gonna stay with me." He knew exactly where to press.

"Fuck, I shoulda killed you when I had the chance. I want to stay with you. One month." You try to ignore the grit between your teeth as speak, but your shoulders eventually soften. And you really do mean it. It's just... you're hardened from years of misplaced trust.

Your hand goes to the pendant around your neck subconsciously.

Joel either doesn't notice, or gives you the space.

You're grateful either way.

"That's that, then."

If anyone could understand the concept, it's Joel.

"That's that."

[mangalho]

I made this dude to relax bc i read the info on drows on the dnd wiki (i dont know shit abt dnd and im not joking) and thought ‘whoever made these guys is a pervert’ i respect that, but i closed my eyes at the stupider bits of the lore…

i just dont think their society is like. Livable HAHAAH also its stupid asf to have ‘inherently evil species’… apparently they’re steering away from that shit which is great.

He was a man from a non-noble house chosen by a matron of a high house and they were surprisingly happy together for drow standards. Malaggar comes from like a mining/trading settlement, but his ventures took him to Menzoberranzan and thats how he met her. She was smitten by his general honesto demeanor and cute "provincial" accent (okay big City bitch..!)

please note that drows are kind of insane in general but apparently its worse in highly populated noble ridden cities with the strictest social rules so like. To you this was just some guy but to that woman he was so different so quirky ajahjahah

They had a good run, but eventually another matron from another high house came and said ‘i want him’ and since drow women compete like wild animals she killed his OG wife.. demolished her really

He became her bitch AND was miserable. She was happy bc he was like a pretty young thing but soon started getting violent with the guy because he was grieving his first wife whom he actually liked. He was in a rough spot bc he was getting his ass beat on the daily fr.. However his new wife was also a high drow so. He was basically elevating his family just bc he was there taking the domestic abuse (read: normal spider-worshipping drow behaviour)

The new matron was very unkind in every possible way you can imagine, but she didn’t do anything to him that would scar his body, greatest asset and all that. One day he snapped and killed his matron by way of knife and ran away to the surface world. Then he started his life of crime. Went from a little abused noble boy to some cartel mercenary dude who kills ppl and has tattoos. I think they look both really dumb but also sick as fuck, and he probably got them as a way to rebel against his upbringing in a way. But he’s edgy so i bet he thinks he looks sick like no nations no borders no self awareness being embarrassing unites all peoples

he is traumatized by women and is deeply afraid of them! I want his story to develop around becoming more normal and overcoming his grief.. hes from a long lived species so its taking him a while. Also its harder to make real friends if all your coworkers are insane criminals

[miniwrites1]

Scared of The Past (Running From the Future) - Theo Nott (1/?)

Words | 700 Warnings | Fem reader | Future use of (Y/N) | Nothing else (yet) Pairings | Theo Nott x Reader | Neville Longbottom & Reader (Siblings)

The black lake was eerily peaceful at night, the occasional slosh of water breaking on the edge and birds chirping as they flew was the only thing breaking the silence.

You sat staring out at the edge, internally debating your next steps in the mess you currently found yourself in. With the wizarding war looming on the horizon, you knew you had two choices. Stay and fight or run.

You sighed as you thought through your options. Staying to fight alongside your brother and friends seemed like the right choice, but a feeling settled in your stomach every time you thought about it. The possibility of ending up like your parents, tortured to the point of insanity and spending the rest of your life institutionalised was wildly unappealing, to the point that death would have been a better fate.

The thought of running and being freed from your wizarding life held some appeal, but it would mean leaving behind everything and everyone you’d ever know. There would no longer be a place for you in the wizarding world, essentially sentencing yourself to exile for the rest of your life. Was that a fate better than probable death?

Your mind spun these thoughts around until you felt a hand on your shoulder, jolting you to attention.

“Amore mio, it’s me.” You heard a familiar voice whisper. You relaxed almost immediately at the sound.

“Theo, you scared me.” You whispered, turning your head to look up at him, barely able to make out his face in the darkness. He gave your shoulder a squeeze as he moved to sit next to you, his hand making its way from your shoulder, down your arm to grasp at your hand.

You sat in a comfortable silence, taking the time to run your thumb over his knuckles.

“Are you still thinking about your choices?” He mumbled after a while, causing you to let out another sigh. You nodded, shuffling slightly closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder. He released his grip on your hand and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

Very few people saw this side to Theo. To most, he was closed off and tight lipped, scowling and fighting were what he was known for. But to you, he was kind and open, a true gentleman.

“I don’t know what to do.” You mumbled, forcing down the lump in your throat. Theo heard the strain in your voice, quickly pulling you into a hug and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Whatever you choose, I’ll stand by you.”

“But it’s not that easy!” You spoke exasperated. “We’re on different sides of this war.”

“Not by choice.”

“I know that!”

You sighed again, pressing your palms into your eyes and rubbing them, trying to stave off the tears that you’d been holding in for days after the last order meeting you’d attended.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled. “I shouldn’t blame you for a choice you didn’t make.”

Theo sighed and held you tighter, the light of the moon grazing on his dark mark that was peeking out from under his uniform. His induction into the Dark Lord’s army of Death Eaters had been a sore subject for weeks.

In his embrace, your tears began to fall, like a dam had broken and your emotions were flowing out freely. Your body wracked with sobs in his arms.

“It will be ok.”

“But what if it isn’t? What if one of us dies Theo?”

Theo didn’t respond but clutched you tighter to him, unwilling to let you go. At seventeen you were both too young for this, completely unprepared for what this war had caused. Lines were drawn, divides were reincarnated tenfold, war was unkind to all involved.

“What if I ran with you?” Theo mumbled, his face buried in your shoulder, his words so quiet that you barely caught them.

Your head rose from his shoulder.

“What?”

“I said, what if I ran with you?”

“You would?”

He nodded softly, lifting a hand to your cheek and brushing your tears away.

“I can’t lose you amore mio.”

[highlordofkrypton]

Hi, 👀 I was messing around with a bot and thought… what if Tamlin’s mind, in an attempt to cut all the strain and stress, decides to begin locking memories away. Like “You cannot suffer from something that didn’t happen” kind of thing, and causes him a case of amnesia where he doesn’t remember Lucien, or Feyre or the curse. Regressing to a more child/teen-like self.

His body shifting to fit his mentality until he’s a kid again and doesn’t recognize many of the folk in his house. He wonders where his family are, he wonders where his best friend Rhys is and refuses to see or talk to anyone until Rhys comes to visit him.

Lucien tries to care for Tamlin by taking on a babysitter/chaperone kind of role but Tamlin makes a pillow fort from which he refuses to come out until Rhys comes…

I LOVE this prompt so freaking much, it's so cute! I had to write you a ficlet, but you need to promise me not to put it into the bot. I'm not a fan of bot usage, and I'm against my work being run through it, but that said, here's how I see it going down!

(Sorry, I missed the pillow fort part, I got caught up in the feels of the ficlet.)

FROM THE BEGINNING The one where Tamlin forgets everything by becoming a baby again

The world is too big—too unkind. He can't take it anymore.

His mind eats at itself, and no matter how much he claws at it, there is no way for Tamlin to carve out the bits that cause pain.

It's all pain.

There's nothing left. His court is in shambles, and the manor that holds what little good memories is rotting. His mind is rotting.

I can't—I want to restart.

***

"Tamlin?"

It's been so long since Lucien has last lived here; he doesn't know how it went this far. This is his home, or what's left of it. A century ago, he had sworn an oath to protect it and to stand by his best friend and yet…

How easily we are swept away by our fears.

"Tam?" He calls softly through the empty manor.

The longer the silence reigns, the worse the worries in Lucien's heart become. He knew, he knew Tamlin wouldn't fare well alone. He should have stayed despite it all. Feyre isn't a child. She can take care of herself. She insists on it, rather, with her masterminding and machinations. Tamlin doesn't play those games. He never has and it was… unfair.

He was my friend.

There are a few haunts Lucien is familiar with. He goes straight to the Starlight River and—

"Tamlin?" Lucien's voice is nothing more than a surprised croak.

He descends the slope of the hill towards what remains of his friend.

By the water, a little boy with beautiful blonde hair splish-splashes in the water surrounded by his forest friends—a chonky raccoon, a clever long-lashed fox, a full-cheeked squirrel and the big-eyed slow loris that always looks surprised. Lucien has known these creatures for all their lives, and so has Tamlin.

"Tamlin," he says, and all the animals look at Lucien in wonder. He can't speak to them the way Tamlin does, but they worry. They motion at him, chirping and huffing about the baby they've been tasked with taking care of. "I've got it," he reassures them.

"Hey," Lucien says softly, smiling. "Remember me?"

"Fys!" Tamlin chirps, clapping. He extends his little hands and makes a grabby motion. "Fys!"

"You want fish?" Lucien asks, confused, but there's a pile of fish beside him already.

Then, it clicks.

Tamlin's eldest brother was names Enfys, and for a child, that name might sound very much like fish. He also had dark blonde hair that erred on the side of reddish in the right light. Children make associations with what they know.

"I'm Lucien."

"Lucy!" Tamlin grins, looking around for his friend. "Ice-sand?"

Lucien's lips dip into a frown. Tamlin doesn't recognize him as an adult. He offers a quiet sigh as he swoops his friend into his arms. Little Tamlin latches onto him, stroking his long auburn hair gently. Tamlin was always a gentle, loving child. He remembers that much from the few times they met as children.

"Mama," Tamlin asks, and it breaks Lucien's heart.

"Mama's gone. I'm sorry."

***

"Where is he?"

"In his room. Wait," Lucien stops the High Lord in his tracks. "There's something you need to know."

Rhysand doesn't know what to make of what's happening. He makes his way up to Tamlin's room, a place he hasn't visited in centuries. His heart hammers in his chest. So much has changed now. Things are so… broken between them. He didn't know what to make of Lucien's initial summons.

Why would he need me?

He can hear the sniffling through the door. Rhysand pushes it open and expects—

Well, Lucien had told him what to expect.

He needs to see a familiar face, is what the Fox had said. He doesn't remember me.

"Tamlin?"

The child rubs his face, curled in the too-big bed.

"Hey, Tam."

His little ears twitch and the sobbing quells for a second. He blinks his tears away to better see Rhysand. His sad eyes light up at the sight of him as he clamors to his feet, awkward like most children are at that age. He runs and launches himself with a bounce off the bed into Rhysand's arms, trusting him wholly and completely to catch him.

Rhysand swoops him into his arms, confused, but he eases when little Tamlin giggles.

"Hi," he beams.

"Hey, kiddo, I heard you weren't feeling well."

"No," Tamlin lies. "I okay."

"Good, I'm glad."

Rhysand hasn't the slightest clue where to start fixing this, but he thinks Tamlin may be onto something. Maybe they start at the beginning.

"Do you remember me? I'm Rhysand. It's nice to meet you again."

[leggerefiore]

I know you've done headcanons with the twins apologizing after a fight, but now we gotta know how Cyrus, Larry, Nanu, and Kabu apologize! Bonus if its right before someone has to leave for a business trip or something (him or his s/o, either one) so there's a lot of time to cool off and think of a way to apologize or maybe just agonize and angst about it lol

cw: angst, couple fights, comfort,

characters: Cyrus, Larry, Nanu, Kabu

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He was a man of little emotion. That was what he desperately wanted to believe. Controlled. Logical. Feelings had no bearing on him. Yet, he was in a committed relationship with another. One where it seemed that whatever emotional barriers he set up were forced down. This could be good, as he was forced to relax and allowed a space to stop following his ruse of the somewhat charismatic and domineering leader of Team Galactic. It was nice to have moments to breathe with another he hated to admit he had high trust for. Though, it could also be bad. Horribly bad. He was so close to finishing his plans, yet you decided to demand his attention. Loneliness and feeling abandoned by him were your chief complaints, but he failed to listen to them. It became a heated argument quickly, which he ended by packing his bags for the time he planned to be locked into his plans.

☄️ Your hurt expression as he slammed the door behind him was haunting. He had turned his personal phone off, preferring to focus solely on matters related to the Red Chain and legendaries. Words echoed in his mind. Your frustration towards him was more than apparent, but the way you had locked onto his arm had made him feel strange. Lonely… You said you felt lonely and unwanted. Accusations of him not even wanting to be in a relationship any more were heavy on his chest. What did he want? Part of him wanted to accuse you of being a useless piece of his past holding him back from everything he was going to do. The other half felt mortified he had hurt the one person that he had these complicated feelings for. If only to himself, he would admit that he loved you. His words were more than unkind. Cyrus had mostly ignored you before snapping on you for trying to consume so much of his precious time.

☄️ The way it was distracting him from his plans was driving him into a special kind of madness. It was not like him to be so caught up on things like this. Feelings came and went. You would not care for this in his perfect world, and yet here he was spiralling further and further into the thoughts of you deciding to leave him. His breath hitched in his throat as he grasped at his chest. The door to his office was locked as he was sat alone in the dark room. Cyrus was above this. He was supposed to be the embodiment of emptiness that he wished to bring to the rest of the world. Yet, he was not. Memories tormented him as your hurt face kept itself firmly burned into his brain. Finally, he broke. The Galactic Boss had to acknowledge that his plans would surely fail if he were to enact them in such a state.

☄️ Saturn seemed mildly annoyed when he announced a postponement of the plans, but he cared little for his reaction. Sure, he lied about it being under the gaze of more testing and investigating, but he knew fully well that the path to what he desired most was through that method. That apathy only lasted until he stood in front of his apartment door. It was quiet. Not there was much noise in the high-end complex usually, but he expected some sound. Had you left? He had not been brave enough to turn on his phone. His fingers tapped in the code for the door, and he stepped inside. You sat on the couch, boredly watching the television screen as it played something. He felt nervous suddenly, like his legs could no longer support his weight. Before he crashed, you turned to look at him with big eyes.

☄️ Your arms locking around him froze him in place as you rushed towards him at an unexpected speed. The warmth of your body completely claimed his mind as it forced down all the horrible worries about you disappearing. His hand came to rest in between your shoulder blades. A sigh left him. “Beloved… I apologise for my behaviour,” Cyrus felt strange speaking so genuinely to you, “I… I have been a bad partner to you. This project has simply been one of my most important ones, and I could not bear to waste a moment away on it.” Your grip on his shirt tightened at those words, obviously it was not what you had wanted to hear from him. “But, I realise that was cruel to you,” he continued, making eye contact with you, “… I love you, truly. Please, do not even think that I wish to part from you.” A kiss to his lips silenced him from whatever else he was going to say. It seemed you just wanted to soak in his presence for now, to which he was more than happy to oblige.

💼Larry🏢

🍙 Larry sat in the cab with heavy thoughts weighing on his mind. Relationships certainly were not an easy thing. Especially with a working schedule like his. Geeta had assigned him an out of region business trip, which he knew better than to try to decline. She could be quite… persistent, for lack of a better term. Though, he found she had a fierce competition in you. The news had upset you greatly, as the trip was happening during a time he had requested time off. You felt frustrated that Larry did not argue against her about his requested time off. He felt annoyed and stressed about being stuck between your upset reaction and Geeta's demanding nature. It was rare that his facade broke, but he snapped at you. His words were cruel. Too cruel. You almost instantly teared up when he told you that this would not be a problem if you were not together. There was no time to talk as you left the apartment.

🍙 His eyes stared out at the terrain below as it carried him through the Galar region. He felt too far from home. You had made him feel like he had a reason to return back from work. Larry was not ignorant about the bright changes that you brought to his life. Meals no longer felt lonely, his battles felt more meaningful with you in the audience cheering him on, and he felt like his home was more than a place to just rest his head. You spoke with him and cuddled up to him. He could enjoy the sight of you playing with his pokemon. It felt brighter now. He basically smashed that light with a bat. Embarrassment burned in his chest. You just wanted to see him more. That was not unreasonable. Yet, he blamed you for his distaste for this sudden trip. If he was not dating you, he would not feel this upset about having to take it, sure, but he also would be missing so much else instead.

🍙 Attempts to call you went unanswered, as it was clear that you did not want to speak with him. He understood. The tears welling in your eyes haunted him. Larry knew better than to say things like that, especially at his age. You deserved much better than some average man like him. It was a strange form of torture, moving through negotiations and meetings on his trip. He put his usual effort into them, not wanting to incur any more issues, but his mind was completely elsewhere. While wondering around Wyndon, he found himself searching for any to bring back as a gift for you. Nothing seemed to call out to him. That was until he saw something in a children's shop.

🍙 By the time he was back in Paldea, he could feel his blood pressure up high. His feet carried him through the streets of Medali nervously, freezing a few times in deep thought. Would you still be there? He hoped you would give him a chance to apologise. The time away had given him the ability to consider the error of his ways. He opened the apartment door quietly. The sink was running in the kitchen as he saw the light pouring out from the door way in the low light of the late evening. The middle-aged man carried himself into the home, aware that you were now. Yet, before he could reach the doorway, you stepped out and stared at him. It was quiet for much too long. An awkward moment of refusal to make eye contact followed.

🍙 Larry pulled out the gift wordlessly and offered it out to you. He let out a breath. “... I shouldn't have said that,” the words came out as his stomach twisted, “I'm grateful you put up with a man like me. I was stressed and should have controlled myself better. I assure you that won't do it again to you.” You took the box and opened it quietly. Inside was a cute Alcremie plush holding a heart. A small laugh left you. Placing it on a nearby table, you walked towards him and hugged him. He returned the affection with ease, feeling at peace after everything. Home truly was with you, it seemed. “I love you,” Larry said after a while, “... I managed to get the next few days off.” The excitement on your face was like electricity in the air. His Oricorio would be envious. It seemed you two would be able to work this out.

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 It was not like him, honestly. Nanu had become pretty passive in his older age. Discourse and stress were not really worth it, he had discovered long ago. Yet, somehow, he managed to get into a fight with his partner. It was dumb, admittedly, and not entirely your fault. The Ultra Beast you had brought back from wherever you had been made him instantly go on edge. It had to be specifically that one, too. The Guzzlord made him instantly feel on the defensive. He said something harsh things that he knew he should not have, and you seemed so shocked by his sudden shift in personality that you ran off. He had not seen you since. The Kahuna wondered if you were done with him. He supposed he deserved it for what he had said.

🌑 Though, Acerola found him moping around with Meowths and quickly put to rest any worries. You had just been called out to some battle tournament thing for Champions and had gone away on a trip. Apparently, you had captured the Ultra Beast for it. Of course, whether you would actually come back to him after the trip was over remained in the air. The girl seemed distressed about how to respond to the situation. He understood. Nanu could not stand the Ultra Beasts, but accusing you of mocking him and trying to make him think about his past failures was simply wrong. You did not know about that because he did not tell you about it. Miscommunication was common, he guessed. But, you had seemed genuinely hurt and terrified by how he changed upon seeing the Guzzlord. This is why he liked Meowths, he supposed. They did not judge people like humans did.

🌑 He still wanted to apologise to you. As much as he hated to admit it, Nanu was fond of you. The old man wished he was not, but you unfortunately had made him care for you by going out of your way to spend time with him and just by being so loving towards him. He wondered why you wasted your time on him. There were a lot of men out in the world that were greater than him. He was just a lazy cop who avoided his duties until he had to do them. But, he was not one to deny someone what they wanted. Even if that meant sharing his couch bed with another person alongside his Meowths. Acerola had no idea when you would be back, however, so he just would have to play the waiting game.

🌑 While a certain friend of his had called him unlucky once, Nanu had not thought too much about it until a familiar voice called out to him as he ordered his usual meal at the Sushi High Roller in Malie. You had seemingly come out of nowhere, sheepishly smiling at him as you stood in the entranceway. He ordered your usual for you and watched as you followed him to where the both of you were normally seated. For a while, it was an awkward silence. He thought of a few things he could possibly say, but nothing came out. Your meals were just eaten in a strange quietness. Nanu brought this on himself. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, you were staring at him. “I'm sorry,” you apologised to him, “I didn't know that you… Were uncomfortable with UBs like that.”

🌑 He shook his head. “Don't blame yourself,” Nanu reassured you, “You didn't know, and I didn't tell you. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that.” Your eyes looked towards the floor. He reached across under the table to grab your hand. “I like you, kid,” he called you that nickname to tease you a bit, “I'm not mad. I understand if you don't want to bother with an old man like me any more-” He was cut off by you suddenly grasping his hand tightly. You shook your head. He sighed. “Hey, let's get out of here,” Nanu got up and headed to pay, “I feel like there's more you want.” Needless to say, the Kahuna felt completely reassured that you wanted this relationship later, and whatever awkwardness the miscommunication brought up was destroyed the minute you two were alone together.

🔥Kabu🏅

💥 He had no idea how the fight even started, really. Something between you two just lit up like a Fire Blast. Kabu wanted to pretend that he was not the type to get jealous, but something about how much time you seemed to be spending with Raihan. He supposed it made sense with you being the Champion and all, but he just felt oddly insecure. After all, Kabu was an older man and, despite how fit he was, there were times when he could not keep up with you. He was not proud of what he said. An accusation like that in a heated moment was a mistake. Especially when he was taking a trip back to Hoenn to visit family. You looked so hurt as you stormed out of your shared home in Motostoke to go who knows where. Attempts to call you were in vain as you refused to answer, and then he lost the ability to while in Hoenn.

💥 He truly could not even comprehend how those feelings came up inside his mind. You had never shown any romantic interest in Raihan, nor were you acting unhappy or discontented in your relationship with him. Kabu simply just felt as if you had suddenly were interested in him as you had been training with him more often. He even felt as if it were cutting into the time that you spent at home with him. If you wanted to train, he was more than willing to train with you. You were both his rival and lover, ultimately. Training with you was one of his favourite things to do. The more he lamented about it, the more it seemed apparent that he was not truly convinced that you were into Raihan, but upset that he was taking up time that you both usually shared. Some wizened old man he was. Kabu wanted to laugh and cry.

💥 As the gym leader wandered around his home region, he debated a way to truly make up for what he had done. Kabu would be certain to apologise first and foremost for his words, knowing fully well that it was his fault for acting in such a manner, but he wanted to show his affection at the same time. He wandered around a few markets and stores in the tropical region before stumbling across something sweet in the Lilycove Department Store. Of course, he thought as he looked at it, that would be an obvious way to apologise and would hopefully be something that you would like.

💥 The flight back home was a slightly nervous one. He hoped you had returned home in his absence, not wanting you to have to stay at a hotel or out camping. The familiar ambiance of Galar surrounded him as he boarded a train bound from Wyndon to Motostoke with a racing heart. The region he came to make his home was always quite different from the one he had originated from. He could complain endlessly about the delays with the trains, but he opted against it. This was his home, after all. It was here that allowed him to meet you and enjoy the battles he found himself continuing in well into his ageing self. Unlocking the door to his home, he felt more determined. Kabu entered and found you curled up on the couch with his Centiskorch. The sight was refreshing. You turned to look at him with curious eyes.

💥 “I'm sorry, love,” he stood before you and hung his head a bit, “I know what I said was completely off the mark, and I shouldn't have even said it.” You stared at him with big eyes, making his heart race. Kabu wanted to laugh at how well you had him trapped. Without a doubt in his mind, he knew that he would run himself ragged to make you happy. He pulled out the gift he got for you in Hoenn. “I love you,” he said plainly, “I hope this helps convey my feelings.” You picked up the pokeball out of his hand and sent out what was inside. A heart-shaped pokemon looked around the living room in confusion. The Luvdisc clearly had no idea what was going on. There were few, if any, in Galar due to restrictions, but he pulled a few connections to bring it in. Judging by the hug and kiss you gave to him, it seemed he was forgiven and understood.

[sleepless-rants]

Today im thinking about the dehumanization of khaenri'ah. The fact that they intentionally ERASED any kind of history record left by khaenriahns other than the ooh giant scary war machines that shoot lasers they must've CLEARLY had sinister intentions. no one sees the notes left behind by an ordinary citizen stuck at the gates of their country in the middle of the desert because if they moved any further, their starving mother wasnt going to make it. The way they intentionally REDUCED rhinedottir to the sins she committed. (which were sins in the first place by their standards) the way rhinedottir is a bad person but not in a super villain way, she's bad bacause human beings are just as much capable of unkindness and bitterness and evil as they are of being good. The way the khaenri'ahn higher ups very well may have had bad ideas and evil plans that could've altered the world but we can see this with any other nation's governing body (e.g grand sage azar making a literal god), thats a human issue, corrupt government force is A HUMAN ISSUE. We dont know what happened back there, maybe they really did have no choice but to wipe the entire nation out but god, the way they were human and the way no one remebers that when it was their whole ideology in the first place. the pride of humankind robbed of their humanity.

[sulkybender]

the poem of you: a Zukka fic

tags: established relationship, hurt Sokka, hurt/comfort, Sokka has OCD, loving and protective Zuko, modern au

He finds Sokka curled on the floor next to the bed and his heart falls.

He always looks like he’s trying to make a shell with his body, a shell against the world he doesn’t have. 

Zuko gets down on his knees, touches his back. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, and Sokka starts to cry. Zuko covers him with his body, protection. The soft weight of Sokka crying underneath, the raggedness of his breath. 

“I’m here,” Zuko says, kissing the back of his neck, that vulnerable place, the short hairs delicate under his touch. “Baby, I’m right here.”

“It’s bad,” he weeps, inarticulate. 

“I know,” Zuko says. “I know. I love you.”

He curls around Sokka and tries, so hard, to protect him. 

—

Sometimes the thoughts are bad; they don’t relent. It’s like being kicked in the head, Sokka tells him, by the same thought over and over. 

Fuckup. 

Fuckup. 

Fuckup. 

He helps Sokka from the floor and tries to be gentle with him. Zuko spoons him in bed, pressing kisses to his hands. His whole body is stiff, delayed, fighting an infection from within. And the infection is Sokka, and the infection is killing Sokka. Or trying its best. 

“I love you so much,” Zuko says, arms slipping around his waist, snug. “You’re my baby, you know that? You’re my turtleduck.”

Sokka is cried out, hunched in on himself, hurting. The shakiness of his breath is painful. Zuko wants to take the pain away. It’s always seemed so unfair that he can’t. 

He would do anything for Sokka, but there’s nothing he can do. 

“You want me to tell you about my day?” he asks, and Sokka nods. 

Sokka is the talker—Zuko isn’t the talker—but Zuko can do this, can talk for him, fill the silences that Sokka’s mind would try to fill with unkind things. 

“Hmm, let’s see.” Zuko noses at his ear, nuzzling kisses. “It was a slow day. Did some client research. Ate a shitty croissant.”

He hums, thinking. 

“I wrote poems for a bit.” He can feel Sokka smile a little. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that,” Zuko says. 

He falls into silence again for a while, feeling the soft rise and fall of Sokka’s chest. He’s no good at this, the steady patter, the lull of it. He tries to think of other topics but all he can do is wonder how long Sokka was on the floor. 

“What kind of poems?” 

Sokka’s voice is hoarse. 

“Nothing special.” Zuko kisses the back of his neck. “I wrote them on sticky notes and then I hid them in my desk.” He can feel the little motion that means Sokka is laughing, suppressed. “Yeah, yeah. Go on and say it.”

“Nothing,” Sokka says. 

“It’s never nothing.”

“I just love you,” Sokka says, his voice cracking slightly, and Zuko feels warm all over. He could cry. 

“I love you so much it’s crazy,” he says. He cards his fingers through Sokka’s hair. He wants to take care of Sokka so badly. It’s this ache in him all the time. 

“Were the poems about me?” 

Zuko snorts. 

“I wanna know,” Sokka whines. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he says. 

“That’s why you love me.”

He rolls over onto his back, smiling up at Zuko. And the smile is hesitant, his eyes still bright from crying, but he looks so handsome Zuko doesn’t know what to do with himself. His hair spills on the pillow, rich brown flecked with gold. He cradles Sokka’s cheek, thumb stroking the line of his jaw. 

He wants to write about the way Sokka’s hair looks, the way his face looks, the particular tilt of it, the thoughtful way his lips purse. He wants to write about wanting to take care of Sokka. Inadequate: his care, his words for it. 

“I would write such shitty love poems about you,” he says. 

“I’d love that,” Sokka says. 

“I’m sure you would.” He kisses Sokka’s head. “Only the shittiest.”

Sokka gestures, a little beckoning movement, and Zuko lies back in his arms, warm, Sokka’s hand protective on his hip. He can feel the tremor in Sokka’s hand, the exhaustion. He’s exhausted himself with the thoughts in his head, been pummeled by them. He’s pummeled still. 

“You’ll read them to me sometime,” Sokka murmurs. 

“I will not.”

“Someday you’re gonna be a famous poet,” Sokka says. “And then I’ll have to see your poems. There’s no avoiding it.”

He’s tracing circles in Zuko’s hipbone, delicate enough to make Zuko shiver with love. He wants to make Sokka dinner; he wants to wash his hair. He wants to do everything, because he can’t do the one thing, the thing that matters. He wants to fall asleep holding Sokka safe from the world. 

“Can we go on a walk later?” Sokka asks, hesitant. “Just to, um.”

It helps when he’s tired, too tired to think circles around himself. Zuko nuzzles him. “Of course, baby. I’d love to walk with you.”

He feels Sokka slump a little in relief. 

“God, you’re fucking lovely, you know that?” he says. 

And Zuko doesn’t know that, because there’s an infection inside him too, the thing that makes him doubt himself. The thing that makes him write poems on sticky notes and hide them away. 

He takes Sokka’s hand, presses it to his cheek. He’ll write a poem someday about that—the feeling of Sokka’s hand on his cheek. 

But he doesn’t have the words for that now. His words are so much less beautiful than that, such ordinary things. 

“You can always ask me to walk with you,” he says. 

And Sokka smiles like it’s a poem anyway. 

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

I am going to write a scene between two characters that is so improbably emotionally honest.

(or: another exerpt from a fic i'll never finish, entitiled "griddlehark finally talk about stuff" in my drafts.)

-

Gideon wasn't sleeping. Harrow knew this because she also wasn't sleeping. But her own sleeplessness was born of long habit. It was an easy, comfortable insomnia. The dark and quiet were all she had left of home.

Gideon, though, had never been prone to insomnia before. She had always been easily exhausted and prone to oversleeping, rocklike and deaf. And yet, there she was, for the third night in a row, up at odd hours in the safehouse’s kitchen. Harrow could hear her softly shuffling around. She hesitated, considered leaving her to her own devices—what claim, after all, did Harrow have on her anymore? What right had she to butt into any of Gideon's affairs?

But she knew, in the way that she knew almost everything about Gideon, that she was at her worst when feeling abandoned. Harrow would go if she was told to go, but she had to try, at least. She would not abandon Gideon again.

So she went out to the kitchen and found Gideon hunched over the counter, wolfing down plain crackers. This, at least, was somewhat relatable to her.

“Can't sleep?” she asked, as it seemed as good an opener as any.

“Nope.” Gideon did not stop eating as she spoke. “Guess my body's still not in the habit. Being dead and all. Do you know how weird it is to be dead? Your organs just kind of…sit there. But they don't actually do anything. Puts a real damper on all your vital impulses. Like, all of them.”

This was more words than Gideon had said to her in weeks, which was good, even if they were the last words in the world Harrow wanted to hear. She floundered for something to say. Her face must've been doing something, because Gideon looked at it and said, “Oh, right, sorry. Wouldn't want to upset you with the details. Paul told me not to talk about it to you. Be a real shame to show you the consequences of your actions.”

Harrow tried not to react to that, but it hit her like a slap all the same. “I only wanted to save you.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to be saved? Did you ever stop to think, hey, maybe Gideon threw herself on a fencepost because she cared about me and did not want an eternal front-row seat to my continued suffering? No. You didn't. You never thought about what I wanted, you only thought about how you'd lost your favorite chew toy. At least have the decency not to revive the little innocent martyr act from when we were eight. It never fooled me then and it doesn't fool me now. Don't look at me like that.”

“I’m—sorry.”

“You're sorry.”

“I never deserved you. I know that. Not once in my whole miserable life did I deserve to breathe the same air as you. I should've signed your release the day you asked. I should've let you go without conditions and with half our coffers in your pockets. I should’ve begged your forgiveness the first time I said an unkind word to you.”

“You can say that all you like, Harrow, but you never would've.”

“I would now. In a heartbeat. Fat lot of good it does us.”

Gideon shrugged. “I'm not sure I would've left anyway, back then.”

Harrow was startled by that. She could remember Gideon speaking of nothing else, as children. “No?”

“I mean, what would I have even done? Joined the cohort? Been there, done that, and I was bored in a month. I don't know—I don't know. Seems like everything I used to believe in was a sham. My parents. The cohort. You.”

“I don't know how you want me to respond to that.”

“Try telling me the truth.”

Harrow was quiet for a long moment. She had been telling the truth. She needed to find a truth Gideon could believe. Start from there. “You're right. I wouldn't have let you go, when we were children. I could never stand to have you out of arm’s reach, for the same reason you would never have left. I would be at a loss. The fabric of the universe would come unraveled without you. I believed that then, and I've seen evidence of it now.”

“Bullshit, Harrow. You liked having something to play with.”

“You know better than anyone that both can be true, you insufferable, pedantic meathead. You know better than anyone how I felt then, what I feel now. Do you think I was ever stupid enough to believe myself your superior? Do you think I never understood what I was doing? You were the single point around which my entire world revolved. Everything made so much sense, when it was all about you. I have seen my life without you, Griddle, and it was colder and emptier than I had thought possible. In retrospect, the idea that I had endured such a childhood at all should have alerted me to the fact that something was wrong.

“I have never flinched away from my own faults. My inadequacies, perhaps, but not my faults. And I have always known that you were better than I am. I was once in denial, but never truly in ignorance, of the horror of our treatment of you. And yet the only sin you hold against me is that I tried to release you. That I removed you from my reach, relieved you of my beck and call. That is the only thing you have ever refused to forgive me for. Why?”

“You know why.”

“I want you to tell me. For once in your life, just tell me how you feel.”

“I feel stupid. I feel betrayed. I feel like I have not slept properly in a month, because I haven't. I feel like I was a corpse recently, because I was. Is this what you want to hear?”

“I want you to answer the question.”

Gideon stopped, took a deep breath. “We both already know, Harrow. Why do you need me to tell you?”

“Plausible deniability.”

She hesitated for a very long time. “I never wanted to be separated from you, either. I kidded myself about being your rightful equal when we were kids, but I don't think I even believe that now. My life was always going to be—you. I knew that. I just. Became alright with it. At some point. It was like—like, imagine if someone took your bones away, or something. The ones you carry around in your pockets, I mean, not the ones in your body. But kinda those too? Like, if everything that made you you was suddenly stripped away and you were useless. And I had to watch, Harrow, all of it, knowing I could help you. Knowing I could save you, if only you'd let me fulfill my only purpose that ever really mattered.”

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

i've been thinking abt this for the last 10 seconds and i need to share this LMFAOO but how but either jack or kappa with "i would never let anyone or anything hurt you. i've never felt that way about anyone." AAAAAAAA imma pass out oki lob u lots and i love the way you write i like hang on to every word ITS SO GOOD EVERYTIME

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1000 FOLLOWERS! Let's celebrate that with this little something something here 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 I'm very much left speechless by the sheere amount of people that apparently enjoy my deranged writings enough to follow this flaming dumpster fire of a Tumblr blog. I love and appreciate all of you so incedibly much! 🖤 Thank you from the very bottom of my heart!

Going To California

Summary: Kappa displaying insane amounts of husband material.

Pairing: hippie!Kappa x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Content Warnings: Romantic Van Life Smut 18+!, Unprotected P In V, L-Bombs, Very Fluffy And Domestic, Kappa Being A Heartthrob, Kappa Talking You Through It, Sprinkles Of Actual Plot, Dad!Kappa 👀

A/N: To the wonderful nonnie, I have to confess that I thought much longer than 10 seconds about this 🤭🥴

I put together a hippie!Kappa playlist!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai

Spent my days with a woman unkind

Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine

Made up my mind to make a new start

Going to California with an aching in my heart

Someone told me there's a girl out there

With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair

- Going To California By Led Zeppelin

With his plush, soft lips Kappa left a trail of slightly sloppy kisses all the way from your forehead down to the tip of your nose that he eventually nudged playfully with the tip of his own.

"And here I thought you'd let me sleep.." You giggled, your tone a little drowsy as your senses had already been on the best way to slip towards warm and comforting dreams for tonight.

" 'M sorry, sugar, didn't wanna wake you up again." He nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck, his left cheek soft against your jawline.

"Are you though?" You pushed somewhat teasingly, arching your brows in the dark of the van while a smile tugged your lips.

"Well, yeah…but also not really." Kappa admitted, his curly, black hair ghosting over your collarbone whilst his hands searched for your waist further down underneath the woolen blanket that the two of you shared.

In gingerly soft touches, his fingertips caressed over the bare skin of your hips, tracing your curves slowly to savor every inch of you next to him.

"Go on.." You inquired, feeling how he sent little waves of gentle goosebumps all over your body.

"I'm just..y'know…I've never been just that happy and I can't help myself here, really. I hardly get enough of you, babe." His slightly raspy voice hummed into the crook of your neck which had you leaning your head back just a little yet enough for him to take note of the invitation.

"Hardly enough, yeah?", It rolled over your tongue in a tender laugh as you recognised his lips softly nipping right underneath your earlobe, "I'm with you all day everyday. How are you not tired of that yet, honey?"

"How could I ever, hm?", To underline his point, Kappa suckled your sensitive skin right between his teeth, effectively leaving a hickey just like a love-sick teenager, "None of this would just be remotely as heavenly as it is right now without you. Living in a van this, being free to go wherever that…but I wouldn't wanna go anywhere without you anymore. I love you."

"Good god, you're so sweet, Kappa.", You felt your entire chest swelling with a very distinct kind of fulfilling warmth as you led your fingertips to sneak under the hem of his linen shirt and caress his soft skin all the way up to his shoulders, "I love you, too. So incedibly much."

Turning your face to the side just a notch, you pressed a long kiss to the crown of his head, holding him close in your embrace, your senses following closely how his body heat quickly engulfed your statue, seeping through the layers of fabric.

'Hmhmm…right there, sugar." Kappa quietly groaned into your neck, pressing his front further against yours.

You very well knew how much of a slave he was to being touched around his shoulders and you eagerly followed his plea for more of your tender strokes. Planting another kiss to his hair, you started drawing random shapes and forms, curly waves and loops all over his shoulder blades and along his spine, pulling little moans and whines oozing with enjoyment from his mouth.

"S-so good to me, love." He hummed in a low voice, his own hands fastening their hold on your hips.

"Always." You returned softly while it didn't go unnoticed how both of your bodies reacted to one another.

You could feel Kappa's growing hard on pressing through his pants against your thighs just as much as you acknowledged your perked up nipples brushing against his collarbones whilst your own arousal throbbed between your legs.

"So much for just falling asleep, huh?" You joked amicably, pressing both of your palms against his back before pulling him on top of you as you turned to lay on your back.

"Oh, that's all you now!" Kappa reciprocated with a hearty laugh right before lowering his lips onto yours, nipping and nibbling at them teasingly.

"Is that so?" It left your mouth in a chuckle, your hands busy with pulling his trousers off of him.

"I might just be a tad bit involved in this.." He groaned, feeling his cock prodding against your cunt without anything left in between.

"A tad bit, yeah?" You inhaled sharply at the sensation, noticing how your body turned gradually more greedy.

"Probably severely very interested, s'that what you wanna hear, sugar?" Kappa sighed against your mouth before thrusting into you in one languid, careful stroke.

"Fuck…", It rushed over your tongue as you felt his girth stretching you out, "Feels so good, damn."

"Still mad about being awake?" Your lover huffed against your jawline as he rolled his hips into your lap, having your eyes flutter shut at the sensation.

"Hmhmmm…" You moaned out whilst allowing your head loll back into one of the plenty tie-dye patterned cushions.

"Fuck, I love you so much.", Kappa groaned, raising his forehead to rest right against yours as he thrusted into you anew, "I'd never let anything or anyone hurt you, sugar. You know that, right?"

Kappa's words reverberated, echoed right through you, making you feel as one with him.

"I've never felt that way about anyone before." His voice filled your mind as the tip of his cock nudged against that especially sensitive spot on your inside.

"My one and only…", You moaned softly against his warm, slightly sweaty cheek, your lips brushing over his upper lip and pressing soft pecks to the corner of his mouth, "Wouldn't trade the world for you. Ugh, god, hear that? You turned me all soft, damn hippie."

Both of you chuckled for a moment, the vibrations of his chest against yours making your heart feel like it was about to explode right into his aura that smelled like lavender and freshly cut grass to you. The warmth of his character, the carelessness in the most inappropriate of moments and just simply being with Kappa had done things to you…good things for once in your life.

"You were soft way before me, love, the world just didn't appreciate you showing it, but be certain that I do." You couldn't quite decipher if it was the way Kappa spoke to you or the way he cradled the curves of your waist in his grip, making you feels safe and protected with him right on top you, between your legs, that eventually pushed your body over the threshold of a rapidly building orgasm and quite frankly you didn't care.

Soft moans, repeated chants of his name cascaded from your lips as you arched your back to shove your hips into his lap, needing to feel him inside of you as deep as you possibly could, your pulsing and contacting cunt clenching down around his cock.

"There, there…let it all just go, 'm here, sugar." He cooed into your flushed cheek in a low groan, his own body turning rigid as he felt your walls pulling him in deeper.

The tide of your orgasm, the push and pull of your release was enough for Kappa to come undone himself, spilling his load as deep as possible, shoving it and pushing it deep inside of you.

"I gotchu…" Kappa hummed, enjoying the bliss of his own release rippling through his muscles, allowing himself to get lost in that instant of being ultimately close to you.

Only very reluctantly he pulled out of you eventually, the load of his seed trickling out and pooling all over the inside of your thigh.

"Uh, I gotta tell you something, actually…" You started awkwardly, immediately drawing Kappa's attention towards you.

"Huh? Are you trying to give a panic attack right after cumming now?" His hand fumbled around the headboard above the mattress, fingertips eagerly trying to find the light switch for the fairy lights dangling from all over the ceiling.

"No, sorry, oh god, sorry. It's just… come here.", Right after he flipped the switch, illuminating the inside of your van in a warm, almost orangy tint, you reached for his hand and gently pressed it against your lower abdomen, "I have a strong feeling that we are at least 3 now."

"What?" It blurted out of him, brows knit together in confusion as he stared at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"I'm way past my period, Kappa.", You hinted further, "Sore breasts and, good god, the nausea lately?"

"What I'm hearing you say right now is that you are… pregnant?" His forehead crinkled in soft creases.

"Ah, there we go. That took you a hot second, no?" You chuckled out softly, planting a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

" 'M gonna be a dad?!", Confusion was swept aside by unbridled joy and excitement, "And you're gonna be a momma?!"

"Looks like it an awful lot now, babe." You couldn't hold back the wide grin spreading on your face before Kappa practically jumped you, attacking you with a wave of kisses, pecks and smooches all over.

[midsommersonnets]

rp plot desires: i am suddenly so obsessed with hurt&comfort romance.

i just wanna write all that good shit of hands tracing over another's body, viewing each mark and kissing it again & again, their lips lingering with a soft intakes of air. so jagged and so heavy and so full of emotion when they see their scars... each breath, each look, each touch is so wrought with love & obsession. and they exude a desperate hope that maybe, one day, a thousand kisses will finally add up to weigh more than the pain? they hope one day that the hold of those marks, that pain, the sadness which haunts their other half will be conquered and banished... all they want is for happiness to be their person's and only theirs because nobody could deserve it more than their beloved.

it's the flex of another's fingetips as it etches across the tapestry of their skin, they lean forward to call each mark "a battlescar,". those marks that the person they love defines as flaws, but for them it's always only a sign of strength, of a time where they wished so dearly that they could've known and helped the one they love. that mark, the tremble of the bones– those things never equate to weakness. they're a reaction, a sign that they should do more and that you're still you. i kinda love the idea of what one finds ugly & broken about themselves being this something that only inspires a rapt, neverending devotion in another...

a whole, 'i could never not love you' thing. 'the world was unkind to you, so i'll be even better, i would fight anything for you.' and 'i'd do anything just to see you smile'. that kind of love is both beautiful and wildly dangerous. it's fascinating because this love errs between exceedingly selfless and overwhelming obsession. it's all because the result of their passionate love for a singular person is the formation of a a dire hatred of the world that hurt them in the first place. there's so much that could be explored because it's not idyllic affection, but it isn't something repulsive or unrelatable either.

[dgrailwar]

I don’t think we ever saw Foreigner’s summoning… what happened there?

"...It's complicated. And it doesn't matter right now... I'm just a participant... a Servant in the Grail War."

However, even as unimportant as the Voyager claimed his manifestation to be, the truth was quite the opposite. For he was not a child of Echidna, or a gift from the Moon, but a true Servant of the Human Order. And so, for a moment, you were all shown a dream. Not of something ancient, but a dream of a boy who would represented a future.

Round 13Δ - Meaning of Birth - Promise

Wave after wave of monsters. Endless, spiraling, a lesser Heroic Spirit would be quickly engulfed and swallowed within the darkness. No, even a greater one. The only thing keeping this Servant alive was sheer speed and tenacity,

He didn't know why he was the only one summoned. Why the Human Order chose him in order to combat this threat.

The threat he was summoned against was a massive she-viper, with the top half of a woman, and the bottom half of a horrible serpent. And her weapon was rage. Sorrow. Curses.

Curses, for all that humanity did to her and her loved ones. Curses, that if given the chance, she would ruin humanity a thousand times over, and create a world for her children. A world of monsters, and monsters alone.

The little star listened to the goddess' anger, and responded with empathy. The world could be evil, and cruel, and unkind. Humans could be, and monsters could be too… but to try and compound that with further violence would just result in more death for her children. Rather than a world for man alone, or a world for monsters alone, a world for both.

Maybe it was a pipe dream. Maybe it would never work, but it didn't matter if it was possible or not- it mattered only if both humanity and monstrosities were willing to make the effort. An earnest belief that humans could do anything- that was the truth he held in his core, and even if that meant changing the world so drastically… well, maybe he just had to try? Maybe that was his purpose for being here?

But he couldn't speak for humanity. His body was billions of miles away… the decisions he could make for mankind would be inherently unfair. However, if mankind had emissaries sent from the planet proper, they could share their wills with the goddess. Humanity would choose the right choice- offer up their hands, and Echidna's rage would be soothed.

The goddess listened, skeptical at first. However, she knew the kindness in the little star's eyes well. He was a child of humanity- the human race was his family, every one of them a friend, a brother, a sister… a mother and a father… each one of them a miracle upon the world. However, he did not have the mind of mankind. The trickery of the heroes of Greece, or the desire for valor belonging to the heroes of Rome.

'This boy is not human, but is humanity. Therefore, his heart is honest'. Those were the thoughts of the embittered monster. And despite her anger, she found herself entranced by the little star. This tiny, flickering light.

Thus, the goddess agreed. She revealed the source of her newfound power- and newfound awakening. It was simply chance, as the world shifted her body, asleep and unconscious next to her mate, found itself upon a massive fount of magical energy. Perhaps the Fates had arranged this meeting, as the magical energy had served as a way to pin the little star to this place as well.

Such a cluster of magical energy, a 'Holy Grail' as revealed by the little star, could do the impossible. The star and the goddess spoke, and the star spoke of an ancient ritual that would allow the Grail to be used to it's full potential. Therefore, they developed a foundation. A way to bring back the children of the goddess, and perhaps lead humanity into a new world.

And so, the Grail was split into two. One half was granted to the goddess of monsters...

...And the other half was granted into humanity's hope.

And then, they created their world. An artificial world created by the combination of the Goddess' propensity for birthing life, and the schematics of the world embedded deep within the soul of the Voyager.

Regardless of the path humanity chose, the little star would support it.

To keep a close eye on the humans decided for such an endeavor, the little star made a choice. He wiped his mind of his memories, and cleared his body of the strength that he had gathered, falling deeper and deeper within the simulation. The first 'change'- the first 'delta' within the digital space, he allowed himself to overwrite his nature as a 'Voyager' and exist as a 'Foreigner', constraining himself so that he would keep himself close, without unveiling that he was another fractured part of the Grail.

And so, he began his own journey.