#they meant for him to forget what he does but somehow they fucked his memory enough that instead he forgot about his family

[anachronistic-falsehood]

OK i still don’t think it’s a DID situation going on here with qcellbit and fcell (at least i hope it’s not) but i am thinking. maybe it’s a sleeper agent kinda thing. winter soldier type beat yk??? and if it IS then IMAGINE THE IMPLICATIONS of the federation doing this to him and having control over when he acts that way i’m going to go feral

[jaegerbby]

➳ saint

--͙[touya todoroki x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 3925

╰┈➤ rundown; your luck always has you at the wrong place, at the wrong time and touya is the reason.

╰┈➤ caution; previous NONCON ENCOUNTER MENTIONED, NONCON elements, scumbag! fratboy! dabi, virginity loss, no prep, choking, unprotected sex, rough sex, clothed sex, creampie, possessiveness, dirty talk, yn has small boobs, blow job mentioned, spitting in mouth, use of the word slut.

not proof read !!

the way you met touya is uncanny.

it is vile and putrid. you wish to wipe that moment from existence.

so why do you always end up around him? why do you now know an unprecedented amount about him?

"no doesn't hold any weight to me." his voice is low. his eyes are dark. you know that. you experienced it. he is spoilt, without a doubt. he gets his way, at least that is what everyone believes.

you should not be sitting next to him. his eyes trail from your exposed thighs to the ends of your hair entwined with his fingers.

he readjusts himself on the stiff sofa, spreading his legs wider and his thighs strain against his distressed jeans.

he looks untouchable. he looks like nothing in the world is capable of moving him. where money is present, power follows. touya did whatever the fuck he wanted.

"don't act like you get all that you want." you grit your teeth. he is infuriating. "your father has told you no. if he says no, you shut up and listen."

you can see the shift in his expression. you can feel it in the atmosphere. it crawls up your back and grips at your shoulders.

you know better than to mention that estranged relationship. you know better than to provoke him.

his hand stills, cerulean eyes narrowing. his grip wraps in your hair, it hardly looks like he is pulling but your roots sting. the tension on your strands makes you flinch.

this is the same man that had no qualms shoving you to your knees in an egregious alley. even as you protested, even as you hissed at your bloody knees. you were not there on your own volition.

you came to pick up your friend. you came there because she called for you to drive her home. she was long gone by the time you got there.

when you should have been taking your friend home, you were having a cock shoved down your throat. one so big it made your jaw ache and your eyes water.

he kept pushing and pushing until you were gargling on his cum, too sober to wipe the images out of your brain.

you were not even privy to touya's name. you never saw a cock much less had your throat stretched by one but he did not care.

touya knew you.

somehow, that was all that mattered to him.

your mind says to run. it says to bolt out of this room, maybe jump out of the window if it meant avoiding him because the look he gives you is eerily similar to that night.

"enji is the reason i'm this fucked up disaster. he knows it. my entire fucking family knows it. he would rather die than tell me no." he pauses, his gaze flickering over you like he has already decided on what he will do to you. like he already planned every scene in his head a long time ago. "he loves me."

you never should have let him drag you into this room. you were not suppose to be here in the first place. it seems touya always makes it the wrong place and the wrong time for you.

you jolt, eyes widening when his hands grip you. his palms are heavy, they are firm, from his touch alone you know you cannot escape him.

when he has you like this, all your resolve is shattered.

it does not take much for him to force you onto your back, he looks too big, too big for you. all you can see is him and he practically plasters his hard, muscular body to you.

your mind flashes with every memory from that night. where touya had you kneeling in a nasty alley. you can feel his cock heavy on your tongue and his taste throughout your mouth. you can feel hot, sticky cum being spewed into the back of your throat despite your gags of protestation.

you tried so hard to forget it, to dissolve the moment into nothingness but here you are remembering his eyes glimmering in content while he violated your mouth.

"and you love me too." there is a sharp intake of breath when those words leave his mouth. he says it with certainty, like he has never been more sure of something.

his callous hands slip beneath your skirt, you find yourself regretting your clothing choice. he grips your thighs, a wolfish expression on his face as he familiarises himself with your soft skin. places no one has seen much less touched.

touya wants to be the first, he wants to be the only one.

his thumb hooks on the crotch of your panties and he tugs them to the side. you feel cold air brushing your cunt. you hear touya's breath grow laboured, his eyes dark as they rove over your exposed pussy.

you flinch, pressing your foot against him. you try to push him away but it is hard when his body keeps you open for him. it is hard when your strength is incomparable to his.

a grin impresses on his features, pearly white teeth and dimples. it is the same smile he gave you before he had you deep throating his cock.

"i don't." your voice is warbled and shaky. his head tilts in amusement.

"really?" the sound of his zipper undoing fills your ears and trepidation settles in your bones. "then tell me your pussy isn't wet." his face nears yours, "tell me you aren't dripping like a slut."

you cannot say no.

you cannot oppose it.

you want to, you want so desperately to deny him and for it to hold an ounce of honesty. it claws at your throat, the same way you clawed at his thighs when he had you choking on his dick.

he laughs right in your face. the low baritone vibrates through your entire body.

"of course you can't, i can fuckin' see it! your pussy's so messy, could swear it's been creamed already. but it hasn't, you're just that soaking." the vulgar words elicit a whimper from you. you want to hide away but it is impossible when he has you trapped under him. he leans down to lave his slimy tongue over your trembling lips before his mouth nears your ear.

his voice tethers on a lack of self control. "you know," you feel his cock nudging your inner thigh, his pupils blown wide as he watches his dick inches away from your dripping slit. "i can smell it, i thought i was losing my fucking mind but no. all i could smell when i had my cock down your throat was your tight as hell pussy."

you should be mortified by his words, they are salacious and disturbing. instead your back arches, your body betrays you because here you are keening into touya like you want him to touch you.

"you were so shit at sucking dick, i wouldna' came if i didn't fuck it myself. i wanted nothing more than to bend you over and take your pussy because it smelled addicting." touya bites down on the full flesh of his bottom lip, his thumb pulling at the lace of your panties so hard you jerk.

"fuck, i can smell it right now. know it's all tight and ripe, know you're just waiting for me to take it."

he crowds over you more, a broken whine leaves you when the heated swollen head of his cock meets your clit. you swear you can feel it pulsing. steely blue eyes meet yours in an instant and a grin stretches across his face. you hate that the only thought in your head is how pretty his smile is and not the weight of his cock desecrating your body.

"it smells like mine. i swear if you let another man near this cunt, i'd kill him. i'd fuck you in front of him and gouge his eyes out. no one deserves to see you like that, only me." he says that while being one of the most underserving men but it's touya, he's selfish.

he would make your side his place whether you want him or not.

"i want to get in this pussy so bad." he huffs, you feel his tip throbbing against you. it feels heavy and hot where it rests on your bundle of nerves.

you cannot breathe, not with him so close, not with him on you. you have shivers along your entire body, your nerves stand on ends. all the protests die on your tongue when your cunt is slick and leaking.

you do not enjoy this.

you do not want this.

then why have your nipples stiffened so unbearably just begging to be soothed by his tongue and why are your insides craving touya to satiate you?

"what ya thinking, baby? you want to tell me no?" your lips part, your mouth webbed with sticky strands of spit. he asked you something, you should answer.

except it is hard to speak when his dexterous fingers release your underwear to instead glide along your slit. his laugh is almost mocking, your cunt soaks his digits so easily.

"i've been wanting to fuck up this innocent pussy for so long." you swear your brain has melted, it has liquified because it certainly is not operating. your eyes flick down to see his digits stroking your opening, they move away coated in your wetness. he glides his messy fingers over his cock before he brings them to your lips.

it is so easy, for your jaw to drop and for touya to sink his slick covered digits right into your mouth.

touya realises he likes you obedient.

"she's so innocent isn't she? hasn't been stretched out by a cock, hasn't squeezed around it and creamed. fuck i know she creams. she hasn't been turned into a fuck hole yet has she?"

a word has not escaped you since touya put you in this position. tears leak from your eyes but it is only from how overwhelmingly your body is begging for something you have never had before. your mouth is sticky with saliva, the taste of yourself lingering on your tongue as touya pumps his fingers along it.

you shake your head in response like he does not already know.

he pulls his hand away, reaching down to grip his heady cock, his head stroking down your cunt until he positions it at your entrance.

your entire being feels warm yet the feeling of his cock is so much hotter. your cunt drips incessantly, he smacks his tip along the mess and you jolt. touya has his cock on your pussy when you never got a good look at it before because he rawed your throat in a dark alley.

his hips shift and all you feel is pressure between your legs. he barely shoves any inside and you flash him wide eyes. he is all too pleased by the horror on your face.

"do you wanna get fucked? do you wanna know how it feels to get pulled apart and filled to the brim?" your breaths are shallow and quick, it should make you sick to be talked to like this. it should.

instead drool pools in your mouth and you want to find out, you want to know what it would feel like when touya stretches you out.

touya sees a different light in your eyes. you already look like a braindead whore before he has fucked you dumb. "you can take it, i'll make you take it."

he presses more into you and a broken moan leaves your swollen lips. now you can feel it, just how big and how hard he is. you had him down your throat before, he made your jaw ache and you know he would have your cunt feeling the same.

he groans, as wet as you are, your insides clamp down. your walls squeeze him before he has filled you completely. he made a point to not prep you, to not stretch you out. you do not know better to ask him to.

feeling you around him and seeing your watery eyes, your dewy lips moaning while he finally has you only makes him harder. it makes him want to cum deep inside you, fill you up until he is the only coherent thought in your head.

he reaches down to stroke your clit, the rough pads of his fingers make you mewl. he gives you no mercy, he keeps pushing more of his throbbing length within your walls. your hands scramble, fists gripping his jean jacket while you grit your teeth and whimper.

touya does not offer you any praise or words of consolation, he is more focused on shoving his cock inside you. he wants to feel your gummy walls all over him when he fills you to the hilt. you are soaking him, your cunt is hot and clamping down. every time you squeeze him he lowly grunts.

he does not even realise you are crying, you are silently sobbing. your eyes dart all over his features, you are looking at him but he is looking at his cock bullying your tight pussy.

this is how you lose your virginity, fucked like a dirty whore on a couch at a frat party. and the man who is taking you is not yours.

"holy fuck, you walk around with this tight as hell cunt between your legs and you think i could leave you alone?" he groans. he is not even all the way inside but he burns this image into his brain. your panties pulled to side and your pussy wrapped around his pulsing cock. you soak him in syrupy liquid, like you were waiting for him to claim you.

you grip him like you were made for him. he flips your skirt up to prevent it from obscuring his view and rough hands slip beneath your shirt to squeeze your barely there breasts.

he squeezes your tits, biting down on his lip before he thrusts hard and his entire length is forced into you. a shaky cry escapes you and your body trembles. your cunt is aching, it is stretched out for the first time and you feel unbearably full.

you should be mortified. touya violating you before was bad enough but this time you let him. you let him sink balls deep into your virgin pussy without any resistance.

and you are still crying because the man inside you has not even kissed. he is inside you but he has not shown you an ounce of kindness or affection.

"you're so fucking tight." his pelvis is flush to yours. touya did not prepare himself for this. his jaw clenches, why are you wrapped around him so perfectly? why does the feel of your cunt make him want to keep you on the end of his cock forever?

he is losing his bearings.

and you are too full to think. you feel him in your guts, you feel him too deep inside you. he has pulled you wide in a way you have never felt before.

"it hurts." your voice breaks, your chest is heaving and your grip on his clothing tightens. his eyes finally meet yours, he sees your brows knitted in distress, glassy eyes and tear streaked cheeks.

he was so caught up in your dripping fuck hole that he did not hear you crying.

"oh, aren't you just the prettiest thing?" his deep voice coos in a velvety tone.

he called you pretty. the prettiest.

he cups your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear but the motion is rough enough to leave your face stinging.

touya leans down to peck your lips. it is the first time he has kissed you. he pulls away, nudging your nose with his before a pretty smile crosses his face.

"your pussy feels like it was made for me. you were meant to take my cock, huh?"

he has your thigh pressed between his hard body and yours. your toes curl and your jaw hangs in a muted moan as he pulls his cock out. it is so slow you feel every inch and every pulsing vein.

when touya fucks into you for the first time it is gentle, your back arches as he fills you up all over again.

"just like that." his voice is deeper, more coated in something you cannot identify.

there is a flicker of hope that he will be this soft the entire time despite how roughly he filled you. after all, it is your first time.

you think someone like touya will finally grow a heart and find his morals.

"you're real fuckin' pretty, y'know? it's so annoying." he clicks his tongue, pushing your shirt up to reveal your breasts. plush lips wrap around your nipple and his heated tongue rolls it. his saliva feels hot on your skin.

his eyes find yours, they are dark as he laves his muscle over your tit. his hands are groping the flesh of your chest that barely fills his hands.

you jerk in surprise when his lips cover yours, this kiss is different. it is opened mouth and messy. you try to match his movements but you barely follow. touya kisses you aggressively, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

he should not be pleased by your teeth grazing his tongue but it only reminds him that he is all you know. he would always be all you know.

he has you distracted but your back tenses when his hips pull back and he harshly ruts into you. so hard your flesh sting where his hits yours.

your hands find his shoulders slipping on his jean jacket before you tightly grip the material.

he does not stop there. of course he does not.

he pumps his hips at a cruel pace, you are being stuffed with his cock over and over again. your back arches off the couch, you cry into his mouth but he does not relent.

he feels you dripping on him, he feels your slick coated along his length and every time he slams into you, you clench down like you will never let his cock go.

"this is what you wanted, right?" he grunts, his features contorting as he roughly fucks you.

"you wanted me to pin you down and rip through you. i know it, you know it. fuck that's it." his sentence ends with his voice at a higher pitch.

your hands lose their grip on his clothing as he straightens up, he cups the back of your knees to keep you spread open. his cock is throbbing at the sight of him taking you. over and over, he sees your syrupy strands coated on his cock, he sees your panties stained with it. he sees your pussy stretched around him and knows he would never go a day without thinking about it.

"knew your little pussy was aching for it. take it so fucking well."

when he is pounding your slick cunt, moaning about the way he swears your insides are stroking every vein on his thick length, you decide you hate him.

you wonder how someone so gorgeous could be so disgusting. you wonder what cruel juxtaposition it was for such an angelic countenance to be the one you see when it feels like the devil is ruining you.

you hate that you are enjoying it. you hate that it feels good.

you hate that at the end of this you will not regret it.

"you act like such a good girl but you take cock like it's all you were made for." sweat has started lining his hairline. his cheeks have reddened and touya's voice is breathy.

your skin is stinging from the force of his thrusts, his cock reaching deep in your guts with every motion.

the sounds of his flesh hitting yours fill the room, you can feel the weight of his balls meeting your skin and the mess between your legs splatters every time he fills you.

he huffs hard, his touches trail along your body, squeezing your hips and gliding along your stomach before they find your throat. his hands are so big they engulf your neck entirely.

"you like this, you fucking love it. fuck, tell me how much you like me rawing your virgin cunt like this." you whimper, your trembling fingers find his wrists.

you brain had turned into a scrambled mess the longer he fucks you open. your mouth is sticky with spit and all you can do is whine. he pounds into you so hard your body jerks every time.

some part of you wishes there was less clothing. less on him to see all his muscles flexing. less on you to feel him on you completely.

his expression switches between open mouthed groans and clenched jaws.

his cheeks are flushed, sweat drips down his temple and his fluffy hair bounces with his movements.

"touya." your voice warbles.

the moan he lets out is obscene. his cock slams into you unevenly.

he swears he loses it. he needs to hear you say his name like that again and again.

he crowds over you, his body flush to yours as he gathers you up into his arms. his lips finds yours in a sloppy kiss.

your hands rest on his back, feeling the ripples of his muscles as he roughly ruts into you.

your brows furrow, he only goes harder. it hurts but for some reason you like it.

he pants in your face before kissing you again. he pounds into you at a voracious pace, like an unhinged animal.

touya swears your hot, sticky walls gripping him are akin to heaven.

"fuck, fuck, fuck." a tandem of curses fill the room then he is burying his face into your neck. he lets out a low whine into your skin, his fingers reaching for your thighs and gripping hard enough to bruise.

his movements grow less steady but they are just as deep, his cock drags along every inch of your pussy like he is making it his home.

another muted whimper vibrates against your neck and with a few more pumps of his hips touya's cock throbs within you. he presses his pelvis flush to yours, your thighs tense at the feeling of hot cum flooding your walls.

you are panting and touya is too.

he drops all of his weight onto you, squeezing you tighter like he has not just ruined you.

you are horrified.

he did not wear a condom.

he came inside you.

you lay beneath him unmoving even as he laves his tongue over your breasts, even as he sucks marks across the flesh.

his hand grips your cheeks hard, urging your mouth open before his thumb strokes along your wriggling tongue.

you think he will kiss you but a sly grin plasters across his face and he spits into your mouth.

as the glob of saliva glides down your throat, he pulls out. you flinch at the feeling and his cum drips from your slit. you feel the mess leaking out of you.

touya pecks your lips because a man like him never faces any repercussions.

a man like him never thinks about the consequences of his actions.

"i'll bend you over next time." he has the same glimmer in his eyes from that night.

haven't been on here or written in so long :/ my apologies

[pokechbi]

🎀I Can Treat You Better Than He Ever Can, Love🎀

Simon Ghost Riley x fem Reader!

NSFW, MDNI !!!

Fem anatomy used

WC: 4.9K

As always, asks are open and every single interaction is so so greatly appreciated! I love u all 🫶

Enjoy loves 💗💗 !!!

You sat in the mess hall, picking at your lunch, your appetite gone for the day. You stared ahead at Konig, sat two tables in front of you. You also stared at the brunette woman sitting across from him, giggling like a fucking schoolgirl at his every word. You watched, your head searing with green, slimy jealousy as she reached over and grazed her fingers over his. Bitch. You muttered quietly, putting the lid on the lunch you had brought from home.

"Someone's got their knickers in a twist." The Brit came from behind you, his steps quieted as always. He sat across from you, blocking your view of the Austrian beast you had your heart set on. You groaned, slumping over in your seat. "What's on your mind, mate" He asks. You look up at him. His gaze scanned your face, landing on your eyes, looking between them. You shifted in nervousness, fiddling with the sleeve of your turtleneck. He was boring a hole into your skin, his eyes dark and strong. You wouldn't hesitate to obey him like a dog when he stared at you like that. But he wasn't the one you had your heart set on. At least not anymore.

Months ago, you and Simon found yourselves alone in a conference room, and you were hell bent on releasing the sexual tension that had managed to build between you both for weeks. He stood towering over you, eyes sliding down your body and undressing you with his eyes. You approached him hastily, running your hands up and down his face, slowly slipping your fingers under the hem of his balaclava. He softly grabbed your hands, lowering your arms back to your sides. You looked at him confused. "I...can't, love." He spoke, his voice close to a whisper. Your heart dropped into your stomach as he said this, your breathing growing strained. You felt the tightening of your throat, tears threatening to well. "I'm your Lieutenant. This won't end well for either of us. You know that." He said gently, hands still wrapped around yours. You parted your lips to speak, your bottom lip quivering with your sadness, turned to pure anger. "So...you led me on?" You asked him. His eyes go wide, instantly shaking his head. " What? No, I didn't lead you on. I never promised anything between us." He scoffed, pointing a gloved finger in your face. "Did you think that our little moments meant that I'd risk my entire career for you?" You looked at him stunned, and began backing away slowly, nodding your head in disbelief. He runs his hands over his face, sighing frustratedly. "Listen...I'm sorry. I didn't mea-" "Save it, Simon. Forget this ever happened. That we ever happened." You spat, throwing the door open and slipping yourself through it. He watched painfully as you left, the sting of rejection stabbing your core.

The memory jabbed at you as he looked at you, the lustful look in his eyes that night slithering its way into your head. You push the thought away. You and Simon agreed to forget it happened, to stay as friends. You didn’t want to raise suspicion to any of the higher-ups, so you carried on like normal. It took weeks, months to feel like you were over him. You dreaded seeing him everyday, avoiding him on missions and around base like the plague. But somehow, he managed to work his way back into your life as if nothing happened. You decided it couldn’t be that bad for you, if anything it’d help you get over him and see him as a friend and nothing more. At least, you did. "Nothing's wrong, Simon. I'm fine." You reply, looking up to meet his eyes again. "Doesn't look like nothin' ". He chuckles. “The way you’re starin’ at Jessie like you wanna curb stomp the poor lass” He says smugly. Jessie. You scoff, your cheeks burning red with irritation. “Does everyone on this base know her fucking name?” You stand to your feet, grabbing your bag and not bothering to trash the container with your untouched lunch. You make your way out of the entrance to the mess hall, your blood boiling with jealousy. What did she have that you didn’t? You roll your eyes, walking hastily to the elevator. You needed to get outside, breathe some air. You felt suffocated in that building, like every single person there was secretly out to get you, knowing your deepest and darkest secrets and hell bent on using them against you. You’d been having shit luck on the field, distracted by the two damning men who plagued your mind. You wanted Konig. Needed him. And while you were friendly while he was stationed on the base, he showed no signs of wanting anything more. And that broke you, making you want to rip the hair right out of your head. First Simon, now him. You couldn’t catch a break.

As you approached the elevator, you felt a strong hand grab your wrist, holding you in place. Without turning around, you could already tell who it was. The smell of his musky, warm cologne wafted up your nose, triggering the memories you had tried so hard to purge from your head. You turn slowly to meet his gaze, the rough pads of his gloves chafing the skin of your wrists. You twist your arm, trying to wring it out of his grip. “Simon, let me go. I’m not in the fucking mood for this.” You spat, slapping his hand. He very easily overpowered you, and he knew that. He stood there, not budging as his death grip grew stronger. “You’re hurting me, Simon.” You cry, feeling the suppressed emotions and frustrations starting to simmer as they threaten to wreak havoc on you. He lessens his grip, but he steps closer to you, now hovering over your face. You turn your face away from him, staring at the floor as you feel his breath heat your skin. “You don’t need to be jealous of her, you know. Konig is nothing special.” He says smugly, disregarding the pure anger written on your features. "He's a door opener. A useless fuckin' wannabe sniper. Why are you so broken up over 'im?" You pause at his words. Did he really need to kick you while you were down?

You glare at him, trying to free yourself from his grasp once more. He finally lets you go, and you waste no time in pressing the elevator button. You don’t respond to him, hoping that if you ignored him he might take a hint and leave you alone. As you listen to the elevator making its way to your floor, you feel Simon step closer and closer behind you. “Don’t ignore me. You can talk to me.” He says, his voice a low grumble. You stand your ground, pursing your lips and scoffing at him. He sighs behind you. The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You step inside, pressing the button to the ground floor. You raise your head to meet his gaze, and he wastes no time in stepping into the elevator with you before you can close the door on him. “Come on. Stop being so stubborn. Why won’t you-” 

“Simon, the last time I confided in you about my feelings, you rejected me and led me to believe you cared when you couldn’t have given less of a shit about them. And now you want to act like you give a fuck about what I feel? Please, spare me.” You say sarcastically, shaking your head at him. He doesn’t break his gaze, but instead keeps his eyes on you, running them over your face. For a split second, his eyes land on your lips. You feel your heart flutter as you notice it, being that you wouldn’t have caught it if you blinked. You curse him in your head, knowing this would lead nowhere good. He was leading you on again, giving you false hope. He was conjuring old feelings that you were sure were buried deep in you. Sure, the memories manage to seep through once in a while, but ultimately -  he had you whipped- and he knew that. The way you wanted to drop to your knees and let him degrade you, wishing he’d slam you up against this wall and take you right in this elevator…all because he looked at your lips. You needed to get a hold of your feelings, and fast. You were sure you would lose control if he tried anything, and it made you feel less than. You lacked self control when it came to your feelings, leading you to be hurt many times. You lacked self control especially when it came to Simon. 

“Love…I..” He steps closer to you, and by God’s will, the elevator doors slid open. You rushed out, grabbing your car keys from your bag and speed walked out of the door and to your car. Your eyes stung against the winter air, flushing your cheeks. You fumbled with the keys, pressing the button to unlock the door before you reached it. The sun had begun to set, rays of sunlight beaming over your face. As you reached your car, you heard him approach behind you. You groaned, turning to face him. You glared at him, his eyes pleading with you to listen to what he had to say. Your head was spinning, not knowing what you wanted more: For him to leave you alone, or take you right there, fucking you so deep you could feel him in your guts. You stood there, watching him in silence. The wind picked up, pushing your hair into your face. He stepped forward, his face hovering dangerously close to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat, not knowing how to react. Your mind constantly fought between pushing him off, telling him to fuck off and to quit these games of his, or just submitting to his every touch and letting the thoughts of resisting die in your head. “Please, just listen to me.” He says, running his hands up your arms. You gently shy away from his touch, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Simon. You’ve said enough already.” You say, a slight tremor in your voice from adrenaline. You didn’t know why he was doing this, complicating the feelings for him that you had worked so hard to store away. Why was he doing this? Now, of all times, when you found yourself remotely over him and wanted someone else. 

“You’re right. I’ve said enough. You’re completely right about that.” He reaches up, brushing your hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. The rough material of his gloves scrape your cheek. You wanted them off, his bare fingers touching you instead. “You know what they say, darling. Actions speak louder than words.” He continues, slipping his fingers to the back of your head, a handful of hair entangling his hand. With his free hand, he slowly reaches up to his face, swiftly lifting the balaclava over his lips. You had never seen his face before, and it seemed like your world stopped spinning at the slight glimpse of his strong jaw. A discolored scar ran up his upper lip, ending right on top of his lip line. He parted his lips, his breath now hot on your face. Your breathing trembled as he dipped his head forward, clashing his mouth with yours. You whine into the kiss, your knees weakening under you. His grip tightens on your hair, his body pushing you into the back door of your car. You fumble with the handle, not breaking the kiss as his hand lands on your ass, roughly squeezing it through your pants. You get the car door open, and Simon groans into the kiss as he pushes you inside. You break the kiss, sliding into the backseat as he lies you down on the seat. He hovers over your face as you lie back on the seat, reaching behind him and slamming the car door. He wraps his hand around your throat, beckoning you to sit up with him. He kisses you again, aggressively shoving his tongue in your mouth, groaning into you. The taste of him on your lips was enough to drive you absolutely feral, wanting more of his taste on your lips. He pulls you onto his lap, squeezing your hips as you straddle him. You moan softly as you grind your hips against his, the fabric barrier frustrating you and causing a wetness to pool between your thighs. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to diminish the very thing that held him back from being inside you already. You reached down, palming at his growing erection. He groaned into your mouth, throwing his head back at your touch. “I need you, love…don’t know how fucking long I’ve needed you.” He breathes, his grip on your hips growing stronger. 

“Please…Simon. J-just fuck me already.” You moan softly, raising your hand to claw at the collar of his shirt. He wastes no time in ripping it off like it was on fire, throwing it onto the car floor. He sits up, leaning you backwards as he undoes his belt. His jeans were uncomfortably tight around his crotch at this point in time, his shaft painfully pressed against his balls. He groans as he slides his jeans down to his thighs, rolling you off him to get them off the rest of the way. You watched lustfully as you started ripping your own clothes off, desperately yearning for his touch on your bare skin. You’re left in nothing but your panties, the cold draft rising goosebumps on your skin. After sliding his jeans down to his ankles, he leans over to grab you by the hips, dragging you onto his lap once more. He snaked an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. You’re unable to move, your nipples grazing his toned chest. The sensitivity of your hardened nipples causes a jolt to run through you, letting out a soft whine at the skin to skin contact. He notices your sensitivity, resulting in a low chuckle to rumble out of his lips. He smirks, staring at you mischievously. You let out a yelp, trailing off into a pleasured moan as he pinched your right nipple, dipping his head forward and taking the other in his mouth. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud, causing pleasure to shoot straight into your core, ecstasy flowing through your blood. “You sound so fuckin’ sexy, love. Keep going.” 

You continue to moan as you arch your back against him, taking more and more of your breast into his mouth. He leaves hickies on the soft, silky skin of your breasts, leaning back to look at his handiwork. He suddenly stops, beckoning for you to turn your back to him. You do as you're told, turning around on his lap with your back facing his chest. He slowly runs his hands down your thighs, opening your legs and placing a foot on each of his knees so you’re wide open for him. He grabs and palms at your thighs, resting a hand right over your pussy, slick with arousal. He chuckles as he feels how slick you are, leaning down to kiss your neck, whispering against your skin. “Look how goddamn wet you are for me. You’re just a little whore, yeah?” He whispers, slapping your pussy with an open palm, causing you to yelp. “You know I’d treat you better than he could, don’t you, love.” He asks, saying it more as a statement than a question. You nod, throwing your head back onto his chest as he slips a finger into your panties. He drags a finger from your hole to your clit, sliding it up and down painfully slow. “Oi, use your words, princess.” He demands, stopping his finger, making you whine out of desperation. “Y-yes! You can treat me better than he can, Simon.” 

“Good girl.” He continues sliding his finger between your pussy lips, the lewd sounds of your slick permeating the air. He lifts you by your hips, as if you weighed nothing to him. You feel him positioning the tip of his cock over your panties, swollen and leaking with precum. You buck your hips in need, your head rolling around on his chest. He chuckles deviously, moving your panties to the side as he exposes your clit to the chilled air. “Tell me you want it, love. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you until your screamin’ my name so loud the fuckin’ windows shatter.” His gruff voice sends a chill down your spine, a predatorial lust laced in his tone. You part your lips to speak, your breath hitching in your throat as he slides his tip between your slick folds, causing a groan to escape his lips. “I want it so bad, Simon. I want you so bad. P-please.” You beg, barely able to get your words out as he uses your clit to smear his precum all over your cunt, both of you now wet with each other’s juices. You moan softly, holding back the scream of desperation you so badly wanted to let out. “Good fuckin’ girl. You want my cock in you that bad, aye?” He says, a grunt following as he lines the tip with your hole. “Y-yes! P-please, Simon.” You beg, bucking your hips forward. You feel how big he is already, throbbing and thick, hard like you’ve never felt before. You widen your legs, trying to lower yourself onto him. He holds you up by your hips, stopping you from taking what you need. You whine, your clit throbbing and swollen with need. “Needy fuckin’ girl.” He chuckles, pushing into you further. You both groan, your delicate moans soft and silky compared to his guttural, manly grunts. He lowers you onto him slowly, bucking his hips ever so slightly. He seemed to be holding back, and that frustrated you. You tried to push against his hands once more, trying to suck in just one more measly little inch. He exhaled sharply, suddenly wrapping a strong hand around your throat. 

“Quit bein’ so fuckin’ greedy, love. You’re like a bitch in heat for Christ's sake.” He says, the grip on your throat growing as you struggle to breathe. You take the lack of his other hand to stop you for granted, smugly pushing yourself down on him further. You smile triumphantly, feeling the electricity flow through your core. He groans in your ear, tightening his grip on your throat. Your air flow restricts, and you couldn’t have cared less. He was almost inside of you completely, and you could feel resistance as you struggled to take him. Catching his breath from the unexpected death grip your pussy had on him, he speaks. “I was tryin’ to take it slow for you, impatient fuckin’ slut.” He says, raising a hand to your face, landing an open palmed slap to your soft skin. The pain stung you so deliciously, making you giggle with delirium. Simon scoffs behind you, astonished at how absolutely filthy you were. “If that’s how ya wanna play it, love. Fine with me.” He says, and before you got the chance to hear an explanation, he slams into you all in one go, the throbbing tip of his cock pushing past the spongy wall that hadn’t been touched in quite a while. He begins to thrust his hips upward, plowing into you as if there were no tomorrow. You yelled out, your sounds a mixture of pained yells and lustful moans. His hand still had quite of a grip on your throat, causing your face to grow a deep shade of red as he fucked you. Noticing your lack of airflow, he lets go of your neck. 

He struggles to get his cock in you all the way, causing him to slow his pace. He groans in your ear as you grip his cock like a vice. 

“Relax. Let me in, baby.” He brings his fingers up to his mouth, spitting into them. He wraps an arm around your front, resting his lubed fingers on your clit. As he draws wet circles on your clit, your walls flutter and spasm around his dick, allowing him further entry. He lets out a low chuckle, continuing to rub your clit, the lewd sounds of him spreading his saliva between your pussy lips bouncing off the windows. “Gotta show the girl some love for her to open up to me, right, lass?” He says, his accent thick on his tongue. You nod, letting out a string of slurred “mhmms” as he continues loving on your clit. He starts to pump into you again, grunting and moaning in your ear. He curses, throwing his head back as he fucks you. Your heels dig into his knees, hoisting yourself up as you throw yourself down on him in sync with his thrusts. This seems to incapacitate him, ripping the thoughts right from his head. Your tits jiggle with every thrust, your hair hanging down and brushing against his face. He adores the view of you, trying your hardest not to cum as he pounds the spot that drives you nuts without missing a beat. The steady rhythm made you feel like you haven’t felt ever before, coming close to your end quicker than you ever had. His dick was working brutal magic on your walls, his fingers lovingly caress and flick at your clit. The mixture of feelings soon became too much for you to handle. You clenched against him, the sounds of your inner slick coating his cock turning you on like never before.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” He leans down, whispering into your neck. You nod furiously, eyes tearing up at the absolute love he was playing on your clit with. As if it were his own cock, feeling your pleasure ripple through you and into his blood as he touched you. In this moment, you knew. He had you. There wasn’t any escaping him after this, and there was no escaping your feelings any longer. The unsettling yet comforting feeling made your core tighten, conjuring an orgasm so strong, you’d prove to him with direct evidence that you were his, and no one else's. 

“ ‘m gonna cum, Simon. ‘m gonna cum” You slur, pressing the back of your head into his chest. “Cum for me, baby. I want you to fuckin’ cum all over my cock. You beautiful fuckin’ whore.” His words send you over the edge, a warmth rushing straight to your clit, spraying his hand with your squirt as you yell out, your eyes stinging with tears as you had never felt anything so. fucking. intimate. Your walls pulsate around him, your thighs instinctively trying to close themselves at the overstimulation. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. Simon wraps his hands around your thighs, prying them open with a strength you didn’t know he had. Simon seemed to enjoy your orgasm as much as you did, and it seemed that he got off more on watching you absolutely crumble at his touch. You knew it was something predatorial, but you chose to enjoy it anyway. As your walls fluttered and tightened around him, his grip on your thighs moved to his fingertips, leaving dark red marks in its wake. You knew he was close, and you didn’t want to admit that the thought of him filling you up with his seed, made you go feral. You continued bouncing yourself on him, his face now buried in your hair as he cursed and moaned. He was no longer bucking his hips at a rhythmic pace, now sloppily pumping into you as your cunt did its work on him. “Fuck, baby. I’m so fuckin’ close.” He gripped your thighs tighter, causing you to wince at the pain. It felt as if he was trying to rip your flesh open with his fingers, the feeling of your hot, squelching walls, fresh from an orgasm driving him to insanity. You smile as he continues moaning nasty nothings in your ear. 

“Gonna breed you, make you mine… forever.” 

“You’re mine now, do you understand that?”

“You won’t ever think of fuckin’ another man when I’m done with you. Do. You. Understand.” 

“Do you think Konig could fuck you like this? Didn’t think so, baby. Fuckin’ pathetic.” 

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine - fuuuuckin’ hell” 

You keep a steady rhythm, rolling your hips onto his cock as the heels of your feet dig into his knees. He lets out a long guttural groan, breathing heavily against your hair. You feel his cock throb inside of you, his seed filling you to the brim of leaking. You feel some of him slip out of you, dribbling down your hole and onto your asscheek. He thrusts into you slowly, fucking his seed back into you. You belonged to him now, and God help any man who so much as looked at you the wrong way. You both stay connected inside of you for a minute, breathing into the air. The windows of the car were now fogged up, the chill making its way across your skin as you curled up in his lap. 

“Mine. All fuckin’ mine”.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ 

Simon’s lips curl into a grin as he slides your panties down your legs, balling them up in his hand as he tucks them into his pocket. You scoffed at him as you dressed yourself, still feeling the warmth of him drip down your walls. 

“What would the team say if they found out you’re a panty stealer?” You ask, teasing him as you slip your shirt on. 

“Well, depends on who it is. Soap’ll definitely beg for a whiff.” He says, your jaw dropping open. You smack his chest playfully. He grabs your hand, pulling you into a kiss. He kisses you gently, a great difference from how he’d been kissing you earlier. 

“Feelin’ better, love?” He says, breath hot on your lips. 

“Very much so.” You chuckle. You look at his lips, wondering what else was behind that mask of his. You look back and forth between his eyes, slowly reaching your hand forward, pulling the hem of his balaclava. “Let me see you, Simon” You say gently. He wraps his hands around your wrist, not stopping you, just holding you. You see a glint of nervousness in his eyes as you pull it from his head. You smile as your eyes scan over his face. His blonde hair sat messily atop his head, his features all coming together to make the most strikingly beautiful man you’d ever seen. His breathing grows heavier as he sees your reaction, seemingly releasing a breath he’d been holding. He smirks at you, slowly bringing your hand to his face. You caress his stubbled cheek, running your fingertips along his strong nose, crooked from multiple breaks. You softly run your fingers over his lips and jawline, your eyes lidded with lust. The way he looked back at you, confirmed everything you’d been trying to prevent yourself from believing all these months. “If you felt the same way about me, why did you…?” You start, tears stinging your eyes. 

“Things were complicated, love. Or not, I don’t know. I was a coward. You made me a coward.” He admits, a somber tone to his voice that you never expected to hear from him. He was usually a humorous, flat-toned man who expressed himself with silence, or witticisms, and there was no in between. The moment felt fragile, as if it would shatter if you spoke too loudly. You smile at him with shaky lips, a tear falling down your cheek. “All this time I thought…I don’t know, I thought you hated me too much to want to fix it.” He continues, swiping the tear from your face with his thumb. You felt as if you spoke you would break, so you kissed him. He breathes heavily into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body. “I’m not good at this, love. But, you make me feel ways I thought were never possible for someone like me. And I promise, with every fiber of my being…I’ll never let this go. I’ll never let you go. No matter how hard you try and run from me.” He says, breaking into a smile at the last words. You smile at him, slipping your fingers through his blonde locks. His eyes gaze into your soul, his words settling into your heart, engraving themselves in stone. 

“I hated seeing you so broken up over that prick…I guess it fueled me to be better. To be better for you.” He says, resting his head in your hands. 

“I only wanted him as a rebound, Simon.” You say, a sly smirk on your face. He scoffs at you, raising his head to meet yours. His smile was still so new to you, enough to make you crumble at his feet without shame. “You’re a damn minx, you know that?” He says, a soft chuckle escaping from his lips. “You don’t have to worry about that useless bloke anymore.” He continues, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek. “I can treat you better than he ever can, love”.

[milkzoro]

too shy

summary: you and trafalgar law reconnect after a month

cw: MDNI, soft sex, sub!law (barely), tinder use

☆彡

he has that feeling again. loneliness and boredom are taking over his mind. he misses you so much. before, you were always the main focus in his life and he liked it that way. the feelings he has for you are indescribable. he would give you the world if you asked. though, he knew good things take time, and he was willing to wait.

you were never a couple but he always felt that is was you that were meant for him. even if that meant him getting hurt in the long run, he would still never get together with another person or feel like how he did with you. he just wanted to know if he could be something more. fuck buddies is nice but he knows there is a connection.

tinder is gross but he’s swiping again. just trying to see your image pop up, it’s like a routine at this point. he’s self aware of his actions but absolutely does not care. although, he hasn’t swiped on you yet. he was too scared of what might happen if you actually matched. he would be so relieved if it were to happen but that weird feeling rested in his stomach again that made him think.

in the past when you guys were closer, the two of you would share countless thoughts and memories, even explored many new ways to feel good. he knew everything about you and you knew everything about him. he wanted nothing more than to constantly be around you like a little puppy dog.

you on the other felt as if you could never be in a happy relationship, seeing past relationships with the people around were never a great example. too good to be true. you still loved people regardless, loved him. you just thought you needed to heal yourself first.

law was staring intently at his phone screen as he was hunched up in his dark bed room. tension fills the space as he thinks if now is a good time,, that sinking feeling in his chest makes his mind wander. i want her to be mine.

curiosity got the best of him and his breathing stoped.

panic formed within him seeing that the two of you had matched. he needed to see you, and now he had the opportunity. with a few short messages he was on his way over to your place. he wanted to ask questions. god he missed you.

“it’s only been a month since we ended our situationship?? relationshi-,, anyway. can’t wait. wanna she how she’s doing. hope she’s healthy ‘n well taken care of.”

his inked hands were firm on the wheel as more thoughts of you flooded his mind. soon he would pull into your driveway.

“y/n”

he stood tall as he entered the doorway of your apartment.

he looked so good like this. ruffled up hair, coarseness in his voice, loose clothing that were stained with his scent from the day. the late hours of the night really makes him look,,,,

and you looked so good as well he thought. he even froze, forgetting what he came here to talk to you about in the first place. the thoughts slipped his mind and somehow the two of you ended up in your sheets.

“i couldn’t stay away ahh, had to come see you” he breathed as he layed beneath you. you were placed on both sides of his thighs and hips, sitting pretty. playfully biting the tips of his lobes and placing tender kisses along his jaw.

his hands slowly started to gain their comfortability back as you found them slowing caressing themselves on the fat of your hips. you could feel his grip tightening and you let a sweet giggle escape your lips, “missed ya baby, i wanna treat you so so bad.”

seeing the tightness in his pants is making you even more aroused. anticipation is flowing though your aching cunt. you always loved the way he would be with you, so soft and always letting you to be the one to call the shots. you liked to have a little fun with him, enjoyed seeing him whine for you,

“y/n ah~ please, i need to feel you” hearing his begs and pleads, you had to give in. you needed him too. “i know baby,” you press against his parted lips softly, tugging on the lower one.

you sink down on him sighing deeply at his length. moving painfully slow trying to get more sweet words out of him. his cock twitched inside of you as he barely got to taste the feeling of your cervix against his tip. “y/n ya~ i know your doing this on purpose” he whined trying to get you to move against him.

“mmmokay baby i’m ready now”

with the okay, he whimpered, knowing the feeling of ecstasy that was about to flood his body.

his strong hands were still on your hips as he fucks up into you. slowwwlyyy. the feeling of your silky walls clenching him made his head spin.

“mmm fuckk law~” your head falls back causing pressure to build in your windpipe. he slides out of you and slips his dick between your slick folds. using the weight of his hands to pull and grind you against him. your eyes are squeezing as you feel the pleasure building in your cunt. slick sounds filling the room.

“feel so good baby, such a perfect pussy ahh~” feeing your warmth has him soo close. “can i come inside baby, is that okay?” you can feel his chest breathing deeply as he supports your weight on top of him.

you need it, so so bad. “mmm FUCK. YES. laww put it back insideee. i wanna feel you muhhhhh shiiiit baby i’m so close pleasee.” you missed his dick so much. just perfect for you.

with your word he wraps one arm under your slick thighs and wraps the other with one of your arms. with his steady hold, he picks you up and lays you on you back so he can watch your pretty face as you cum for him.

his yellow eyes looked into yours as he lined up to your entrance, “y/n-yaa” he sighed as he pushed in your sopping cunt with ease.

you legs wrapped around his torso as he bottomed out, toes currling tight as trying to make sure you get all of him inside.. “ahh yes law please- ahh please move baby-“ and so he did. thrusting deep and slow as he muffled delicious noises against your neck. “y/n i wanna cum baby. are you- ah ahh fuck- y/n are you ready, pretty girl?”

you nodded your head as you try to match his strokes, truly trying to chase your own high. his dick is magic. “SHHIIT BABY I’M COMING!! please don’t st- stopppmghhhh” he fucks up into your cunt with a bit more pace now causing him to finally release his hot cum deep within your pussy.

his twitches feel sooo fucking good inside as you both come down from your releases. his damp forehead coming to rest down on your own. “such a good girl fa me” he says between pants, lips softy coming to greet yours.

you couldn’t hide the warmth that spread to your cheeks. oh how you missed him, your sweet man. things feel how they should. this is okay, right? thoughts of his messages flood your mind as you feel him snuggle against you.

we have to talk in the morning..

an: law is obsessed with you!!!! you love him right?!?!?!?!!!!???!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

Kei, thank you for thinking of me!! 🥰 Picking five out of 102 was hard, bc all of them are special somehow, but here goes!

🐉 Hic sunt dracones 

15 chapters / 99,705 words / Fantasy AU / Dragon!Eddie, Royal!Steve / rated E 

The day that Prince Steven Harrington turns twenty is the first sunny spring day after a seemingly endless spell of heavy rain that left the castle grounds drowning in mud and its inhabitants freezing and miserable in the inescapable dampness of everything.

But that is not why he will remember it so vividly for the rest of his life.

It is also the day that his father, King Richard, chooses to ride off into war with great fanfare, to strengthen the glory of Hawkins and expand its wealth and territory.

But this also isn’t why the day will be forever ingrained in his memory.

No, the actual reason Steve knows that he will not forget his twentieth birthday until the moment his heart stops beating and his eyes close forever is an entirely different one.

It is the day he finds the dragon.

👪 Someone who cares

14 chapters / 83,986 words / Modern AU / Single dad!Steve, Nanny!Eddie / rated E

Hey, babe …

It takes Robin only a minute to respond, and apparently she can read his mood even through text message.

Hey, love! What’s wrong?

The terrace seems weirdly quiet and empty without Eddie’s presence. Eddie, who is all loud and wild on the outside, but kind and considerate on the inside. Who will gladly reopen the scars of his own past to make a sad little boy feel better. Who calls Steve cute, and a softie, and thinks his son is the greatest kid in the world.

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He digs his fingers into the bridge of his nose so hard his nails leave little indents in the sensitive skin there. Then, he lets out a heavy breath, types and hits send before he can overthink it for too long.

I think I’m fucked.

----------

Or:

The one in which Steve Harrington, overtired and over-stressed businessman and single dad, hires Eddie Munson as a nanny.

🧜‍♂️ Just add water

5 chapters / 21,382 words / Summer Camp AU / mer!Steve, human!Eddie / rated E

It's one of the unwritten laws of Camp Lovers' Lake, as solid and immovable as the official rules. Curfew is at nine. No swimmers or boats are allowed past the buoys.

And Steve Harrington does not go in the water.

---

Or: Three times Eddie wonders what Steve's secret is, one time he learns, and one time he finds out a lot more.

🔥 Whatever you want it to be

5 chapters / 18,683 words / omegaverse / Omega!Eddie, Alpha!Steve / rated E

Steve, who has just ripped through the tape binding his wrists in an impressive feat of strength, freezes mid movement. His nostrils flare and Eddie can practically see the moment it clicks for him, even before his eyes flick down.

“Wait a second,” he mutters, and then his eyes are back on Eddie’s face, wide and panicked and disbelieving. “You are-”

“Pretty fucking hot when tied up?” Eddie rasps around an aching jaw, voice still hoarse with misuse. “Why, gee, who knew you were into that kinda stuff, Harrington?”

“Stop joking, that’s not what I meant!”

The command is sharp, and Eddie finds his jaw clenching shut against his conscious will. A red-hot flush is crawling up Steve's neck, but his face is full of serious concern.

“You're in heat,” he murmurs.

---

Or: The one where Eddie goes into a drug-enduced heat courtesy of Jason Carver and his goons and Steve saves him. (And then they fuck about it.)

🌹 Kiss that ring (mini series)

6 parts / 5,926 words / Mafia AU / hitman!Eddie, Mob baby!Steve / rated E

The boy tries to shy away from his touch, but he doesn’t get far, bound in place as he is. Eddie chuckles.

“Shhh, honey,” he scolds, cradling that pretty face with both hands. “It's okay. The name's Eddie, I work for your dad. Well, worked.”

The boy blinks at him, hazel eyes large and confused. Eddie laughs softly.

“See, the firm’s under new management. My management, to be more specific. I’m trying to keep it minimum bloodshed, so your old man’s gonna make himself scarce and I’ve agreed not to bother him. In return, I get to keep this fine house … and everything in it.”

[roonotrue]

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption Chapter #4

TW: Depiction of painkilling herbs being eaten- aka one loopy-as-hell cat.

Realizations - Narinder

Narinder is not a poet. Not a writer, or a master of words.

So it is no surprise that Lamb's confession stunned him into silence.

"And I wanted you to care so much, but you didn't."

How is he supposed to care if he didn't fucking know? That's not fair of them to hold that against him. It's not fair for them to act like some heartbroken beau that he led on, and then tossed aside.

And then they had the audacity to leave before he could even find a way to respond.

He supposes a part of him is relieved they're not kneeling in front of him anymore while he's trying to sort through his thoughts.

They cared about him. What does that even mean? In the context of a god and a follower?

He thinks he knows exactly what Lamb means, but he'll be damned if he just assumes...

He tries to look back and pinpoint the moments that could give him some kind of hint, or insight into what they mean. Moments that he somehow missed the first time around.

But looking back, all of his memories feel hazy.

Like a terrible, violent fever dream of being so angry, in pain, waiting... Then the betrayal. Every time they try and think back on moments with the Lamb they are greeted by that moment.

When they refused to give the Red Crown back, and instead chose to raise their blade to him.

And every time he is reminded of that moment, he is filled with this cold, dead weight in his chest that he wants to call rage but he knows it's something different.

Hurt.

And hurt made him angry.

Why did it hurt so much? Because he let himself become fond of the wretched beast, he tells himself. He grew attached, even though he knew exactly how things were meant to end.

But they didn't end that way, did they? And now here he is. Alone.

Looking down at his bandages, he can still feel the cooling, refreshing sensation of the medical salve, easing the soreness of his wounds. It didn't help at all with the cramping in his muscles, or aching in his bones, causing the horrible shaking throughout his limbs.

But a feeling that trumps the cramping, or the cooling of the medicine are the traces... The traces of Lamb's touch linger all over his body. His arms, around his ankles, his back and torso. Everywhere he tries to focus his attention he feels them.

Such light, careful care, embedded all over him deeper than the injuries left by his chains.

It had made him forget how angry he was, and say things he shouldn't have... Feel things he shouldn't have.

Things like that horrible fondness, that make him want to hear Lamb's laughter again. That makes him want to hold them in his hand, and hope that they're bold enough to duck under his veil again so he can see them better...

They were so close to him, and when they pulled away, he grabbed them. Not wanting to lose the feeling. The momentary peace that being so close to someone after so long brings. Even if that person is them. The one who...

Who makes him so hurt and so angry every time he thinks about them. About what they did, or what they're doing now. Being so kind, and so damn sincere that he wants to believe them, but he can't.

He can't trust them, he or be fond of them, and he certainly can't care about them, because they took everything from him. His power. His divinity. His dignity.

The only thing they left him with is his life, and he's still 50/50 on whether that's worse.

His torso has yet to be bandaged. The lamb left so quickly, that he can only assume they are going to get this 'Miki' person to do the stitches and finish wrapping him up.

He doubts it will be the last time he sees Lamb while he's... 'Unwell' like this. So he needs to figure out what to say when they do come face to face again.

Does he need to say something? Does he want to say something? Should he confront them about the unfairness of this situation? Or just let it go and pretend it never happened?

Narinder has already come to terms with the fact that he's stuck accepting their help and afterward being stuck as a mere follower- he'll be damned before he has to do any pathetic chores or menial tasks though.

Now, though... He's conflicted. He had planned to ignore Lamb after he was healed and didn't need their assistance anymore... But he wants answers. He wants to know what Lamb means when they say they care, and why their admission confuses him so much.

Makes him want to clarify things.

Tell them that he might not have... Cared in the same way he thinks they mean, but that he had... Preferred them to... Past vessels?

Fates, he feels like a fool.

If he wasn't in so much pain, he'd throw himself back onto the bed and bury his head under the pillows to try and block out all these thoughts and feelings.

"Um... Hello? Narinder, sir? May I come in?"

He's still leaning over the bed, glaring daggers at the empty ground where Lamb had been when the clear-toned voice interrupts his inner conflict.

"Come in." He sighs, and the fennec fox's head pops through the curtains, looking around before stepping inside.

The light from outside has turned a deep orange and pinkish tone. The sun is setting.

She's holding a small wooden box of well-organized metal tools and supplies, and she strides up to him, holding her silence, and focused gaze as kneels behind him, and examines his back.

Narinder wants to whirl around and hiss at her to back the fuck up, but he doesn't have the physical energy or pain tolerance to do so.

"I'm guessing you're Miki?" He sighs, giving up on doing anything but sitting down and just dealing with whatever he's handed.

"Yes. I take care of most medical-related issues around camp. The Lamb was right, these do need stitches, a lot. I imagine it's just as bad in the front. Are these scars anything to worry about?" She points at the two identical scars running just below his pecs, and he shakes his head.

"No. I've had those since before all this. Top surgery scars, I don't think any of you followers know what that is..." He sighs, and she shrugs.

"We have top surgery, it's just not as... Safe. As it could be. I'm working on making it safer. We can talk more about it later because I do have questions regarding where your surgery was done and by whom, but for now..." She pauses to meet his gaze and holds up the curved needle in her hand.

"This is going to take a while so settle in and lay down on your stomach. I can offer you some herbs to numb the pain, but they'll make you very tired, and kind of loopy. It's up to you if you want them though." She steps back to give him space to move.

Lamb clearly didn't tell her that he can't move very well without help, and he isn't about to admit it.

So he settles for trying to force his body to move through the pain.

His back is the worst of it, digging a deep growl out of his throat as he tries to twist himself around, onto the bed on his stomach, without moving the blanket off of him and giving the poor follower an eyeful.

"Do you need assistance? I understand that you can't move very well, but I wanted to see it for myself to analyze. Can you describe the kind of pain you are experiencing?" Ah, so she does know.

"It's a cramping. So bad that I can't stop shaking, or get my limbs to do what I want. My back and legs are the worst." He explains as she places a slightly too firm grasp on his shoulders and mildly manhandles him to lay on his back.

Giving her a full view of his injuries.

"Hmm. I have dealt with a few similar cases in people who haven't moved for long periods, usually only a few months, but years... Well, I'll tell you now, it's not an easy fix. Do you want the herbs? They won't take effect immediately, but it will make everything less painful, stitches and cramping. They'll also probably put you to sleep for the rest of the night." She talks slightly faster and far more monotone than he expected for someone who follows Lamb.

Something about the lack of emotion in her voice creates a professional air in the whole shelter. An air that makes him feel far safer than he's felt in his entire time being here.

"I'll take them. How do I get rid of the cramping?" He asks as he hears her shuffling around the supplies.

She moves around and he turns his head to look at her as she holds out a small leaf-bound bundle, he swallows it quickly as the bitter taste nearly makes him gag.

"I don't want you to push yourself too much because of your outward injuries, but the only real way to help regain your strength and control over your limbs is to exercise and stretch them. Water therapy would be best, but submerging your stitches isn't an option." She explains, her hands poking and prodding at his back, pulling painfully at some of the deeper wounds.

Far less gentle than Lamb had been.

"Watch it." He hisses, in pain, and then lets his curiosity win. "And what's water therapy?"

"Swimming, essentially. A gentler alternative to normal physical therapy. Either way, you'll need someone to oversee it, myself ideally, but I can train the Lamb to aid you instead if you are not comfortable with my presence." He only hums in response.

His body doesn't hurt as much, and as she said, he's becoming drowsy. His eyelids are heavy, and the shaking in his arms is subsided. He hardly even feels the sharp piercing as it follows a horizontal path around his waist.

He's half asleep when it stops and moves up around his left shoulder blade. Then right. Then the same monotone voice asks him to turn over so she can 'evaluate the damage'.

He would think that the newfound lack of agony coursing through his bones would make it much easier. Instead, the fatigue pulls him down and makes his whole body turn to dead weight. She's talking again, and he peeks his eyes open but quickly decides that whatever it is, isn't as important as sleep.

So he closes them again.

~~~

"You've done well vessel. Soon enough, my chains will be broken, thanks to your ruthless efficiency." He's staring at them, as they sit in his hand, only a few inches from his face.

They're awfully silent this visit. Usually, they break into a ramble about the crusade they had just died during, or the way things around the cult are going. And Narinder would listen. Their voice is soothing. Easing the burning tension in his body the moment they arrive, and look up at him with that radiant smile, so overjoyed to see him again.

~~~

He opens his eyes when there are small hands- the fennec fox's hands trying to lift him to roll him over. He can't recall her name... Miku? Mimi? Something like that. She curses under her breath.

He tries to aid her in her weak attempts, even though his mind is hazy. But he must have done something right because now he's on his back, and the piercing is on his stomach now so he closes his eyes again.

 ~~~

He likes this one. This vessel. A small, innocent-looking Lamb, with all the fire and maliciousness of a thousand suns, scorching all who stand against them. Yet when they stand before him, they are soft-spoken. They laugh a lot, usually at something he does or says.

He doesn't know what's so funny, but the sound is like music, so he doesn't question it.

Others, like Ratau, were weak, but not just that, they were so... Boring. They didn't speak much, didn't respond well, and only ever bowed to him before being sent back to the overworld. 

~~~

When he opens his eyes again it's to the sound of Lamb's voice.

"Narinder, I'm just gonna help hold you up while Miki wraps the bandage around you- oof! Okay- this, uh, this works. I guess." Their laughter is nervous, hesitant, and not the carefree one he would much rather grace his ears.

He is leaning forward, his head resting against them. They don't smell like blood, or death like he expects now that they are the God of Death. No, they smell like they always have. Like wildflowers, and fresh air after rain.

They're warm, and he bunts his head against the side of their face, before burying it into their neck, shutting his eyes again.

~~~

"What troubles you, my vessel? You have not spoken, by now Aym and Baal are ready to kick you out themselves." He chuckles, as he looks down at the mentioned twins, who side-eye glance at each other and shrug in agreement to the statement.

His dear Lamb looks up with startled eyes, and he can't help but chuckle. They must not have realized how obvious they were being...

"Nothing! Really it's nothing, well, not nothing, nothing, just... I want to tell you something, but it's hard to... Word. And I don't think that right now is the best time..." They ramble now.

Perhaps he shouldn't have said anything...

~~~

He opens his eyes this time because Lamb laughs again. A good laugh at something the small fox said. Soft, but sincere, and he can feel it reverberate through their chest. He wraps his arms up and around them to pull him closer and they become stiff as a board.

He doesn't care though, as his hands rest at their waist, and a deep rumbling is sounding from somewhere... Is it coming from him? Is he purring? He hasn't purred in a long time, and it's hard to recognize the sound.

He shoves his face into his Lamb's soft wool as he closes his eyes for what's hopefully the final time...

~~~

"Silence, Lamb, you need not speak of it if you wish not to. I only wish to know, so that I might ease the worries off of your face. I much prefer your smile." He raises his other hand to lift his Lamb's chin carefully with the tip of his clawed pointer finger.

They smile as they meet his eyes, but it is still nervous, and unsure. They glance away from him, their eyes darting around the afterlife, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I... Appreciate that, but I think I'll save what's on my mind for later. How about after I've gotten you out of these chains? Deal?"  They now look a bit more energetic, as they jump up, and duck down, and before he has time to process it...

There they are. Underneath his veil, peering up into his blood-soaked eyes. Smiling, without a care in the world, as if what they've just done isn't enough to get them massacred by any other God in their right mind.

They lean against his nose, and he is suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that they smell like wildflowers and fresh air after rain. Such a refreshing... Lively scent. As if they aren't working for the God of Death, but rather frolicking fields with a God of Life.

They rest their arms on his snout and blink up at him, tilting their head ever so slightly in curiosity when he remains still in stunned silence.

They then laugh when he laughs, and he wants them to stay right there for as long as it might take for him to grow sick of their presence. But he's not sure when that might be. A century or two? Maybe three if they don't run out of things to talk about too quickly.

But alas. There are still Bishops to defeat, a cult to maintain, and chains to be broken.

Perhaps before he has them kneel to sacrifice themselves to him, he can ask them what it is they had planned on saying.

"Deal."

~~~

He wakes one final time when he's being carefully laid back onto the mattress and a soft voice is mumbling. His Lamb's voice.

Something about changing the bed sheets in the morning, and the current ones being bloodied.

"Lamb..." His voice is so quiet, it's a miracle he can even hear himself.

He has a tight hold on their fleece.

"Yes, Narinder?" Their voice is wobbly, and he tries to force his eyes open.

He wants to see them, but he's so tired.

"You planned to confess... After I was freed... How could I not see that you..." How could he not realize that they loved him?

Was he so oblivious? He could have read their mind at any time, but he didn't... He could have seen their feelings. He could have also seen their betrayal coming, but somehow, this is less important than their feelings.

"I... You're all loopy, Nari, go to sleep, and I'll bring you breakfast in the morning." They pry his hand off of their fleece, and he lets them, with a soft hum.

"Nari? I like that..." Nari. His siblings used to call him that when he was still very small, but stopped when he got older.

When he got the Red Crown.

"Hm. I'll call you it more often than if you promise not to try and kill me when you're less high." They stand up and pull one of the blankets up over him, and then they're walking away.

No. Stay.

Please stay.

His brain screams, but his mouth can't keep up, and the fog in his mind is so heavy and his limbs are so heavy and his heart is so heavy, and everything is just so damn heavy...

His heavy thoughts fill with thoughts of Lamb. His Lamb. Who smells like wildflowers and fresh air after rain. His Lamb. Who he was once so fond of, but now can't bring himself to feel such fondness without it reside beside pain. And anger. And distrust.

And they are in pain, angry, and distrustful too.

So how do either of them fix it?

~~~

When he wakes up he is alone, and his head is still hazy, and his body is in agony.

Stiff, and sore, his torso is immovable, a dull throbbing making him groan in pain. His arms and legs hurt just the same but aren't as bad as they were.

Maybe he's just too focused on his torso to care about the tremors as they start racking his arms again. Or, maybe it's the haunting realization of his own drug-induced actions last night that really keeps him frozen in his place, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling.

He didn't know he could be so... Touchy. When tired. But the smell of them is still swirling around in his mind, and it makes it hard to focus on anything else he did.

He doesn't remember all of it, not clearly anyway, from having been in and out of consciousness. But he remembers the moment Lamb arrived. When they laughed. When he leaned forward onto them. When he shoved his head into the wool on their neck. When he started purring so deeply he could feel it vibrating his whole body...

The room is cleared of all medical supplies, and the nightstand is cleaned off.

He's not exactly sure what time it is, or how long he's been asleep, but he knows, from the light slowly brightening around the edges of the window and doorway curtains that it's close to morning.

And that Lamb promised to bring him breakfast. So he needs to get his thoughts in order quickly.

He still needs to confront Lamb about their sudden admission to him. Then about that day... That distinct memory replaying in his mind helped him connect the dots even in his herb-induced state.

Lamb had wanted to confess to him after they freed him, and he...

Guilt is still a foreign emotion to him. He used to feel it in small amounts when he was a child and would get into spats with Leshy, or Heket and say something he didn't mean.

The worst time was during a thunderstorm that he had gotten caught in on his way back to the temple. He doesn't remember where he was returning from or when the first strike of thunder sent him running out of his own damn skin, but he does remember hiding.

Hiding, terrified in the small hollow of an old tree trunk. The mud soaking around his feet, and the bottom of his robe. When Shamura found him he was so afraid he hadn't wanted to get out from under the trunk, and when his older sibling reached in to grab him, he'd just... Lashed out.

His claws hooked on Shamura's forearm damn good, and he knew he drew blood when they tried to pull away and his claws yanked out of the skin it was caught on.

He felt the wave of guilt hit him harder than the fear and strike as quickly as the lightning of the storm around him.

And no matter how many times he apologized, or how many times Shamura tried to assure him it was alright, he was haunted by the feeling.

The guilt. That made his heart sink like lead in water every time he saw the paper-thin scars on Shamura's arm.

But all those times happened long ago before he was even given the Red Crown. Since then, this degree of guilt has snuck up on him twice. Both because of Lamb.

When he had snapped at them the other and they rushed out of the room on the verge of tears, and then now.

Feeling this overwhelming guilt because of this horrible realization that the entire time he had been waiting for the day they would sacrifice their life to him...

They were waiting to tell him that they were in love with him.

He wonders how they felt in that moment. The second he asked them to kneel, did they feel the same sinking dread in their chest that he felt when they chose not to?

Did they feel the same horrible dread when they marched to their death earlier that year, standing before his kin as they prepared to kill the final lamb?

If so then it truly confirms the thought that's been plaguing him for the last hour.

He's no better than them. Hell, he might be worse. At least they didn't trick any of the lambs they were slaughtering into trusting them. Or become selectively blind when said lamb fell in love with them.

Speaking of the new God of Death...

The moment that they knock on his door and step through the curtain with a soft, sad smile, and a warm breakfast in their hands he realizes something that makes all of his other realizations that much more horrid...

He never would have asked them to kneel, if he had known they loved him.

Maybe I even would have...

"Morning, Nari. I brought another mixed meal, everything is bland and seasonless, but there's a bit more variety. I'm also going to get started on those upgrades for your shelter. Nothing perfect, but function for now." They sit on the bed next to him, and he's glad to find that he can sit up a little easier on his own, without as much pain as before.

At least in his arms. His torso is irritated and sore as shit. Lamb moves to grip his arm and help him, and he bites his own tongue to stop from purring at the touch.

The herbs clearly haven't worn off completely just yet...

Looking them in the eye there are a million things he wants to say but what comes out isn't exactly what he's expecting.

"I'm sorry."

A simple two words as Lamb sits beside him to help him eat, just like they've done the day before. They freeze in place, staring at him with widened eyes, and he stares back.

As stunned as he is, he's surprised to find that he doesn't regret the words.

He's not sure that his own anger has subsided. Hell, looking at them now, glancing at the Red Crown on their head that was once his... He can still feel the flickering flames of frustration, and the much stronger flame of humiliation and embarrassment.

But neither are as strong as they once were. The raging wildfire has died down, turning to something more... Tired.

He just wants all this pain to stop, and to be able to move freely again.

He wants to be free.

It's all he thinks he wants anymore. Before the desire for freedom lived closely beside his desperation for revenge.

To destroy the other Bishops. His family. Make them pay for locking him up in the first place.

At some point... Maybe after the thousand-year mark, or maybe two thousand years, freedom became his main priority.

Revenge became an... Added bonus.

And now? It's all he's been thinking about- thoughts of Lamb not counting.

Wanting so desperately for the pain to subside so that he can once again see the world outside of this shelter.

And all the anger still buried inside is just a footnote in comparison to that desire.

So when he looks into the Lamb's eyes and sees their confusion, he doesn't have it in him to take the words back or snap at them.

He can't forgive them, at least not now. Perhaps not ever. But he knows he's tired of being mad. Tired of lashing out every time they reach out to help, and then feeling guilty an instant later.

And he is Sorry.

Sorry that he didn't know. Sorry that he never gave them a chance to tell him. Sorry, that...

In the end, he really wasn't any better than his siblings. Maybe he still isn't. He's not sure anymore.

What he is sure of, is that even if he's still angry, they have a right to be angry too, and yet...

They're helping him anyway. Caring for his wounds, feeding him, helping him move, and upgrading his shelter so he doesn't have to leave if he doesn't want to, and can just spend the rest of his immortal life locked indoors...

And all he's doing is complaining, snapping at them, and making them cry.

Even his shitty siblings, if they were here, would agree that that's not fair.

"You're... Sorry?" They repeat, head tilting, unsure, and stiff as a board.

"Yeah." He wants to lean forward towards them again but resists, grabbing the blankets below him just to keep himself anchored in place.

"I'm still angry at you. So... So angry. I hate that you spared me. I hate how pathetic, weak, and humiliated I feel. I hate that you're the one that's made me feel this way... But I... I recognize that you're angry too and that what I did was not... I shouldn't have... Fuck, I don't know..." He sighs, lifting a hand to drag down his face, and pausing to think of his next words carefully.

At this point he's glaring down at his remaining hand as his claws dig into the blanket, refusing to look back up at Lamb.

"I don't know that I regret what I did, but I regret that I hurt you when I did it. I regret that I didn't know because if I did... I'm not sure things would have played out the way they did. But we can't change that now, so I'm sorry. Sorry, that I was, and that I have been, ignorant." He finishes his botched apology.

It's not elegant. Not exactly what he wants to say either, but it will have to do, because now his head hurts.

He just wants them to respond already, but glancing up, the deep frown and contemplating look on their face tells him their gonna need a minute.

A long. Long minute.

"You're wrong..." They breathe, the words a whisper in the silent room.

His eyes dart to theirs, but they carefully avoid his questioning gaze.

"Do you remember much of last night? When you were talking to me before I left?" They ask, setting the bowl on the bed beside them, and bringing their hands into their lap, twiddling their thumbs.

I remember I didn't want you to leave...

"I remembered the day you ducked under my veil. The action distracted me from the conversation, but I remembered it last night. That day... You were planning to tell me that you... Cared." He doesn't dare say the real word. Not out loud. "Weren't you?"

"I was. I had this silly idea that... That after you were freed, I would confess, and you would accept, and I would show you the camp and everything I've built for... For you. And that maybe we could... I don't know. It's stupid, thinking about it now." They stand up and move around the bed towards the window.

Still avoiding his eyes, as they follow their movements with far too much interest.

Lifting a hand, with a single finger he cracks open the curtain just slightly, letting the morning light peek inside, as they look out.

"But then... Everything happened... You were right when you called me weak. When you were defeated, and I had the choice to spare or kill you, I was weak. I couldn't bring myself to do it, because a part of me still hoped that if I spared you, you would..." They let out a shaky sigh, and finally turn to look at him.

A pleading look in their eyes, begging him to understand so they wouldn't have to say it out loud.

"Oh." A dim response. But what the hell else could he say?

"Yeah. Oh." They give a dry laugh, and move back, sitting on the edge of the bed, before sliding down onto the floor.

They rest their hands over their eyes.

"But you're wrong about me being angry at you. I'm angry at myself, and every time I look at you I'm just... Miserable. Sad that nothing happened the way I wanted it to, and now here we are. You're wounded and in pain, and I'm so conflicted and confused about this." They motion up to the Red Crown.

"I mean, I'm a god now. I never planned on that! I've been leading this cult with the expectation that you'd take over once I freed you, but instead, I'm going to be their leader for who knows how long! And I can't even get half of them to stop wanting to eat their own shit!" Their voice rises the more they rant, and he snorts at the last part.

"Yeah, well, followers aren't as smart as they used to be. Back when The Old Faith was at its best, Shamura had a strong school system in place, and Kallamar was an expert in medicine and hygiene, sharing his knowledge with his most devout so that they could spread the word of what is and isn't good for you. Such as eating shit." He comments, a small smile gracing his face.

"But that was... A long time ago. Since my imprisonment, the Bishop's wounds, and the genocide of the lambs, everything has deteriorated. Now those who remain are just trying to survive. No shepherd to guide them." Another realization, he notes as he speaks.

"You are the only god remaining now, Lamb. The only one that can create so much as a semblance of society, so that they no longer have to struggle. So that they can actually enjoy life before their bodies wither, and they have to surrender their souls to you. The new God of Death." He sits up and tosses his mildly aching legs over the side of the bed.

Moving as slow as he can for his torso's sake, and relying solely on what little arm strength he has, and a bit on gravity, he pushes himself down onto the floor. Next to Lamb. The blanket is dragged down with him.

"Well, that really makes me feel better." They grumble, looking at him and his tail involuntarily brushes against their arm, an attempt at comfort.

"I'm not trying to make you feel better-" Liar. "Just telling the truth."

"... I've been leading them long enough to know what I need to do, I just don't know how. Some of my more valued followers like Noon, and Miki are trying to help, but neither of them knows much about the divine aspect of it, like shepherding souls, maintaining the afterlife, etc..." They lift a hand up, grabbing the crown of their head and bringing it down in front of them to examine.

"I do." He blurts, not fully thinking about how much it sounds like an offer.

They too jump, head darting to look at him.

"You'll help me?" They ask, disbelief heavy in their voice.

"Maybe. If your cult doesn't fall apart before I can breathe without pain, then maybe- and that's a very strong maybe. I'll consider giving you some pointers on how to be a proper God of Death. A way to earn your forgiveness, since I doubt my words mean much to you." He subconsciously moves his tail again, brushing it along the side of their face.

When he sees it, he quickly grabs the offending part and pins it to the ground. He's grateful when Lamb chooses not to mention it, only glancing at the now pinned tail with a soft giggle.

A giggle that makes his fur stand on end in a fluttering feeling he can't even begin to identify.

Embarrassment. That's what he's going to call it. Embarrassment.

"They do mean something, Narinder... I know it took a lot for you to say them, so thank you, for apologizing..." Their smile drops, and they turn their gaze away.

"But?" He can feel it coming from a mile away.

"But I think it's going to take a lot more to fix things than an apology. I'm still not even confident that when you get better you won't just try to attack me and get the crown back then..." They're right to be paranoid about that.

He's thought about it. A lot.

Is still kind of thinking about it.

"Right. Well, I don't plan on doing that right now, we'll see about later though." He can't help but smirk at the small glare they send his way.

"I guess I can live with that. And for the record, I'm sorry too. Not for choosing not to die, but that you feel weak and humiliated because of me. But you should know, Narinder, that you are not pathetic. You're strong, and I beat you by a hair, and now, here you are, dealing with a pain that no normal mortal alive could tolerate... You're..." They pause, meeting his eyes for a long moment.

There's something there. Something akin to adoration- much like the kind they used to wear on their face when they looked up at him when he was a god.

It makes his fur stand on end again in embarrassment.

Embarrassment that's all it is.

He has to break eye contact, turning to look at the window, and flinching when light hits his eyes. The small opening Lamb made earlier still bleeding light into the room.

They notice his flinch.

"Oh, right, your eyes. Sorry." They stand up, quickly, moving a single step forward to close the curtain properly.

"It's fine." He hadn't even realized how close they'd been. It was just so natural. Being so close to them...

It felt strangely right.

Now though, with the distance between them, the spell is broken. Even they seem to realize it.

"Right well, I do have a lot to do today so... Why don't I switch your bedsheets, get you back in bed, get you fed, and then work on those shelter upgrades, hmm?" There is a newfound pep in their step.

And in a second they're bouncing across the room with an energy that does not match the conversation they've been having for the last half-an-hour.

A mask. One that they put on so easily it's almost frightening.

But he doesn't complain. He's gone through enough emotions to last him a week, and right now, he just wants to eat and go back to sleep.

Of course, Lamb isn't going to make it that easy.

"Sooo, about last night, was it the herbs that made you all cuddly or am I just that adorable?" They look back at him with a teasing smile that could light up the darkest of nights.

"Shut the fuck up-!!"

~~~

Fun fact: Miki is based on one of my favorite followers from my first-ever game, a game that my little cousin ended up deleting when I let him play on my Switch. That's the real betrayal here. I still haven't forgiven that 11-year-old punk.

I'm thinking about making an 'introduction to the featured and background OC's post.' What do y'all think?

[give-grian-rights]

Hermitcraft Fic Rec!

HELLO. i have hundreds, HUNDREDS of hermitcraft fanfiction bookmarked and living in my brain without rent. Breaking this up into categories for some of my PERSONAL favorite fics in the fandom- including categories for shipping, crossover, and worldbuilding.

Some of these fics are from 2019 but generally speaking you don't need knowledge of past seasons you should be able to pick up on just about all of them. a lot of these are mostly included BECAUSE they're older and therefore, harder to accidentally stumble upon. put in no particular order.

If your fic is on here and you'd like it removed, send an Ask with the fic, a dm, etc

World Building

The Parting Glass / To Pass The Jungle You Have To Go All The Way Around - Sekrap.

Doc has been trying to forget. He has done everything everyone told him he should do to make the memories go away. And still the jungle calls for him. / He was a monster. Then, a man. Now, a machine. Doc, once a normal Creeper, was not meant to live. Let alone become a Player. He learned to speak, he learned to fight, he learned to build. Some things stayed the same. aka- the Domestic Creeper au.

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Carpet Trick - CrazyCatMeow

You all know the double carpet trick right? What happens when that joint with a tired mad scientist meet.

Mob hybrids can't see carpets <3 extra silly and very lighthearted

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Window Pane - blueticked

Tango and Impulse discuss the brand new presence of Helsknight.

It's not a coincidence that all the evil personas have red eyes.

Tango is a Hels, struggling with self-acceptance and his place in Hermitcraft, which was never meant to be for him. in my head ALL THE TIME

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"I know" - KindaJustHere

Bdubs was used to death. He was used to being killed by his fellow hermits. He was very used to being killed by Grian. Maybe a little too much.

(This is based off Grian’s episode 61 of hermitcraft season 7 where Bdubs says “I know” and shoots himself) BDUBS SELF ESTEEM ANGST!! Griangst !!!! Emotionally fucked up Grian from YHS !!

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Hiss and Scratch - TheNerdyTurtle96

Doc is a mad scientist who isn't afraid of anything. Actually, that's not true. His only weakness is cats.

exactly like it said it is . SO GOOD AND CUTE

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For the Record - Anonymous

Tango shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I did. Xisuma’s teaching Impulse some Galactic Standard so he can cheat at enchanting or something. Apparently Xelqua’s, like, some sort of god in Xisuma’s culture? It was kind of unclear, I wasn’t paying attention when Impulse told me.”

“Huh,” Grian said vacantly. “How about that.”

oops! Grian is Xisuma's god. amazing

____ GrianMC - SixteenthDays

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Techno says frankly.

“You know,” Grian says again. “Your- Watchers.”

Techno squints for a moment before understanding visibly dawns behind his eyes. “Ohhh, you mean Chat?”

(On watchers, and Watchers.)

This IS technically a crossover but its more worldbuilding than anything else. its literally so funny. i love it

Crossover

These Days I Don't Feel Like Myself At All / Mercury (No One Can Unring This Bell) (Series Ongoing) - RoguishOne (DarkWolfMoon)

TommyInnit had died. Again. To Dream. Again. And it sucked exactly as much as he thought it would because he'd wanted to move on and have a chance to actually live this time. Seems he won't be getting that.

Then he gets pulled out of Limbo, but he doesn't wake up back in the cell with Dream or next to his bed on the server. He doesn't wake up on the Dream SMP at all.

Little does he know that this is the least of his worries.

i want to scream and cry and hypervenilate thinking about this fic series. literally cannot recommend it enough. your life will be ROCKED. THE WRITING IS SOOOOO OGOOOD . i just want to shake. i cannot put into words what this fic makes me feel.

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Shells in the Foam (a Hermit!Tommy fanfic) - Cedarwhisp21

When Dream attacks Tommy in Logestshire, Tommy runs. Badly injured, he somehow manages to slip between worlds and wakes up in a badlands biome, on a server far from home, with no other players in sight.

The Hermits are surprised when a new player logs in, and confused when no-one's at spawn. Five days later, after waiting for the new player to introduce themselves, Xisuma uses his admin abilities to access their coordinates. He takes Impulse with him to welcome the new player to Hermitcraft, but instead of the beginnings of a base, they find something a lot more concerning.

NEEDS NO INTRODUCTION. the NUMBER ONE kudo-ed hermit fic . by my beloved. and using the one of the beloved au by pertrichormeraki . its so good and im sooo glad i was here for the ride of seeing it unfold <3

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let me give you a piece of my mind - Interjection

Dream and Grian practice building for MCC, and hold a conversation in the process.

Or,

Grian gives an outside perspective on Dream’s actions. Dream is having none of it.

Grian is a fucked up lil guy <3 Dream is a piece of shit

____

He would not die - Nicoforlife

If phil could save only one person from this place, that would be enough.

Tldr I made phil a watcher :)

Watcher Phil and Grian !! ! !!

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Scared as hell - Nhi_theuserof_this

Grian was one of the closest people to Fundy at this point. He wants to be honest, really, but with the rest of his family history being a total train wreck, he spends an awkwardly long time dancing around what he wants to say.

Tldr; Grian is Fundy’s uncle, Fundy comes out to him

OK SO THIS ONE. WAS BASED OFF ONE OF MY AUS but i had to include it. ok .short and sweet

It was just a game - QuasarsFaults (UNFINISHED)

Taurtis Has been on the server awhile now, he's made new friends, a really tasty toritos shop, a new job working with Concorp, and he's even made this really cool pirate rollercoaster. So why did his and Scar's idea go so wrong?

OK. so i honest to god cannot remember if this is my au or if i just partook in it. i think its my au. who knows. either way seeing this again makes me want to work on my own Taurtis-Became-a-Hermit-Instead-of-Grian fic

Shipping

heartfelt confession - mysteryguest

it shouldn't come as a surprise to iskall, he thinks, when he finally settles on a term that feels just right. and yet, it is. and it's dreadful, feeling that urge, that need to tell someone, without knowing if they would accept you or not.

at least he knows the person he can trust the most with this info is his boyfriend, mumbo.

non-binary and bigender Mumskull !!! coming out. finding identity. finding pronouns.

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I Hate You (I Promise I Don't) - BewitchingNotes

If someone asked Grian why he was relentlessly pranking Etho now that he was finally back in Hermitland, he'd say it was just for pure fun.

To Etho, it meant Grian was mad at him.

To everyone else, Grian had a huge crush on the redstone user and obviously didn't know how to communicate it.

OR: Grian just wants Etho's attention, Etho misreads this as Grian being mad at him, Grian thinks Etho hates him because of his pranks and everyone else just wants these boys to communicate properly already. Grian's love language is pranks...i love it

____ A Study Of Love in the Universe Itself - 2point5

Love had a strange meaning on Hermitcraft, where everyone loved each other. 

OR

Joe looks into the different ways he loves some of his fellow members, and what that means for him as a human.

ITS A SERIES TOO AND ITS SOOOO GOOD i love it . Joe x Cleo x Bdubs x Etho . what more could you want. and their sexualities and how they perceive love is . OAUGHHGHGGHHGHGHBHGHFHHVIJXFSHDF IUSDHIUSAHDUIA

[homerforsure]

Encompassed: Coda for 6:10 In a Flash

Edit: Now on AO3 because I love attention

Pain arrives in increments. 

First, the headache that reminds him of how long it's been since he last ate, drank, slept. The nagging, insistent squeeze that doesn’t go away even when Maddie sees him rubbing his temples and offers him the bottle of ibuprofen she keeps in her purse. 

Next, it’s one sharp stab in the center of his chest, when his son, just a goddamn kid, asks the question he’s had to ask too many times before.

“Is he going to be okay?” 

“You know your Buck. He’s- He never gives up. Not ever.”

“Are you scared?”

“Yeah, buddy. Yeah, I’m scared.”

“Me too.” 

Panic tastes metallic at first and then like the sea as Eddie sobs silently on the edge of his bed before slipping down to the floor. He digs his fingernails into his arms and the fresh pain is an anchor, keeping him from spinning away in the churning dark. He’s gonna die He’s gonna die He’s gonna die He’s gonna die He’s gonna die. 

Then it’s the weight of a bruise–technically three, four bruises maybe, but they all throb in time over his shoulder and down his arm and across his back and over his hip and thigh. If he’d been wearing a tank, he would have been fucked, cracked ribs and all. But maybe then he would have gotten to stay. He’d submit to the white and blue gown if it meant he could stay. 

Hugging his son is a good ache, one that tugs on all the others and soothes them at the same time until he hears a request that feels like fingertips pressing into every place that already hurts.

“I want to see Buck.”

“Maybe later.”

“There might not be a later!”

They fall asleep together in a shitty hospital chair after Christopher cries out every last ounce of pain into Eddie’s shirt and Eddie picks it up and holds onto it for him because that’s what it means to be a dad. 

“He told me he wasn’t going anywhere.”

The crick in his neck afterward is a mockery of the rest of his pain and, god, does Eddie feel all of it when Hen takes Christopher to the bathrooms and to get a snack and he realizes that somehow, he’s alone.

No. 

Not alone.

With Buck.

Because Buck is still in there. Eddie pounded on his chest to drag him back and the proof of it is in green lines on screens and shrill little beeps that slice at his sanity like death by a thousand cuts. 

He’s crushed breathless with pain now. Not a heart attack. Heart break. It might kill him just the same. 

“You said that to me too, you know,” he says as though they’re shoulder to shoulder with beers in hand. It’s always so much easier to say what he means when he doesn’t have to look Buck in the eye while he does it. “You said you weren’t going anywhere.” 

Buck moved toward the door and Eddie’s heart stuttered even as he sniffed, fighting to right himself and pretend he hadn’t just destroyed his house and possibly his reputation in the eyes of his son and his best friend. “Thanks. Thanks for coming,” Eddie said. “I can call you tomorrow. Let you know…” 

He’ll never forget the look that Buck gave him as he slipped off his shoes and pulled his key out of the front door lock where he’d left it in his frenzied run inside. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. And he hadn’t.

His fingers tangle in the blanket that sticks to the calluses on his hands and he doesn’t take Buck’s hand. Eddie knows how they fit together. His skin tingles with the memory of Buck’s too weak grip when he lay under the truck, later of Buck thinking he could squeeze hard enough to make Eddie give up and leave him alone when he fought through physical therapy, later still giving Eddie something solid to hold onto during his own recovery. What he doesn’t know is how it might feel to take Buck’s hand for no reason at all. He was thinking that he had time to figure out what it means that he’s been wondering about it more and more. 

“Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.”

“That kid,” he starts, coughs, tries again. “That kid needs you.”

Christopher is three for four on people he loves going into an ambulance and coming back out of the hospital again. Buck skews the average. Buck always comes out of it okay. He always- He always- 

“I need you.” 

This time the hurt is everywhere. It starts in his marrow and spreads hot through his bones and tissue. It flows through him like blood, perfusing his organs, flooding every cavity in a tide that can’t be staunched. It’s like every part of him that ever held love for Buck has been set on fire and now wails out in helpless, screaming agony. And there’s nothing he can do. 

Nothing, 

Except. 

Eddie grabs onto Buck like a lifeline, grasping his forearm and squeezing like he can pull him out of this with one good heave. He might never let go. Not until Buck wakes up and squeezes back.

[kaminocasey]

Gregor on Abafar: A Bonsoir Interlude

Summary: On Abafar, Gregor dreams of Cassia, before he remembers who she is. He wakes up, flustered and frustrated and does something about it.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Sex dreams, male masturbation, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, friends), Abafar!Gregor, Angst

WC: 1.8K

A/N: HA okay so thoughts of Abafar!Gregor came up and suddenly horny thoughts took over and I was thinking about Gregor thinking of Cassia and then a little angst came in and BLAM. This lil thing came about lol. Bless @idledreams for inspiring me with our Bonsoir talks.

Bonsoir Masterlist | TAGLIST FORM

“Come home to me… please…” The woman with the red hair and kind brown eyes stares down at Gregor from above him, a soft smile on her beautiful lips. “Gregor… My love. My life…” 

She’s straddling him and he can feel himself nearing his edge way too soon. He wants nothing more than to bring her to hers, though. She’s so goddess-like, he could cry. Does she know the effect she has on him? Does he have the same on her? 

“Absolutely beautiful. Keep going, darling.” He purrs, gripping her hips tightly, keeping her anchored to him.

“Come home.” She moans, grinding her wet warmth over his hardened length. “Come home to me. I need you. Please.” 

She gasps as he slams up into her and he absolutely ascends. The sounds she makes are so out of this galaxy, he’ll never forget them. 

He thinks he’s about to combust from the heat radiating through the both of them, keeping them connected. Not only through sex, but something else.

Something he can’t remember… Why can’t he remember?

The sandstorm raging outside pulls Gregor from his dreams way too soon and he lays there in the dark for a while. Tears prick the corner of his eyes as he stares up at the stained ceiling, listening to the wind whistle and whip the roof and small windows of the apartment.

He’s somehow woken up harder than he thinks he’s ever been. Almost painfully so. This is the third night this week he’s dreamt of the woman with red hair. With dreams of holding her, making love to her, or telling her how much he loves her. She just feels like… home. A far away home.

And yet he doesn’t even know her name… 

Gregor rolls over onto his stomach and buries his face into his pillow, groaning at the contact of his cock against the mattress, his briefs rubbing him just right. Slipping a hand down between himself and the mattress, he rolls his hips against his palm, making another needy groan slip. 

He’s had several offers from the neighboring women offering themselves to him, but he can only think of the woman with the red hair… her sweet, inviting smile and warm brown eyes… Is he crazy to hope that one day he could find her? 

He thinks about her soft moans in his dreams and that only spurs him on. What would she actually feel like? Would her skin be as soft as it is in his dreams? 

He thinks about what she tastes like. Like the sweetest ambrosia the gods themselves wouldn’t dare try to take from him. He’d do anything to keep his mouth on her or buried between those gorgeous thighs. 

“Fuck…” He whispers, slipping his briefs down and then spitting into his hand before wrapping his hand around himself, earning another loud groan. 

“Come home to me… please…” Her pleas echo in his mind. The desperation in her voice. She knows him. She loves him. He can feel it in his soul. 

He thrusts long and hard into his hand, remembering the tight warmth that she gave him and only him. He was hers and hers alone. 

“Gregor…” The way she said his name… like a prayer… a promise. 

“Please…” He whispers to her somewhere in the galaxy. “Please…” 

He doesn’t care if he sounds pathetic. His gasps and moans are meant for her and her alone. He clings to the memory of his dreams as he grinds his hips into his hand, the rough calluses of his overworked hands actually feeling good for once. 

Gregor rolls over on his back, his cock still heavy in his hand as he rubs his free, cooler hand down his warm face, flushed with the thought of how her breasts hung so perfectly in his face. 

“Ah…” He groans, spitting into his hand again before speeding his hand up, flinging his other hand down to grip the sheet. 

Screwing his eyes shut, begging his brain to let the image of her smile come back to him, he thrusts his hips up and down against his firm grip, desperately slamming his fist against his thick length. 

“Shit…” His gasp turns into a long desperate moan. 

Gregor lets go of the sheet and in turn finds his hard nipples, trailing his fingers over them ever so slightly, giving himself the needed stimulation. He can’t help the pathetic whimper that leaves his lips as he thinks about her lush, perfect lips on his pecs, then finding his nipples and giving him the slightest tease with her teeth, which he thinks she knows would be enough to bring him close to his edge. 

What is her name? Who is she… 

He thinks of the beautiful name written in his book with the cute little heart… could it be-

“Oh fuck…” He’s pulled out of his thoughts as he realizes he twisted his nipple and gripped his cock a certain way, well enough that he finishes too soon, spurting warm cum all up his bare chest, making him groan into the stale air of his one bedroom apartment. 

His pants and deep breaths are the only sound in the room, making him realize just how quiet this simple life he lives is. What he’d give to have that beautiful red hair sprawled across his pillow right now with her warm chest against his own, her hand in his. 

But all that he feels now, is alone. 

Always alone.

Cassia wakes with a start, sitting straight up, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. She’d been having the most incredible dream. Gregor… but a different version of the man she loves. Loved… 

He’s gone, of course, she knows that. She does… But… Thoughts of him still fill her mind. Intimate thoughts. Thoughts she’s afraid she’s going to have for the rest of her life. 

This Gregor in her dream had a beard and long hair, but she’d know him anywhere. Her heart would know him, because he’s home to her. This apartment feels too empty… too alone now… 

When she thinks she’s wiped her last tear, she lays back on her still too empty bed and pulls the blanket up. How is she supposed to just be okay again? How is she supposed to move past Gregor? This loss is so much more different than her parents and grandparents.

The blanket starts too feel just a little too stuffy so she kicks it off of her and lays there, staring up at the ceiling. Her thoughts start to drift back to the dream she was having of Gregor touching himself. 

Maker, she misses touching him. She misses him touching her. She misses the way that he would trail his smooth fingertips down her soft pale skin, making her lean into his touch eagerly. 

What she would give to have him here. 

Without another thought, she runs her own fingers lightly over her chest, her shirt catching against her nipples that are now protruding obviously through her shirt. She gives one a soft tweak, just how Gregor did in her dream, clenching at the feeling with a soft sigh. 

It’s been so long since she’s touched herself… Not since… 

She quickly rolls over to her bedside table, grabbing her silicone pink vibrator that Gregor once teased her about. It now seems like ages ago... She stares at it for a moment, remembering that night, before turning it on. 

It still feels strange to think that he’s not here helping her do this, she realizes right before she takes the buzzing toy to the outside of her underwear so that it rubs right against her clit. Cassia gasps at the feeling, taking the toy away momentarily, a slight pant escaping her lips. 

The moment of panic subsides and she brings it back to her clothed warmth, biting her lip at the eagerness settling low in her stomach already. It really has been too long. 

She slips her underwear down her legs, throwing them to the floor, and brings the vibrator back to her warmth. Unable to help it, she trails her hand back to her chest, squeezing her breast with eagerness, appreciating the fabric catching on her nipple again. 

Thoughts of her dreams flood her mind and instead of panicking this time, she goes with it. She thinks about how he begged for her, the word ‘please’ like a prayer to him, and she knows she would’ve given in had she been in the room with him. Eagerly dropped down on her knees for him, her mouth open and ready to take him. 

Cassia whimpers as she spreads her slick over her clit, the feeling almost too much. So she turns it off and tosses it aside, replacing it with her fingers. Her sharp gasp is a little too loud to her own ears, she realizes and tries to keep it down, not wanting to wake Mara, who’s been sleeping on her couch since they got the news. 

Her soft fingers slip down into her warmth and she instantly clenches around them, grinding the heel of her palm against her sensitive bud. She knows if he was here, his mouth would be latched to her pussy, begging for her to cum for him. The thought alone pulls her to the edge, threatening to throw her over. 

“Gregor…” She whimpers into her empty room. “Please…” 

Her voice breaks and she can feel the tears coming back, but she ignores them, chasing her release. She sits up, pulling an extra pillow she doesn’t use in between her legs and grinds her soaked warmth over it. Back and forth, remembering what it was like to straddle his perfect cock. Desperation is clear in her chase as she fervently humps the firm pillow, gripping the top of it as if it were his perfect hips. 

“Please come for me, cyar’ika.” She can hear him say it so clearly in her mind that she chokes back a cry as she slams a hand over her mouth. Sobbing as her release hits her full force like the Coruscanti bullet train, it nearly knocks the air out of her as she falls forward back into her own pillow, burying her face in it. Tears soak her pillow immediately, but she can’t bring herself to care. 

Chest heaving against the bed, she tries desperately to catch her breath but is met with grief and sadness all over again. Isn’t an orgasm supposed to release endorphins?

Cassia angrily pushes the toy back into the bedside table and pulls the blanket up over herself, trying desperately to will herself back to sleep. Because sleep is better than the realization that she’s alone and will probably decide to be for the rest of her life. Even the thought of another soul in this bed, that isn’t Gregor’s, makes her physically nauseous. 

So for now, to avoid heartache and throwing up, she sleeps. And when she wakes up, the loneliness creeps right back in… 

TAGS:

@twistedstitcher27 @misogirl828 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @loverofclones

[calicohyde]

Tagged by @winterandwords to post seven snippets and tag seven people.

[AMNESIA]

"So I think something bad probably happened to me," Richie tells Sandy when he finally realizes that they're something more than people who are sleeping together regularly. Friends, maybe. Like real friends, who know things about each other. "Um," says Sandy, which is a fair response. Richie has kind of sprung this conversion on her out of the blue. He gets nervous, is the thing, and sometimes he can't say what he means unless he can fuck around with something else at the same time. So he's blurted this out while staring at the split screen of a two-player session of Halo 3. "You think?" "Yeah," Richie confirms. "I think. I don't actually remember. You're getting killed." Sandy's head jerks back to the screen, her automatic response, his safety net. She's got a competitive streak, Sandy, and it never sleeps. So she manages, by the very skin of her teeth, to keep her character alive just long enough for Richie to tell her that all his memories from before college have been scooped out of his head like pumpkin seeds out of a Jack-o-Lantern, that he's talked to his parents, and to doctors, and to shrinks, and that the best he can say is - something bad probably happened to him. He doesn't tell her that he has his suspicions about what it must have been, given what he turns into every full moon. (He doesn't tell her that if he's not careful, he'll be the bad thing that happens to somebody else.)

from the idle wilds, currently 4k

"Rough week?" he asks, gently amused at her expense. She nods in agreement, too high strung at the moment to be anything other than earnest. "You wouldn't think learning how to teach classes you literally just graduated from would be so hard," she jokes wanly. He actually laughs and it doesn't even seem fake. His smile and the way the ugly fluorescent lights reflect on his eyes take her breath away. "Expert level major drop," he praises, sardonic now but still as soft as he started. She could compare his cushioned abrasiveness to the plush scratch of wool against her thighs. (She's already that far gone.) "Accounting," he adds, his tone unchanged. "I know, I'm a loser." "I'm wearing a wool skirt to a party I technically wasn't even invited to," Patty counters, feeling a rush at having a way to one-up someone that won't ostracize her. "If you're a loser, so am I." "Well, in that case," he says, with a wide dimpled grin. "I guess we were meant to find each other." Patty gives him the charmed laugh he's looking for. It's easy, comes freely, genuine. Somehow she does feel like she was looking for him. She certainly was looking for someone, after all, and here he is. In his crisp starched shirt and his sweater vest, maybe he was here waiting for her and her sensible flats to walk in.

from summer birds, currently 4k

Sign up here to be tagged when I post IT fanfiction on main.

"You know, my children-" "I'll fucking cut your tongue out," Ed snaps, cutting that shit off as fast and brutal as possible. He's not a child, hasn't been for longer than most his age, and he doesn't want to be compared to one. He doesn't want Stede's understanding, his lenience - given on the condition that Ed will grow out of this or whatever the fuck else he finds pitiable. Stede stirs his tea with significantly more focus than the task requires. Eventually he mumbles, "That's fair. Don't really know where I was going with that anyway." He laughs, one of his weird ones that might be forced or might not and Ed still can't tell even now. "Quite a poor start." The fight goes out of Edward and he disintegrates into a loose pile of limbs and hair on the table. "We don't have to talk about it," he whines into his arms and the wood beneath them. "We can forget it ever happened. Or pretend it was just tea." "Can we?" Stede asks. Unfortunately, it sounds like a genuine question. Ed leaves it sitting there between his head and Stede's cup, unacknowledged. If he ignores it well enough maybe it will go away. "It's just, you don't seem surprised. So I would presume…?" He leaves that assumption dangling, implicit. He doesn't say out loud he's figured as a matter of course that this has happened to Ed before and therefore will probably happen again. Ed doesn't know whether to be insulted again, or grateful. This must be how it feels to be Izzy. It sucks.

from The Drowning, currently 2k

Sign up here to be tagged when I post OFMD fanfiction on main.

Instead he growls, "There's nothing wrong with me." His teeth don't come apart to let the words through. His voice is low again, in a dangerous way now. The blushy pink light that starts creeping in through Keeley's window seems out of place on him. He looks like an entirely different man suddenly. The man he used to be, but the one Keeley herself never quite had to meet face to face. Keeley waits for him to storm out. Or to say something horridly mean she can temporarily hate him for and then storm out. She waits to hear him stomp down the stairs and slam her front door shut behind him, to leave her to collapse into her explosive mixed feelings. But Jamie doesn't go. He stays there like a stone, glaring up at her, with his expression challenging her to just try and move him - if she thinks she can manage it. They stay there in that strange and unexpected stalemate for so long that Jamie's alarm goes off.  Keeley jumps at the sudden noise. Jamie doesn't, but he does look away from her at least, which is an embarrassingly huge relief. Something tells her she wouldn't really like what he was seeing in her right then. She sinks back down into sitting on the bed, letting the alarm go until it stops. It'll go off again in five minutes. "I-" Keeley stutters. Like her voice flipped a switch in him, Jamie's shoulders drop immediately. His face doesn't soften exactly, but it loses that battle-ready edge. "Of course there's nothing wrong with you, I didn't… That's not what I meant." Coolly unimpressed, Jamie folds his arms and raises both eyebrows. It takes Keeley a moment, but not long enough for the alarm to go again, to figure out what he's after. She smiles a little at it, the irony. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I shouldn't have said that."

from take away the glass, currently 45k

Sign up here to be tagged when I post Ted Lasso fanfiction on main.

[ALCOHOL ABUSE]

Eddie wakes naturally, roused more by the growing heat than the light. She breathes deeply. She wipes her face on her pillowcase. She reminds herself she's going to meet with Jessica this morning, and brushes her teeth. On a whim, she grabs her dream journal on her way out. Fred still isn't home, so Eddie makes herself an Irish coffee and eats the leftover macaroni cold. She makes her way up the narrow, enclosed staircase to the Watchtower office, her refilled boozy coffee in one hand and her carabiner in the other. She freezes with her key in the hole. The door is already unlocked. Eddie holds her breath, heart racing. Butch she may be, but she's not tough. She can't fight and she's only as strong as it takes to lug the camera and all its gear around town. The most she could do against an intruder is throw her mug at them. But underneath the fearful spike of adrenaline, an insistent curiosity makes itself hard to ignore. They've never had a break-in before. Most witches never do. Their power sinks into the bones of their houses, making them feel almost aware of their visitors. The sensation usually wards off any would-be intruders, even those of the animal variety. It would take someone with a very strong will indeed to pick this lock. Eddie opens the door.

from Curse The Messenger draft 1.4, currently 30k

Ferris sits just inside and watches her. Impulse and rage carried it all the way here, and the latter hasn't died down one bit from arriving. Camille is dangerous, a fast acting poison to the city that Ferris loves. It's spent a century here and it knows every last corner, knows its spirit. Camille Fay is nothing special. Not unusual, no anomaly. She has always been here, and she is everywhere. But all the same, she does not belong. But Ferris is only barely more than a cat. It can't threaten her, and if it did it would be taken as from his master. A bribe is just the same. Both options are beyond Ferris's abilities, unreliable, and implicate someone else. Ferris needs to figure out some other way to protect this city.

from Feline Retribution, complete at 5k

Sign up here to be tagged when I post about the witch noir universe.

"You could stay," Fiona says after a pause. The suggestion doesn't sound cautious, but she looks over Kieran's shoulder into the middle-distant line of the trees. Kieran hesitates. He hasn't yet done anything to keep him here permanently ‒ at least not as far as the legends he vaguely remembers have told him. He could leave, still, and return to his safe and ordinary human life. His safe, ordinary, boring, underappreciated life hunting to feed a village that doesn't want him. This world is so much more beautiful, so much more alive, and Fiona is here. And she wants him. Kieran can feel in the way she traces the marks she left in his back, opening them up, that she wants him. "Okay," Kieran agrees. "Yes, I'll stay with you. I'll stay with you forever." Almost before he's finished speaking, Fiona is kissing him again. When she pulls back there is an unbelievably plump blackberry pinched between her fingers, looking almost black against the pale pinkness of her skin. Fiona presses the fairy fruit of her land to Kieran's lips, and Kieran eats it from her hand.

from One Feeling Only, complete at 5k

Sign up here to be tagged when I publish erotica short stories.

I tag @words-after-midnight @second-hand-heaven @drunkkenobi @treesofgreen @ceph-the-ghost-writer @fallenangelontheceiling and @outgridwrites.

[suspicious-whumping-egg]

Low Profile Part 11 — A Breakthrough

Masterlist here. If you haven’t read the previous installments, I highly recommend doing so before this one.

~~~

Viper’s hands were rough and calloused against the smooth, tanned skin of Hale’s shoulders, yet his grip was uncharacteristically soft. 

“Hey, hey, c’mon, just let it all out. You’re gonna be okay.” His voice was soft, without the condescending bite Hale was used to. 

The gentleness kicked Hale’s system into overdrive— it meant he had to remember, he had to prove himself useful so Viper wouldn’t go back to hurting him. But he couldn’t. Some part of him just wanted to let himself break down like Viper had invited him to do. He took in a shaky gasp of air and reached up to wipe away a tear, clenching a hand into a fist so tight that it felt that his nails would draw blood.

“The things they’ve done— the things they did to me— and— and— god, I don’t even remember his name. I fucking loved him, and I don’t remember his name…” 

Viper traced small, soothing circles into Hale’s back, curling closer to him on the couch and leaning forward. “It’s hard, love, I know,” he sympathized. “You just have to try to remember, that’s all. Didn’t you say you wanted to be good for me?” 

Hale swallowed a sob and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus his mind on the images that retreated farther from thought as soon as he reached for them.

“I’m trying,” he said timidly. “I— they—“ 

“Oh, Hale. Who’s going to believe you, when your only evidence is from the fucking mafia? Father was right. It’s time to get rid of you.” 

“My— my older brother, he was in on it,” he stammered. “I, uh, I guess I found out something I shouldn’t have, and somehow you— the mafia— helped me use it. I guess I wanted to get the word out, I— I was fed up keeping their secrets. And they figured that out, so, well, that’s when they decided to— to brainwash me.”

Viper eased Hale’s hand out of its fist, prying bloodstained fingertips away from the red half-moons his nails had carved into his palm. He laced his fingers between Hale’s, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Hey, hey, slow down,” he soothed. “You don’t have to rush. Take your time, get yourself together. I’m here when you’re ready.”

Hale’s grip was tight and tense on Viper’s hand, and he curled his legs closer to his chest, burying his head into his knees.

“I’m not ready,” he whispered. “I— I can’t—”

Viper pressed a finger to his lips, shaking his head. “It’s okay, love, it’s okay. Take a few deep breaths for me, can you do that?”

Hale forced in one slow breath, just to satisfy him. He thought back to his brother’s face, his father’s, the pocketwatch dangling in front of his eyes— 

“I won’t forget you. I promise.” 

Lips on his own, a hand at his waist. Another kiss pressed to Hale’s tearstained cheek. He tugged the red silk scarf from his lover’s neck and pressed a tender kiss to the bare skin left in its place.

“Why can’t I remember his name?” He whispered, a silent tear running down his face. “I promised him…” he thought back to the flashback, begging the memory to return, but it fell away like sand slipping through his fingers. 

He glanced over his shoulder, then into the camera. “If you’re watching this, assume the worst has happened. And I’m only risking the worst ‘cause it’s gotta get out there. Someone has to stop them. I can feel it slipping away… I wrote it all down, before they can make me forget, it’s all on the drive— just get the code. I’ll remember it if it fucking kills me. Get it, even if you have to torture it out of me—”

Hale gasped awake as if resurfacing from a pool of molten lead. “Show me the fucking video,” he demanded, his voice ragged from sobbing. “You— you know what I’m talking about— or your boss does— the numbers— did you get down the goddamned numbers—” 

“Hale. Hale. Hey.” Viper rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand in a hurried attempt to calm him. “I wrote down everything you told me. I’m gonna ask my boss about showing you the video, but we don’t want something like that to keep the rest of your memories from coming back on their own, okay? It seems you know yourself that you’re the only hope to decipher that drive and bring the Ellison empire down for good. You want that, right? Or at least, you did?” He rose from the couch and helped Hale to his feet. 

“If I didn’t want it before, I want it now,” Hale said bitterly, silently grateful that Viper’s monologue had given him a chance to gather himself. His first instinct had been to snatch his hand away from Viper’s and get up on his own, but he’d quelled the urge as soon as it had come. He forced his rage to the back of his mind and closed his eyes for a moment, his thoughts swirling. 

“Wouldn’t something like the video help the memories come back?” He muttered. There was something Viper wasn’t telling him— or maybe he wanted Hale to keep forgetting. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to hurt him. 

“The memories? Yeah. But not the code,” Viper replied slowly. “Silas thinks so, at least. It’s not my place to get into why, but he thinks you’ll only remember the code if it comes back to you on its own.”

Hale scoffed. “On its own? So torture doesn’t count as interference with the precious fucking code but something worthwhile does? Listen to yourself,” he hissed. 

Viper gave him a sly grin. “You said it yourself, pretty boy, didn’t you? Or did that just conveniently slip your mind too?” 

“Get it, even if you have to torture it out of me.” 

Why the fuck did he have to have said it like that? 

“That doesn’t mean you needed to try it first!” Hale choked out. “Whatever the fuck I did to you, whatever I did to deserve you jumping on any sliver of an excuse to hurt me, that isn’t me anymore. I don’t know that person any more than you do.”

“Hale,” Viper warned, his voice dark. 

“No— please— I swear— I’m sorry—” he stammered weakly. 

Viper cut him off with a pointed glare. “You didn’t do anything to me. That’s not what this is about. It’s about getting the fucking code, and I might as well have some fun doing it. Don’t think you can squirm your way out of this by being pathetic. I don’t care what you did, and I don’t care if you’re sorry for it. I have a fucking job to do.”

Before Hale even had the barest chance to defend himself, Viper had reached for the remote of the shock collar. And there was nothing left for him to do but to sigh and accept his fate. 

Taglist: @morning-star-whump @whumpkitty @shameless-dumbass @hurtthemgently @gala1981 @avvail-whumps

[lucan-multiverse]

cosmic sidestep - their multiverse part 11

[Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 3], [Part 4], [Part 5], [Part 6a], [Part 6b], [Part 7], [Part 8], [Part 9], [Part 10]

--

It should be concerning how easy it is to slip into the space Luca leaves for him with Ryan. Ryan doesn’t touch him of course, adamant that it’s not his place and Luc doesn’t argue it. He knows Luca’s generosity only extends so far and he doesn’t want his memories of his husband somehow tarnished or blended with Ryan anyway.

Especially if memories are all he has left.

But he likes to watch them. Luca is needy and demanding in his attention from Ryan. The boy is a born performer and Ryan loves to indulge him. Luc is never quite sure what they’re going to pull out next. Luca, bound up in pretty pink ropes, a collar around his neck. Ryan, yanking Luca down across his lap only to pull down his pants and spread the globes of his ass to show off a sparkling, glittery plug nestled securely in Luca’s hole. Luc had done the honors, pulling it out slowly, enjoying the way Luca keened as it was taken away. But it was the dribble of ivory fluid that followed it that had Luc inhaling sharply. Ryan’s knowing, satisfied little curve of his mouth was the only confirmation Luc needed.

Sometimes he’s jealous of how Luca’s edges have been sanded back and repainted with Ryan’s colours. Every part of him is marked. Ryan owns him and Luca delights in the comfort of Ryan’s possession. Everywhere he goes, Ryan is with him and although Luc doesn’t want to, he envies Luca for that.

“I’m worried I’m going to forget what he looks like,” Luc confesses one night, alone with Luca on his bunk. Luca is curled into him and Luc had almost forgotten how much of a cuddler he had been back in his teens, long before the military and loss and grief made him close in on himself. He feels oddly protective of Luca, seeing in him the parts of his youth he’s since mastered. Luca’s remaining hostility had easily ebbed and dribbled away, especially after the night Luc had let him ride his fingers as Ryan whispered filthy encouragement in his ear and jerked him with his hands.

It’s comforting to have someone that speaks the same language as him. He doesn’t have to try so hard to be understood and he suspects it’s the same for Luca.

"Not Ryan," he continues. "But the things that make him Blake. My Blake."

Luca, pulled away from his examination of his hand size compared to Luc’s, lifts his head. His full lips are downturned and he looks so heartbrokenly sad that Luc knows he’s imagining himself in Luc’s place.

“Do… Do you think he’s really dead?”

Luc swallows but doesn’t consider trying to lie. He’s too tired for that and Luca wouldn’t buy it anyway. “I think he’s so far beyond anywhere I could ever hope to reach he might as well be.”

“But…. you made it here?”

“I’m starting to think maybe that was a fluke. An accident.”

“Maybe something pulled you here.”

Luc’s mouth quirks up. Luc doesn’t believe it but it doesn’t surprise him that Luca might. There’s something that exists in Luca that he doesn’t carry, or if he does, is so latent he can’t imagine it. Perhaps it’s this world’s strange uniqueness his doesn’t have, but there’s a faintly ethereal quality to Luca, like he’s tapped into things most people – and certainly Luc – doesn’t understand.

“Something like what?”

“I dunno,” Luca shrugs. He’s threading their fingers together again and it amuses Luc how fascinated Luca seems to be with their physical differences. “But there has to be a reason you ended up here.”

“Maybe there’s no reason to any of it. Maybe it’s just all some sick cosmic fucking joke.”

Luc hadn’t meant to snap, or for his tone to sound so harsh but at least it rolls off Luca like an oil slick. Luca huffs and scrambles up, his lithe frame suddenly straddling Luc, his hands planted on Luc’s bare chest. He’s horny again and Luc knows he won’t fight it if Luca wants to mess around.

God knows he could use the distraction.

“Luca-“

“You’re so fucking miserable without him,” Luca says and Luc laughs humorlessly, maybe even a little bitterly.

“No shit.”

“You have to find him.”

“Again. No shit.”

“So.” Luca pokes his chest, maybe a little harder than he needed to and Luc hisses without thinking and grabs Luca’s hips. His fingers cover the bruises already in the shape of his fingers and he squeezes slightly to bring on an edge of hurt.

Luca’s mouth tightens and his fist clenches – for a heartbeat, he thinks Luca is going to punch him and he kinda hopes he does – only for Luca to sigh and grind against him instead.

The little shit, Luc thinks, his stupid dick already showing interest with the way Luca moves over him. For a brief moment, he experiences a flash of remorse for all the bratty behaviour he gave Blake in their early years if this is what he had to put up with.

“I’ll call Ryan,” Luc threatens with a grunt but Luca only laughs in his face and shifts again.

God. It's all a little fucked up and he's halfway sick in the stomach about how he would ever explain this to Blake but... What else is there? Is it cheating? Is he betraying his marriage vows? Luc doesn't know anymore. He's thought himself around in circles, trying to justify all of it, only to eventually settle on resolving to beg Blake's forgiveness later and knowing in his heart if he doesn't it won't matter anyway because at least Blake will be alive to hate him.

The same, painful, familiar scratch shows up in his chest again.

"Get on your knees," he finally orders Luca, only for the boy to scramble eagerly to do his bidding.

Luc gives himself permission to lose himself in Luca’s all too willing body. He doesn’t need to be gentle with him and there’s only a surface level of affection between them.  Luc knows just how much Luca can take before it’s too much and he rides closer to the line than even Ryan could purely because they are simply two sides of the same coin. Luc knows why he does it – why Luca presents his mouth and his ass without comment and Luc uses him as much as Luca uses him back.

In the end, Luca is happily boneless, draped over him so heavily Luc thinks he’s sleeping. He’s not though. He’s like a dog with a bone, albeit a sleepy one.

“You can’t give up,” Luca yawns stubbornly and with the conviction only starry eyed youth can have. Luc wants to believe it, wants to borrow a little bit of Luca’s optimism but there’s nowhere left inside him to put it. “He’s gotta be out there somewhere.”

Stars. He feels old.

Luc doesn’t bother to answer, only pulling Luca closer to curl him against him. He finds comfort in it, the warmth of another body, and he knows he’ll only have it for as long as it takes for Ryan to find them and then Luca will be gone without a backwards glance.

But for now, Luca snuggles into him, echoes of caramel on his skin and whiskey on his breath but it’s a long time before Luc can manage to chase Luca into sleep.

[oscar-delancey]

for the character thing do Any of ur kins it's up to u

2, 3, 8, 14, 15 im giving u All of them

hope im not doing this wrong LMFOA

Alright bet, I'll answer it for Racer, Albert, and as a treat I'm adding Davey even though I am still debating if he's a kin. (To be specific in this, I'm gonna be talking about UK!Racer, Livesies!Albert, and a personal Modern AU!Davey)

2 - Does your character indulge often in the things they like?

Race: Oh yeah, all the time. He's a chronic gambler (much to the disdain of some of the newsies) we can't forget that! He's got hella good luck with it somehow, so he continues to do it. And, thanks to said good luck, he's able to go out and do some other things he enjoys outside of work! So yes, he does indulge himself quite often :D

Albert: Not really. He's not solid on what he even likes, it's not something he's ever really considered what it even is he likes, so he has no idea what to indulge in. His day is really just wake up -> sell papes -> eat -> sleep ; repeat. If he found something he enjoyed, though, he probably would indulge himself occasionally if he had the money!

Davey: Kinda often? He doesn't always have the time to go out and spend time with his friends, but he does when he can. Because fuck, man, who doesn't enjoy eating out at restaurants and going to movies with good friends??? He'd do it more often if he could, but work takes up a lot of time.

3 - What makes your character's skin crawl?

Race: It was the nuns that constantly came around that got on his nerves. He often tried to avoid interacting with them but they usually addressed him in the mornings when the younger newsies rushed to get their breakfast. They usually pestered him about his clothes ("Oh you look so lovely today! Where'd you get the new vest!", "What a lovely look on you!" etc etc) and it always came across as passive aggressive. Whether they meant it or not, it always just felt like they were poking at him for having the money to dress well but not get away from selling papers.

Albert: People snoring. He absolutely fucking DESPISES hearing people snore and loses a bit of his life during the winter in the lodging house, because he can't sleep outside to avoid it.

Davey: The complete ignorance of his parents. His mother forcing him and Jack to take over the care of his younger brother mildly ticked him off. He loves his brother! But the fact his parents just gave up on Les... He had a rocky relationship with his parents since he left for college.

8 - Is there something your character deeply regrets from their past?

Race: Running away from home, and then running away from Brooklyn. He often wonders how his parents are doing but he never had the will to go back and see them again. (He's terrified of the idea of going home and them not being there, or them not recognizing him).

Albert: Not in particular!

Davey: A lot. There's a lot he regrets he refuses to go into detail about. It's why his relationship with his parents is so rocky and why he practically hovers over Les once his brother is in his care.

14 - Who would your character never betray?

Race: Any of the newsies. Nothing in him could ever get him to turn on his friends and family. He'd go down fighting tooth and nail for them

Albert: Race and Finch.

Davey: Sarah. He could never turn his back on Sarah, not after everything she's done for him. He owes her the world.

15 - Who does your character look up to and who do they despise?

Race: He doesn't look up to anyone around him in particular. He kinda emulates Jack to a degree, but he's not Race's role model. If anything... he looks up to the memory of his mother. The way she cared for him and held him when he was sad or sick. Her warm smiles her gentle hugs... he held those memories dear and tried to bring those soft moments and comforting reminders of being cared for to the younger newsies who came to the lodge. He despises Spot. As much as he misses being in Brooklyn, he hates her. He refuses to ever tell anyone what happened, often changing the subject to something fun to distract whoever was asking.

Albert: Jack and his oldest brother. He aspires to be like both of them when it comes to leadership and confidence. He absolutely despises the Delanceys. If he could just straight up beat the everliving shit out of them he would. It is a VISCERAL hatred and he is often held back from going off by other newsies. So, instead, he just tries to explode them with his mind 99% of the time.

Davey: He doesn't really look up to anyone either, but he also isn't one to hate. He experiences quite strong emotions but not enough to feel so strongly about anyone.

[onewomancitadel]

I actually am not sure how they're going to play Jaune's decades-exile because they did play a bit of it with jocularity ("Is this how I sounded?") and kind of glossed over them calling him crazy, so it's possible it doesn't have enormous psychological consequences. The key was to punish him but then absolve him of it, and to alienate him and actually live out Ozma's own fairytale (the Four Maidens) which makes him sympathise with Ozma more when he doesn't like the guy.

It's very possible that the actual terrifying implications (he has been alone for the longest time and kind of went crazy with grief, his memories of everyone are dimmed with time) are otherwise skipped because it's not trying for any psychological realism or long-term consequences. But I also think that's a missed opportunity, because otherwise they could've just totally rebirthed him without memory of Ever After (because that was a threat). So the question is why you'd do this to his character unless you intended to do something with it that didn't just add a little higher emotional stake to Ever After.

He is changed, he is altered, but they did give him his life back so he's not completely punished. It's just what narrative task can he do with that. Of course I've contended that this psychologically alienates him from the side of Good in a way that Cinder is psychologically alienated from the side of Evil, which is suggestive of them meeting in the middle somehow. Just in terms of pure psychological maturity I also think they match up better, including their own years of isolation.

But then also like, if you did conceivably write Jaune/Cinder in this scenario - with a conceivable V10 Haven-esque confrontation - what is his memory of her? Is it softened with time? Is the enmity a fresh wound? Is she the one who's angry now, and he's the one who's forgotten her - a perfect reversal of Haven? Is that part of him being 'brought back' - friends and foes and all? Like, are we dealing with Jaune having issues across V10 or do we skip over it entirely? Because there is an open door there for development, and generally a potential for a whole paradigm shift with his character (if Knightfall eventuates) which tonally complements his exile.

If him being a silly old man in a young man's body is just a joke, though, I'm not really sure how much meaning to assign it. Unless it's both, and the 'he's fucking crazy' thing is meant as both comic relief as well as tragic wound. I do actually kind of like the idea of that, because I do like that two-sidedness to Jaune's character, which does put him in an interesting position - again - with Cinder.

Of course if they were really clever, Cinder's reaction to his changed experience should be different from everybody else's. At the very least - his love interest's should've been (whether that's horror or intrigue). Jaune is shocked and maybe even horrified that Cinder doesn't remember him and responded to his impassioned anger this way:

and I'm not even sure she's entirely fucking with him here, but I assume most people thought she was - but in the context of 'not remembering', it gets a lot more emotionally dicey since Jaune might not even really remember her. I also think this is working on a metaphorical reincarnation level thing (we literally get shot for shot the same interaction as Ozlem; this sequence precipitates the Ozlem reveal in V6 entirely) and the idea that he has forgotten her as well is pretty much Ozlem-perfect.

What would his forgetting of her look like? She'd force him to remember her, the way he forced her to remember him. It's very very reincarntion-y, because they are picking up Ozlem's conflict at the height of its enmity where they don't remember loving or ever even trusting each other.

It actually feels intentional in a really weird way.

[lunastars21]

More PaintGun rambling

Corsen is still a rather curious girl, long story short she lost her memories and only knows her name, and it's so bad that she didn't know simple things when she met team Hooligan, like what a car was or houses. She's been learning step by step thanks to them and one time she found some very pretty rocks. Bean actually told Corsen that penguins give pebbles to their partners for acknowledging their relationship so they can grow a family....SooOooO Corsen gave fang a very pretty rock, and happily skipped away, it took fang a few minutes (and a look from bean) to figure out what that meant. He locked himself in his room for the rest of the day a blushing mess!

Once the two started dating, Corsen didn't hesitate to get the word out, literally any enemy or friend they came across she would immediately mention it. Even during an encounter with team sonic before the two teams could shit talk each other, Corsen told em, sonic was teasing fang the whole battle and fang was trying so hard to shut him the fuck up!

Whenever Fang is down, Corsen usually comforts him with a ton of things, pets, snacks, movie nights, somehow give him a cartoonishly large coin and he stares at it for hours ("toots how the fuck did you get this??"), She does a ton of other things to just make his tail wag at least a bit! But the other way around? At first, fang had no fuckin clue how to cheer up Corsen when she was sad, he had to go through a process till he figured it out, at first it was the typical "she'll get over it" mind set, but after a few minutes the guilt started sinking in. So he asked Bark for advice, bark just says to give her things that she likes, hug her, ECT ECT. But fang didn't feel comfortable with those options...that's how Corsen cheers him up, but what's a way he can do that isn't something so obvious but also a bit meaningful? That's when it clicked, he then Marched into corsen's room and got her outside, the two spent the rest of the day finding things with a metal detector, or cooking food at the campfire, at times even stay in silence and listen to nature instead. It made Corsen completely forget about what she was even sad about, and was happy for the rest of the day! By the way she was sad because she dropped her ice cream..

Both of them blush when they tell each other "I love you" but fang blushes a bit more than Corsen..maybe it's because corsen's fur is red and her blush can blend in with it.

Fang would throw Corsen Into a pool, and then she'd grab him by the tail and pulls him right in.

Corsen: "Fang can catch me no matter what, watch" runs at him "COMING IN!"

Fang: "IM HOLDING FUCKIN COFFEE!!!" Drops the mug and catches her

Corsen: ^w^

Fang: ...."you owe me a new mug"

[zetaeta87]

astromania alstroemeria, bodyswap magenta, emotion names villain au, lman but there's god, magical safe haven, ROLESWAP AU, the boo in lman what will he do, villain assistant ranboo au and to throw a dart at something Unknowable, iiiiiiii. For Innit, who is patiently waiting for me to write its next post answer about how it enjoys snackies.

Astromania Alstroemeria - band au, featuring Tommy, Tubbo, and Purpled as the actual band, and Ranboo as their chaotic assistant! I even somehow gave Purpled a tragic backstory by dramatically misinterpreting a song that I was planning to use for him. Stars would be a huge recurring theme, which is why it’s called Astromania.

Bodyswap magenta - this idea was first formed when I was mildly sleep deprived. Basically, Tubbo, Ranboo, and Purpled have a sleepover at Tommy’s house. They find a book of rituals in Phil’s room, and since they’re unsupervised chaotic teens at a sleepover, they perform one that’s meant to swap their consciousness around. They don’t expect it to work, but it does. They begin Pranks.

Emotion names villain au - I’m gonna be honest, I mostly wrote this one because I like the Dream-Tommy-Ranboo trio and wanted them as villains. But basically, those three are villains, and the rest of SBI plus Sam and Tubbo are heroes sent after them. Dream has puppeteer strings that basically act like telekinesis, Ranboo can manipulate plants (including turning himself into a plant), and Tommy can manipulate gravity. I don’t have a plot for this, but I did write the reveal of Tommy’s powers because I had such a clear mental image of that scene.

Lman but there’s god - the title gives it away, pretty much. It’s L’Manberg, but Drista is a part of it from pretty much the start. And she’s the god of chaos, so you can imagine how well that goes for the people going to war against her. Hint: it goes very fucking terribly.

Magical safe haven: This started as a background part of a chatfic, then I went absolutely feral on the worldbuilding. I made a chart of what characters are founders and members of certain organizations, not to mention all the representatives in the central magical council which required funky things like Techno being the rep of Pogtopia and Bad being the rep of Manhunt. I literally ended up forgetting the plot and thus have not been able to continue.

Roleswap au - while it may seem like it, this actually is not the one inspired by your fics! That’s ddddd. This one has Tubbo swapped with Ranboo, Tommy swapped with Purpled, Wilbur swapped with Sally, and Dream swapped with Drista. The fic opens in Snowchester with Purpled and Ranboo hanging out, Ranboo’s on call with Tubbo (who’s out mining), they’re vibing. Then XD shows up and goes ‘i’m bored, this is your problem now’, and yeets Ranboo and Purpled into canon L’Manberg. Oh yeah, and here’s my favorite part of the roleswap world: since Sally is in Wilbur’s place, calling it L’Manberg doesn’t really make sense. So they call it L’Talberg instead, since they are tall bois.

the boo in lman what will he do - time travel! After Sam kills Ranboo, Kristin goes ‘alright, this is too far’, and yeets him into the past so that everyone gets a second chance. He is fully planning on not telling anyone about this… but then the past!Tommy accidentally reads his memory book. And he tells the other L’Manbergians. Good luck keeping secrets from the smol version of your best friends, boo.

Villain assistant ranboo au - ranboo has memory manipulation and teleportation powers. These are valuable to villains, so of course he ends up joining SBI in villainy. Phil is actually a bad guy in this one - he tries to get Ranboo to use his powers way too much. The others notice and promptly get him the hell out, then have an epic confrontation with Phil and get him thrown in Pandora’s Vault alongside Dream, who is his ally in tormenting Ranboo.

iiiiiiii - I’ll actually share a snippet of this one, since it doesn’t really have a plot beyond pure fluff. Tommy’s a catshifter, him and Tubbo are vibing. That’s it.

Tubbo awoke to soft sheets and a small warmth on his chest. He soaked in the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, and gently shook the little cat awake. Tommy yawned and stretched. His thick blonde fur seemed to shine in the light, and even when he jumped to the floor and switched to his human form, his hair kept its glow.

“Morning, Tubs,” he grinned. “Whatcha gonna make for breakfast?”

“It’s fuck off o’clock, you’ll get a knuckle sandwich,” Tubbo grumbled, flicking him a middle finger to hide his smile.

“Nah, you love me too much. The worst you could do to me is, like, hide the sugar so I can’t have hyper-sugary pancakes.”

“No, the worst I could do is only make enough pancakes for me and leave you to figure out your own breakfast.”

A jokingly-offended gasp echoed through their house. “You wouldn’t!” Tommy exclaimed.

Tubbo turned to him with a deadpan look. “Oh, I totally would.”

They lasted an impressive ten seconds before collapsing in laughter.