#{ i was raised feral and i mostly stayed that way }

[horrorlesbians]

Darlin’ (2019)

[desertbled]

i honestly don’t even know how to refer to garrett at this point b/c calling him wolf’s “ex-boyfriend” doesn’t even describe their relationship properly, since it’s so complicated.

they were friends long before they were lovers. they were practically already married with how dedicated they were with each other. ( they probably would have gotten married for real if garrett hadn’t broken things off. )

and when garrett broke things off, both of them were heartbroken about it. they could never really let go of each other, even up til the end.

[miscxllany]

TAGS: mogar, princess carolyn, tiana & mother gothel.

INTERACTIONS. / mogar: i.

I WAS RAISED FERAL & MOSTLY STAYED THAT WAY. / mogar.

I WILL CARVE MY WAY OUT WITH ONLY MY TEETH. / mogar: musings.

I JUST LIKE ANGRILY DOING THINGS FOR MY FRIENDS. / mogar: about.

INTERACTIONS. / tiana: i.

AS PRETTY AS A MAGNOLIA IN MAY. / tiana.

PRE-MOVIE. / tiana: v1. —— [ TIANA: V1. ]

DURING MOVIE. / tiana: v2.

AFTER MOVIE. / tiana: v3.

RALPH BREAKS THE INTERNET. / tiana: v4.

INTERACTIONS. / mother gothel: i.

YOU GOTTA GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. / princess carolyn.

STARTING NOW YOU ARE A HARD，HEARTLESS CAREER GAL. / princess carolyn: about.

SERVES YOU RIGHT FOR HAVING FEELINGS. / princess carolyn: musings.

INTERACTIONS. / princess carolyn: i.

I HAVE LOVED YOU FOR TWENTY-FIVE YEARS， AND I NEVER LOVED ANYONE BETTER. / princess carolyn + bojack.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'D DO WITHOUT YOU. / princess carolyn + judah.

WHEN I TELL MY DAUGHTER THE STORY OF THE GREAT LOVE OF MY LIFE，I WANT IT TO HAVE A HAPPY ENDING. / princess carolyn: v1.

[gildedkrone]

Could you maybe write a Jealous!GhostxMaleReader...maybe Ghost gets jealous of Reader and Graves?? Dunno just want to see a jealous Ghost....I like how you write Ghost...it doesn't have to be Graves, it could be a member of Shadow Conpany...

- ☁️

Don't listen, I'm near 🔞

My first request, so I thought I would put a bit more effort into this fic than usual. It ended being written from Graves' POV? So I'm not sure if it's exactly what you wanted but I hope this is somewhere along the lines of the request :3

Relationships: Ghost x bottom!Male Reader Synopsis: A jealous Ghost fucks you into oblivion and Graves hears every single bit of it. Contains gratituous smut. A/N: NA Master List

“Hey there, sweetheart, need a hand?”

Phillip Graves, that was his name, right? Commander of the Shadow soldiers currently milling about the base as part of a joint operation between the 141 and Shadow Company. You follow his eyes to the crates of beer in the storeroom.

“Oh, Graves, right? Yea sure!” You heave two crates of beer off the floor and Graves trails his eyes over your way your shirt exposes your chest and abdomen with each exertion of your body.

He is not salivating. He is just admiring another soldier preparing a feast as part of the collaboration, a dinner and night of celebrations. Nothing untoward and nothing scandalous. Your request for him to grab the drinks jolts him out of his naughty daydream and he nods with as much grace the Shadow is known for. That is, not much.

The men are gathered in the rec room when both you and Graves return with alcohol. Soap and Gaz help themselves to a bottle each before you can put the crates down. Graves imitates your actions and places his crates down.

Ghost is sitting in an armchair all by himself, while Grave’s soldiers are fanned out around the room. Some eating, some drinking, mostly engaged in conversation or tabletop games. You crack open a bottle and he has to resist grabbing choking that sinuous neck and the bobbing of your throat. Ghost is nowhere at his chair and once he reestablishes visual contact, Ghost is standing by your side.

“You want a bottle, Ghost?”

The masked freak shakes his head and the smile on your face makes him green with jealousy. He wishes it was him on the other side of the smile.

“Of course, the LT himself doesn’t drink beer.” You dug around your pockets and reveal a metal flask. “Bourbon, straight from Kentucky.”

Ghost rumbles something affectionate and takes the flask. The mask is raised up to his nose bridge and Graves catches a sight of the pink lips and perfect teeth.

“Thanks, corporal. Appreciate your efforts.”

“Anytime, LT. Anything for you.” The skeleton hand on your shoulder lingers for too long for Graves’ liking.

The man looks up from you to meet Grave’s gaze. Inside, he spots something feral and territorial curling in the lieutenant’s eyes.

Stay. Away.

---

The rest of the night goes smoothly. Graves gets to spend time with you on the dance floor and his hand even wrapped around your waist at one point. You don’t seem to be too phased by the close proximity to him and he flashes a grin, all teeth and vibes.

He catches the boring gaze of Ghost, intensifying each time he went anywhere near you. Fuck him, he doesn’t own you and Graves is free to flirt with whoever he wants. The skull man is free to kick rocks if he doesn’t like it. Eventually, you are too tired to continue partying and excuse yourself from the dance floor. Graves watches as you say something to the lieutenant and his eyes are overcame by something fond and soft before a pat by a skeleton hand sends you leaving the room.

It's boring without you on the dance floor and Graves leaves his men in favour of turning in for the night. The base is huge and Graves stumbles around, trying to find his room and it is just bad luck Ghost is who he sees first.

“Ah, lieutenant, mind showing me the way to my room?”

Ghost doesn’t seem to be too pleased to see him, judging by the arms crossed but mainly, the eyes give away his ire and displeasure at seeing the other man.

“Down the hallway. Room 103.”

Graves thanks the man not before he is slipped a radio.

“You left this at the party.”

Wait, what? The last time he checked, the radio was still affixed to the holster on his arm. Before he can object, Ghost is gone.

---

“Ah, faster! Michaelo!”

The room is dim and the man lying on the bed touches himself gently to the sounds of porn on his phone. Fuck, Graves swore when the woman in the video takes the monster dick fully. His dick is semi hard and his hand gently strokes the organ to nurse it to full hardness.

“Shit!” Graves takes off his headphones. That isn’t—

“Ngh! Fuck, it’s not—” His phone clatters onto the floor as he jumps off the bed in search for the source of the sound. Sounds of a man being pleasured are definitely not from the video he is watching. His search stops at the radio Ghost passed him earlier. The green light flashes periodically, a sign the radio is receiving a signal.

A moan.

Not just any, but yours. He rushes to the table and grabs the radio. Raspy moans of desire. There is no mistaking it, that is you on the other side of the radio. Who the fuck is doing this!

“Ah, ah! Fuck, slow down!”

If he closes his eyes, his mind fantasizes the scene. You are all drunk on pleasure, mouth open as a thin trail of drool slicks down your cheek. Someone, a mystery person, bringing you waves of pleasure. Their hands? Or their mouth?

It should be him. It’s all so wrong. He should be turning off the radio and reporting whoever was doing this. But his mind taunts him with finding out just who you were with.

Graves retreats to the bed and lies down. His hand creeps ever closer to his dick and your moans are there again. The radio is jammed against his ear and his dick jumps at the breathy and sinuous moan. It tortures his soul to hear it and not be the one eliciting it.

His hand is no longer under his control and starts stroking.

“Fuck! Shit, what has gotten into you!” Sounds of wet slapping noises punctuate your groans into pauses. The other person doesn’t say anything and Graves is so fucking turned on, it hurts. Pre is all over his hands and the sound of his hands are filthy, but not as much as those in the radio.

Then, he hears it. A whimper, all soft and delectable. His hand grips the base of his dick and arrests his building climax. Shit! His favourite porn didn’t come anywhere close to the performance you are putting on in a room somewhere.

He wants to cum just as you do with your mysterious partner.

“If you—ah!—keep doing this, I won’t LAST ah!” The duvet is in between his teeth as his hands are moving at a feverous pace against his morals.

“Have you learnt your lesson, yet?” Graves stills his hand. Mr mystery is speaking.

“Yes! Please, I will be your good boy! I—ngh—will stay away from him!”

“That’s a good boy. Taking me so perfectly; I can feel you spasming like a cheap whore. Are you close, pet?”

His traitorous mind paints a picture of another man railing you hard and fast, bitching you in the process into a mindless whore who lived for cock and cum. Who, dares, to claim you?

“Yes, I’m—so—fucking close! P-please!” He grunts at the desperation in your voice to climax.

His finger scrambles to turn the knob on the radio to max volume and then, he can hear so much more. The faint creaking of the bed under the powerful thrusts of your partner, the whines and whimpers escaping your mouth driving him crazy and the reserved grunts of the man. Wet sounds of slapping and something obscene fills the room and Graves thumbs his dick roughly. The burn is something real and he desperately wants to know just who it was.

Who was bringing you so much pleasure, dear cock addled slut?

“Say it. Say that you want to cum.”

“Mmmh! Please, let me cum! I want to cum!”

“Say that you are my little cum addict.”

“I’m—” A sharp thrust breaks your speech and you groan. “Y-your cum addict!”

“Good boy. This is what you wanted, right? Flirting with that poor excuse of a man to rile me up. Well, this is your reward, love.” And a sharp squeal at what Graves imagines to be a bite on the neck.

Flirting with him? Who can it be, to be upset at Graves?

“Yes! Yes, I-I am all yours! Yours to use, sir!”

Sir? His hands pause and grip his prick loosely. Was it a nickname, or something more?

“That’s what I like to hear. You need to be bitched more often, love.”

“Yes! Yes, I want to be bitched! Fuck, please, ah!”

The knot in his abdomen is tight and squirming as Graves lets himself imagine the mystery man to be him. Your tight ass squeezing him hungrily like a sleeve thirsting for cum and all he has to give. The pillow fluffs at the commander’s head falling back into it.

“So beautiful and all for me. Do it, cum for me, sweetheart.”

That’s the cue and Graves’ eyes are closed in a grimace as he times his finish with yours.

“Ah, yes sir! Thank you! I—fuck!—” And the noisy squeal and cries of a man drowning in orgasmic bliss spearheaded by his lover’s dick. Graves chokes a cry as he came with a shout and a spray of cum over his heaving chest.

The orgasm leaves him boneless and he struggles to collect his thoughts. The radio flops onto the bed as a sweaty arm rests on an equally sweated chest. The radio is silent and the light is extinguished; no more transmission by whoever is doing this. He won’t admit it, but this ranks high on his naughty escapades.

Fuck, he really shouldn’t have done this. The mess on his cooling chest is hardening into sludge and he swipes a finger through it. Grabbing a bathrobe, a shower is in order to get rid of the stains of his scandalous voyeurism.

---

He steps out of the room into an empty corridor and heads for the communal toilets. Pass room 120 and the door to the room opens without warning. Graves slows and Ghost steps out from the room still dressed in his combat fatigues. His gloves, however, are gone and Graves sneaks a look at the exposed hand. Black nails? Maybe the man truly was a freak. He looks closer and there’s something dripping? A viscous cloudy liquid coating the thick fingers and Graves can’t stop his mouth from running itself.

“Howdy, you’ve got something on your hand, lieutenant.”

Ghost’s eyes remain impassive and he raises his hands to look at them and back at Graves. A glint in his eyes is all the warning he gets and Ghost is breaking eye contact. Then, those hands are wiping against the dark fabric of his tactical jacket and—

White and milky liquid separate into strings upon contact as they stain the pristine clothing.

That is—

“You look shocked, commander Graves. Do you need a medic?”

“Is that … cum?”

Soap’s hearty greeting stumps Graves as the sergeant rounds the corner and he makes a face at the sight of the Shadow commander. Sidling up mischievously to the American, he lobs an arm around Graves and pulls him close under a gaze Graves would describe as victorious belonging to the masked man.

Like a roman victor on a pedestal while luxuriating in his opponent’s defeat.

Soap chuckles. “This is why we don’t mess with the LT’s property, Graves. Did you truly think the corporal would be interested in you?”

“In someone who can’t even use his dick right while LT can do it all with just his arm?”

Mortification and humiliation burns and scorches his face.

---

Ghost wasn’t truly worried when he saw Graves flirting with you all night. You smiled and assured him you could handle the grabby Shadow commander and your lover nods, trusting your judgement but still hanging around to intervene if the bastard tried anything. Your cheery disposition and innocence was a fire drawing in the moths of military men and Ghost stayed to keep an eye on the man.

---

Graves swallows and the taste in his mouth all night—he knows what it is now. Ghost pulls up his mask to lick a line across his still dirty fingers.

His mind conjures an image of you, a man in the throes of desire and thoroughly debauched by the fist in your ass and your dick, angry and leaking in protest. Why would a man be lost in the height of rapture ever be interested in him?

Those lips mouth something. Sweet.

Total defeat.

[tutur-ddbr]

For your dirty feral mind.

One of my greatest talents, at least for what I have been told, is...

Sex Analyse

And I'm going to do the sex analysis/headcanon of Logan and Wade. For all minors around here: DON'T INTERACT AND LEAVE THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD.

Our favorite old man: James "Logan" Howlett

I don't strangely see Logan having a huge interest in sex (at least this version in the movie) maybe it's my Ace ass that is talking but let go threw it, shall we.

Logan isn't into sex, not anymore, after what happened to the X-MEN the only thing he wants to put his mind into, is alcohol. For him, he don't deserve any kind of love, he don't deserve to be touched, to be praised, or to be satisfied in any given way. He don't want a parody of intimacy with a prostitute, or just a one-night stand. He don't deserve it.

In this man's mind, nothing will make him happy, nothing will bring light in this world anymore, nothing will raise his spirit why would he fall for that shit? Why would he get laid?

But after he saved the world? Think better about himself? and get back on his feet?

Logan would be shy, not shy like a virgin, shy like a hurt man. He would not give anyone his trust that easily to the first human being coming to him. No, he needs a special someone, he needs this one personnel. This one personnel who will say his name like a little prayer and make it feel like home.

If he finds out this special someone, he wouldn't be rough, wouldn't be mean, oh no. Logan will be lost, confused about how he ended up here, why the person chose them, and why they even wanted to let him a chance in the first place. But this intimacy, Logan need it. At first, it would be weird for him, he don't know what to do, how to put himself, top, bottom? He's so confused. He would need a hand to get it together, he would need time and patience to get out the beast in him.

But what would he do exactly? Logan would lay on his back, too scared to hurt the person in front of him. He would start with soft kisses, they are bad and he knows it, he is a bad kisser (the man hadn't kissed someone for ages.). Logan will not know where to put his hand, on the waist maybe, around the shoulder? Maybe on the chest. He wants to obey and he will! all the orders someone will give him, so he knows he wouldn't fuck up. Top or bottom he would try his best to stop being as selfish as his past self, he wants his partner to get all the pleasure they want. He isn't a loud one for this first time, he is too concentrated on not fucking up that he mostly hold his breath during each movement. He would beg for his partner to say his name, to say how good he is doing, to say how they love him. He needs to know, that he isn't broken. After the orgasm, he would hold onto his lover for a couple of minutes, smelling them, caressing their body, being sure they are there and real. Looking at him, making eye contact would make this man melt, forehead again forehead, whispering his name, saying how they love them, how good they are. Logan would need love and comfort, someone to hold him and tell him he is worth it. Someone to say his name, and make him stay when the night fades away.

(Would he be like that with Wade? Maybe if Deadpool don't tease him too much and takes a break from his persona to let the other man heal, yes)

We are doing a part 2 for Deadpool cause my brain used all his energy for Logan. (Why I ear boss music ?)

If you want to talk about Logan, PLEAS PLEAS PLEAS PLEAS slide into my DM or my request/ask thing I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS.

Also eh, I have a KO-FI liked in my BIO if you want to check out. Later people.

[cynthiav06]

Question. do you think Percy should have stayed Single? Or ended up with somebody other than Annabeth? I Really think he should have stayed Single. Because I personally don't Like Percabeth, I don't Ship Percabeth and I don't Like Annabeth at all because of the way the Shippers act, or The way the characters themselves in Canon Act, like how Percy just does whatever Annabeth says, or how Percy is scared of Annabeth, Or how fans make it seem like Percy would become an Emo Edge Lord if something happened to Annabeth, Or How much she Belittles and Degrades him (I hate the nickname Seaweed brain), Especially since she acts like Percy cant do anything without her That moment when She and Reyna were talking about how ("Percy Couldn't find his way out of a Paper Bag without you")Made me SO mad it made me Dislike Annabeth even more and Dislike the Percabeth Ship as a Whole, I even hated when she Pretty much Restricted percy of using his powers You Know? "The sea doesn't like to be Restrained" well here it is.. being restrained...Exactly what it hates, and I hate how the Fandom makes Percabeth a Godly Ship saying they are the "It Couple" which they aren't and how They treat anyone who doesn't like Percabeth or Ships Percy with someone else other then Annabeth, but the one thing I HATE the most is how they make EVERYTHING percy Does Romantic for Annabeth like she's the only person who matters to him (Percy Only Remembering Annabeth (a Girl he's Known for only a couple years) Instead of The woman Who RAISED him by a goddess who isn't even the goddess of Love Made me SO MAD and Even when Annabeth made Percy remember when he was in the River Styx when it should have been his Mom made me mad) which is why I mostly believe that Percy Should have just stayed Single (I'm all for an Aromantic Percy) or At least Give him a Love interest who he can be Comfortable around and doesn't have to Constantly walk on Eggshells around her (I wished he Dated Rachel) or Hell Even make him Gay i've saw characters who have Better chemistry with Percy then Annabeth IMO but this all just my opinion.

You honestly don't know how long I could rant on this exact subject.

It's partly Annabeth's fault, and it's partly Rick's fault.

Anyone and everyone who has read the Pjo and HoO series should have noticed how illogical Percy's personality change was.

Percy Jackson, the hero of Olympus and the strongest demigod to ever live, sassy as can be, laid back but scary beyond measure if you cross him and an absolute menace to his enemies and loyal to death.

That's who he is, and Rick remembered that initially, and even till Son of Neptune then he just forgot how Percy someone he himself wrote to be this way is.

It's like Percy has no identity of his own, and he is only significant if he is with Annabeth. Like hello, he's the main character people, is the Fandom seriously going to degrade the main character, especially when the said mc is Percy Jackson???

Percy, despite his own issues, is and will always be foremost in helping people. He would be the first person to help keep the seven together. He would be the first to try and make a bond. He wouldn't have some stupid and illogical and totally ooc beef with Jason. Instead, he would help Jason be more sure of himself to stand up to Jupiter and for himself.

He would help Leo personally to bring back Calypso and they would both shit talk Olympians and how fickle their oaths are.

He would literally do anything to save Nico. Like hello, are you telling me that the boy who at 14 took it upon himself to bear the Great Prophecy, which he thought who end up killing him just to save Nico from that fate????? He would go absolutely madly feral to save Nico from the Giants.

If Piper and Reyna had their screws all properly fit they would see that Annabeth and literally everyone else would be all left to die if it wasn't for Percy. Percy gets himself out of everything by his own efforts and his own strategies. (Annabeth's rarely work). It's time the Fandom acknowledges that the best strategist in the verse is Percy, no questions asked and finally give him due credit for all HIS efforts.

Percy would never ever leave Sally unless it was for a quest, especially not when she was pregnant and absolutely not to go to college, something he hates especially when it concerns New Rome.

Here's a thing about Percabeth shippers they care about Annabeth's plans and her dreams, not Percy's. It is literally so out of character for Percy to want to live in New Rome a place that invests in a child army, a place that despises his father and wouldn't even build him a decent temple, a place so extremely cut off from the sea.

If Percy wanted to live in peace and grow old, he would do it in a place of his choosing close to his mother, Paul and Estelle, and close to the sea. But here's the thing about Percy.

I don't think people get this, but Percy can't just up and leave, nor would he want to. His damned fatal flaw is LOYALTY. He would never ever leave demigods or anyone helpless by leaving Camp Half Blood. Sure he would take less quests on but he would ALWAYS stick around and Rick did him so dirty by making all his thoughts revolve around Annabeth and insinuating he would let others suffer just fine to be with Annabeth.

Percy gave up immortality because he took Sally's teaching to heart as she did so too when she denied Poseidon's offer. He did it for himself for demigods it didn't have shit to do with Annabeth, but of course, he would look at her because she represents his life as a demigod.

Rick making Percy see Annabeth near the Styx and making him remember Annabeth instead of Sally is just him bullshitting. We all know Percy is a mama's boy, and he would do right by Sally always, so him giving a girl who he has known for barely long enough has no basis to it.

And Percabeth stans literally can't take a mention of a single alternate Percy pairing that alone is the biggest red flag. Because they know their ship is toxic and that Annabeth is the root of it.

For the PEOPLE IN THE BACK aka toxic stans:

Annabeth's fatal flaw is HUBRIS, and she is by nature controlling and condescending, and her character had the chance to GROW and CHANGE, and it would have been the most epic character growth sequel but she did not and she is CONTROLLING, DISMISSIVE , DEMEANING.

The newest Read Riordan entry literally has Annabeth saying that she needs to catch up to Percy cause he scores a better grade than her in school (even there Percy is smarter folks there you have it) and she literally says if she doesn't catch up Percy might start calling her SEAWEED BRAIN. So it is a demeaning nickname she gives Percy and continues calling him that even after knowing how Gabe similarly verbally abused Percy.

This is the fandom's IT couple? Wow. Percy literally is going against his own nature of being free and unrestrained like the sea because of Annabeth's controlling nature.

The worst of her behavior is when she blames Percy for his disappearance when she dismissed him when he was talking about his trauma induced by Gabe, her beyond toxic treatment of Rachel, especially when she unreasonably asked Percy to supress the use of the very power that got them out alive (she is scared naturally but she cannot force her own fear on Percy when he did nothing wrong).

So yeah, Percy Jackson with anyone but Annabeth. I am all for aromantic Percy, but personally, I find Perachel to be more appealing.

Trust me, I could rant about this for hours, especially how Rick butchered Percy's personality and made it full of Annabeth, especially how he threw Percy's insecurities and trauma and PTSD out of the gutter post tartarus.

[bouncybongfairy]

Hellooo Could I request for Felix Catton please? Where’s maybe Oliver is so obsessed with Felix’s girlfriend, the reader to the point where he killed her because “if I can’t have you, no one can” troupe and all and like then Felix witnessed it and all angsty sad thingy so sorry if’s dark but thank youu so muchh 🥰🥰✨💖

Till Death

Oliver Quick x Fem Reader

Summary: After you and Felix starting going out, Oliver began developing an unhealthy infatuation with you. Anytime someone laid their eyes or hands on you, it made him feral. One night at a party he finally caves in to his depraved urges.

Word Count: 3.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Stalking Kink, Blood Kink, Knife Kink, CNC Kink, Nasty Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was the beginning of the spring semester at Oxford University. Everyone seemed to be in a joyous mood, coming back from Christmas break completely decked out in mommy and daddy’s money. Grades are reset and all your friends are saying “I think a 7am lecture every Wednesday and Friday will be refreshing” or “I'm actually going to keep up with my canvas discussion questions this time around.” The best parties of the year are during spring semester, because everyone's stress levels are relatively low. Oliver was planning on heading to a house party with you and Felix. Both of you were friends before Felix and you got together so you two always invited him out when partying. Oliver always obliged in these invites but not for the sake of friendship. He liked keeping tabs on you, watching you get drunker and drunker. You were such a know it all in class, always raising your hand. Yearning to be a teacher's pet, going the extra mile to be the perfect student. Seeing you at night gave Oliver a high stronger than any bump he could take. Watching that innocent good girl facade fade away with the more wild you became after getting intoxicated drove him crazy. 

It made him furious when he saw the way Felix handled you, he was so sweet and gentle. It was so obvious that you craved a stronger hand. Wanting so badly for anyone to dominate and to remind you of your purpose. The way you flaunt your body around, practically begging to be shoved to the ground and taught how to act properly. Currently all three of you are getting ready in the dorm Felix and Oliver shared. You were in the bathroom leaning over the sink, your hips pressed against the edge. Your mouth was hanging open while applying mascara, Oliver was watching while making small talk with Felix. Who had his face buried deep in his closet looking for something to wear. Everytime you leaned closer to the mirror the oversize shirt you wore rose up, revealing your panty line. 

“Maybe just a polo, nothing too crazy,” he said, pulling out two options. 

“How much time before we go!” you called out from the bathroom.

“10 minutes!” Oliver replied. 

“Shit!” you gasped, rushing to finish. Felix was completely distracted, putting his shoes on and getting his things together. His phone went off every five seconds, after a while he finally went to see what all the buzz was about. 

“Fuck, Mason asked me to pick up a few bottles. Oliver, will you stay and walk with her and I'll meet the two of you there?” he asked. 

“Of course, see you there mate,” Oliver held back a scoff, Felix was such an idiot. Leaving you there for him to do… well, whatever he felt like. 

You kissed Felix goodbye and unraveled the hot rollers out of your hair. Fluffing it out before circling hairspray around it. Applying the last few touches like lip gloss and perfume. It was around 11pm and the weather outside was nippy. You being half dressed were feeling the effects of this quite viciously. The two of you were making small talk, mostly about the weather or school. Oliver didn’t give a fuck about what you were going on about. He was using it as an excuse to watch you, shiver and shake. The way your teeth were chattering together was driving him insane. The house wasn’t even a mile from campus but your heels were slowing the both of you down a bit. Like a wounded little animal hobbled by the wolf chasing it. This hummored him, thinking about how this would look if you were alone. The street lamps shining down, the light reflecting off your tan moisturized legs. Your lustrous jewelry also catches some of that light, practically calling wandering eyes to your body. Speaking of, your body was barely covered. Wearing a tube dress that barely covered your upper thighs. The material was cotton which meant it hugged you tightly. Fuck, he felt like he could see your goosebumps through it when he looked hard enough. He hated that Felix didn’t correct any of this. If you were his, he’d never let you walk about like that, any guy they passed had his eyes on you. Focusing in like you were their prey, it made his heart race. Bubbling with anger and jealousy, wanting to rip their throats out because he knew what they were thinking. Finally getting to the party, Felix was already a couple shots in, obviously his side quest went a bit off  the rails. Giving you a quick kiss before going back to entertaining ‘the boys’ who were quite sweet on him. Annoyed by the lack of attention, you poured an overly generous amount of liquor into your cup and headed into the living room. Where the speakers were blaring and a large group of people were dancing all together. 

Oliver sat on the couch, plastic cup in hand watching you. At first, your moves were more reserved. Keeping to yourself, dancing next to people rather than on them. As you suck down your liquor, your moves are becoming less modest. Now dancing against your friend, her manicured fingers gripping your hips. Oliver didn’t drink anything from his cup yet, he didn’t want to lose too much control over himself. Nor did he want anything to impair the focus he had on you. Sweat was starting to bead on your body and your dress was riding up. He liked noticing all these little things about you, the shift in your demeanor and attitude once you were drunk. Normally you were sweet-mannered and shy but when you were fucked up, you were more bratty and vulgar. Not afraid of acting out, practically screaming for someone to put you in check. He ripped his eyes off you and looked over into the kitchen. Seeing Felix down another shot, eyes practically drifted in two different directions. His girl who was way out of his league is half naked and drunk surrounded by wandering hands. He was so oblivious and stupid. Looking back your direction and his jaw dropped. You were standing right above him, hovering over where he was sitting on the couch. 

“Why don’t you ever dance?” you ask him. 

“Hmmm?” he asked, as if he didn’t hear you.

“Any time you come with us to a party, you never get like -hiccup- get crazy,” you say, sinking down to sit next to him. Now whispering in his ear whenever you spoke. 

“I do, I just pace myself,” he leaned in. 

“Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night,” you giggled, pulling a joint out from behind your ear. 

“You’re sparking up here?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow. 

“You gonna stop me?” you asked, smirking and lighting it. 

He felt all the blood in his brain rush down towards his dick. Almost lunging at you, like it was the perfect invitation to finally break you down. Your charm bracelet jingling everytime you bring it to your mouth for a drag. He chuckled to himself, remembering how just hours earlier you were eagerly raising your hand, hogging the attention from the teacher. Beaming every time she reaffirmed your answers, ‘amazingly accurate’ or ‘well done’ things like that that made you practically jump with joy. Now you were double fisting and practically sitting in your boyfriend’s mate’s lap. He was at his breaking point, feeling like his entire body was on fire. Like every atom and cell in his body was pushing him to take you. 

“Maybe we can get out of here? The air is starting to feel sticky,” Oliver says, standing up. 

“Oh of course! I was starting to feel the same way, especially after dancing,” you said, standing up and following him. Holding on to his belt loop, letting him lead you out of the house. 

Once the two of you finally got outside, your body was having a sublime reaction. Due to you being hot and sweaty, the cold weather outside was causing water vapor to come off your body. Oliver could feel his mouth salivating, watching you hands shake and you brought the joint to your mouth. You offered him a hit several times but he declined, enjoying watching you become high out of your mind. Making drunken conversation as you walked, digging into your purse and looking for your pen after the joint was smoked down to the crutch. It wasn’t until you started walking that you realized how fucked up you were. Even when you really try to keep your balance, you’d sway and wobble from time to time. Looking at your phone, checking the stats on your recent post. So preoccupied in your own little world that you didn’t notice Oliver was no longer with you. Dropping your phone into your purse and looking around, calling out to him. The street no longer looked safe and quaint. After standing there doing circles trying to locate him, you gave up and started the walk home. Or at least back to their dorm room. Clutching your purse and trying to fight through the pain your heels were giving you. 

Oliver was watching from about fifteen or twenty feet behind you. Seeing you look around with that unsure and scared expression on your face. Eyebrows furrowed and your eyes wide and glossy. Stumbling over your own feet as you walked around in circles looking for him: completely defenseless. You dropped your pen and bent down to get it, unknowingly exposing your backside to him. As you walked you kept pulling your dress down, the cold starting to get to you. He continued to follow, hiding in plain sight like in front of a parked car or mailbox. You were beginning to feel paranoid, hearing leafs crunching or being spooked by dogs barking. Pulling out your phone and ringing Oliver, frustration and uncertainty written all over your face. Amused and aroused by your fear, he would throw a pebble in your direction. It hit your heel and made you jump and fall onto the ground. The road did a number on your knees, both of them now bloody and dripping down your shin. Now crying, feeling overwhelmed and frightened. Oliver had to hide his smirk as he came over to ‘rescue’ you.

“Where did you go! I literally fell!” You cried, reaching out for him to help you up. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how we got separated- here let me carry you back yeah?” he asks with a sickeningly patronizing tone. 

“Really?” you asked even though he was already picking you up. His cock was throbbing while looking down on you. Mascara running down your face, teeth chattering and bleeding like a hurt little bunny. He carried you the rest of the way bridal style. Resting your head on his shoulder, complaining about your knees everyone in a while. It wasn’t long until the two of you finally made it back. He lets you stand up but once you put your weight on your legs you start wobbling, using him to support yourself. He grabs your forearm quite roughly and pulls you inside. You were confused as to why he was being a little aggressive but brush it off. Walking over to Felix’s bed and plopping down, finally taking your heels off. Oliver locked the door and jammed a chair underneath the doorknob. Taking notice of this, you start to question him, 

“How will Felix let himself in?” you ask. 

“Enough of that. Pretending you care about him,” he said, turning to face you. 

“I don’t- I care about him,” you say with a mix of defensiveness and disbelief.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you’re in denial or just too prideful to accept it but you don’t care about him. You think he’s stupid and want more. It’s okay, just admit it,” he says, walking slowly towards you. 

“Why are you acting like this?” you asked, confused to where this was coming from. 

“Me acting like what? Calling you out on a fact? You’re one of those girls who likes to think she’s confident and calling the shots at all times. In reality all you really want is someone to turn your brain off. Take complete control over you and fuck you until you fall apart. Completely brain dead, only worry being when a cock is shoved in your stupid fucking throat,” he said. Tears stinging your eyes, and insecurity flooding your mind as he continued, 

“Would a girlfriend who cares about her boyfriend leave him at the party without even checking on him? Simply to go home early with his best friend to get fucked into the matress,” you said, now hovering above where you were sitting on the bed. 

“Not. True.” You said, crossing your arms. 

“No? So you wouldn’t mind if I see how wet you are? I have a feeling you’re soaking through your panties as we speak,” he said, getting on his knees. In your head you wanted to immediately reject him, but in your gut you didn’t want to stop him. It was true, you did want someone who was rougher with you. That’s not only aroused but not scared by the concept of hurting you. 

“I mean if you don’t want me to please, feel free to stop me,” he said, resting one hand on your knee and the other slowly sliding down your thigh towards your pussy. 

You felt like a whore, knowing that you should be stopping him. Shamefully justifying this betrayal with the fact that you haven’t had gratifying sex for a while. Felix was of course dominant and it wasn’t that he sucked at fucking or anything. It was just that he didn’t really understand the whole mental side of it. Also he didn’t want to hurt you. Whenever you made the suggestion of slapping you in the face or choking you a little past your limit, he got nervous. Never really doing these actions with full commitment. The tips of his fingers began to trace your slit, as predicted you’d completely soaked the lace material. Finding a weak spot in the lace material, he uses his fingers and rips a hole. You gasp and go to press your legs together; he moves his hands to your knees, stopping you from closing your legs. His hands were stinging the scraps, you grip onto his hair from both pain and pleasure. Ripping and pulling at the strands as hard as you can. Oliver kept looking up, watching your mouth hang open and the most pornographic moans slipping out. Pulling out the whore he knew you were deep down inside, feeling powerful knowing he was doing what Felix could never. Pulling his hair so damn hard was only building onto the pent up anger and jealousy he had over you. He pulled back, saliva and wetness dripping down his chin. Looking down at you, completely deranged and desperate.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. As you went to respond, he shoved his bloodied fingers into your mouth. Pressing your tongue down, pushing his digits down your throat. You gagged which caused him to laugh before continuing. 

“What was that?” he teased, becoming more aggressive. His index and pinky finger were pressed against your cheeks, his nails scratching you. 

Finally pulling out and smacking you with the same hand. Even though you were drunk and high off weed and adrenaline, that took you off guard. It burned and the fact that his hand was soaked in your saliva and blood felt embarrassing or humiliating; maybe a bit of both. It made you overwhelmed with turmoil. Something that should be so shameful left you wanting more. Longing for something more painful and intense. The rush and exhilaration of pushing the limits of your emotional and physical boundaries was like a drug you never had before. He grabbed your hair and forced you to the ground, onto your knees. You winced as you fell to the ground, eyebrows furrowing and a moan coming out of your mouth. 

“Aww does that hurt?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. Smacking his cock against your lips, smearing pre-cum over your mouth for a while.

“You deaf? Answer the fucking question,” he said, grabbing onto your hair with both hands. 

Feeling like this was a trick question, your instinct was to stay quiet. He yanked your hair, showing that he was becoming impatient with your stubbornness. When you open your mouth to answer, he shoves his cock down your throat. Being merciless with his pace, pounding into your mouth, having no regard for your feelings; and you were loving every second of it. Oliver was noticing you were finding a bit too much pleasure in this. Arching your back and rocking your head back and forth. Looking down he sees your hands on the floor supporting yourself. He steps on them, slowly putting more and more weight down and trapping you to the floor. Panic started to set in once you tried pulling your hands away and couldn't. He gathered most of your hair into one hand and used his other to cover your nose. Completely blocking your airway. Oliver watched your eyes widen and your face become beat red from a lack of oxygen. Every time you pulled at your hands or gagged around his cock he would twitch and moan. 

“Don’t pass out on me yet, be the good little slut you are and hold on a little longer,” he said, shaking your head by the nose when he noticed your eyes getting glossy and foggy. He finally pulled away, you were sucking in deep breaths. Slowly coming to and he picks you up and lets you fall on the bed. 

“Sorry love, I just needed you more pliable for what’s next,” he said, pulling out his pocket knife. 

He flips you over onto your knees, shoulders pressed against the mattress. Again, not having any regard for you, he shoves himself into your dripping cunt. Fucking into you slowly, you thought he was being gentle after how aggressive he was being. In reality he is scoping out a good place to carve his initials onto your ass. Using the tip of the blade to make the first mark, you screamed. Not expecting the sudden sting. The entire time he was creating a slit in your skin he would degrade and tease you. Acting sympathetic but really just getting off on owning and marking your body as his. Making you fear and worship him in the sickest way possible. The panic and fear in your scream going straight to his dick, not being able to control the erratic rhythm of his thrusts. He admired his initials becoming less legible due to the blood starting to cover it. He added a few random slash marks on the other ass check, just so the other cuts wouldn’t get lonely. Dropping the knife onto the floor and playing with your ass as he fucked into you. Spanking you causing the blood to fly around, onto your lower back and his face. Once he was done playing, he flipped you around onto your back. You looked smashed, like a hot fucking mess. Seeing how brain dead and broken you were was sending him off the edge. Wrapping his bloody hands around your neck as he came in you. Finally claiming your body, showing you the true purpose of your mouth and pussy. He got up and went to the bathroom to wash up. Smirking as he washed the blood off his face and body. Felix walked in, completely drunk and high out of his mind. On top of that, in shock from seeing your body on the bed, bruised and covered in blood. Screaming and crying attempting to wake you. In so much shock he didn’t even notice Oliver walk out, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Fucking idiot,” he scoffed.

[ferretrade]

y'all voted overwhelmingly for the codywan bodyguard/fake marriage au in that poll last month so I come bearing a little intro/teaser for it. :)

It's an ordinary Tuesday and Cody should've known it wouldn't stay that way.

When he comes into work, Fox and Wolffe are holed up arguing in their office. Cody diligently ignores them in favor of getting on with his own shit in the relative peace; he's only just gotten their accounts into shape and he's still working on maximizing their profits and cutting down expenses. (They were rather bleeding money when Fox and Wolffe had been taking care of the books themselves.) 

Before long, his closed door is ignored and the brothers stroll in with a feral energy that raises Cody's hackles. Last time they looked like that, they'd roped him into joining their business—and the time before, he'd been convinced to go cliff jumping. Trouble, all the same. 

"Cody," Fox croons dangerously. 

"No thank you."

Fox scoffs. "Told you he wouldn't even hear us out."

Cody narrows his eyes. "You can't taunt me into being interested," he lies. From Fox's smirk, he knows. (And isn't that just the problem with working with family?) 

"Cody, Fox," Wolffe snaps exasperatedly. "Can we get to the point?" 

It's serious, then. Cody frowns. "What is it? You need to fire someone?" 

"It's a job," Fox says, sitting on the edge of Cody's desk. "We need someone undercover and you're it." 

"I'm not a guard," Cody points out. He was very specific when he joined Canidae Personal Protection; he'd gone to school for business management and accounting—he's the numbers guy, the one who could keep his brothers' dream running and growing. Because, look, he supports it one hundred percent. Fox and Wolffe had long wanted to have a one stop shop for protective services and self-defense classes, specifically for underserved communities who were really in danger. But that didn't mean he wanted to be a bodyguard or even a trainer. Cody made sure they could do what they wanted and found ways they could put more money toward the people who mattered. That's where his skills really make a difference. 

"That's why you're ideal for this. It needs to be… discreet."

Cody narrows his eyes at Fox, trying to discern what exactly he's not being told. 

Wolffe sighs. "Cody, you're our best man for the job. We need someone we can trust." 

"Bly," Cody names. 

Wolffe glares at Fox and Cody imagines this was part of the argument he overheard earlier. 

"Not possible," Fox insists, mostly to Wolffe. "To do something undercover on this level, with this time crunch? We need a blank slate. No partner, no bodyguarding history, but capable of guarding." 

Undercover. No partner. Ah. "You want me to be a pretend boyfriend." 

Fox lights up. "Not quite," he says. "But that's the real highlight, this guy is your type. You'll have no trouble selling it."

"My type?" Cody raises an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"Don't act like you don't have one," Fox scoffs. "We know you."

"Look," Wolffe jumps in before it can get messy. "You'll get along with him, is all. And you're not engaged."

Cody hums. Fair, Bly wouldn't be suited to pretend date someone else. Cody still doesn't like it, but he can see the desperation on Wolffe's face and hiding behind Fox's pushing. Whatever the reason, they really do need him. 

"Fine," Cody relents. "But you're telling me every detail and I'm not cheap." 

"Great." Fox grins sharply as he hops off the desk, clapping his hands together. "I already hacked your data. Congrats, you're now Cody Kenobi." 

[melkyt]

Marine!Luffy falling into the Military Maverick trope would be so hilarious. Also Warlord!Law dealing with this Luffy xd

Sengoku always having to be like, yes he doesn't follow the rules, yes he does whatever he wants but also if you send him to do a job that his unpredictable nature is suited for, then he'll get it done. May burn a few towns down in the process, but its fine, all fine. Trust me.

Law in this au trying to through official channels to take down Doffy, gets assigned to work with/babysit Luffy, that is how his Marine contact put it, and Law thought nothing of it until he met the marine.

Luffy, barefoot, long hair, more wild gremlin than person. Since he was raised by Garp, more got raised by wild animals in some jungle ever since being a kid, he did not have those social interactions, Makino did not teach him all of the things. Luffy still believes everyone should be free but in a feral jungle child way, and causes a ton of trouble for everyone, but its a different flavor as he works within the system, breaking it piece by piece from the inside, just by existing.

Luffy not going to stay a Marine for long either, he's 17 and something is going to happen that will push him over the edge and have him quit. (Like one day punching a celestial dragon in the middle of a reverie, his first mind you xd)

Law counting on something disillusioning Luffy, and dropping hints everywhere about why world govt sucks xd

Lol I imagine Law going *pspsps Luffy*, join the dark side, we got cookies xd. Law being prepared to make some long speech, intense argument for why Luffy should become a pirate, or at least an unaffiliated party, spinning the will of D into it. Now help me take down Doffy as a marine!

Luffy looks around and was like,'Sure, whatever, I was bored anyway' before Law can even get a third of his speech out. He tells Garp by yelling across the marine campus that he gonna go beat Doffy's ass with Law and he should deal with all the dumb paperwork if he wants Luffy to keep being a dumb marine. Paperwork that Garp dumps on Sengoku, who grumbles at Law for putting the idea into the mind of their wild card soldier.

It takes awhile to get to Dressorsa, Law set on having philosophical discussions about nature of marine vs pirate.

Instead of that, Luffy drags him to play and do anything that strikes his whimsy, he fits right in among the heart pirates. Its not long before they consider him family and part of the crew despite his marine status

Luffy not having a single intention of going back, he's having fun. Shuts down Law everytime he tries to say 'we're gonna be enemies one day'

Luffy: Nah

Another thing for the world govt to worry about in regards to Luffy, if Law is at any battle from that point on and not on their side, Luffy is going to switch sides to be near Law. They are only patient with him because of his fruit, and trying to keep it in one place xd

They eventually decide its not worth it, and send assassin after him to the reverie, Luffy punches a celestial dragon, flips off everyone. And joins the heart pirates officially, as far as the world is concerned.

Luffy on the other hand continues to do his own thing, which mostly consists of hanging around Law, and going to chill with some of his marine friends, burning a base down in the process and claiming it as the works of the heart pirates, and not on purpose, he just wears the patches Law gave him and doesnt avoid camera's

Law grumbles about it, but he smiles everytime he sees Luffy in the news, and is the happiest when Luffy is home with him on the Polar Tang :3

[mimicmockingbirds]

Yellowjackets - Werewolves HCs

I know absolutely no one asked for this, but I'm missing the Yellowjackets crew, and I've been binging a horror media all week, so here are my loose ideas for a werewolf AU as inspired by this post

────────

Van & Taissa:

Obviously Van is the first one to turn, having been attacked by a rival werewolf during her side-quest with Tai, Mari, Akilah, and Misty like in the show

Tai also gets bitten in the process of helping Van heal/deal with her first transformation

From there, they spread the curse to the rest of the group, making them the leading alpha pair by proxy of "creating" the rest of the pack like alpha-parent pairs in the wild

Van struggles with the leadership role, considering herself more of a follower than a leader when in human form

Tai leans into it, being a natural leader in human form; although, since it was her idea to go on the side-quest that got Van bitten to begin with, she is more cautious when it comes to making decisions

Tai also gets more protective of the group as a whole, often herding them or biting their scruffs to keep them in place (i.e. safe) from rival wolves

Shauna:

Instantly embraces having a bigger, physically stronger body as a wolf

Uses it to unleash all of the compartmentalized anger and aggression she carries in human form, making her the most snappish of the group, bordering on feral

Consequently, she really struggles to submit to Tai and Van as the alpha pair, often testing their patience by trying to go off on her own or stealing scraps of their food

Has a lot of nicks on her body from Taissa constantly having to correct her behavior

Jackie:

The complete opposite as Shauna; she absolutely hates having a second body and the strangeness of having to navigate it

Is the most resistant to change in general, so her transformation process is particularly difficult

Stays in her human form as much as possible; only really shifts when there's conflict among the other wolves and they need a mediator to calm things down (especially because it's usually started by Shauna)

Since she's in human form so often, her social standing in the team/pack starts to decline, making her more submissive and subdued

Natalie:

Is resistant to the change at first, as she is resistant to the supernatural in general

Gradually starts to embrace having a wolf side when it proves useful in hunting/providing for the others

Starts to thrive because wolves naturally communicate via actions, which she prefers as someone who was raised on volatile emotions rather than rational words

Sometimes stays in wolf form just to vibe and show her affection for others, clambering on top of them or licking their muzzles when she's in a good mood

Mostly reverts to human form when she's upset, because it's easier to hide her emotions that way (although it quickly becomes a sign in and of itself that she's in a poor mood)

Misty:

Is absolutely enthralled with having a new, bigger body with better senses and strength

She is still the smallest of the group, so she compensates by being very vocal as a wolf, constantly yipping or howling

Shifts between human and wolf the most often, usually at random, because she does still value having human qualities when she needs to play group medic

As a human, she lacks a lot of social awareness for boundaries; as a wolf, that becomes even worse

Constantly inserts herself into others' personal space, butting her head or muzzle against theirs to see what they're doing or where they're going; consequently, she receives a lot of corrective behavior from the others, like nips to the ear or base of her tail

It works for about 5 seconds, then she's right back in their space

Laura Lee:

Absolutely hates shifting

Still views the entire situation of being stranded, and now forced to deal with transformations into another body, as some form of divine punishment

Like Jackie, mostly keeps to her human form whenever possible, and shifts only to play mediator when the others need it

However, unlike Jackie, her social standing doesn't suffer, since she has status by proxy of being friends with the likes of Van and Lottie

Lottie:

Is disorientated by the transformation process at first, wondering whether it's another symptom of her mental illness or withdrawal from her meds

Eventually accepts it, and is even comforted that she's not the only one suffering from strange phenomena for once

Due to her acceptance to change and the unknown, she is able to shift the most easily from one body to the other

She's the most attuned to the Wilderness as a human, so she has the best senses as a wolf; starts to accompany Natalie on hunts, wherein she tracks down the prey for Nat to kill

Is very anxious, so she is often scratching or grooming herself; her fur gets patchy around her paws from licking them so much

Builds a closer friendship with Natalie (from hunting together) and Van (for gifting her the bone-necklace), so they try to console her anxious habits, either by laying next to her or directly on top of her to keep her still

Travis:

Only embraces the change when Natalie does, especially since it proves so useful in hunting

Despite being a bigger size than the girls, he has the lowest social standing, since he was never officially on the team and thus, is considered an outsider to the instinctive pack dynamic

Mostly hovers at a distance from the girls during any gathering; however, he only exhibits outwardly submissive behavior like lowered ears and a tucked-in tail towards Van and Taissa, since they're the official alpha pair

Prefers to flee rather than fight during conflicts amongst the pack, only becoming aggressive when his hunting partners (Nat and Lottie) are involved

[desertbled]

nobody asked but i am sitting here thinking of wolf after the 1st battle of hoover dam. he’s stuck helping tend to wounded soldiers for weeks.

immediately after garrett’s burial it’s back to work, no time to grieve or process what he just witnessed. he barely sees anyone before or after. didn’t even talk much while it happened. didn’t cry.

but then finally, finally he’s sent home. his work is done & he can go back to california & see his friends & family.

he ends up sitting down with luz. she probably is the one to drag him out somewhere so he doesn’t lay in his room & mope all day.

when she asks him how he’s feeling, that’s when he cracks. full on sobs. he’s not a crier. he’s learned to compartmentalize so much that he never cries in front of anyone, no matter how bad it gets. but he bawls his eyes out, and she lets him. cradles him in her arms.

finally gets to work through his grief, even if it’s only for a moment.

[werewolves-are-real]

Time Travel Temeraire snippet

At first, Laurence assumes he's dead.

It's a natural conclusion. He remembers dying, after all.

He and Tenzing were at a function hosted by Wellesley. They were mostly there to support the dragons. Temeraire had long abandoned them to quarrel with Perscitia in the courtyard, with half a dozen ferals watching like it were a jousting match. Wellesley had laid out his grounds to allow room for dragons and men to mingle, but a good portion of the guests retreated inside to avoid the raised voices of the dragons.

Laurence wonders how Temeraire felt about that, later. About not seeing.

He was stabbed. He barely remembers it – just a quick pulse of pain in his chest, looking down. Red blooming over his coat.

Then he was on the floor. People screamed. Tenzing appeared, grappling with a tall and finely-dressed man; he used a dinner-knife to punch a hole in the stranger's throat, in a fantastic spray of blood, and dropped the body at once to kneel by Laurence's side.

He remembers Wellesley barking orders – bandages, water, a hot knife. Have to cauterize it, he'd shouted. Keep pressure -

But Tenzing never spoke. Just pressed down on Laurence's chest, over the wound, without particular panic. Laurence still remembers the grim resignation on his face; Tenzing knew what was coming. Laurence was glad to have him there when he died.

Then Laurence woke up.

The world sways in a familiar way, a rhythmic motion that Laurence registers on a soul-deep level. He's on a ship. But why? Where is Tenzing, Temeraire? Why would they put him on a ship?

“I think the fever's breaking,” says a voice. A naval doctor, disheveled and salt-stained, with long scars down his bared arms. “Oh, and awake too!”

“Well thank Christ,” says another man. One Laurence recognizes.

It's Captain Gerry Stuart – but he looks different, younger than the last time Laurence saw him, with smooth skin and dark curly hair.

Gerry died two years ago.

“Well, Lieutenant! You gave us a scare – how are you feeling?” Gerry asks.

“It's Admiral,” Laurence corrects rather than all the other things he does not dare ask. He hates the title foisted upon him; but it's at least more comprehensible than Lieutenant, and he clings to that rather than demand where did you come from.

Stuart throws back his head to cackle, though the concern doesn't leave his face. “Still perhaps a bit feverish, I think!”

“That might be the laudanum,” says the doctor, also amused. “Why don't you sleep a bit more, Lieutenant?”

“But where is Temeraire? Or Tenzing?”

“I can only assume you had some very vivid dreams,” Stuart chuckles. “You were babbling and babbling for Temeraire – isn't that a ship?”

“Perhaps the flagship of his fleet,” suggests the doctor, and Stuart laughs again. “Get some rest, Mr. Laurence. Holler if you need me.”

They both exit the sick-berth. Laurence stares blankly at the door.

What?

Laurence pats his chest. No wound. He looks down, startled by the pale thinness of his fingers, his youth-soft skin.

Well; not soft. Callouses cover his hands. But even these patterns are different – hard skin in places where he would hold a sword, or pulls ropes. His hands should be more wrinkled, yes; but these callouses faded years ago.

“Where am I?” he asks when the doctor returns. “And what is the year?”

“The year? 1793. You don't remember?”

1793. Laurence was 19 in 1793. A lieutenant for two years, on the Shorewise.

The doctor narrows his eyes. “What's my name, lad?”

Laurence swallows. His stomach churns; for the life of him he can't remember.

The doctor rushes off to retrieve the captain.

_____________________________

Laurence is diagnosed with brain fever, and partial amnesia. Gerry is horribly guilty about laughing, earlier; Laurence could not care less. He is given strict orders to stay on bed-rest for another week, in hope his strength will recover – and his mind.

Laurence doesn't think he'll have any issues working – he's forgotten many of the people around him, true, but he may never forget the way to run a ship. He's far more concerned with learning what happened.

From all appearances, it is indeed 1793. France is undergoing riots, and declared war against Britain in February. Temeraire has not hatched. Napoleon is probably a corporal or general himself, at this point. If he exists at all. God knows, perhaps Laurence is only mad.

But he doesn't feel mad. His memories are too vivid to be mere fever-dreams. A man cannot dream up twenty years of life!

But neither can a man go back to his youth, and live it all again.

I have a dragon, he thinks of saying. There is no war, because I captured Napoleon – an unknown man who makes himself emperor.

Mad. It sounds mad even to Laurence himself. But to imagine that Temeraire was a fever-ridden dream... Tenzing and Granby and China, all of it...

Laurence doesn't share his turmoil with anyone – not even with Gerry, who checks on him fretfully. After a week the doctor declares him well enough, physically. He's paired always with another lieutenant for the first few days on duty, and his shipmates watch him carefully for signs of permanent debilitation; but aside from a moment or two of hesitance, Laurence competently resumes his duties. The oversight lessens.

Laurence thinks about writing letters.

He thinks about writing to Tharkay's late father, who ought to still be alive, inquiring after his son. He thinks of writing to Prince Mianning, asking about the health of Lung Tien Qian. He thinks of writing to young Midshipman Granby, his unwed brother, his dead father...

Not all of them would reply. But he could ask questions. Could verify the truth of things. Unless this, instead, is the delusion.

Is he in 1793, imagining the future? Is he in the future, imagining the past? Or maybe he is already dead, and this is the reality of hell. He came here burning with fever, and now he burns with fear. Surely that is it's own form of torture.

Laurence is ironically given the task of tutoring the midshipman and lieutenant-hopefuls more than any other duty as the weeks pass; his crewmates still look askance, and the more eager of the midshipman become protective. Laurence remains perfectly capable of command; it is only that he can't help but be absent-minded, sometimes, staring at all the crewmen that pass him like they are nothing but moving paintings. Images of a world that no longer matters.

One evening the midshipmen drag him away to a meal with the other officers. It's a noisy crowd; Laurence would find the friendly bustle comforting in another life.

One of the senior officers, Lieutenant Moore, waves him down as Laurence enters. Evidently they used to be friends, given his notably concerned behavior of late. Laurence can't remember the man, and has a sneaking suspicion he died too soon to make a lasting impression.Moore jostles him when Laurence sits at the long table. “Will! Did you get any letters with the last batch?”

A patrolling gunboat brought a satchel of letters just this morning. “I did not,” Laurence says. He's grateful for the fact. He'd found a few pieces of correspondence in his quarters that he dutifully sent on; he cannot imagine writing a letter now, in this confused state.

“Then you've had no news! Robespierre has gone mad. Madder than before, I suppose.”

“Robespierre?” asks Laurence blankly.

Lieutenant Moore double-takes, as does everyone else around them. “Good lord, Will, please tell me you remember Robespierre?”

Right... Robespierre's reign was brief, but this is when he led France. Some of the things the papers published...

Well, at least Laurence has a well-worn excuse for his ignorance. He plays up his malady: “Yes. I think I recall he was... French?”

Groans of horror mixed with amusement echo around the table. “...Well you aren't wrong,” says Moore, looking pained. “He has styled himself the 'President' of their Assembly, which is some stupid way of being king; the French are all mad about removing and adding words right now. I don't know how they expect anyone to hold a conversation.”

“We should... probably educate Mr. Laurence about the war at some point,” some midshipman mutters. Laurence doesn't recall his name.

Moore sighs again. “Anyway. Robespierre is a tyrant, of course. But he's elected someone else to rule France! Barely more than a boy, too.”

Laurence frowns; he doesn't remember what Moore's talking about. “Why would he do that? Did they capture one of the Bourbons?” Declaring himself regent of a child-prince would at least make sense.

“Well, at least you remember them. No; it is some nobody, a young soldier. Not even French! I cannot fathom it.”

It feels like Laurence has been dunked in ice.

For a moment he can't respond. “What was his name? The soldier.”

“Napoleon Bonaparte. He has been chosen as head of their new heresy, the 'Cult of the Supreme Being,' they're calling it; and now de facto head of the government, too. Must be a priest? I don't know, nothing the French are doing makes sense. I expect his little group will be as short-lived as everything else about these riots.”

But Laurence doesn't think so. “...Excuse me; I'm feeling a bit poorly,” he says, rising on wavering legs.

“Yes, you look it! Go on, we'll tell you about the war later...”

Laurence flees.

[meanbossart]

Did Drow ever have a childhood before the temple or was he raised in it? If he did does he remember it? Sorry if these are silly questions I want to make something and I want it to be accurate.

(Heads up for A Novel Experience readers - these are technically spoilers as well as character lore, so, if you wanna stay totally blind to later developments, just don't read past the cut-off.)

Not a silly question at all! He would have found the temple only by age 18 (does that number mean anything to Bhaal/ the drow race? Probably not. Does it help me sleep better at night that he was at least of legal drinking age by the time he got introduced to his murder heritage? Yes It does). He doesn't really remember anything from his childhood other than that he was raised in the Underdark for a time, knows some basics about the culture and harbors a deep hatred of drow women and general dislike of drows. He knows he came to the surface quite young and spent over half his life above-ground, and honed his survival skills during that time, hence why he doesn't have any sun-sensitivity.

As for the details of his up-bringing, he was found somewhere in the wilds of the Underdark as an infant by a couple of slaves who took pity on him, then brought into a family where he was adopted by a matron and her consort who' d just lost their first-born son. Obviously, drows aren't known for their benevolence, but they found there to be something prophetic about this baby that had somehow stayed alive in spite of the Underdark's unforgiving nature, so they decide to keep him as a kind of marvel/curiosity, figuring if he didn't amount to much they could just sacrifice him to Lolth later.

Within the family he was pretty much left to his own devices, with the matron taking a lot of entertainment out of his weirdly feral behavior. He would just eat vermin and bats if she didn't bother feeding him, fended for himself and just showed a lot of strength for a child, not to mention that he never asked for anything or complained about the hand he was dealt. At some point he killed another family's son that picked on him, and, naturally, his foster mom loved that, lol.

ALAS, he killed her and her consort when he was about 10-13 years old, and then just left. Sceleritas would have appeared to him around that time and led the way to Baldur's Gate, while providing him with some basic aid and pointers to survive, though mostly just observing to see if he could prove himself worthy of his heritage by staying alive. He spent years living in the woods and city-streets he passed through, getting sustenance from eating game he hunted, food he stole, and, sometimes, people he killed. Probably fell under the care of a couple of unfortunate souls along the way who likely met a gruesome end, and finally arrived at the temple as a young adult where he lavished in his newly found status.

[xelasrecords]

Violent Need

Han Jumin x MC

NSFW

Attempting to kill herself to hurt Jumin has consequences. MC is about to find out what.

A/N: It occurred to me that I mostly write slow scenes. Time to remedy that!

CW: referenced suicide, hate sex (oral), getting off to violent imagery

Words: 1.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

"Why is it always you?"

Jumin didn't budge from her balcony. His breath was still laboured, his black tie dangling loose from his collar. The wind roared against the bolted windows. She could barely make out the street far below, but she knew it was stranded. Nobody with good sense would take a stroll at this hour.

She pulled her night robe tighter around her. It was a comforting embrace that she would never get from him. "I'm sick of seeing you here."

His jaw hardened. "I am only here when my presence is needed. Had you not triggered the alarm, I wouldn't have come," he said. "Understand that I put your feelings into consideration. I'm not the heartless monster you make me out to be."

She cackled. "A monster with a heart is still a monster." The sound that escaped her throat was raw, dry sand scraping against inflamed flesh. "You don't put a fucking tracker on someone you love. You trust them."

Jumin snapped his head at her. His knuckles that gripped the railing were turning white. "Was I wrong in guessing that you were trying to kill yourself?"

She met his gaze steadily, those grey eyes so devoid of warmth that if she cleaved him open, it might as well reveal a hollow husk of a body. "No."

Jumin threw his hands up and walked away from the window. "Should I have sat around while your vitals deteriorated then? Your oxygen saturation was plummeting." He raised her chin and slid a trembling hand down the necklace of bruise around her neck. His touch was delicate. She was his fragile doll that he was determined to put together whenever she fell apart. There were too many cracks to be deemed lovable, but Jumin loved her still. "Under no circumstances can you die. You are needed in this association. I need you."

A pleasant sensation stung down her spine. She would not burn alone in the hell he put her in. He had to bleed as she bled. She threaded her fingers through his ink-black hair and jerked him close. "Whatever do you need me for?"

"You are the only one who understands me."

She nodded. "Why do you think I didn't strangle myself all the way through?" Her lips smoothed into a cold smile. "Ending my life permanently was never my goal. Chipping away yours is."

Jumin drew in a sharp breath. "I will still love you even with nothing left of me. You don't know what I've done to keep you safe. You have no clue of the things I'm capable of doing for you." He leaned his forehead against her as his voice dropped low. "You will stay alive and whole. That's an order."

She twisted her hold on his hair until he winced. "Any other rule I have to abide by?"

"You're moving in with me."

A weight dropped on her stomach.

She stumbled backwards into her bedroom. The temperature abruptly fell as the adrenaline of hurting him left her. She would be forcibly removed from the only place she felt safe in. "This is the only place that's mine. You are not taking this away from me."

Jumin stalked towards her with great caution as if she were a feral cat, and she felt like one. She hated that he always tried to appease her anger. It was her right to be furious. He had no right to take it away from her.

He took, and took, and took. All the material things he gave her were the pitiful apologies she had no use of.

"You are a danger to yourself," said Jumin. "You have proven that you are not to be trusted alone."

Her eyes darted around her room wildly, taking in the pieces of furniture that she had arranged to her comfort. The sharp-edged hand mirror that Jumin would wrench away from her the second he noticed the dried blood on it. She had forgotten to clean it before triggering the alarm. The blooming dahlia on her dressing table, the only living thing she cared to take care of.

How was it possible that she had no power over Jumin when he was blinded by his love for her? She wanted to be the poison to his existence. The person harbouring more feelings should be dependent on the receiver. Love made you weak, but Jumin used it to fortify his claim on her instead.

This was her present for nurturing the monster in him.

"What will I have left once you take away my home?"

"Calm down," said Jumin. It did nothing but to further incense her. "A relocation is not a complete removal. You will have freedom—within reason—in my penthouse. There's a new room already set up for you. We can decorate it to mimic this current interior. Everything will be tailored to your comfort."

"'We'?" she spat. "I will take no part in dolling up my prison."

"I'm not abandoning you. You will still have your home, with me." Jumin sighed. He stood a few steps away from her, oceans away from the person she once cared about. "I wish you would want me like I want you."

"How do you want me exactly?" Her voice shook with contempt. "Chained to your bed so I can't go anywhere without your permission? Kept on a leash so I have to trail after you like a dog? Sedated so I can be pliant and quiet?"

Jumin studied her, searching for a truth that did not exist. "Would you like that? Would you reciprocate my love if I indulged in your fantasies?"

Her skin crawled at his inference. There was no breakthrough. Every word she threw at him would simply be twisted to his convenience. "What you have for me is not love."

The cords in his neck went taut. "That is the one thing you fail to understand about me."

"You wouldn't have assumed my fantasies if you loved me. You would have asked. My thoughts would matter to you."

"I see." Jumin rubbed his lips with his forefinger. "My apologies. Tell me, what do you like to fantasise about?"

She snatched at his wrist and sank her fingers between his wrist bones, digging into the strains of muscle. She straightened her posture; she was a tall woman, but Jumin had the ability to make her feel smaller, lesser, as if everything that made her could be easily crushed. She supposed there was some truth in it.

"You, dying." She guided his hand to slip into her panties and rubbed at her clit while letting her robe fall around her shoulders. "I picture you dying."

A flash of hurt passed across Jumin's face, but he recovered in the next moment. He kissed her neck and curled two of his fingers into her entrance. She groaned, but they slipped in with some effort.

"I want to see blood around your lifeless body." She gasped when he hit the right spot and her breasts rose and fell at a quickening pace. Jumin's expression when he stared up at her was darkened with lust that he often tried to keep at bay. "Stabbed to utter deformity. Ripped apart until you couldn't haunt me anymore. I want to stain my hands with your blood. I would forever be marred by you."

Jumin pushed her against the wall, his hands never leaving her. "Do you really hate me that much?"

Her gaze flicked to him, desperate for another taste of his pain. But he wore his hunger for her as a shield. There were no chinks in his armour. "It would be proof that I had done something. That I could reduce you into nothing and emerge a victor. I would fucking wear you like a badge of honour."

Jumin slid to his knees and pulled down her panties. The sight of him lowering himself for her should have been glorious, but it filled her with derision. It was just a ruse. They both knew who really held the power in this relationship. "I am not terrified of you."

She sneered down at him. "Killing you would be the best thing I had ever achieved."

Jumin let out a long-suffering sigh and balled up her panties before stuffing them into her mouth. There was a warning in his eyes that made her heart falter, a reminder that this was the person who had destroyed her beyond redemption. "As much as I love your nightmare tongue, I need you to be quiet."

He perched her calf over his shoulder before she could knee him on his face. She had half a mind to do it. But his mouth latched onto her core, tongue swirling in her and sucking her and her thoughts shattered.

Jumin laved at her until her hips bucked. She pushed his head against her and he tightened his bruising hold on her thighs. It was almost comical, how he was allowed to hurt her, but not herself. Her body wasn't even hers, and it was made apparent by the pleasure that Jumin continued to rip out of her.

When Jumin added three fingers and stretched them out, her back arched off the wall. It burned at first, but it quickly dissolved into a pain that she longed for. She was getting close, and she bit on the cloth in her mouth to avoid screaming out Jumin's name. He would not get the satisfaction of winning over her body. This ecstasy was for her and her only.

Her keening grew more desperate and her movements more frantic, but Jumin suddenly stopped. He held her hips against the wall and slowly stood up.

She spitted out the soaked panties. "What—"

"We can finish this at my penthouse," Jumin stated calmly, slick glistening his chin. He glanced at her panties on the floor with disinterest. "There is no need to put on a new underwear when we leave. You won't meet anyone at this hour, and Driver Kim knows better than to comment on your indecent state." He combed through her rustled hair and trailed his fingers down the valley between her exposed breasts.

Her vision turned white. She yanked on his tie until blood rushed to his beautiful, detestable face, until he started choking and coughing. "You're not a good person. You think you're doing the right thing to save me, but you're just as demented for using my body against me. You made me like this. You planted this hatred in me. It's your fault I can't love you."

Jumin pried her fist open with great effort. After taking several moments to catch his breath, he secured her night robe back in place with robotic efficiency. "I'm doing this for your own good. You will understand in the future."

"You should be afraid of me," she gritted out, venom lacing every drop of her word. "I will ruin you. I will."

Jumin's lips curled into a bitter smile and he kissed her, forcing her to taste herself. "You already have."

-

Footnotes:

🤷🏻‍♀️

Buy me a glass of something that’s definitely not coffee because I can’t stand it but it is the website’s name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don’t. I’m still grateful you’ve read all the way through here.

[onmyyan]

🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon, here again! #3?

I don’t think you’re ever gettin rid of me now that you’ve told me you like what I’ve submitted to ya. Ya bad for me n my ego. You’re enabling me hun. It does mean a lot to me though and I am very happy I’m makin you foam at the mouth. Your men make me go feral and I obviously have stage 4 brain rot for all your OCs. No treatment for me. No salvation either doc

So here some intense follow up appointment delulu I got from the long ass Ashley Hunt AU story with hard core city girl reader I sent earlier. Buckle up bitch…you’re probably always gonna be in for a long haul with me…

Leavin off from Ash and our HEA, we got twins on the way n shit. And Ash is gonna give us at least another 5 babies too since we his happy lil breedin sow. But we gon speed up in time and not focus too much on dat, cause in the end we got 6 sons and 1 lil baby girl who da youngest. All back to back pregnancies. Ash got dem sexy hot dominant genes and really just gave his sons all the gifts he himself has. Tall, handsome, strong, chivalrous, charismatic, intelligent, etc. (They probably god’s favorites too). And we were like a fuckin printin machine makin copies n wonderin why the fuck we havin so many sons. So we fuckin delighted when we finally got a baby girl and are finally able to put the towel in cause we were also done havin his babies too. We love him. But 7 is plenty…

And so our story is really gonna focus on our lil baby Princess, cause she’s basically gonna be the “new reader insert.” Lil baby Princess grows up as a total daddy’s girl and is also doted on by her 6 big bros. She knows how to do some farm work, though she mostly inside helpin us her mama doin domestic work as it’s a bit more tough takin care of 7 men by oneself and we can always use an extra pair of hands in the kitchen. And you bet Ash is drillin in the same work ethic into his own sons as his own pa did to him. Builds character...

Lil baby Princess grows up wantin more in life. Just like how Ash’s sons inherited near almost everything from him, she inherited near almost everything from us her mama. Princess wanna leave the small town fast and is dead set on doin so when she graduates with her associates degree from the local community college. Her daddy, Ash managed to convince her to stay at the community college first. Get out general eds, stay closer to home before makin the big city leap and potentially getting a bachelors degree. Reluctantly Princess agreed to it but still had to go to the next town over since that’s where the community college is. Her home town is still much smaller…

And so she finally got her associates degree at 21 and is headin to the city to find a job n new life once the summer passes. It’ll be her last summer at home with her family she’s decided. On one of her casual outings ridin a horse she finds a man stuck on the road. Flat tire. Nice car too. He’s very handsome, tall, and muscular…to everyone else. But to Princess he just average and nothin much to look at. That what livin with 7 men built by Greek gods for 21 years does to ya. Makes ya numb to everyone people will conventionally say is beautiful n attractive. And Princess grew up with every woman around her thirstin over one of her bros and her father too. Even women from other towns would find excuses to swing by and gawk at the 7 men workin on the farm. So needless to say Princess isn’t wooed by men’s appearances…

Princess decides to help the poor fellow out cause her daddy raised her right. Offers him up a ride on her horse and tells the man she’ll call a truck for his car later. The man accepts and thinkin she’ll have to help him up on the horse for some time, the man easily mounts on the horse like it’s the second nature? And in an expensive suit too? She shakes it off and they go back to the Hunt farm…

During the ride the man asks Princess her name and what not (and I guess it’d still be Y/N cause the excuse is that she was named after her mama by Ash’s demands). Princess asks his name too, he gives it to her, and then no more talking on her end. This confuses the man as all his life people have usually wanted to make conversation with him. Or have usually always commented on his beautiful appearance by now. But not Princess. She really doesn’t give a shit about a stranded man’s life story. She’s here to do a job and get on with her life. And of course she’s immune to beauty at this point…

They finally come to the Hunt residence where Princess puts away her horsie and fixes up the man some water and food, bein a good host and all. She calls up the local mechanic and informs them of the details. Princess then just straight up leaves the man and tells him if he wants to take a nap, shower, whatever, to help himself. This is a fuckin power move as Princess has truly run out of shits to give in life. And she still ain’t tryin to converse at all with the man. Man is livid right now. Seeing Princess’s eyes filled with indifference. He confused as fuck too. Wonderin if she mentally sound or this is some country culture etiquette he doesn’t understand…

Now for the good shit. The Hunt men all come in as with so many hands workin on the farm now, shit gets done exponentially faster even though they got more stock and stuff over the years. They a little confused at first seein a posh lookin man greet them. But nothin gets bad as the man quickly explains the situation that happened. And the man is stunned to lookin at all these 7 aesthetically gorgeous men. The man is very confident in his own looks and it rarely happens in his life that he starts to get a bit insecure about them…

Ash asks the man where his daughter is, and the man replies that she just left? Much to the laughter of Ash’s 6 sons howling that “they’ll have nothing to ever worry about” with Princess. The man’s ego is damaged at this point. Is he unattractive? Is he undesirable? But he easily keeps a calm and collected face and voice…

The Hunt men politely excuse themselves having to go wash up from workin all day, leaving the man all alone again. We the mama enter the area, having heard commotion n stuff. We were preparing dinner n stuff in the kitchen which was far away. We go through same process and introduce and meet the mystery man. The phone rings and it’s the mechanic tellin us that the car won’t be ready for quite some time and the man will have to hitch a ride out of town if he’s got somewhere to be urgently. We inform the man and also ask if he got a place to stay. He don’t since he was just drivin by the town, so we offer him our home for the time bein. He hesitantly accepts…

Man decides to converse with us instead since we’re the most hospitable and social person he’s met in the family. He asks about our family and we do him. He keeps his background vague and we get the hint not to pock around. He really is just curious about our daughter, the Princess of the family. And we happily tell him all about her. Her hopes and dreams n stuff. Much to his delight that Princess seems like a normal human being n not a mechanical doll…

And that when he get the idea to propose to Princess later to take her with him out of the town to see the city and new places. Cause while he hasn’t fallen in love with her at first sight or anything like Ash did, there’s something about us that’s drawing him near. Perhaps it is our absolute indifference to him, and the fact that he just wants to prove something to himself. He wants to “figure us out.” Princess is a bit of a conquest and trophy to him, and he’s not afraid to admit that. So what’s the harm in this mutually future beneficial relationship? He’ll provide for Princess to get out of town and be able to see the world, and in turn he’ll get us to fall for him. The perfect plan. Nothing can go wrong…

A Princess for a Grand Duke, isn’t that fitting? Though the man will keep that a secret for as long as he can. If she asks questions about his wealth he’ll just pretend he’s an investor or something. One things for sure, Princess will definitely keep him entertained for a long time. A really really really long time…⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄

And scene! I just love imaginin different flavors of a yandere stories. Like dis one is obviously a much more slower burn than the whirlwind romance of Ash and his wifey. And it’d really follow the descent of madness of a Grand Duke yandere who’s truly falling into love and obsession over his lady. He thinkin he in control at first but realize steadily fast that he can’t live without her. And to make it worse, he never lose control of things in his life. Not his looks, his composure, etc. so it makes this predicament even nastier for him to deal with. But lucky for us Princess, havin grown up with Ash as our daddy and 6 big bros who also have some questionable “protective” tendencies, we have a bit of a contorted sense of love too. So our “normal” is much different than other people’s “normal”

Also did you like the hint I dropped in dis drabble about the mystery man’s background? It was about him being able to easily get up on a horse despite being in a suit and lookin all fancy and stuff. Cause not many people can do that. So you either know how to do it as a career…or as a hobby…

Final thought as to why a Grand Duke yandere ya thinkin? From your OCs ya got the Delmonts who are criminal flavor, then Ash who’s country flavor, and then other popular yandere archetypes tend to be royalty, famous, or CEO more often than not. So I thought that royalty would be fun since it’d give the new leadin man not just an abundance of financial power but social power as well that CEO power might lack. Ya know…since royals can have diplomatic immunity and CEOs pretty much don’t. Some new flavors for the spice cabinet is always good. Besides I also just wanna see a man abuse his absolute power with impunity in yandere stories sometimes…So if ya ever decide to make a new yandere OC. Here an idea. I don’t mind ya usin it and I’d be thrilled if ya did

Love 🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon

A/N: OKAYA THE INSTANT BRAIN ROT THIS GSVE ME SBDJDKD YOU DID IT AGAIN MY LOVE OMG THE WAYYY I INSTANTLY FELL IN LOVE WJTH THIS PIECE EEEE THE SIX OLDER BROTHERS WHO ARE CARBON COPIES OF ASH??? HELLO??? AMAZING WRITING THAT DOWN Holy FUCK‼️‼️‼️💗👄💗 NOT TO MENTION THE DUKE EEEEEEEE AND PRINCESS IS SUCH A PERFECT NICKNAME FOR BABY GIRL I CANNOT YOUR MIND IS SO BEAUTIFUL THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ME AND US ONCE AGAIN😩😩😩😩❤️❤️❤️UR POOKIE FR HERE SUM V SMALL BEC MY BRAIN IMMEDIATELY STARTED HAPPY DANCING W THIS CONCEPT

Princess stared at the man, her hard (e/c) eyes unwaivering, unmoving in their glare. She sucked her teeth, hearing her father's voice in her head as she stuck her hand up waving the stranger over.

"Get on, we'll take you somewhere safe, get this all figured out yea?" Princess says, no hint of suggestion in her soft voice. The stranger staggered for a moment before offering her his famous grin, a smile that had gotten him far in his life, "Thank you- really you're too kind, what's your name?" He says smoothly mounting the horse, expecting some fanfare from the desert rose before him, but instead he got a stiff nod and, "(Y/n)." was all he got.

She clicked her tongue and the horse took off, she hadn't waited to see if he was situated, a small smile on her face as she heard him gasp at their sudden departure.

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 12

Part 13/26 | Ao3

Early but shorter update!

Tilly

In Autumn, they were rapidly approaching the equinox, which meant that Autumn’s interpretation of Calanmai was on the horizon. According to Eris, in three weeks’ time, Beron would consume the mulled cider, ceremonially chase Alanna through the woods to assault her, and thus the land would be replenished. It was a garish and horrendous ceremony, as far as Tilly was concerned, and though she’d been raised in Autumn, she’d never attended one. Beron had ordered they be part of it, along with all the brothers, as the magic would affect them too and it was expected. That’s what brought them all together in this tense meeting today, as all the siblings and Tilly stood gathered around Beron on his throne, their heads bowed in deference.

“Surely it couldn’t hurt to have you participate, since you can’t seem to conceive a child on your own.” Tilly could feel Eris’ fury mix with her own, but they remained subservient to the letter. The act would be worth it in the end. She tucked a foot behind the other and curtsied, her submission at the forefront.

“Yes, father.” She heard Eris murmur beside her, hoping that would be the end of it.

“I didn’t buy you for nothing, after all,” he sneered from above them, but despite the wrath within them, they both nodded their agreement. When they were dismissed at long last, Eris and Tilly walked back to their rooms, her trailing steps behind in case anyone was watching. Once they’d arrived and gotten the wards in place, Eris’ mouth was already on her neck. It was still impossible to pull back from each other, impossible to stay away.

“I think I found something that will kill him.” He voice was hoarse, and his kisses abruptly stopped. “We can do it on Calanmai.” He pulled back from her to look into her eyes.

“I’m listening.”

Eris

It turns out that, deep within the forests of Autumn near the eastern territories, a plant existed that very few people knew about, and even less people knew how to find. The Gasping Widow.

Fitting, Eris thought. Gasping in relief, perhaps. When steeped for over a week and then consumed, it mimicked the symptoms of heart failure. It was a kinder death than Beron deserved, but a means to an end was a means to an end. He would take anything at this point.

Eris and Tilly had found that plant–an ugly thing–brown and blue and looking for all the world like a fungus, and brought it back to their rooms. They’d spent the better part of an entire day clomping around the marshy eastern forests looking for its telltale blue and brown petals. It was scentless, blessedly, considering it had been steeping beneath their bed for eight days now. Tomorrow, the concoction would go into a tiny vial dropper, and then hopefully be dripped into the goblet before the ceremonies began. Now, it was night and dark and quiet all around, and Tilly and Eris were tucked tightly together in the bed, laying facing each other, their breaths heavy as their naked chests still heaved together as one.

“Tomorrow will change everything.” She murmured quietly. “One way or another.” He nuzzled his nose into her neck.

“There is still time for you to run, Tilly. You could still go. Or we could back out.”

“No.” She said resolutely. Two days before, Beron had flogged Eris again. This time, for allowing Tilly into the garden with Alanna, which he’d somehow perceived as an inability to rule over her adequately. She softly drew her hands over the now mostly-healed lines on his back, the anger still simmering in her veins. “We will take this chance, and we will take it together. His time has run out.” She pressed a kiss to Eris’ lips in the dark.

“I love you, Matilda. To eternity.”

“I love you, Eris. Regardless of the outcome tomorrow, or any day.”

+++

Calanmai had arrived. Eris was near feral at the state of dress that Tilly had been forced into. He hated the idea of anyone’s eyes on so much of her body–he wanted to be the only one who was ever granted the privilege. Unfortunately, it was part of the twisted tradition of things, and Beron would not budge. Eris was certain that the obscenely small drapery being touted as a dress on his wife was meant to further enrage Eris, but he refused to give him the satisfaction. He had a larger goal tonight.

No one knew of their plan, save Cormac–not even the brothers. Cormac only knew because he was in charge of the guards at the event and could position them close enough that they would pass close to the goblet before the ceremony. They would form a processional into the cave, Beron, then Eris, the remaining brothers, Alanna, then Tilly last. She’d pass by the goblet unimpeded on the way in, and that’s when she would tip the vial into it. Eris would use his magic to glamour her as she did just to smoothe over any hiccups in her movements.

It would take roughly an hour for the plant to hit his heart, so Eris and Tilly would go into the woods as expected after the drums began and make their absence look convincing. Hopefully, by the time they returned looking ravaged, Beron would be dead or dying, and they would have a convincing alibi.

Tilly had been a wreck all night and today, and truly, Eris had not fared much better. They were both a mess of nerves, all of their touches and kisses charged with an energy and lingering questions about whether it would be the last time. But when it came time to proceed to the caves for the ceremony, already filled with the wild bustling of people and the generous roaring of hundreds of bonfires, they were both prepared with the faces of battle. They’d shared a final kiss in their rooms, and now it was time to sink or swim.

Tilly took her place at the end of the line, and he caught her eyes one last time before turning his stony expression forward and following his father ahead. He sent a quick prayer up to any gods that would listen to keep her safe, no matter what happened tonight. They proceeded through the line of caves, the rushing sounds of the fires and the celebratory sounds of the people drowning everything else out. He cast the glamour over Tilly, smoothing her movements out and using magic to entice others to look away or ignore anything amiss. Finally, the procession came to a stop.

He dared not look in Tilly’s direction as his father welcomed everyone and made the same speech he made every year. Then, it was Alanna’s cue to take off into the woods–just a show really. Beron didn’t seem to have noticed anything was amiss–perhaps they’d managed to pull this off. Eris steadied his breathing as the drums began, and he watched closely as Beron took the goblet in his hands and drank deeply. One gulp, two gulps, three. He lowered it, swiping his sleeve across his mouth, and the crowd cheered. Then Beron was off to complete the sick ceremony, dragging his mother even further into the depths of hell, but hopefully for the final time.

He felt Tilly’s hand brush against his as they went to depart the cave, the magic beginning to thrum through them in time with the drums. A show, it was all show, and perhaps, with some luck, it would contain the best finale of all time.

So, with that thought echoing through his mind, Eris grabbed Tilly by the waist and roughly threw her over his shoulder, walking a few steps then winnowing off into the woods as the renewed cheers of the crowd died out behind them.

+++

Both Eris and Tilly had been too nervous to actually do anything in the woods short of sitting with each other. Everything was hanging on a sharp precipice, so Eris winnowed as far as he could within the Autumn woods so the magic wouldn’t ride them as hard, and they found a patch of moonlight to try and relax in together. They planned to spend an hour or so here, make it look convincing, and then return to the ceremony and put on their shocked faces at the chaos ensuing as the High Lord title transferred down to Eris.

He stroked his thumb up back and forth over her arm, holding her close to him and wondering how life might be different for them after tonight. Without the pall of Beron hanging over them, what could they do? What could they change? There was so much potential for them to do more, both within Autumn and for themselves. Eris didn’t dare to let his thoughts get ahead of him, but he could feel that slow, steady bloom of hope that he was getting more familiar with these days begin in his chest.

Could they actually be parents? Could he even do that? Did Tilly even want it?

It was something that they had danced around the topic of instead of actually speaking about candidly. There had been no point–there would be no children willingly brought into this world as long as Beron was in it. Not if they could help it. But the thought of a little child with hair of flame, beautiful wide eyes focused on him as they lifted their arms up to him, made his heart clench in his chest. The thought of Tilly, belly round and lovely with his child, summoned other feelings in him that the magic of Calanmai wasn’t helping with at all as he adjusted himself. Tilly looked up at him, grinning with an eyebrow raised.

“Can I ask you something?” Eris asked her, looking down into her eyes as she cuddled against his chest. She waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively, smiling wickedly.

“Sure.” The glint in her eyes was wicked.

“Do you ever think about having children? With me…I mean. When this is all over?” She immediately sobered her expression, pushing against his chest with her hand and sitting up, her eyes finding his in the dark.

Her voice was quiet as she answered. “All the time.” Eris felt like his heart had taken flight and left his body. He’d expected her to think on it for a while, maybe even say no. He hadn’t expected this.

“Truly?” His voice was shaky, uncertain, but her soft smile pierced straight through his chest, stroking his heart in gentle, soothing waves.

“Every single night before we fall asleep. I think about how kind and wonderful and caring you are, and how lovely a father you would be. I count down the days until it’s something we can realistically consider, and I hoped you would one day feel the same.” The words were a balm to his soul he didn’t know he’d needed. He’d worried for longer than he’d ever admit that he’d be a terrible father, not a single good example to show him what it should look like. He’d worried that Tilly might worry becoming a father would trigger something in him, might be scared that he would turn into the monster that sired him, somehow. But here she was, unflinching and unfailing as always in the face of his doubt.

“Is it something you want, Eris?” He couldn’t stop himself from taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply as he felt her giggle and smile against him.

“More than anything in the world. The second he’s gone, the second you’re ready.” She smiled.

“I love you, Eris. You’ll be a wonderful father, just like you’re a wonderful husband.” She pressed another kiss to his jaw, then tucked her head beneath his chin as he tightened his hold around her, thinking of all the possibilities laid out in front of them after tonight.

They waited the full hour, then let it drift towards two, before their curiosity got the better of them and they decided to winnow back. They roughed up their clothes, especially Tilly’s, scattering dirt and twigs and leaves in their hair. Eris hadn’t felt anything strange in the way of magic past the normal magic of the ceremony, and he was concerned this meant something had gone horribly wrong. Or, rather, hadn’t.

As they winnowed back to the ceremony, only Callum had returned out of the group of brothers, but Alanna was missing from the ceremonial area. Eris and Tilly both froze the moment they entered, finding Beron drinking wine and eating and generally celebrating at the large table within the crowds of Autumn revelers. He was fine. He was fine. It had all been for nothing. It hadn’t worked.

There would be no discussing it here, no communicating between them past him all but pushing her back towards the Forest House, fingers lingering as long as possible on her back, as Beron waved him over to the table to participate in the revelry.

When Eris returned to their rooms hours later to find Tilly dressed in a nightgown and pacing, he was just as baffled as she was. Beron had been in a fantastic mood–drinking jovially and bragging about the bedding and assault of his mother in the woods to the cheers of many and the pointed encouragement of Aradnus.

“Well, clearly, something went wrong. Maybe I steeped it incorrectly. The directions seemed so straightforward…” Tilly’s brows pinched in distraught confusion. Eris finished removing his clothes, still dirty from the woods.

“It’s okay, Til. Perhaps we grabbed the wrong plant? Maybe it wasn’t concentrated enough. Regardless, he seems to have not noticed the attempt, so that works in our favor. Maybe we can find a way to try again.” He turned down the covers and they got into the bed, finding each other in the middle. They didn’t speak more, but the hopelessness cut through the air around them, allowing the darkness to feel extra suffocating.

So close. They had been so close.

+++

They’d barely had a chance to open their eyes to the dark gray doldrums peeking ominously through the window and the rolling crack of thunder in the distance before a summons appeared, requesting that everyone report to the throne room immediately. The panic rushed through Eris like a roaring river of ice, and the look mirrored in Tilly’s terrified expression made it worse. After a beat of silence they threw themselves at each other, embracing like it was the last time, their mouths meeting in desperation. The tears were already rolling down Tilly’s face, leaving salty tracks smearing into Eris’ mouth.

“I love you. It’s going to be okay. I love you so much.”

“Eris, oh, gods, Eris. He’s caught us. I’ll have killed us both.” She was sobbing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It was both of us. It was both. It’s okay, we’ll go together. We’ll be together. In this life and the next.” The breath had fled his chest, too, and the tears burned like acid in his eyes as he gripped her to him.

“I love you, Eris. I am so unbelievably sorry.”

They held each other close, trying to calm their breaths and pounding hearts. It would be suspicious if they took any longer, so they pulled on their clothes quickly and with one last, lingering kiss, they pulled themselves together and walked to the throne room, Tilly trailing him as always, their hearts beating like the drums of war in their chests.

Taglist: @cauldronblssd@queercontrarian@byyalady@thelovelymadone@clockwork-ashes@lovingkelj