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ceilidho · 7 months ago

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 10)

first chapter >> last chapter

In the wee hours of the morning, you wake up to a man’s hands tilting your pelvis back. There’s a pillow propping your hips up, your cheek pressed to the mattress and rump high in the air. You must have been sleeping when he turned you over onto your stomach. Maybe you turned over in your sleep and he took advantage of the fact, hooking an arm under you to lift your hips up and stuff the pillow under there.

Either way, he has you right where he wants you. Rough hands spread the cheeks of your backside apart to give him space to lap at your sex from behind. The moment you feel his tongue part your folds and lick a line up the center of you, you panic. Sleep sloughs off you in a single rogue wave that submerges you before you swim your way to the surface, skin tingling and heart frantically beating in your chest.

Your memory of the night before comes back piecemeal, only the soreness between your legs registering at first. You kick back weakly, trying to rip yourself away from the stranger behind you. A desperate, panicked noise tumbles out of you when he doesn’t so much as budge.

The man pulls away from you just long enough to growl, “Quit fussin’—’s just me,” before giving you a tight smack across your rear.

You’re awake and present now, jolted forcibly into consciousness. When the sound of John’s voice washes over you, your panic abates. Not a stranger, not a stranger, just your husband. It quells the fear in your belly that threatens to spark off a wave of hysteria.

Then he runs his tongue up your slit again, his beard chafing the delicate skin of your sex, and you howl into the pillow.

Thick fingers stretch you open until you’re loose enough to take him again. He says as much in your ear before climbing over you and feeding his dick into your cunt. When his hips surge forward, hands braced on your shoulders to hold you in place, you choke on a gasp. He gives you no time to recover. The slow adoration of the evening’s love making is long forgotten, replaced by the mindless rutting of a ravenous man. He woke up with an empty belly.

You can feel his hunger when he bears down over you, holding you in place. The frantic pace of his hips. Hairy chest and belly to the tacky skin of your back. The lurid, wet sound of his flesh smacking against yours, thick cock spearing you open again and again. He bottoms out with every thrust, reaching a depth that feels impossible. All you can do is take it.

“John—” you start, but he reaches around to wrap a hand around your mouth, trapping the rest of your sentence behind his palm. Your cry comes out muffled, incomprehensible.

“Shh—just let me—” John grunts, trailing off into a groan when your walls squeeze around him. You can’t help it.

A disgusting thing in you is thrilled that he wants you this badly, that he loses control of his faculties this way. Trades in that veneer of a righteous man for animal lust. A sick deviance that you didn’t know you possessed raises its head and relishes in his need. It makes you cant your hips back to take him better, the new angle making you see stars.

You find yourself infuriated at being denied the chance to look at him, sweating and panting like a bull, muscled chest rising and falling with his breaths.

He’s too deep in the fog of exhaustion to say more than a few words. He’s mostly rough grunts behind you, breathing heavy into your neck, his sweaty palm still clamped over your mouth. He keeps it there even when your tongue lolls out and presses against his palm.

Everything is hot and dark under the cover of night. Frustration builds and builds beneath your skin as you can hear his breath grow labored, your husband on the verge of coming. Unlike a few hours ago when he had you on your back, the root of his cock doesn’t grind against your clit in this position, pulling you back from the edge every time you think you’ll tip over.

He sucks and licks at the skin of your neck, his big palm swallowing up your pathetic mewls. When he fits his teeth into the crook of your neck, pressing down lightly, you give a whole body flinch. Any shame still lingering in you melts right out.

When he comes, you feel the flood of warmth inside of you. The breath whooshes out of you when John puts his whole weight on top of you, forcing your body down into the mattress. He fucks you through his orgasm, the last few thrusts jostling you in his arms and making you cry out. Like he wants to make sure you take every single drop.

You lie there panting until he pries his hand off your mouth, stroking up and down your side. For a moment, you almost think he’s going to leave you like that, right on the verge of reaching your peak, unsatisfied. Then, your eyes go wide when he shoves a hand under you and gropes around until his fingers find your pearl, rubbing it until your breathing goes high and hitched, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your orgasm leaves you limp and sated. A mess in your bed. Too exhausted to even think about cleaning up.

“Thank you, honey,” John mumbles, turning your head with the same hand that just made you come to draw you into a kiss. “Needed that.”

You don’t have the energy to respond, so you just hum instead. You don’t know how long it takes you to fall back asleep, but you lie there panting and twitching until it takes.

The morning has you fluttering around the house all nervously, somehow unsure of yourself. It feels like there’s been a fundamental shift in your marriage, like the house has finally settled in place. The next couple days are much the same.

John just seems as self-assured as usual, almost smug about it. That drives you a bit wild.

He’s never been shy about touching you, but you hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding back before. It’s like he can hardly bear to take his hands off you now, tugging you into his lap at night during his Bible study, something you follow along half-heartedly, your faith being more of a consequence of birth than anything. His faith is built on stronger foundations. You imagine he could quote verses from memory if pressed.

In truth, nothing changes in any significant way. All that worrying for naught. John still takes you on trail rides to show you the lay of the land, taking you out so far as to see the herds of bison and wild horses down in the valley. You watch them silently from a distance as they graze, sustaining themselves on wild grasses and forbs. Cloves, daylilies, and milkweed.

“Where are the bears?” you ask curiously. John snorts.

“I ain’t taking you out to see them, darlin’.”

In the evening after supper, John takes the horses into the stables and you offer to groom them while he sets up targets for shooting practice. He’s been insistent on teaching you how to shoot. It’s another skill that you otherwise might have gone your whole life without learning, but John makes it clear in no uncertain terms that you’ll learn.

Most of your shots are wildly off target, the birds in a nearby tree bursting into flight and taking to the skies when you accidentally shoot into the lower branches. You wince. John just laughs, showing you how to reload your gun.

Just like with learning how to ride a horse, you wake up in pain the following morning, moaning when your husband nudges you awake. He’s familiar enough with the sound of your pleasure to know that this is anything but that.

“Think you’ve earned a week off, bug,” he says, turning you over onto your tummy and massaging your shoulders.

You sigh. “Thank goodness.”

John laughs.

You squirm on the ride into town, muffling a yip when John pinches your thigh. It’s not your fault that the brute has been working you like a draft horse. When you tell him as much, he rolls his eyes.

“Think you can handle being on your own today?” John asks, his eyes locked on yours.

You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t think that would land you with a raw backside by nightfall. Over the last few weeks, he’s indulged your attitude more than a handful of times, relegating his discipline to a few curt words or a quick smack across your rump, but even you aren’t willing to test the limits of his leniency.

“Yes, daddy,” you quip instead. A little lip hasn’t hurt you yet.

You recognize the grave mistake you just made when you see the glint in his eye. “Daddy, huh? That right?”

You stare up at him blankly, struck dumb. “Uh. I didn’t…” The way he says the word makes your mouth go dry, mind empty. A desiccated tumbleweed rolls by in the distance.

John’s lip curls up into a smile. Your stomach flips at the sight of the hunger receding in his gaze, descending back down into the abyss. “We’ll talk about that when we get home.”

“You’re not leaving me with Kate?” you ask, clearing your throat. A desperate attempt to steer the conversation away from your unfortunate slip up. It’ll be a cold day in hell before John Price lets go of an opportunity to use your own words against you though.

He must be feeling rather magnanimous though because he holds your gaze for a moment longer before saying, “Not today, m’afraid. She has business out of town for the next few days, so she has someone minding the shop while she’s gone.”

You frown. “She went on her own?”

“‘Course not—Kyle went along with her. Sure she’ll be pleased that you asked though.”

“She’s been nice to me,” you mumble, mollified. A bit embarrassed to be caught worrying about anyone other than yourself.

It’s not entirely unreasonable. You have a hair trigger worry cultivated from the life you’ve lived. The events of the last month have only worsened your disposition to fret. Though Kate carries herself with the quiet confidence of a woman fully capable of taking care of herself, you can’t help the way your stomach aches at the thought of her traveling between towns on her own. That lonely, deserted stretch of road.

“I’m not planning on leaving town today—got no reason to. Figured you might enjoy having a day to look around town on your own, but you just give me a holler if you need me and I’ll come running the second I hear you.”

You understand the bigger picture here. He’s not quite letting go of the reins, but he is loosening his hold on them, giving you some slack. A few weeks ago, you would’ve waited until he rounded the corner and then bolted for the train station, luggage be damned. Even a stage coach would have sufficed.

You can’t seem to locate that same impulse now. Instead, you find yourself nodding and then leaning up for a parting kiss. You almost feel a bit bereft as you watch John walk off. Almost lonely.

Without someone watching over you, you feel adrift. Lost at sea. It’s concerning to learn how dependent you’ve become on the company of others. Back home, there were stretches of days where your voice would go rusty from lack of use.

Now you feel strangely unmoored without someone within earshot.

You’d bet your bottom dollar that John really would come running if you were to shout though. The thought makes your heart flutter. You’re a far cry from the girl that came into town not that long ago. You can’t imagine how she’d feel about the notion—that all you need do is raise your voice above a whisper for the county sheriff to come running.

When you think of the lawmen you used to fear though, John’s face seems incongruous with the image in your head of a grim-faced sheriff chasing after you, rifle and handcuffs in hand. Not that he couldn’t be that man, of course, but it feels like a version of him far removed from the man whose bed you share.

The John you know stands behind you when he teaches you how to hold a gun and pull it tight into your shoulder. The man you know helps you up onto Buttercup’s saddle and guides you with a hand on your back and stomach to help you find your rhythm.

You shake the thought from your mind. You spend enough time around the man—you don’t need him occupying your every thought as well.

You take your midmorning coffee at the inn, catching up with the woman you met on your first day in town. The innkeeper gives you a perfunctory greeting upon your arrival before settling behind the front desk to tally up the week’s earnings and review the ledger. His wire-rim glasses slip down his nose whenever he has to bend down to better read his own notes. His wife notices as well, tisking at the tenth offense in as many minutes.

The coffee grounds are visible at the bottom of your cup when you see yourself out.

It occurs to you as you make your way around town that you know practically every person you pass by. Perhaps not intimately, but enough that you can hardly pass one of the buildings without someone stopping you to say hello. You bounce a baby in your lap at the bank, eat a slice of cake at the restaurant with the owner, and even stop in for a spot of tea at the courthouse when the circuit judge sees you pass by on your way to the library.

The camaraderie is disconcerting. You’ve gone the bulk of your life invisible, for all intents and purposes, and the attention you garner through your affiliation with John has you on edge. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but it gets under your skin after a while. Perhaps it is unpleasant.

Your feelings are, as always, complicated. Knotted.

A former scullery maid could not hope for a better improvement to her life, but isn’t it unfortunate that it took someone else for the world to see your worth? You could resent them for it, all of them. But it’s pleasant to be sought after, lovely to share a conversation that doesn’t end in a command. How could you begrudge John for giving you that?

The library is quiet when you arrive. A simple two-room building situated close to the town church. An older woman fusses over you when you walk in, fetching you a cup of tea before showing you to a comfortable place to sit.

“Were you looking for anything in particular, dear?” she asks after handing you a floral print cup with a dainty little handle meant for no more than two fingers.

“Well actually,” you start, worrying at your lip with your teeth. “I was wondering if you might have anything…instructive.”

She blinks. “Instructive?”

“Yes, um…” You abruptly recall the story that John had concocted about your former life as a school teacher. The desire to reveal to this woman that you cannot, in fact, read suddenly stills on your tongue. “Poetry maybe?” The request comes out feebly.

She brightens, however. “Of course. I should have some Dickinson, if you’ll give me a moment.”

You thank her when she returns with a book that has clearly just been dusted off, streaks of grime still present on the cover, but when you crack it open, all you can do is stare at the words on the page hopelessly. While a few you recognize as words you’ve heard read aloud or seen on signs or on the front page of the newspaper, you can’t make heads or tails of the rest. All you can do is pretend to read, flipping the page every couple of minutes when the librarian happens to glance over at you.

Now is the moment of your discontent. It’s not long before you get up and tell her that you have to be on your way, thanking her profusely for her hospitality. You leave disgruntled though, upset that you hadn’t considered the implications of John’s story. Another fabrication catching up to you. It leaves you feeling restless, no choice but to wander aimlessly through town.

Despite knowing most of their faces and names, you feel indescribably lonely.

Your wandering leads you to the general store, where inside Kate’s replacement stands behind the counter and smiles politely when you come in. You contemplate turning right back around at first, but there are still plenty of hours left in the day and your plan to spend the afternoon in the library practicing your words is now in shambles, completely upending your schedule. You could return to the inn to practice your needlework with the innkeeper’s wife, but you don’t want to overstay your welcome.

You sigh. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll be able to convince John to let you stay home alone. There’s plenty you can do around the house.

If Kate were minding the store, you would’ve pulled up a chair, but instead you duck towards the back of the store to peruse the aisles in peace. The majority of the shopwares line the walls around the store—buggy whips, horse tack, lanterns, pails, and various farm tools—but the few standing shelves at the back of the store hold a variety of foodstuff that you’ve never seen before. Canned goods and spices, dried food and tins of ground coffee.

Had you thought to check the pantry earlier, you might’ve been tempted to purchase something. You still have a half-full coinpurse in the pocket of your dress. It’s not as though you’re penniless.

You chew on your lip. You will, at some point, need to broach the topic with John if you don’t anticipate leaving for a while. You might as well have some spare change on hand.

The bell above the door chimes when someone else walks in, cutting off your train of thought.

At first, you pay them no mind. Tucked away behind the aisle as you are, there’s no chance of them seeing you. No reason for you to peek your head around and say hello. The floorboards creak under the weight of their boots with every step as they approach the counter. The sound of their footsteps has an interesting cadence, almost an arrogant swagger; you can tell that it’s a man. You can hear Kate’s replacement greet them.

The spurs on his boots jingle with each step.

Curiosity nips at you, but you stay rooted in place, fighting the urge to get up on your tiptoes to look over the top of the shelf. Your stomach churns though. Despite not a single word spoken, the atmosphere in the store feels tense.

“Pardon me,” the newcomer finally says, his voice a molasses-thick drawl, almost sticking to the roof of his mouth. It’s not a voice you’ve ever heard before. “I’m wonderin’ if you might be able to help me with somethin’, seein’ as how I just got into town.”

“However I can, sir. What do you need help with?” the shopkeep asks.

You hear the man take something out of his pocket and then unfold it, the paper crinkling when he spreads it out across the counter. “Name’s Graves. I’m lookin’ for a girl and wonderin’ if she mighta passed through town. I’ve got a warrant to bring her back east on account of a murder charge.”

Every inch of your body goes cold.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #price x y/n #captain john price

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dust-rats · 2 years ago

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just got animal crossing i will be unreachable for several months

#no one talk to me i'm *incomprehensible animal crossing villager noise*#i've only been playing for 2 hours and i'm immediately making this a personality trait

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cyberseong · 5 months ago

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after hours.

pairing: seonghwa x f!reader

genre: smut/pwp, established relationship, idol au.

warnings/topics: there’s quite a bit of plot before it gets to the actual smut, seonghwa is pissed in the beginning, somnophilia, but everything is consensual, slight dacryphilia, dry humping, unprotected sex, plot twist(?) at the end ig.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi! this fic is slightly proofread but there’s still a possibility that there might be minor errors, but regardless, enjoy!!

seonghwa quickly exited the dressing room and back into the waiting room backstage; y/n was not present, so he began to check other locations such as the makeup and hair rooms and the small kitchenette.

he eventually concluded that she was simply not in the building.

seonghwa dialed her number over 10 times, each going directly to voicemail. anger was bubbling up in his throat; what reason would y/n have to leave the venue, especially after that was the only thing she promised not to do?

“hey, i know you guys don’t plan on leaving right away— but i’m tired, and… y/n is waiting for me at the hotel. so i’ll be leaving early. everyone did great and i’m so proud of all of you, but we’ll speak more tomorrow!” seonghwa tried to sound the kindest he possibly could, knowing the circuits in his mind were about to overheat and spark with fury and betrayal. he definitely didn’t want the rest of ateez to see him like that.

he ran out of the side door, immediately rushing to their van where their manager was waiting. “hey, could you take me back to our hotel early? i– i’m really not feeling well,” seonghwa’s words came out fast and nearly incomprehensible. the manager looked at him with worry, but he quickly nodded and started driving. their hotel was only 3 minutes away by car, so it didn’t take long for them to appear in front of the building. to seonghwa, however, it felt like ages until they reached their destination— he had no idea what y/n was doing right now, or even exactly where she was, and that thought alone was killing him.

as soon as the vehicle went into park, seonghwa jumped out of the van, quickly thanking their manager before rushing into the lobby. he entered the elevator, which, thankfully, was completely empty. he was way too distracted for fan interactions at that moment. his sole objective right now was to see his girlfriend.

slowly, the elevator approached the hotel's highest floor, and as soon as that ‘ding’ was sounded, seonghwa bolted out through the elevator doors and into the hallway. he found his way to room 1117, where he tapped his keycard against the door and opened it once he heard the lock click.

the room was dark, but he noted that the shoes y/n wore to the show earlier were the first thing he saw when he walked in. that was a dead giveaway that y/n was in this room.

“y/n. care to explain to me why you left the venue mid-concert? i’ve been looking everywhere for you, i mean you could’ve left a text, or a note, or someth– oh.” seonghwa’s confronting words quickly came to a stop when he realized y/n wasn’t listening; she was sleeping peacefully on the king mattress that swallowed the entire room. she wore one of seonghwa’s oversized animal crossing shirts and, from the dark out line of her hips and thighs, what seemed to be nothing but underwear on the bottom half of her body.

seonghwa’s entire being shivered at the sight— even imagining y/n coming back to their hotel room to wait for him like this sparked arousal within him. he took a deep breath before quickly kicking off his shoes, trying to get into the bed with the least movement and noise possible.

as his eyes had gotten a chance to adjust to the room's darkness, seonghwa could fully take in the view before him. the shirt had bunched up around y/n’s waist, presumably from moving around in her sleep. she wore a white lace thong that didn’t even try to cover her ass— seonghwa whimpered at the glimpse alone, his pants getting tighter with each thought that formed in his mind about y/n and he just knew he had to do something other than whine quietly like a bitch in heat.

seonghwa held his hips close to y/n's, thrusting up slightly in hopes of feeling any form of friction he could get against his dick. one hand of his rested on your hip as to hold it in place; the other remained over his mouth to block any of the sounds he was making from the oversensitivity. it’s not like an effort to keep quiet would work anyway— seonghwa’s lips were only a few inches from y/n’s ear, and they both knew seonghwa was rather vocal whenever he was worked up. the soft yet violent bucking of his hips against y/n’s soft skin caused her to move in her sleep a little, but seonghwa was too far gone that he couldn’t get his body to stop. tears began to drip from his eyes as his eyebrows furrowed, not being able to handle the feeling of his clothes against his overstimulated cock anymore.

his whimpers were no longer even given an effort to be held back anymore as he pushed his pants and boxers down his legs, using precum as lube before sliding carefully into y/n’s pussy in hopes that it wouldn’t wake her from her slumber. seonghwa couldn’t hold his moans in any longer as he bottomed out— his mind was overwhelmed in such an amorous haze, feeling as if nothing he was doing could help him reach his release. he couldn’t even thrust properly, which led to his hips randomly bucking harshly against y/n’s cervix. he was subconsciously holding a strong grip on y/n’s hips to the point where he was almost sure there would be bruises in the form of handprints in the morning. he placed is face against the crook of y/n’s neck in attempt to muffle the noises that proceeded to slip from his lips, causing vibrations to spread through y/n’s body. seonghwa felt y/n push back against him slightly— the unexpected movement caused him to snap as he immediately felt his body reach it’s climax. he thrusted deeply a few more times before pulling out, immediately painting his cum across y/n’s ass. his frame twitched violenty from overstimulation as he laid on his back, attempting to catch his breath and come down from his climax.

after a few seconds of silence, y/n turned onto her other side to face seonghwa. propping her head up with her arm, she confronted seonghwa. “you could’ve woken me up, you know i wouldn’t have minded.”

seonghwa jumped at the words— he had been way too fucked out to realize that y/n was awake. “what? wait, how long have you-”

“how long have i been awake?” y/n giggled slightly, placing a soft kiss onto seonghwa’s lips before she continued speaking, “since you came through the door, hwa.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #atz smut #atz x reader #seonghwa #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fic #seonghwa fanfic

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 3 months ago

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The farmer is a pretty heavy sleeper if even a meteor landing on their farm won't get them up before 6am but what about their spouse? How would they all (sve included if you'd like) react to not only a whole space rock hitting the farm but the farmer reacting with nothin more than a sleepy "oh was probably just a meteor... I'll check that in the mornin."

I had a lot of fun with this scenario, really liked the idea itself. Thank you so much for the ask, and enjoy! 💕

_________________________________________

SDV/SVE bachelors:

Sam said quietly, "Oh, okay," and laid his head back on the pillow, falling asleep again. When morning came, the young guitarist would consider his vague recollection of this conversation a dream. What will be his surprise when he sees an actual meteorite lying not far from their house. "Babe, that could have ended badly..." "No worries, Sammy, but if you want, we'll check it out next time." ...Next time?????

"Did you hear that?!" "Relax, dear, it's just a meteorite..." "Ah, alright... It's a WHAT?!" And the slogan of this Harvey's headcanon: "A meteorite is the best alarm clock! You'll wake up right away!" Although in Farmer's case - they woke up to a fuss made by their worried husband. But you can understand the Pelican Town doctor, too - a bloody piece of cosmic rock fell right into your yard, it's hard to stay calm.

Elliott literally fell out of bed from such a loud sound outside the window, and Farmer continued to snore quietly??? The writer was so confused, he didn't know if he should wake up Farmer or not. "Mmmm... Did'a meteorit fal' again... I'll deal with it tmorrw... 💤" Farmer mumbled, leaving Elliott even more confused. Meteorite? Wha- again? They mean... it's happened before and it's going to happen again?! What is happening?!

"Hon, what the fuck." At first Shane's reaction to Farmer's words wasn't too violent, because he's still sleepy. But after a couple of seconds the meaning of the words reached him, the gyrus in his brain started working and he shrieked: "The coop! Charlie!" The realisation that the animals might have been hit by the meteorite instantly brought Farmer to their feet.

No matter how hard Alex tried - his spouse slept like a dead man, muttering that they would check the source of the noise tomorrow. What do they mean, tomorrow?! They need to check it now! Alex can't just leave it alone, so he goes to check it out, with or without Farmer. Whoa, a real meteorite... Erm, shouldn't they tell Lewis or someone about this?

Meteorite or not, Sebastian remained surprisingly calm. He gave up trying to wake Farmer and went to the window to see what was out there. They were right - it was in fact a meteorite, a real one. And there's light coming from it. So cool. "Sure you don't want to come with me, dear?" Farmer mumbled something incomprehensible in response, and the emo decided to go alone, to look at the cool sky rock. Because why not.

Lance sensed something was wrong before the meteorite touched the ground. Fortunately, the far-sighted gallant adventurer had put up a magical barrier that prevented the space rock from crashing into his and Farmer's house or barns. The meteorite had fallen, all was well. "I take it this phenomenon is not new to you?" He smiled as his spouse mumbled "tomorrow..." in their sleep. Well then, they both can look at the meteorite later.

"Razor!" Magnus jumped up sharply from the bed, casting the spell on automatic. The trajectory of the falling meteorite was reversed, and the celestial stone plummeted into the water, no longer posing a danger to the forest. "Farmer, meteorite." "Mhmm, five more minutes.... I'll look at the meteorite tomorrow...." Magnus wondered how his dearest spouse could even survive as an adventurer with no sense of self-preservation. It's a damn meteorite!

A whole palette of emotions was bubbling up inside Victor, awake from the noise. What was that! A meteorite? A real one! It's probably incredibly hot right now, he shouldn't go near it.... But it's a meteorite! It's so scary, and so interesting! Farmer, don't hide your head under the pillow, but get a flashlight. Victor's taking them out to see the space rock! Well, and make sure everything's okay and no animals are hurt, too.

SDV/SVE bachelorettes:

A meteorite?! A real rock of cosmic origin fell right on the farm? Maru immediately jumps out of bed and wakes up Farmer. It's unclear, however, whether this reaction of hers is simple worry about putting out the fire from the meteorite fall or that the young inventor is thrilled that she and her spouse will see the meteorite up close! Probably both. Either way, Farmer won't sleep well tonight...

"What makes you think it's a meteorite? Maybe it's aliens? Oh, that's so cool! Get up quick or we'll miss the whole thing! And grab a sword, just in case." The force with which Abigail was prancing poor Farmer made them realise at once that their wife was not going to let them finish their beauty sleep. Unlikely aliens in there, but they'd have to check anyway. Ugh...

Poor Penny is in complete shock at how calmly Farmer has reacted to everything. Don't they care what happens to the farm? What if what fell down caused a fire and everything could burn? There's a forest nearby, it would be a huge fire! Penny tearfully begged her sleepy spouse to check it out before it's too late. Farmer had to get up (they hate to see their lovely wife crying).

"Did you hear that, Farmer?" "Yep, meteorite hit again, I'll look tomorrow..." Leah can already see the fire that has travelled from the glowing space rock to the dry summer grass. Oh no, there's going to be a fire now... She wakes Farmer up with one mighty shove and shouts an emergency. And as much as Farmer grumbled over their interrupted sleep - the artist was right. A forest fire is a very dangerous.☝️

The sound of a meteorite falling may not have been able to wake Farmer, but the shriek of terror of their wife Haley sure knocked them out of dreamland. "Shh, Haley, it's only a meteorite..." JUST A METEORITE?! Is Farmer laughing at her? Oh no, they can't go back to the dream realm now - Haley wakes them up again and tells them to look at that fallen meteorite before something else happens. Haley's half asleep herself, but she's scared, so she'll insist on checking it out now.

Before going to bed, Emily read a daily horoscope in a magazine that she would soon "be given a big sign, so make your decision at once." Nowhere, however, did it say that this "sign" was a huge rock from the sky. But at least she made the decision right away, (and the right one) - getting Farmer out if bed, despite their protests, to make sure the falling meteorite didn't destroy anything. No "tomorrow", it had to be now. She hopes no animals were! Her heart couldn't take it...

Claire jumped up in bed, as if scalded by boiling water, at the rattling of window glass and the vibrations throughout the house. Something had fallen on the farm - and that 'something' is very big. She woke and woke her spouse to no avail, who only responded to the terrifying sound with a louder snore. How did they even manage not to wake up from such a noise? And how could they mumbling so calmly about the meteorite?!

Poor Sophia, frightened by a scary sound outside , immediately pressed herself against Farmer, trying to hide. Farmer kissed her gently and told her that it was just a meteorite, that everything was fine and they would protect her. After saying "it's okay" and "I will protect you" the panic inside Sophia was extinguished and she fell asleep again in the arms of her spouse. The meteorite in the morning would definitely be a shock to her (she thought she had dreamed the whole thing).

After that horrible sound, Olivia not only wakes Farmer up, but also gets almost half the town up, making one call to Lewis and claiming that something terrible has happened on her and Farmer's property. Farmer sleepily tried to convince Olivia that a fallen meteorite was no big deal, but she wasn't convinced. How is that - a huge, dangerous rock from outer space - and not dangerous!

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transformers-synergize · 9 months ago

Note

Do they purr?

Yes they in fact do purr. Cybertronians actually make a lot of unique sounds.

Purring usually a sound made when very calm, happy or satisfied. Some bots do it more than others. Some bots also may purr to calm others bots down.

Revving Is a universally Aggressive gesture with a similar meaning to why many animals growl. Its also often used as a warning, a universal fuck around and find out you could say Most bots aren't fans of humans with loud revving cars or motorcycles because of this.

Rattling This usually happens when a cybertronian is very scared, upset or crying the sound comes from shaking making their painting Rattle.

Honk Sometimes accompanying screaming whether in shock/fear or rage It can often be used to draw attention to one's self, it's a new modification most bots gained after taking an earth alt and not a natural cybertronian trait.

Sirens/alarms are a form of warning call only used in absolute emergencies, used as a loud call for help or a warning of danger and to get away, The pattern and pitch in which the siren plays indicates to other cybertronians if it is a call for help or a warning to get away,

Sometimes, for the sake of getting to places Faster on Earth bots disguised as emergency vehicles will use their Sirens, but it's not a pleasant experience for them. this is another noise human Vehicles make that cybertronians find Distressing.

Cybertronian language, though it may sound like a bunch of random noise to most humans it is very much a language consisting of A mix of chirps, clicks, chittering, buzzes, hums, purrs, and Beeps. It Sounds less like any human language and more like a buggy Summer night mixed with random electronic Noises. Though it is possible for a human to learn how to read a cybertronian language, it's basically impossible for them to speak or understand it verbally. Many sounds have subtle Differences that human ears Can't pick up on, Along with many sounds being too high Or low pitch for most human ears and most sounds being impossible for a human to make. along with that, all of Cybertron's primary languages use electrical signals in tandem with verbalization or hand gestures in the case of cybertronian sign language, While Cybertronian tactile languages are entirely incomprehensible to humans since they consist of 90% electrical signals.

#i was working on this lore anyways so I thought i just awnser this ask with a lore dump from my files #yay purring #transformers fan continuity #transformers #tfs #text post #ask answering #lore #i like making them more alien #yes they are robots but they are also alien #maccadam

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uplatterme · 2 years ago

Text

a/n: im putting the warnings first this time because the writing style is a bit different. also, it really isn’t clear what actually happened to sohreh so this whole thing is just a fun interpretation is all.

cw: violence, murder, dark content (this is insane, like actually. please read with caution) | sub!zandik, zandik!dottore, gender-neutral terms and pronouns but reader has a cock, exhibitionism, semi-public sex

———

Journal Entry No. XX (Recorded on: ??-??-??)

—Written By: (Dastur Sohreh)

These reports seemed to have been stained heavily with bodily fluids. Certain words are unreadable.

—The team consisted of renowned students of the Akademiya, including; Sohreh, Zandik, XXXX, and XXXX. This team was led by Sage Shanarma and Senior ▇▇.

Each one had brought something new to the plate, despite not getting along at first due to different views on the decisions that the team followed. Notably, from Zandik, whose suggestions seemed to be far too dangerous to even try, that was immediately shut down without even a second thought.

However, Senior ▇▇ always heard him out and always stood by his side whenever there were arguments. Rumors spread throughout the team about their supposed relationship.

Being scholars of the Akademiya meant that we should always rely on facts rather than meaningless accusations. Once I told them of this, the gossip was never brought up.

▇▇ was kind to everyone, even to me. They would always assist me whenever I had trouble walking because of the heat.

I had an ominous feeling that someone was glaring at me from behind whenever I was helped, but when I turned around, there was no one but the forest itself.

Perhaps, it was just my anxiety acting up from feeling as if I wasn’t contributing much to the group. ▇▇ reassured me I was doing just fine.

—I trusted ▇▇’s words about Zandik. I once found myself exploring the jungle with him and even though the start of our expedition proved that we had nothing in common, he opened up interesting topics to discuss, ranging from plants and animals to the current evolution models.

I found myself being taken aback by him, the way he spoke showed off his clearly high intellect. His appearance is also quite attractive. I sometimes matched my gaze with him intentionally and he would return it with a smile that made my heart flutter.

Unfortunately, I grew distant from Senior as I relied on this information to them. They said encouraging words about Zandik and I’s relationship but their eyes looked saddened, almost empty the longer I observed them.

They never approached me after that and the only time they would talk to me is if I approached them first.

Maybe it was true that there was a past relationship between Zandik and Senior ▇▇? If there was, it didn’t seem to matter to Zandik anymore as he agreed when I suggested that we should go on a picnic tonight.

The picnic was lovely but I couldn’t get the feeling off my back that someone was watching us together.

———

The next writings are written with blood, the writing is shaky and incomprehensible as if it was written with pure desperation.

You let out an amused sigh, taking your pen out from the drawer under your stable.

“Such a shame, Sohreh. You didn’t even get to finish this note. Should I help you out?”

You tapped the pen on the table, wondering where to start.

———

You commended your patience at the time. Seeing Zandik with someone else and not doing anything about it? You honestly couldn’t believe it.

It was obvious that he didn’t like the attention he was receiving. That’s what you told yourself, at least. You couldn’t figure out what it was that he was using Sohreh for.

Then again, he was never the one to just simply spit out answers without a price.

There wasn’t exactly a label between you two. So perhaps you shouldn’t even be jealous to begin with.

Oh, please.

The expedition was going far too smooth for your liking anyways.

The violent and loud mechanic noises rang in your ears. There were screams all coming from the team, wondering what it is that they should do.

Yet, out of all the horrified faces on each of them, one stood out.

A face of shock that soon turned into a gleeful one, excited for something new. Knowledge, that would soon quench his thirst at the moment.

He was truly an eccentric one.

You smiled as he took a step forward, and eventually, those slow steps hastened, running to the ruin guard instead of backing away.

The scholar beside you, however, still hadn’t reacted. Sohreh’s shaking. The poor thing was terrified, legs giving up and failing to notice the ruin guard eyeing her way.

You could pull her away in time if you wanted to. There was enough time to keep her out of harm’s way.

If only she listened to those rumors.

The ruin guard had attacked Sohreh, her body flopping to the floor. The sound of bones breaking stood out from the screaming and metallic noises.

You clap your hands together, gaining the attention of everyone.

“Zandik’s trying to fix the problem right now. Everyone, focus on your surroundings, don’t make unnecessary movements that’ll trigger more reactions.” You directed, ignoring the groaning of the woman below your knees.

Suffice to say, each one was horrified. There were minor injuries that the others had gotten but nothing severe. You could see how grateful they were that they didn’t end up like Sohreh, who was now laying on the ground, in dire need of medical treatment.

In the end, these scholars only valued themselves.

“Senior? What should we do?” One of them had asked, bearing a pathetic look on their face, avoiding the gruesome state of the body placed on a picnic blanket that somebody had found.

“We will return at once.”

Zandik stepped in front of you, not agreeing with that choice.

“Should we not bring this machine back to the Akademiya? I can guarantee that this can prove to be useful in different ways! It’s the first we’ve seen of this kind.” He enthusiastically said.

The others did not appeal to that thought.

It seemed that these scholars did not value the life that was slowly withering away next to them, choosing to argue instead of seeking the medical attention that Sohreh clearly needed.

“Are you insane? That thing cannot be brought back to the Akademiya! It will spur chaos with the sages!”

“And you have seen my prowess, have you not? I was the only one with the slightest clue on how to keep it dormant while you stood there like cowards!” Zandik angrily shouted back, biting his teeth together.

This silenced the arguing. He was right and everyone knew that. Without his help, who knew what else could have happened instead?

You sighed at the useless bickering. The priorities of these people were laughable.

“We’ll have to hear from the Sages, Zandik,” You reassured.

“Meanwhile, as Sohreh cannot travel. I’m requesting everyone to seek help from the Akademiya, a healer preferably, or anyone that you could reach out to as quickly as you can.”

“Well, aren’t you just as mischievous as before?” Zandik stated, no longer keeping his thoughts as everyone besides you two had left to get assistance.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Is that how you want to take this conversation?” He huffed, walking towards you—no, walking towards Sohreh.

He examined her body, guts almost slipping out of her torso, her right leg dislocated. Her blood seeped to the picinic blanket that they had used during their date.

It was honestly a miracle that she was still breathing at this point.

And almost as if she could hear your thoughts. Sohreh’s eyes opened, directly facing Zandik.

“Z-Zandik?” She mustered out, coughing and spitting out blood from her throat.

“It’s alright, I’ve taken care of the ruin guard.”

“Of course, you would have… You’re the only capable one here.” She joked.

You stayed quiet, listening in on the conversation. You doubted she even knew that you were here.

“Are you…going to help me out?” She asked and Zandik only answered with that picture-perfect smile that he always wore when he wanted something.

The man fixed her hair, moving them away from her eyes.

“Show me.” He said.

“Wha—?!”

Zandik’s right hand went for her throat, pressing deep. Her vocal cords getting too damaged for her to even scream.

She flailed her arms around, trying to escape the scholar’s grip. Sohreh was confused by the man’s new behavior. She was mouthing out several words that fell silent.

Her reactions were quite beautiful. Sohreh had always been expressive, putting everything on her sleeve. It would make sense that he wanted a better view when he finally ended this whole thing.

It was then that she decided that she couldn’t escape from this man alone. She needed someone, anyone to help her. Her eyes scouted the empty forest when she saw a familiar hair color.

“S-Senior!” She choked out, her voice hoarse and ruined.

“Zandik.” Once he heard his name being called out, he stopped.

He stared at you, those eyes that only focused on him. Oh, how grateful he was that you two were the only ones here.

Zandik dropped the woman without a care, her whole body trembling from barely escaping death. She was glad that you had intervened before it was too late.

“You shouldn’t use your dainty hands for something like this, Zandik.” You cooed and got up from your seat, approaching him.

You took his hands, bringing them to your lips, kissing them softly.

Sohreh couldn’t believe what was happening right in front of her eyes. Dainty? He had almost killed her and yet you were treating him as if he was porcelain?

“I missed this. Don’t you also?” You tilted your head as you asked him, Zandik blushing deep from your affection.

“Of course.”

“Why don’t you prove it?”

Sohreh watched in pure agony, she could barely move and even if she did, she wouldn’t get far. The pain was too much to bear to even try. Her wounds grinded against the rocky and dirty ground whenever she breathed too hard.

She could hear her organs slushing as if they were jelly. She didn’t know if it was because the whole thing made her senses more aware or if it was like that in reality.

The worse part was that you and Zandik didn’t pay any attention to her. As if you two were already set that she would die in her state, as if she was a dying cockroach that lay beneath your feet.

“You don’t know how insufferable it was holding myself back, Zandik.” You said, trailing kisses on his chest.

“To think you’d be so touchy with someone else. You really are a slut, aren’t you?” You spat out before biting his skin, your teeth going so deep that blood dripped down to his stomach.

God, Zandik could have finished right then and there.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to.” He apologized, face pouting as he said.

You chuckled at his expression. “You liar, I know you liked the attention.”

“I only like attention when it’s coming from you.” He refuted, snugging his head to your chest.

“Yeah? How could I be sure about that?”

He unbuttoned his pants, showing off everything to you. “Look at what you’ve done. Already so wet for you. I’m your slut, not anybody else’s.”

“Ah, Zandik. You know just the right words to say.” You laughed.

He grinded himself on your leg, rubbing his groin as he stared into your eyes. Lewd noises slipped out of his throat, missing how you took care of him. You pat his head and immediately, you received a whimper from Zandik.

You enjoyed the noises that Zandik made, huffs and breaths of your name as he pleasured himself with your body, begging for more.

Unfortunately, that was hindered by a scream from Sohreh whose throat you were sure would render her to never speak again. Not that it mattered, since there was no way she would be coming out of this forest alive.

You held onto Zandik’s thigh, stilling him in disappointment. “As much as I do love hearing you scream for mercy, I’m busy right now.”

She glared at you, obviously wanting to curse you out.

“However, you do remember that we’re not the only ones in this forest. I hear tigers have pretty good hearing. Ah, but you probably already knew that, being a student of Amurta and all.”

Once you reminded her, you could see fear strike in her eyes. To think she would be afraid of tigers more than you. How stupid really.

Zandik placed his ass on your lap, wanting your eyes on him.

“Need you.” He said.

“I’m sure you can do it by yourself now, no?” You answered, a flustered Zandik coughed, remembering the last time he tried to ride you.

Carefully and slowly, Zandik placed the tip of your cock near his entrance. He grit his teeth together, already feeling your warmth inside him when you’re still not all the way in.

An idea formed in your head.

“Love, can you face the other way?” You asked him.

Zandik couldn’t believe that you’d only tell him this right now when he’s almost done taking in your whole length.

Well, he could, being mean to him was your forte and he enjoyed every part of it.

He rolled his eyes back from taking you out, feeling empty.

Zandik’s back is now faced against you. You could see his hole open up as he inserted your cock inside of him.

“I’m feeling nice, Sohreh. So, I’ll give you a lesson on how to properly use Zandik.”

Zandik bounced against your thighs, moaning each time he slapped skin with you. “Haah~”

“I’ve rammed into him so many times and he’s still just as sensitive. Isn’t he great?”

Zandik whined in agreement, hearing you praise and show him off to someone else extremely turning him on.

Sohreh could only look in horror, seeing the man he admired of, moving like an animal in heat, desperate for his senior’s cock.

“See here, if you give him a slight spank.” You continued, slapping the side of his ass as gently as you were able to.

Zandik yelped, cum leaking out of his cock.

He faced down lower, gasping for air as he could feel another orgasm coming.

“P-Please–! Let me–ah!”! He pleaded your name asking for permission, which you were proud to give.

His entire body shuddered as he came, cum splattering everywhere, even to the half-dead person on the ground.

“You did so good, Zandik.”

“T-Thank you…!” He squeaked out.

Sohreh wanted to vomit, you two were insane. If the Akademiya had access to this information then—!

Her hands searched for the notepad in her pockets. With no other option, she used the blood leaking out excessively from her body.

“What are you doing?”

Sohreh tried to hide away the evidence but it was stolen quickly.

“You really are amazing. To think you’re still alive right now, even when I purposely let you get hit by that ruin guard.”

She stared in confusion. This whole thing…was your fault?

“Oh, don’t blame this on me. You were the one who went after Zandik. I’d say this makes us even, doesn’t it?”

Your hand reached for her neck, matching the bruises that Zandik had left earlier.

You squeezed hard, Sohreh losing the strength to even fight back.

Realizing that you had gone too far, you snapped out of your daze, quickly apologizing to Zandik.

“Sorry! Did you have business with her still?”

Zandik swallowed the lump in his throat, amazed at how your muscles flexed when you strangled the body.

He could feel himself getting hard again, everything you do really, sent a rushing thrill to his spine.

“C-Could you do that to me?”

You slammed yourself into Zandik’s walls, the scholar moaning in pleasure as his back laid down on the corpse which was now used as a cushion as he pleasantly received your thrusts.

The body turned into a mess as you continued pounding in him roughly and as quickly as you can, knowing that you two had only so much time before someone else got here.

“M-More! More!” Zandik begged, his head rolling back from the intense sensations.

“As you wish, love.”

#sub genshin impact #sub genshin #sub dottore #sub!dottore #dom reader #dom!reader #genshin impact smut #dottore x reader #plattered writings #il dottore x reader

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gremlinmodetweeker · 29 days ago

Text

King Cannibal Conquer Quest

Okay so I'm obsessed with König and I've been playing Sons of the Forest with my friends, so this crossover was inevitable. Also, not enough stories about fucking the cannibals, so somebody's gotta do it. And evidently, that somebody is me.

Enjoy a story about seducing the king cannibal König.

TWs: graphic violence, cannibalism, dead dove do not eat

Wordcount: 2.1k

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

King Cannibal Conquer Quest

The helicopter had gone down three weeks ago, and since then you had gotten completely lost on Site Two. The island was lush, full to the brim with deer running through towering pines surrounding a mighty mountain in the center. It was stunning. When you first gathered your bearings, you finally understood why the Pufftons were so interested in setting up hotels here.

Unfortunately for you, you weren’t here for some beautiful nature retreat. You were instead sent out to try and investigate the missing Pufftons. The family and all their employees had gone missing decades ago, and only now did the government take enough interest to assemble a task force. You, along with several members of a foreign Task Force 141, were sent out a week ago to do some basic reconnaissance and report any potential anomalies.

To your horror, the island consumed you before you even managed to touch down. Some sort of blastwave was sent out, one that still rattled your bones when you thought about it, and as a result the helicopter crashed. When you managed to wake up, everyone was gone. All three soldiers who were meant to act as your personal bodyguards had abandoned you in the blink of an eye.

So you set out on your own. You traveled for hours on foot until you came to a small clearing by a river. It wasn’t much, but it at least was a decent place to set up a small encampment.

You chopped down a couple of trees to make a decent lean to, then made a stone campfire to cook some basic meals of caught squirrel and found berries. The meat was tough and gamey, the berries were tart on your tongue, and every night you went bed accompanied by the sounds of animals and the rumbling of your stomach. It was miserable, and the thought of managing to escape seemed farther and farther away.

Sometimes you thought about those three soldiers who were supposed to protect you. Some nights you’d curse them to their graves, other times you worried that they were already in one. You couldn’t make up your mind on the subject. Trying to put energy into thinking about them took away from time thinking about how to survive, so you tried to force it into the back of your mind.

On the fifth day, you finally encountered the natives of this island.

They were unlike anything you’d seen before. Bare naked and covered in mud, they hid at the corners of your vision and watched you. When you approached, they scrambled away on all fours and ran like animals into the woods. They didn’t attack, but their eyes could only be described as hungry. It unnerved you.

Sometimes, they would climb in trees and look down on you. They would tilt their heads strangely when you waved at them. Sometimes, they would yell incomprehensible noises at you, other times they just watched. You tried to avoid looking them in the eyes. You remembered a zookeeper talking about chimps, and some of their body language. When you looked at these people, something told you they were closer than you’d like them to be to their ancestors.

On the seventh night of your stay, all hell broke loose.

In the night, the humans attacked you. They were brutal, charging at you with clubs and screaming in a foreign tongue. Too frightened to fight back, you ran and ran and ran the entire night until you couldn’t even stand, only crawl forward. At some point, they lost you, but the thought that there were people like this out there terrified you. You wondered why they attacked, but you couldn’t figure out an answer.

You got an answer later that day when you found a series of corpses hung up from trees.

Four corpses for the cardinal directions were hung from the boughs of a great pine. The stench slapped you in the face. The smell of rot is a curious thing. Most assume it would be something fleshy, but rather, it was sickly sweet. The meat had already started to slough from the bones, leaving piles of rotten entrails pooling on the ground in their own fluids. The blood had dried to a dirty brown, the flesh had turned black from rot. Understandably, you threw up as soon as you figured out that the black hanging fruit was actually human corpses.

You retched until you had no more, and then some. You sunk to your knees, already weakened from the night before and now deprived of the remains of last night’s meal. If you didn’t get something to eat soon, you’d starve.

You managed to eat some food later when you came across a flourishing patch of blueberries. It was stunningly beautiful, an entire grove dedicated to the bountiful berries. You ate until you were sick, then made slings to stuff more berries in. You left with a full belly and pounds of berries hanging from your bags.

That night you barely got a wink of sleep. You felt like dying, but the thought of the people from before kept you up at night. It was a good thing, too, as you saw figures stalk through the trees.

These people were different from the others. They walked tall and straight, not like the primitive mud people of before. What was most striking was the amount of light they wore. It took you a minute, but you realized they had coated themselves in bioluminescent paints. You were stunned by the beauty of these shadows painted with light walking through the trees. They walked by silently, not even a twig snapping as they passed you by.

By chance, they didn’t see you. When you traveled the next day, you found a torso shoved onto a stick. Tears pricked your eyes as you thought of the three soldiers.

You eventually walked to a new clearing, this one also by a river. Finally, after two days of sleepless nights, you fell asleep in the warm sun of the grove.

When you woke up, the sun was setting, and you were a sitting duck out in the open. You thanked the heavens above for staying alive and set to making a house. It took a while, but you built a shelter in the trees. It wasn’t much, you knew these people could climb, but something about it made you feel safer.

The next few days passed easily. Occasionally, you would come across an effigy made from human remains, and you’d cry for whoever had been there. Then you’d hunt, eat, and go to sleep. You didn’t know how long you’d been out there, lost track after the twentieth day, but you were here regardless.

It all changed one night when you were shaken awake. Not by hands, but rather by the tree itself. You blearily opened your eyes and looked around to try and figure out just what was happening. You stumbled to your feet, only to be shaken down to the floor again.

You scrambled out of your tree house to look down, only to find a group of the glowing figures crowded around your tree. You screamed as you watched them try and chop your tree down. Looking around, all the other trees were too far away to jump to. If you jumped to the ground, you’d be surrounded by the men. Your eyes rolled in your skull as you tried to figure it out.

Suddenly, a cry rang out. You and all the others watched as a series of torches lit up the edges of the treeline. Just as they were spotted, the torch-bearers ran forth with a wild warcry. They charged down at the men beneath you, and to your horror, you watched as they brutally clubbed each other to death.

Amongst the charge was a giant man, bigger than anyone you’d ever seen before. He was monstrous in form, cloaked in thick leathers as he swung a giant club, crushing a man’s eye before bashing his brains out the other side. He roared like a beast as he grabbed another man and split his spine on his back. He ripped the man in half with a sicking squelch and then, to your horror, raised the body up above his shrouded face and drank the blood that flowed forth.

You watched in awe as this new group of cannibals scared off the ‘glow bugs’, as you’d affectionately called them. Now you couldn’t help but fear just what those glow bugs would have done if they had gotten their hands on you.

You trembled on your platform and looked down. The other men dropped to all fours and feasted on the dead bodies, some taking a knife and carving the flesh and others digging their teeth into the flesh and tearing like animals. You shuddered, then looked at the big man.

He was heaving with effort. His hood had fallen back into place, letting you see the brilliant gold mask on his face now illuminated by the torch light. He was coated in a sheen of sweat, shining around the patches of rough hair that coated his body. He panted heavily, then snapped his head to look up at you.

Your eyes snapped wide as he turned to face you, slowly raising himself up to face you.

You scrambled back, but the damage was already done. You felt the tree sway as the man climbed the thick trunk, swaying violently under his massive weight. You scrambled to your bedding, tried to hide in the sleeping bag and cried as you awaited death.

The cannibal man stomped over to you immediately. He threw off your blankets and stared down at you curiously. From here, his eyes looked black in the sockets behind his mask. His body heaved with effort, watching you carefully.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimpered.

He reached out a massive hand, and with terrifying ease, lifted you with one hand up into the air. You hung awkwardly in his grasp, trembling and muttering prayers. If you could, you would’ve pissed yourself, but you were too dehydrated to do anything but snivel and weep as he held you.

He stomped over to the others and thrust you over the balcony to dangle you in front of the others. You screamed and clung to his hand as the other men raised up to look at you both. Your cries were drowned out by the man bellowing to the others. His voice caught you off guard, strangely pitchy and scratchy. He yelled at the others, shook you, then shockingly pulled you back to his chest. The other men barked out something in response, and turned away from you.

You clung to him as he crawled down the tree and to his other men. To your surprised, now that he was on the ground he was happy to carry you in his arms like he would a baby.

The man raised his head, the antlers strapped to his head gleaming in the torchlight. He barked a few more orders before he turned and walked away. You watched in away as the others gathered the bodies and followed behind like a pack of hounds.

You looked around you as the cannibals walked around you, lighting the way with their blazing torches. Their leader, this masked man, kept now snuffed church in a strap on his back with his club, carefully bringing you back to wherever he lived.

You watched as he slowly brought you back to a small clearing. There were a few small shelters set up, most tents of skin and branches. In the distance, there stood a tall cabin-like building that overlooked the rest of the encampment.

The man walked into the cabin and pushed a leather flap over the door. He then walked you over to the center of the room where a great file of furs sat. Without any warning, he dropped you down into the bundle. You thrashed out, and he dropped down to sit beside you. Immediately, you froze.

You looked at him carefully. He didn’t move, instead watching you carefully. You could only make him out by the faint light streaming in from the window and the front door, both covered in leathers to keep out the cold. You shuddered still despite yourself.

The man finally moved. He grabbed you, but instead of tearing into your flesh, he pulled you close to his side.

It took you a minute, but you slowly came to realize that the man had soon fallen asleep with you in his arms. You could move side to side, but actually getting out of his grip was impossible.

Seeing no other option, you slumped into the side of the giant man. If nothing else, you hadn’t been warmer since you got here. His heat enveloped you completely, letting you drift off to a peaceful sleep.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universe

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eldritch-spouse · 2 years ago

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Say hello to your Valentine Cero!

TW: Noncon; Kidnapping; Manipulation.

[Fem reader.]

It's hopeless. The more time you spend in this room, the less resistance you have to offer.

" Sign it. "

You shake your head, not trusting your voice.

There's a thunderous slam, the demonlord's hands clawing at the regal marble table and making a horrible, squealing noise. It rings in your ears, grating, shredding the gray mass of your already muddled brain.

" Tsk. "

He fiddles with a remote control outside your line of sight, and suddenly, you're arching against silken binds, shuddering hard enough to make the very chair you sit on tremble while the potent vibrator tortures your poor, overstimulated clitoris.

The noise that erupted out of you was something between a wounded animal's dying bleat and a wheeze. Ugly. Yet apparently very pleasing to the pride demon, whose scowl twitches into a grin for a second.

" Why must you insist on making this so much harder than it has to be? "

A long, flowing purple cape is flicked into place as he gets up, pacing.

" Do you not realize how good of a deal this is? " He's genuinely exasperated, sharp eyes looking at you as if you're showing clear signs of sustained head injury. " Must I spell it out? You can read, can't you? "

To be fair, even if you could when this bizarre encounter began, you've long since lost the coherence to read or interpret most of anything. The letters on the contract in front of you are nothing but squiggly black smudges twisting and floating on a fancy page, incomprehensible. They might as well be hieroglyphs by now. You recall what it is perfectly however.

A marriage contract.

A very weird, dodgy, skeevy one.

You don't even remember what put you here to begin with. You only know you bumped against an inordinately tall demon outside yesterday. In a rush, you were focused on a receipt and didn't look where you were going, knocking into him only to fall like a buffoon. The embarrassment was so intense that you didn't even look up, ushering out a string of apologies before collecting your belongings and dashing away with burning cheeks. It must have been him. It could only have been the Icon of Pride that you bumped into yesterday. That horrendous misfortune is the only incident you can think of to justify where you are right now.

In a stupidly opulent dining room, bound to a padded chair, lower half bare and currently being tortured.

Granted, this humiliating treatment only started when you refused to sign. You're not sure how much time has passed since then, with orgasm after draining orgasm being forced out of your sweaty body, while the unempathetic demon sat opposite of you, waiting, taunting, demanding you sign it.

Of course you didn't.

Although the calligraphy in it was nothing short of exuberant, it read like the whole thing was drafted in a rushed stupor. Like whoever made it, Di Cero, the demon in front of you presumably, was trying to meet a particularly stressful deadline. Sentence structuring is eloquent but impatient sounding, certain features which should be clearly explained are glossed over, and the number of concerning clauses detailing your level of autonomy as his supposed spouse are worrying. Not to mention the "scheduled worship sessions", whatever the fuck that implies. You could swear there was a mention of your soul somewhere… Buried in disgustingly self-flattering paragraphs of pure nonsense. It's as if he doesn't know what a partner is.

You were initially flattered, in a very unhealthy way. Scared and flattered, to be honest. Now you're just horrified. He wants you to sign a contract wherein you become his wife, Queen of Pride, as well as a strange sort of personal worshiper. What a fucking trip to wake up to.

The enigmatic paper in front of you is swiped away before saliva could reach it.

“ Ugh, you’re drooling on it. “ Cero sneers, and although you miss it entirely, a hint of deep satisfaction shines in his eyes from having you in this state.

He examines his own work briefly, this smarmy smirk on his face, as if he’s never read a finer legal agreement in his entire life. “ Really, I made it as clear as day, the terms are perfect, I’m even letting you use my personal pen. “ Something in his expression conveys that it's supposed to be a huge honor.

You glare at the thing, trying to distract yourself from the awful zings of stimulation, the loud buzzing echoing through the room and your own ragged breathing. Cero crowds you, exerting further pressure. The pen he mentioned is a touch too big for you, though that’s only natural, he’s quite the large demon, and you’re only a human. You’ve yet to touch it at all, but it looks heavy, a sleek black design you’re sure must be made of some well-known Hell mineral, featuring intricate curls of gold along the surface. The end of it has a strange form, like its… Oh. It’s a makeshift lancet. For the blood print part of the signature.

The demonlord rolls his eyes in a much too exaggerated manner, waving. “ Go ahead, I'll untie you, you can use it, really. “

Yeah, as if bashfulness is what’s keeping you from legally fucking yourself over. Handing your life to this tyrant in written form.

“ N- No. “

You’re not sure what the point of this is anyway. He could just place a blade to your neck and force you to sign, point a gun to your temple, even a slap from this creature could be dreadful enough to break something at full force. This must be extremely amusing to him.

A pause follows, almost lulling you back into an animal trance.

" No?! "

His booming snarl is the most frightening thing you've ever head, instincts begging you to shut the fuck up and sign already. Nothing's on your side here, it seems.

Your chin is suddenly pinched between two sharp needles, forced to face the fuming demon. " You ingrate! Brainless thing! Do you still not realize what I'm offering you?! " There's no response save for gasping and rapid blinking. " I'm feeling extra generous today, so I'll spell it out for you. Look at me and listen good- "

The vibrator working diligently inside you is all but yanked out. Thankfully, you're a wet mess by now, so it merely slides off with a disgustingly lewd noise. Instead of being ashamed however, you're sighing and slumping like a sack of potatoes, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Finally. Finally, some semblance of sweet, sweet mercy. Limbs tingling and half-numb, your body begs for the rest it's being denied by the alarm bells in your head.

Cero turns the white device off, and for a moment, the look on his face softens. As if he's truly lost track of what he was going to do with it. Much to your surprise, a very pale pink muscle peeks out between rows of gnarly teeth. You can only blink and watch as the Icon of Pride slides the shaft of the thing into his own mouth and licks it clean with a vigor shameless enough to set your cheeks even more aflame. You can see a very clear imprint of his excitement jumping in his odd skin-tight pants... What the fuck is his damage? It's only after a couple moments of this disgusting display that he appears to wise up, quickly releasing the toy, crushing it in his grasp, and tossing it behind him. There's a noticeable flush to his mostly chalk-white face, the demonlord looking genuinely angry at himself for a moment.

While the recovery was anything but smooth, Cero's grip on your chin tightens, painfully, and his stern demeanor surfaces once more.

" I've taken you from your sad excuse of a life to be a woman of value, of purpose- At my side, you shall be worshiped until the end of Pride itself, you will hold the admiration and respect of all demons under me, and you will know nothing but the very best life has to offer. Do you understand? "

Staring into those acidic rose pools, you realize he's being utterly serious, no room for mockery or nonsense in them. You have no idea why he's laying this much power at your feet, why he wants you of all people to fulfill this role. He could have anyone, he could have better, so much better. What sets you apart for him? What makes him think this is the type of thing you want from life? Well, that's easy to answer, of course the Icon of Pride isn't thinking about how you feel.

" Do you understand? " Is repeated through grit teeth.

" Y- Yes. "

" Good. "

Di Cero squats to be more at your level, an act that might mean nothing to you now but will be recognized in the future most likely, the pads of his fingers rubbing over your overstimulated mess of a pussy. You quiver and yelp like a corralled animal, though the Icon is too focused in the way your cum glistens on his digits. He finds your sloppy entrance and slides a digit in, moving it ever so slightly, enough to torture you. Your walls flutter and you start crying, fat desperate tears cascading down your tired face as you resign yourself to more unrequited pleasure.

Cero scoffs at the sight, observing sullen droplets hit the spotless floor while his gaze grows foggy. You're not sure what's going through his mind, nor are you lucid enough to care.

" I'm giving you so much pleasure, so much attention- You'll have me for entire days and nights, I'll make sure even that huge pink harlot envies you. " Although Cero's tone transmits desperation, his words are scathing and unconvincing. You have no idea how to interpret what he says, so all you do is look fearfully upon the caped tyrant, wincing at every twitch of his fingers that play with your wetness.

" Hm, no manners. " There's a drawn-out hum, facetiously pensive. " Yes… Maybe that's the problem, isn't it? I'm being too nice to you. Too sweet. You must think I'm a weakling. Bah, nonsense! I would not be King if I failed to adapt. "

You don't like the grin the demon now dons. It's different from his confident, toothy displays. Thinner. Strained. Warning. When his face rests mere inches from yours, your eyes close instinctively and you tremble hard enough that it feels as if you'll shake yourself into a pile of bones. Is he going to bite you? Plunge something into your flesh? Just yell? The uncertainty drags all breath from you.

Seconds pass.

Something warm slides up your face. Your cheek, more specifically. From chin to eye, it trails a wet path, collecting the rivers of fear tainting your expression. He's licking you. Cleaning your tears, perhaps savoring them. The same is done to the other side of your face, you don't dare open your eyes, fearing the type of sick emotion you'd find in his own.

The demonlord pulls away, his slicked fingers slipping out of you, but not before flicking a thoroughly abused button hard enough to make you squeal out in pain. It stings, black dots momentarily swallowing your vision.

" I understand, it’s a lot at the same time isn’t it? You need time to think about how you’re going to thank me for this. “

He’s gone in seconds. And the worst part is, you can’t even tell if Cero was being genuine, or purely mocking.

Hours must have passed.

You can’t really tell, it’s not as if he generously left a watch in the room. It feels like hours, so you assume that’s the case.

Your legs are sore, your ass, your still bound arms, even your back is screeching at you to shift position. Yet, no matter how much you grunt and shimmy around on the chair, it’s never enough to make the pains fade. You’re hungry, thirsty, still covered in your own fluids and utterly miserable, staring at that stupid. Fucking. Contract.

God help you. There isn’t a god here, but who else will you plead to?

You’d do anything to get out of this hellish chair right now. And part of you feels weak for admitting it. Maybe it’s exposure to movies that spawned this idea in you, but you’ve always thought it would take more violent methods to get you near begging for mercy. And sure, sexually you’ve just been through a lot, but being isolated in this chair is honestly doing worse right now.

You know what it is, at its core. Mind games. The demon humiliated you in an unforgivable way, and now he’s left you to your vices, to sit in shame, dirty. You’re livid, depressed that it’s working, that you’d rather just be done with this already.

As if something had heard your inner monologue, the door to this darkened hell pit parts, and in strolls none other than the very same bastard, looking as sharp as he’s been since the first second of this madness. The salty, dry tracks on your cheeks are silently renewed, the first reaction to his reappearance it seems.

Cero spares you a suspiciously calm glance before taking a seat on the chair opposite to yours, a fair distance away. His legs cross and he speaks out loud, as if to no one in particular. “ Dinner has just finished… “ A pause. “ If you sign now, you might be in time to eat with me. “

Food sounds amazing right now. You bet they serve well here, he’s a ruler after all.

In spite of your rage at his nonchalant audacity, you don’t say anything. Your judgment wavers in the face of discomfort and hunger, not allowing you to outright deny his offer.

Di Cero notices this, eyes sharpening when he finally deigns to glance at you, and preys on that weakness near instantly.

“ You do know you’re not losing anything of value, right? “ There’s a chuckle, as if he thinks your concerns are the silliest thing. “ It’s fascinating how afraid of change you are. Isn’t it pathetic? You live such a miserable existence that, when I hand you something much better, you immediately flinch away. “ A single finger waves, tutting you. “ Unlearn that, it’s unflattering. “

You swear to anything that’s out there, you’re about to pop a vein just from hearing this fucker speak. Another stretch of silence takes over, though not for long.

“ I’ve organized this down to the last minute. Every single detail. “ Some manner of contentment shines through his tone. “ Agree to our terms tonight, and our union will take place on Valentine’s Day. Isn’t that romantic? “

More like ironic. A demon getting married on a saint’s day. This has to be riveting for him. He must think he’s sooo clever and funny. Him and his little brigade of yes men most likely, because Cero strikes you as the type of monster that would want that.

“ Isn’t that perfect, beau? “

You wish you had the strength, and courage, to roll your eyes.

Unlike the previous encounter, your consistent lack of response isn’t dragging much of a reaction from the Icon. Instead, he just looks at the painted ceiling, eerily calm, waiting with steepled fingers. Cero appears to zone out completely, leaving you just as isolated as you were before.

Somehow, that makes you angrier. Yet also incredibly defeated.

This is it. You're just stuck here until you agree, he's made that much clear. And you're not a strong woman. You're not going to bear this for much longer. It's not fair and it's not worth it. He can have what he wants anyway, you've never been in any position to defy the demon, this is just some sick exercise to break you in.

A small eternity passes before you clear your throat, gathering a wink of composure and a brief side-glance from the tyrant.

" … I-... I'll sign. "

His eyes widen, chest expanding, you catch the exact moment where he realizes he's getting too excited and schools his expression, opting to be patient for a second more.

" I said I'll sign! " You near yell, voice broken, exasperated. " I just want to get out of here, I wanna take a bath, I just want to rest please- "

For a moment, Cero's stillness makes you wonder if he's lost interest, if your words were unconvincing or he thinks he can find someone better, someone less "pathetic", as he so politely put it. But then, in a blink, he bolts up, standing ever tall and tense. The demon erupts into elegant, manic laughter- Cackling really- As he claps joyfully and kicks his seat away in victory.

Although it probably wasn't meant to be intimidating, the way that admittedly heavy chair flies jarringly through the air and slams against the wall, breaking into pieces, is horrifying. A kick like that would just fucking flatten you, no doubt.

" Oh ho, I'm so very glad you've come to your senses! " The Icon's chortling fit settles ever so slightly, he waves. " I was starting to think you had some sort of damage. "

Oh. Oh, that's just lovely.

Cero's behind your seated frame in no time, untying your dominant hand, watching you pick up his pen. The demonlord's hands are planted on either side of you, pointy, cruel-looking things that they are. You can feel his breath on the back of your neck, hot, heavy, there's a wolfish grin on his face- You don't need to look back to know it's there.

" Now sign. You've kept me waiting long enough. "

Said flat words spread on your skin like apathetic ice cubes, forcing you to quickly roll your sore wrist, and finally, write your name on that blasted signature blank. You know what you're getting yourself into with every shaky curl of ink, not wanting to think too hard about the consequences of your actions as you solemnly observe your name on this trap, this unsubtle death warrant sugarcoated with frivolous legal terminology. Drivel, a drivel-based, cynical ownership deal.

Cero hums from behind you, a much too sweet-sounding vocalization given the circumstances. Your hair is pet tenderly, the gesture so out of sorts that you start sobbing, scared, confused, full of instant regret.

" There we go, my lovely little prize. " He murmurs against your scalp, still smiling. " Very good. That wasn't so hard, was it? We're almost done. Almost. "

The pen falls from your trembling hands as you try to conceal humiliating noises, feeling vulnerable in a way you've never experienced before. Cero scoops it up and wipes your tears with the other, unfazed by the way you lean back hard enough to bonk your head on the chair's backrest.

" I hope those tears are of joy, dear. " He starts, grabbing your palm. " Now stand still, if you behave for the next part, we can put an end to this. " Next part…?

He clicks something on the pen's side and quickly adjusts your index, bringing the sleek black object closer. Ah, the blood print. Maybe you're sensitive, or maybe he does it on purpose, but the lancet hurts more than it should when it pierces into your pad of your finger. Your wince makes him snort. Blood beads there quite fast, Di Cero effortlessly angles your digit and creates an admittedly clean-looking droplet next to your signature.

A much smaller but still disturbing bout of tittering erupts from the demonlord, who slips your bleeding finger into his mouth, messily and lewdly sucking at it, before pulling away and swiping the finished contract away from the table. He gazes at it with a softness you fail to understand, as if it's all that matters in that moment, religiously re-reading the last paragraphs and moaning at the sight of your written agreement.

Fucking freak.

Di Cero places the apparently invaluable paper back on the ornamented table, deliberately far away from you, like he's afraid you'll try to destroy the thing. A tempting thought.

He's back on you like a hawk, taking your poor arm and showering it in chaste kisses, nipping at your wrist. " Precious, darling inamorata- See? All you needed was a little space. " The demon coos, placing a harder kiss to your forehead before stealing a taste of your lips. It's all teeth and impatience, rabid excitement. Disgusting. " I knew I picked excellently. You're full of potential, I just have to chip at you a little, which is normal, naturally- Given your uhm… Lackluster species. "

So he's racist to humans too. Of course. Why wouldn't he be? Why did you expect anything from this greasy fucker…

Those wandering feelers flutter this way and that across your body, and much to your dismay, they circle at your inner thighs, sliding to settle between your legs again. You groan, the touch entirely unrequited. You've orgasmed enough times to be sick. Although speaking is hard for you right now, you still try to halt him. " Cero… "

" Hush, I'm rewarding you. "

Funny how it feels like just more torment in spite of that.

You remain placid, resigned to letting the demon play with your poor womanhood. He appears to love the feeling, making clipped moans and growls behind you. In turn, you can only gasp and quiver, having long-since lost the ability to scream.

" C- Can you please untie me now? "

Di Cero shakes his head. " Soon. After we eat, yes? " Your responding sigh is pitiful. " Speaking of- "

" SERVANTS! "

Your heart jumps around your ribcage like a pinball machine, you almost feel light-headed for a second, goosebumps covering you from head to tone at the massively imposing, demonic tone that just left the Icon.

The doors part once more and small imps race forward, effectively setting the table. It's a small commotion, but enough to make you die in shame as they work diligently, while their master fingers you stupid. To their credit, not a single one looks your way. It's as if you don't exist at all. You still try to squirm away from Cero's ministrations, earning a disapproving snarl. Lord, this is so degrading.

Your dignity just keeps taking blow after devastating blow ever since you landed here.

In an impressively span of time, the two of you are left alone again, the table entirely set. Candles and everything, a bottle of champagne so expensive you can't recognize the brand, and the juiciest steak you've ever seen on a plate, almost seeming to teasingly wink at you.

Cero plucks a forkful of it with a free hand and aims it your way, a look of complete lovestruck mania on his pale complexion. " Eat now. You'll need your rest. " It parks at your lips, insistent, until you begrudgingly accept the food, frustrated further by how good it is. Just as you expected.

" Because tomorrow, my perfect Valentine, we'll be official. "

#Cero oc #pinnie's art #monster boyfriend #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster oc #monster x reader #terato #monsterfucker #not sfw #minors dni

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lazywriter-artist · 3 months ago

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Be still, Bleeding heart

Warhammer 40k writing practice + Oc lore

The guardsman froze, yanking their guns to a resting position they stared in confusion. The soldiers stared on in disbelief, they recoiled as their inquisitor in his hulking armor ripped a huge clawed hand forward, throwing one of the men aside who had been attacking one of the xenos.

“STAY BACK” he roared, falling to his knees as his huge armored hands lifted the small xenos pulling the shivering form close to his chest, heaving like a rabid animal. Silence fell over the soldiers, shock and horror at the inquisitor’s reaction. One they had never seen nor expected from him. He practically bristled with rage, palpable as he hunched over the xenos. Incomprehensible fear filled cries wailed from the xenos, at least incomprehensible to the guardsman that looked on, The large clawed gauntlet gently patted the back of the small xenos. Their inquisitor cooing back in that strange language, the men took yet another appalled step back.

“S-sir what are you-?” one man began with a brave step forward, Too far for the inquisitor it seemed.

“BACK AWAY!” he roared as he slammed his fist against the ground, pulling the whimpering xenos closer. He bore his teeth like a rabid animal. he looked pale, Sweat poured down from his head as he clasped the xenos tightly. He huffed and struggled to catch his breath as he again spoke in that strange language, the Xenos’ language, comforting the small shape. The inquisitor had been acting strange while they were cleaning out this Xenos vessel and now hugging and protecting one? their worry was growing.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The inquisitor and his men had boarded the t’au ship, it had invaded enemy space and as a member of the ordo xenos it had to be cleansed. Naturally all went as planned, Xenos soldiers set upon them as they boarded, though…something had felt off right away. The way the Xenos spoke was with…a strange distress he’d never heard before on military ships. They cried out something about evacuation, then some words he didn’t quite recognize or at least didn’t recall. Nevertheless, an inquisitor must naturally hold stead fast in the face of resistance. So he pressed on with his men- then it began. Unarmored xenos darted to and fro, some struggled to even hold their weapons- it disturbed the inquisitor. He again heard those words he didn’t recognize, it sent a chill up his spine. It felt- it felt familiar. He couldn’t place why but he didn’t like it, that’s when…it happened.

He rounded a corner, his restless and battle hungry men roaring with cheers at the ease this had provided. His eyes widened at the realization of what lied there. Several of those xenos soldiers loaded smaller shapes and xenos clinging even small little bundles into escape ships- his heart leapt out of his chest. There were civilians on the ship! He staggered backward as words caught in his throat, it all felt too familiar. His skin crawled as he felt himself begin to anxiously perspire, eyes darting all around as soldiers fell and a few unarmed fell. Luckily those already loaded into the Xenos’ saviour pods were able to escape before the bloodbath, but the few left were gunned down to Silverworth’s horror. He staggered forward as his eyes darted left and right, their cries filled his ears- any others. Any others he might not have cared- but unarmed and untrained civilians? It was slaughter. It was barbaric- it- it- it wrenched his heart. Staggering forward he hoarsely wheezed those agonizing words that had caught in his chest moments ago, then his eyes darted back down the hall. One of his soldiers was shouting, then he heard a xeno’s cry out, a lasgun fire and then the sound of a struggle!

In a flash, he rushed to the noise. His heavy armor clattered against the ships floor and walls as he moved with reckless abandon, startling the soldiers with him and the man wrestling the Xenos to the ground. Sure enough as he stomped forward he saw the poor shape, much smaller than the rest but certainly no baby. From his study likely a fully grown Xenos but not by much. It set flames in his mind, he saw red. Rage and painful memories soaked his thoughts as without thinking- THWAP the man was thrown aside with one fell swoop of the back of the inquisitor’s gauntlet.

“STAY BACK” he rumbled, the noises- the words he strung together burned in his throat and boiled in his chest like lava. Dropping down he scooped up the quivering shape in his arms as he tried to catch his breath, hugging tightly to the poor young xenos. Judging by the way the poor thing had barely put up a fight if it had any training it was minor and fresh. ‘Do not worry- they will not hurt you. I will not hurt you-‘ he crooned to the Xenos in its tongue, the T’au empire’s language was complex to some degree certainly but it had always felt so curious against his lips when he practiced it— a fact he dare utter to none, naturally— so it was a rather obvious choice for the language he wished to learn. The smaller shape seemed shocked at its own language ringing back at it from a humans lips, a human soldier leader no less. its lip quivered in fear as a large clawed hand patted their back.

A soldier stepped forward, eyes wide and filled with almost a feral look to them snapped back to the soldier “BACK AWAY” he snarled again, embarrassed to say he bore his teeth like some kind of feral animal- but in the moment he didn’t feel much but rage at the arrogant approach of the guardsman. He slammed his fist, a loud clang following, to let the man know he was serious. He could feel their stares but he didn’t care, his mind focused on the poor xenos, the poor shivering shape that he clung to. It…It reminded him of his son. The way the small child had clung to him as the little one had wailed for him. He could see it vividly now. He could see his son there, there in his grasp, shaking. Shaking and sobbing, begging for his father to ‘take away the pain, please!’ And his heart wrenched as he couldn’t. The blood that stained his shirt and his hands from his little boy’s wounds- it washed away his anger, that…sensation. It sunk its teeth into his heart and tore. Tore so harshly and violently he didn’t hear his men murmuring as tears began to roll down his face, shoulders jerking and breaths skipping as he sobbed. Even the Xenos now looked up at him with confusion as he hunched over their smaller shape, pressed them against his chest plate and sobbed.

This Xenos…he couldn’t allow it. Life so young, something so precious and new to this harsh galaxy. He couldn’t allow it. He had to- no. No, NEEDED to protect it…to protect them. Protect them with his own life, protect them with his last breath, with all his strength in his body- it didn’t matter. He has to protect this small…child.

Darling dividers by @squishyowl

#he’s a big soft old man what can I say?#his inquisitorial entourage very whacked out but boss knows best so little xenos is coming home with em they guess #I love these guys so much dude…#warhammer 40k #wh40k #wh40k oc #lazy written #lazy text #Al & Sal against the world #inquisitor oc #inquisitor 40k #40k inquisition #40k tau #40k t’au #guardsman 40k #wh40k fic

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 1 year ago

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Self-Aware BSD meet the Internet. Short № 3

Description: After BSD gand gain an acsess to the rest of your phone, they also gain the acsess to the internet and YouTube. Unknown to you, they accompany you while you serf the Internet.

Slight Crack. OOC. Some dark humour in the A/N.

Self-Aware! Nikolai Gogol, Self-Aware! Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, Self-Aware! Platonic! Alexander Pushkin, Self-Aware! Katai Tayama

Dazai, Akutagawa, Yosano, Ango and Junchirou cameos.

[Y/N] are watching this video:

In your phone/ BSD Mayoi app.

Dazai: Why? Why our dear Guiding Light are looking at that creature?

Akutagawa: *huffs and glares at the pug* If they have a real dog, I hope, it could be trained and it won't bother us.

Yosano: Maybe our dear [Y/N] just love animals. Be easy, you two.

Junchirou:*thinks for a moment. Then spoke loudly* Hey, everyone, I have an idea. Let's add a new card to the game with someone of us will hold a pug. I will use Light Snow to create a pug illusion.

Everyone agrees. They start discussing, who will be on the card. Suddenly, Pushkin steps in.

Pushkin: I was browsing the Internet earlier and found a story about Pushkin and Gogol from [Y/N] world. Something about their world Pushkin giving a pug to their world Gogol. There also was a merchant in that story. Let's recreate it. Gogol and I, plus Fitzgerald on the background.

After some discussion, gang agree.

They were ready. Pushkin was handing a pug to Gogol. Nikolai looked surprised. And Fitzgerald was standing on the background, smiling. Ango took the photo. Then him and Katai add new SSR card in game and send it to your Gift Box.

[Next day]

In BSD Mayoi app

BSD gang heard you.

[Y/N]: New gift? Okay, let me see.

Suddenly, you became silent. BSD gang became nervous. You start Google something.

[Y/N]: Why, devs? Just why?

Everyone was confused. Why you didn't like the card?

Katai: *who was monitoring, what you were looking at* Um... Pushkin, have you read the whole story about the pug?

Pushkin: *shake his head* No. Why? Certainly it wasn't something aful in the story, right?

Katai: *instead of answering, he turn on the screen, where everyone can read, what you were reading*

When they finished reading, Pushkin was nervous, Fitzgerald and Gogol was angry.

________________________________

For the next three days, Nikolai Gogol were a noisy neighbor to Pushkin. While he wasn't playing music or singing, he made so much noise, that others started thinking, that Gogol really was making sacrifices.

Gogol calmed on his own. Fitzgerald's help wasn't needed.

As for you, you do like the card. But, you were wondering, why in the world Pushkin's sprites has bags under their eyes.

_______________________________________

A/N: Story about Gogol's pug. It never happened in reality.

Gogol loved his pug Josie very much. She was a gift from Pushkin. When the dog died (Gogol did not feed the animal for weeks), Nikolai Vasilyevich became really sad.

Gogol began to have nightmares. Once, in a dream, the pug told Nikolai Vasilyevich that he was the Master and High Priest of the Ecumenical Order of the Octagon.

From that day on, the life of Nikolai Vasilyevich changed dramatically: every night an incomprehensible sacrifices began to take place in his apartment. These events were accompanied by ritual dances and singing of the choir.

A few days later, Nikolai Vasilievich's neighbor, the merchant Skorobeinikov, beat Gogol up. The hallucinations stopped the same day.

#bungou stray dogs au #self-awareau #self-awarebsd #bsd #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungou stray dogs #gender neutral reader #Self-Aware Pushkin #Self-Aware Gogol #Self-Aware Fitzgerald #Self-Aware Katai #Self-AwareBSD Shorts

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goodolddumbbanana · 2 months ago

Text

A brief visit - Sun and Dark Sun having a conversation

The sound of the rain falling heavily. It felt strange that he could no longer hear the sound of the waves crashing against the wooden steps or the branches hitting the glass door anymore. The not-so-calm darkness rolled in dark clouds heavy with the scent of water, fingernails dragging their gnarled, shriveled forms into the deep sky, creating streaks of withered lightning.

The smell of earth was thick in the air. Static electricity crackled in Sun’s veins, running like a burn around his organs, kissing his trembling hands lovingly.

“—Moon was attacked by Nexus—”

Solar’s voice faded with the sound of the rain, blending into the background noise like a dead ringer in his ears. There was something alluring about the way the weather knew how to capture a person’s mood, the heavy pounding on the roof so close to the feeling of something hammering against Sun’s chest.

Why should he be surprised? Hadn’t Sun known that already, since that day in the gloom of that cage, when that person’s red eyes stared at him with an unyielding, unchanging blankness? When that person throws out those cruel words without remorse, or the malicious satisfaction of treating their only sister as ‘Collateral damage’?

“–we need to increase security at the lab, while Nexus still hasn’t found what he needs yet. It will be a long night. Do you want to come with us, Sun?”

Orange like a paradise flower, yellow like molten honey, the orange animatronic’s eyes approached him with the same excessive care as if treating a scared animal. A faint stench clung to Solar, wrapping around Moon like a rope around her neck.

‘You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Sun.’

The subtle pity in Solar’s voice, the way their hands hesitantly reached out to comfort Sun awkwardly, made a part of Sun inexplicably angry.

Why did Solar think he needed comforting when Moon was the one being tortured and was still there?

The rain was still louder than anything else in this room. The light was so blinding that he almost wanted to sit down. It felt like everything was moving so slowly, yet so fast. Moon looked exhausted , a few gasps from his brother made Sun almost unconsciously touch his neck.

Was it a common technique for torturing animatronics, to make them feel like they were choking to death?

Or did Nexus know that the Creator had come for them?

The quiet, gentle voice from the past was like a slap in Sun’s face, like it was pulling at the strings behind his head. The cold pressed down on Sun's bones, which was incomprehensible since he was just a machine.

'At least I'm not the one hallucinating the person I killed, Sun.'

'You both know there's nothing you can do to stop me from getting out of here–'

'It seems like there's still a little bit of Eclipse left in you, Sun–'

"Sun? Sun??—"

"–Yes?!" Sun shook his head, trembling a little. He couldn't even remember what he was saying, both Solar and Moon's eyes turned to look at him with these expressions of concern.

It was frustrating, confusing, all the emotions that were boiling up in his throat right now, it really made Sun want to throw up or break something.

"Haha— I don't think I'm going anywhere. I don't think I can help you two."

Sun laughed nervously and shook his head. Was his voice too shaky? Would Solar and Moon notice? They shouldn't, there were more important things to worry about. And Sun, as always, was no help in what they needed.

‘You are really useless, huh Sun?’ The malice whispered back to him, so gentle it felt like someone was ripping his heart and lungs out.

“You two go ahead first, I think I will take a break.” Sun waved his hand as ostentatiously as he could, trying to appear unaffected and cheerful. His eyes lingered on a few cat hairs on the sofa, then ran down the cozy, creamy-colored wall.

Like, if he scratched his hand across the wallpaper, would the discomfort Sun felt right now go away?

“Are you okay to be alone, Sun? We don’t know when Nexus will attack again.”

“And his next target could be you, Sun.”

Moon’s cough mixed with his brother’s strained voice hurt Sun’s ears like lead. For a moment, he couldn’t even remember what the gap between Nexus and Moon’s memories was like, the fear of being hurt and the violence still felt familiar like a warm blanket draped over him.

He should hate Nexus now, but in reality, Sun only felt as empty as a broken bell striking an empty space.

“I think Nexus would care more about those Wither shards than you do, Moon. Look—” Sun moved closer, his feet almost touching Moon’s knees. He put his arms around Moon’s shoulders, trying to sound as cheerful and steady as possible. His brother’s body still had small cracks, visible under the sensors on Sun’s fingertips.

How many times has Moon been injured since he returned?

The Creator, the Goliath attack, and then this.

Could he protect Moon? Could Sun protect anyone?

Why did everything he tried to hold on to seem like sand in the palm of his hand?

“–‌ I’ll be fine, Moon. I have magic, and if anything happens, I can just teleport to Atlas.”

The clock ticked slowly, steady, making Sun felt uneasy.

The red eyes looked at him with concern mixed with suspicion, as if they believed that Sun would definitely do something stupid. Being loved by Moon was always like living in a lighthouse, you don’t know when the light is broken. Sometimes it was also disorienting, especially when his brother’s grip always seemed to suffocate Sun.

A slow nod made Sun’s heart sigh in relief. The accompanying voice was firm, emphasizing that they would be back soon, unconsciously causing the corners of Sun’s mouth to lift. The light from the multidimensional portal flashed, and it wasn’t until the two blue figures disappeared into the space that Sun dared to tremble and sit down.

Like a broken string, no part of Sun’s body wanted to move. He took a deep breath, almost imagining a stream of white smoke coming out of his mouth.

The name Nexus was still a hot knife cutting through the butter that was Sun’s heart. It seemed like it was Sun’s curse to always be haunted by a ghost of someone who was no longer there.

‘Don’t think about it anymore, he doesn’t care about you anymore…’

‘Stop it, just let that bastard’s body go to his death…’

‘—Whether he goes crazy or not is not your responsibility!’

Sun muttered. He knew what it felt like to use star power. It was addictive, but it was also very painful.

The fact that Nexus had overused it without any concern, already raising a red flag inside Sun’s head. Though, addicted to Negative star power. What a dummy, Sun sneered. Guess who was the one who kept butting his head into the sand right now, Nexus?

A cool sensation spread across Sun’s face, causing him to unconsciously touch it. Black, oily liquid flowed from his eye sockets. A few drops slipped through Sun’s fingers, falling loosely on the floor like a mushroom cap, smearing a stain on the worn brown carpet.

Oh… He was crying. It was strange because Sun didn’t feel so angry that he had to cry. The anger and fear were like butterflies skimming over water, just simmering coldly, not surging like when Nexus almost killed Earth.

Should he be sad that Nexus was actively ignoring him? Because that person in that damn stubborn mind no longer considered him a brother? Because Solar had always been the better person, even a better friend and brother to Nexus while he… Was only good at making things worse?

‘You gave up on me so quickly, it makes me wonder if when you finally kill me to save this family, will my ghost haunt you?’

‘When sometimes, I still know you look at me like I’m a ghost to the living, Sun?’

Was it a hallucination of Nexus or the voice in his head whispering? Was this a nightmare? A trick from the Creator?

The mental exhaustion made Sun want to run away cowardly. Cover his ears and scream until the things that could hurt him disappeared.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t have the luxury to act like a child, or that at the end of the day, good things would come to him.

‘Wipe your tears and stand up like you always do, Sun.’ Sun gritted his teeth. Using his fingertips to pinch his nostrils, he took a deep breath to stop the remaining oil from spilling out. Maybe his system was overloaded again, and some of the pipes had ruptured, causing some of the oil in his body to leak elsewhere. It’ll be fine Sun, your fan is running smoothly again.

It’ll probably take a dozen gallons of bleach to clean that carpet, though. Sun thought absentmindedly, leaning his head back against the pillow, too exhausted to enjoy the soft fabric caressing Sun’s metal back. The thunder was still rumbling outside the door, and it felt familiar to find himself alone on a rainy day again.

Sure, there was Jack and Dazzle down there, but really, who could he talk to? Not Moon about this, obviously. And Solar… Sun didn’t want to stress them out any more, especially when Solar had already been through a ton of things right after her resurrection.

He was alone.

Sun needed Moon, but the truth was he was lost in his own thoughts.

A soft knock on the door interrupted Sun’s depressing mood. Sun’s eyes darted to the door, seeing nothing but a yellow figure. A familiar face that Sun should have been afraid of, but he just sighed in annoyance and lifted himself up.

“Wait, I’m coming out now!” His voice stuttered, weaving together. It still wasn’t normal, but at least, he no longer sounded like he was about to cry.

The wooden door opened, revealing a version of himself that looked exactly like him, the only difference being the deadly red eyes that seemed to have bitten their own heart. They stood there, clean, dry, the complete opposite of the mess Sun had just made for himself. The red adorned them like a king, even if they were identical, Dark Sun still gave the feeling that he was much more dangerous.

“Why are you here?” Sun grumbled. He was too exhausted to play these mind games with this guy right now, and honestly, he didn’t care enough about everything at the moment.

“It’s been a while, haven’t I been able to visit?” His counterpart shrugged and chuckled, still in the same polite, slightly shy tone. Dark Sun always tried to treat him as well as the kids at daycare, which Sun didn’t understand why.

With a heavy sigh, Sun turned around, letting Dark Sun enter his own home. “How did you find this place? No, more like, how do you all keep finding our place?”

“I could say I had bots tracking your every move, but honestly, it wasn’t that hard to find when you guys upload everything to Youtube.” Dark Sun hummed, ignoring the nasty words about Fazbear under Sun’s breath.

‘Meow~’

The cat’s meow rang out. The dumb one, who was probably bored of playing outside again, was meowing miserably as he charged inside the door. It wrapped around Dark Sun’s leg before retreating in a daze, then lunged at Sun’s pants with a loud hiss.

“Hmm. Smart.” Dark Sun hummed. “It knows who is his master.” Their hands dropped, as if to try to lure the cat at Sun’s feet closer.

“Don't praise him like that. He’s just an idiot.” Sun blandly pulled a towel from his pocket and held the dumb one to wipe him down. The cat’s wet fur was arranged in sharp, brush-like strips that brushed against Sun’s hand, smelling like the cat had just dove into a pile of mud after falling asleep in a nearby sewer.

As if the towel had rubbed the dumb one’s butt too hard, it squealed and struggled out of Sun’s hands and jumped into Dark Sun’s arms, ironically, as if Sun were the evil one here.

“Oh hold still, you idiot!” Sun shouted before taking a deep breath and pointing at Dark Sun. “Can you hold the cat for a moment so I can finish wiping him down?”

“Sure.” Dark Sun hummed, holding the gray cat’s hips gently, too gentle for someone who was supposed to do a lot of terrible things.

“Still, it’s surprising how calm you are when you see me. I thought you’d be screaming for Moon.” Then the warmth Sun had felt vanished like it had never been there. Disintegrated into smoke and mist, and the red eyes that had cut themselves off from the world were tinged with sadistic pleasure.

The all-too-familiar feeling of being examined under a microscope, like Sun was just some toy too interesting to be broken right now shaking Sun to his core.

It feels wrong. It looks too damaged and brutal to be a Sun.

It made Sun feel sick and nauseous. He wanted to press his fingers against that faceplate, he wanted to dig his claws into it and rip it off, to prove that there was a monster down there.

Sun’s disgust was caught by Dark Sun. And honestly, he had no intention of hiding it.

The two stood stubbornly in the middle of the house, neither willing to give in. The cold wind blew in, carrying the tattered leaves and the scent of wet water into Sun’s house. The smell of ozone wafted through the air, thunder rumbled behind, waves of water lapping up the stairs.

“You’ll find a way in any way.” Sun closed his eyes. “So what are you planning… Moon isn’t here. Or these shards”

“Why would I want it? It is Nexus’s favorite, not me. What I want is just ‘some chattings’ with people I know.” Dark Sun chuckled when perceived the disgusted and confusing on Sun’s face.

They are not entirely the same but they know when the other is trying to be a little shit.

The cat was gently released from Dark Sun’s arms. They stood up, their silhouettes against the light forming a black silhouette, only their red eyes still sparkling towards Sun.

A dejected sigh came from Dark Sun.

“Ha— Guess you’re not in the mood right now. Fine, I came to warn you.” Dark Sun spoke slowly, the words dragging together gracefully. Their hands moved, the tips of their fingers pointing at Sun with great eloquence.

“I’m not sure if you understand, but you’re not in the safe zone right now.”

“Wha–t?! You mean Nexus? We’re prepared—” Sun flinched, stiffening. His words were immediately cut off by Dark Sun.

“No. I believe… that… you can handle them yourself. Well… for now, at least. But, there are bigger things than Nexus, you know.”

Dark Sun gestured for Sun to open his hand. Their movements were steady, as if not wanting to make Sun back down. And though Sun’s trust in them was as small and fragile as spider webs, he trusted them enough not to be this level of foolishness to do something as utterly despicable as kidnapping him here.

Tremblingly and hesitantly, Sun did what they wanted. A sudden electric spark ran through Sun’s system, not too painful, just a little ticklish. The shortness of breath and restlessness that had been there since Dark Sun’s appearance suddenly rushed back, manifesting itself in the form of a tiny, very tiny purple fragment of the Wither storm that glowed faintly in Dark Sun’s hand.

“Wha-t is this..?” Sun stuttered. “Why are you giving me this?”

Sun clumsily grabbed his hand and held it carefully to his chest. Just like last time, there was no pain or extreme exhaustion that Moon described. It was just like a piece of stardust in Sun’s hand, right after their connection was established.

“If the Wither Storm was formed from negative star power, then Nexus would become stronger by absorbing it.”

“But you, Sun, you are not affected by these celestial fragments at all, right?”

“Makes one wonder, is there any way to counter Nexus’ negative star power?”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand? Why are you giving me this?”

Sun’s voice was too loud, too loud, to alert Dazzle. But he didn’t understand, couldn’t understand what Dark Sun meant. He was just a fool, he wasn’t smart, Dark Sun couldn’t just throw that thing at him and—

“Try to figure it out for yourself, Sun.” There was a certain sigh, like the way Sun stared disappointed at himself in the mirror every morning. Dark Sun walked out the door, their faces not quite satisfied, the way they moved their words as if they were swallowing pebbles.

“Ah… a little advice, Sun. You should be careful with who you choose to be friends with. I just say… who knows if they might try to stab you in the back again?”

“What??”

“Bye, Sun.” Dark Sun sighed. The animatronic yellow figure stood at the door, looking strangely lonely for some reason. “Ta-tah…”

The rain had stopped. He stood alone in the middle of the room, even opening his hand to see if what he was experiencing was a dream or reality. The light from the Wither shards still flickered in his hand, almost radiating a gentle energy.

The purple reflected in Sun’s pearly eyes, and in that moment, he whispered.

“How am I going to tell Moon now?”

#sun and moon show #tsams #the sun and moon show #sams #sams sun #tsams sun #sams moon #tsams dark sun #be a mirror au #to be a mirror

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thehollowwriter · 4 months ago

Text

Warnings: Blood, child abuse, unintentional misgendering/deadnaming, bullying, implied sexual harassment (not to Timo tho) Word count: 3554

Summary: A story about Timo and his life and how he came to work for Silas

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ♥️)

Renege

Timo Byun hated empty promises. Words that were just there to fill the air, to provide a sense of comfort and hopefully, get you to leave and drop whatever topic brought up.

Empty words and fake sympathy were a constant in Timo's life. For as long as he could remember, he was given endless assurances and comforts, all of which meant absolutely nothing.

What would you do if you saw a child lost and alone in the streets, wandering aimlessly? Offer your sympathies, whisper your pities? Spare an uncomfortable glance and pretend you don't see him? Give him a glare and wonder what idiot parent lost their noise machine?

Timo was met with all of these in different forms and stages. The sight of a tiny cuttlefish swimming without direction, teary-eyed and hunger stricken, tugged at many a merfolk's heartstrings. But they never did anything, no, that would just be too much effort.

This wasn't a surpise to Timo. He'd been through this song and dance enough times. Most of his early memories were wandering the streets, digging through trashcans or trying to catch fish that swam by, and dealing with strangers ogling him.

"Are you lost?" Asked an elderly lady, her bright purple tail flicking back and forth in concern.

Timo spluttered something incomprehensible and cried harder.

"Oh, poor dear." The lady muttered, then swam away.

A merman talking on his phone drifted past. He locked eyes with Timo and quickly looked away with an uncomfortable expression

A family came swam past, whispering, glancing, sighing.

"Oh, isn't it sad what this city has come to? Children on the street... back in my day, this would never happen."

"Should we help? Give some money or something?"

"I wish we could, dear, but some horrible people send children out to get drug money. It's best we don't risk it."

A couple stared at Timo as he cowered in an alley, one with their phone camera pointed at him.

"Okay, seriously though, should we help her?" Asked one after laughing about how he looked like a scared animal.

"We don't have the time," said the other. "Don't worry, someone else will."

Nobody else did.

"Where's your mama?" A passing stranger asked before taking note of his dirty, hungry appearance and shuffling off before Timo could answer. It didn't really matter. Timo wouldn't know anyway.

It was always the same. Words, words, words, almost nothing done.

Sometimes, people would pity Timo enough to give him food, but it wasn't enough for him to live off of. When he was lucky, he could get his colour changing to work well enough to draw fish to him, but his sequence of flashing colours and lights was quick to fade, and the fish would swim off again.

Sometime bigger, older merfolk would steal his food, threatening Timo with a fate far worse than hunger if he didn't let them. How they kept finding him even when he tried to hide at night, he didn't know.

Neighbourhood kids would try to play with him and give him sweets, only to be dragged away by angry, worried parents giving him dirty looks.

The routine was the same. Wander, scrounge, rest, maybe eat, sleep, repeat.

That changed one day, when Timo woke up and he wasn't in the corner of an alley anymore. He was in a clamshell bed, blankets crafted from seaweed carefully wrapped around him.

"Oh, you're awake." Said a stranger, smiling at him with perfect teeth. "Don't worry, you're safe now. You'll be staying with us at Atlantica's Children's Sanctuary."

Timo was scrubbed clean, and his and dirty, knotted hair was cut short so it could start growing cleaner and healthier.

"It'll grow back," Timo was assured. "Don't worry."

"But I like it short," Timo wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.

"What's your name?" A kind lady asked, and Timo couldn't give a true answer. What was his name? Someone called him Byun once, when he was rushing down the street with some food in hand.

"Byun." He said, and she shook her head.

"Oh, that just won't do." She said. "How about I call you Saira? Byun can be your last name. How's that?"

Timo didn't really like that name, but he nodded anyway. He didn't want to risk angering these strangers looking after him.

Once he was cleaned up, he was given a bowl of porridge, which seemed more like slop than anything, and some fish to eat.

The porridge tasted like carboad, and the fish had a tang of crude oil, but he kept quiet. He didn't want it taken away.

"One day, someone's going to adopt you." He was told. "That's what this place is for. You'll have a family."

Empty, useless words.

Timo was introduced to his roommates, the other little kids he would be sharing a tiny room with.

They all looked sad and tired, and muttered a short, disinterested greeting before going back to what they were doing before.

When Timo's hair finally grew long enough, they were done up in pigtails with big pink bows.

"You must catch our customer's attention," He was told. "We can't have you looking scrappy."

His claws were filed down once a month until they were nothing but short nails.

"Nobody wants a feral child," He was told. "If they wanted to be scratched up, they'd buy a pet."

The other children avoided him. They didn't like him because of his mouth. The squirming tentacles that shot out whenever he ate made them cry, made them say he gave them nightmares.

"Scary Saira was in my dreams again!"

"They'll get used to it." He was told. "They'll play with you."

They never did.

Timo's bed was crammed into the back corner of the dorm room, a little further away from the rest. He spent most of his time lying on it, staring blankly at the ceiling.

The others were usually either playing in the playroom or outside. Timo didn't join. He stopped trying a while ago.

"We don't let weirdos in," said Aria, the de facto leader of their dorm room. "Go away."

Possible parents came and went, arriving with happy smiles and high expectations Timo could never live up to.

Only once or twice did anyone express any form of interest in hi. When that happened, an employee would rush to do the usual song of dance of, for lack of a better word, advertising him.

"This is Saira Byun," They would say, smiling. "She's a lovely little girl with a big imagination."

'I'm not a girl,' Timo wanted to say because he was a boy and he was sure of it, but what would the point be? What would they say?

'I'm sure you are." They'll say, and then ignore him because nobody at that god forsaken place cared about what he had to say.

Timo hated that orphanage. He hated it with a passion that burned like the sun.

The building itself was old, very old, and used to house nobility. It was ill-suited for children or, well, anybody.

The stone chipped and cracked, and there was algae blooming in places it shouldn't. It was slowly detoriating, but it was never fixed up.

Due to the historical value of the building and the attention sad little orphans got online, volunteers were often influencers wanting to get some extra views.

They would come in, these people, recording Timo and the others and spouting their sympathies. They weren't so nice when they turned the camera off.

Many were mean, others were creepy. Looking at the Timo and the others weird, talking about how cute they were.

"You know you're very mature for your age," one of them said to a girl not much older than Timo. "It's admirable."

Timo wasn't sure why, but that sentence made his skin crawl.

The staff weren't much better. They seemed to hate the place as much as Timo did, though they also hated their tiny tenants.

"Stop crying." Timo once heard the dorm warden say to a young boy. The "slap" sound was loud and piercing. "If you're going to be a brat, you can leave."

And didn't that just sum up this place perfectly? Be quiet and obey, or you'll either be going to bed with bruises or you won't be enjoying a free bed and food for much longer.

Don't complain, even if the same meal every day for three meals a day is porridge that tasted like cardboard and fish that had clearly been exposed to oil spills. Don't complain, even if you're being recorded by random strangers. Don't complain, even if you think some of the staff are too handsy with you to be comfortable.

It was hell there. Sometimes, Timo even felt that maybe he would be better off on the streets before perishing the thought. He can at least eat food here.

Timo stayed on his behaviour, afraid to get hurt, to get tossed out. He listened and obeyed, did what asked of him, and put on a good show for people looking to adopt.

Timo tried so hard to listen to the staff in the hopes he got adopted. It never mattered, though. Pretty him up with big bows, seashell hairclips, and trendy hairstyles, it. Didn't. Matter.

The potential parent or parents, if they were interested in him at all, eventually lost that interest and moved on to another, better child.

It didn't take long for Timo to realise why. Claws, sharp teeth, creepy mouth tentacles... those weren't desirable. Those weren't cute or good or innocent. It was wrong. It was monstrous.

"What are those?" A person screeched at horror when they saw Timo eating a snack.

"Those are her tentacles. Saira needs them to eat. All cuttlefish merfolk have them."

Then the adults huddled together, whispering amongst themselves and underestimating the sharpness of Timo's hearing.

"Those are just sitting there in her mouth? Are they always so... obvious?"

"When she's eating, yes."

"...Can you not get rid of them? Like, cut them out? Some merfolk do that, you know. Remove unwanted parts."

"No, I don't think so."

Timo was, for once, very glad this couple didn't want him.

As Timo got older, the number of familiar faces dwindled, and new faces came in to replace them until, eventually, Timo was the only one of the original group still there.

"Nobody wants teenagers." An older kid once told him, drumming her fingers against her bedframe. "They want cute little boys and girls, all bright-eyed and easy to control. Teenagers are too old, too set in their ways. Once you hit thirteen, you might as well give up. Nobody will want you, and once you turn eighteen, they'll kick you to the streets because you aren't their problem anymore."

The idea of winding up back on the streets terrified Timo. He would be back at square one, but even worse off than before.

At eighteen, he would no longer have the small advantage of being a cute little kid people could take pity on. He was no longer helpless, no longer "abandoned" or "lost."

No, he would be old enough to be a druggie, a crackhead failure that couldn't get his shit right and ended up on the streets. He would be old enough to be a disappointment, a screw up.

"That's what will happen if you don't work hard and get good grades." They'll say.

"Some people don't realise there are consequences to their laziness." They'll say.

"That's why you shouldn't do drugs." They'll say.

And all Timo would be able to do iss ignore them and bedazzle some fish to get a few scraps of food, and then hope it wouldn't get stolen.

Timo began trying even harder to impress the adults who came to visit. He concentrated hard until his skintone was no longer pink and yellow but instead matching the more human-ish skintone of whoever was looking to adopt.

He couldn't hold it for long, though, and eventually, he would shift back to his original colour and hang his head in shame.

On the rare occasion he was considered, the nightmare that resided within his mouth convinced those people that yes, a normal child would be much easier to deal with.

Not to mention, this child partially mimicking their appearance probably made it worse.

"Aren't just an angel?" And adult cooed to him once. "I promise you'll be coming home with me."

Empty promises. Useless words. Timo found himself very much unadopted years after that conversation.

The staff would comfort him, mostly trying to get him to stop looking so sad and smile for the next volunteer with a camera.

"It's alright, Saira."

"You'll be fine, Saira."

"Someone will love you, I promise."

Talk talk talk.

"You'll need money." That older kid from before told him. "Do chores for pocket money, try get a job when you're old enough. Steal, if you have to."

Timo listened to her. He tried his best, tried to get some madol from the orphanage staff. Some humoured him, giving him the minimum possible amount they could, and others rolled their eyes and scoffed.

"What we give you isn't good enough, is that it?" One hissed. "If you're going to be greedy, you'll never get adopted."

When Timo turned fourteen, he began looking around for small jobs. He applied to as many as he could and was turned down by every single one.

"We'll get back to you."

"I just don't think you're suited for customer service."

"You're far too young. Do some chores for your parents or something."

"Sorry, you don't match our company values."

After yet another rejection, Timo curled up in bed and silently cried through the night, all the way until the faintest slivers of sunlight began streaming through the windows.

He peeled himself out of bed and drifted down to the front entrance, hoping that at least fetching the newspaper would earn him a madol or two.

Timo looked through the newspaper, flipping past advertisements and celebrity drama and political news and then-

And then something caught his eye. In a tiny column at the very back of the newspaper was an advertisement for a business currently hiring.

"Hunter?" Timo mumbled out loud as he read through it. "They accept fourteen and older..."

Timo wasn't much of a hunter. He could put sea creatures in a trance with his colours, sure, but his poor control rendered that ability useless.

He was also clumsy, skittish, and shy, lacking in confidence and prone to crying. That's what the dorm warden told him, at least.

Well, he'd give it a shot anyway. Better than accepting his fate.

Timo soon found himself hovering in front of the dense kelp forest at the edge of the city, feeling more afraid of being rejected than possibly being eaten, like he was warned.

"That man is dangerous, Saira." The warden told him when he told her where he was going. "Have you forgotten all you've learned about those those types? Go, if you really want, but don't act surprised when he clamps his teeth around your throat."

Timo tried not to think about how, besides that brief warning, nobody even bothered to stop him from leaving.

In the end, it didn't matter. Silas Clearcove did not, in fact, try to eat him. Instead, he subjected Timo to one of the strangest job interviews the cuttlefish had ever sat through.

Silas, a frankly terrifying looking man, briefly looked through Timo's CV but didn't seem to actually care about it all that much.

He barely spoke, spending most of their time together staring at Timo. It didn't feel like he was judging him exactly... more like... analysing. In some weird way.

Timo was only asked three or four questions in total. If he was old enough to be hired, how fast he could swim, if he had any knowledge about the butchery business, and if he could handle viscera.

There was no question about Timo's values, no prodding about his work ethic, and nothing at all about his desires for the future or the state of his health.

It was surreal, and yet it was also a breath of fresh air. Though there were still some issues Timo was concerned about.

"I dunno how to hunt, sir," He admitted after a long, awkward bout of silence. The intensity of Silas' gaze made him feel like he was confessing a murder. "Like, catching fish and stuff. And my colours are useless. I can't control 'em."

"I'll teach you." Said Silas after a brief pause, his quiet voice not betraying any emotion. "You don't have to know. You can learn. Come tomorrow if you can."

Timo left in an almost daze, snapping out of it briefly when he bumped into who he would later learn was Silas' husband, Morrigan.

"Aw, did he scare you?" He asked, patting Timo's head. "Silas does that. Don't worry, I'm trying to get him not to freak out his interviewees as much. He's really nice, I promise. Well, sort of."

Timo arrived at home, bewildered at the strange interactions. What an odd pair. But the main thing on his mind was Silas' words.

"I'll teach you." A bold statement. A promise. And for once, they weren't empty. It wasn't a lie.

Silas, Timo soon came to learn, was a man of action, not words. His silence was not some scare tactic to use against Timo, but rather just one of the many facets that made up who he was.

Timo almost couldn't believe it when he returned the next day to find Silas patiently waiting for him, ready to go.

He hadn't lied. He hadn't replaced Timo. He actually did what he said he would.

This was a constant when it came to Silas. He did not ever make false promises. If he said he'd do something, he would do it, no matter how difficult the task seemed to be.

Spending time with him made Timo feel like he was in a fever dream. Someone so scary looking, someone who seemed to have been dragged through hell and back, spoke in a soft but firm voice that gripped Timo's attention like vice, and instructed Timo in a way that oozed nothing but patience.

When Timo made a mistake, he would freeze and expect to be yelled at, to be hit, but Silas simply corrected him and let him try again.

Morrigan would join them from time to time, though he was mostly there to observe and giggle a bit when Timo screwed up.

"It's ok," He said, always more talkative than Silas ever was. "I did that too when I was first learning. You got this."

They were both so.... strange. Especially as a couple. From what Timo knew, romance was going on dates and bringing each other plants and chocolate and kissing.

They were very aggressive with each other. Timo was worried and nearly had a heart attack when he saw them wrestling across the sand one day.

"It's fine," said Silas, wiping blood from his mouth.

"We're not actually trying to kill each other," added Morrigan, sending Timo a bloody smile.

Everything Timo had been taught seemed to tell him to quit, to stay away from these odd people and try somewhere else. But he didn't. He stayed. He liked these two. He liked them a lot, even if he thought they were weird.

They were both good teachers. Silas taught him how to hunt and make traps, and Morrigan assisted him with controlling his colours.

It took a long while, but he eventually found himself able to control them. His body finally began to obey him, shifting to whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. The fish were drawn to him like moths to a flame.

Timo would stay much longer than intended, preferring his time there over even a second in that orphanage.

Once, when it was lunchtime, Silas slid a huge plate of several crustaceans, fish and seaweed towards him, and stared at him with those large amethyst eyes.

"Uh..." Timo stared at it, then at Silas, and blinked. "Huh?"

"You're not eating enough." Silas said. "Eat."

Timo, wondering if maybe he'd gone insane, mumbled an "Okay," and started nervously nibbling on it, bit by bit. It was probably one of the best meals he'd ever had.

By the time he'd turned seventeen, Timo was a full-fledged hunter working for Silas, helping stun prey as well as prep it all.

He got far closer to the two of them than intended over those three years, becoming, as the other staff put it, "Silas' little protégé."

He supposed it wasn't all that incorrect, especially since he began helping Morrigan pick up on the hunting after they decided to have children.

The news came a bit out of nowhere, and Timo didn't ever think they would be parents... but he was happy for them.

He was allowed to stay with them when they learned he couldn't afford an apartment even with his pay. All they wanted was that he kept his space clean and helped them out.

When Timo told Silas and Morrigan that he was a boy and his name was, well, Timo, Silas seemed very confused but accepted it, and Morrigan gave him a thumbs up.

And... they listened. They called him Timo and didn't call him she. And aside from that, they treated him the exact same as before, with just as much compassion.

Timo never said it out loud, but to him, it felt like they were a little family. Silas and Morrigan taught him to hunt and look after himself, taught him important life skills, and how to control his colours. They showed careful care for him, too. They acted like... well, they acted like parents. It was nice to imagine they actually were.

Morrigan was wonderful, but it was Sillas that Timo utterly adored. Silas, who made a promise and kept it. Silas, who was careful and understanding and kind to Timo, even if it was in a bit of a weird way. Silas, who saved Timo from absolute hell.

Silas was the best, and Timo would do whatever he could to make sure he was happy. No matter what, he'd stick by Silas Clearcove.

...........................................

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this juicy bit of Timo lore! Please consider this a sort of PSA as well, as I did research on orphanages for this, and the situation is pretty dire. Orphanage tourism is a thing, along with many other issues. Most of my info came from here. Please check it out. I absolutely accept constructive criticism as, although it isn't the main focus here, Timo is the first trans character I've written a story for. I hope it's OK! Sorry if the ending seems lackluster, I wasn't sure how to end it 😭

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