#and thus making the hole worse by trying to force them to like me

[candyskiez]

Man the grief is a hole thing really helps. But unfortunately now I am realizing my own patterns. Fuck.

[livingasaghost]

okay i probably should not go down this rabbit hole but i think i deserve to do some andreil proposal/wedding headcanon because who cares!!

this is going to be inspired by these three posts because i cannot stop thinking about them

also the usual disclaimer: if this is bad or goes against your own personal headcanon....so be it<3

when andrew finally accepts that this is a THIS, he and neil do not talk about The Future

both of them know how quickly things can change and how you can't plan for anything in life because shit happens and life isn't fair and people always hurt you...so they just keep living in the present

but after a while it kind of becomes clear that neither one of them is going anywhere, even though neither of them actually believes it

more than that, they keep running into problems

like when neil plays a game for Court and ends up getting crunched against the wall and has to go to the ER and andrew has no idea where they took him because he wasn't fast enough to follow him and then when he finally gets to the hospital no one will let him back there and then when he almost attacks a nurse, kevin finally intervenes and lays on the charm to get the two of them back there to see him

and when they finally get in the room, neil is knocked the fuck out and that's when andrew decides that yeah fuck that we can't keep doing this

he doesn't tell neil he's decided this because neil will probably argue or try to run or come up with a bunch of excuses or worse he'll say yes

andrew asks renee for advice, and she doesn't make a big deal out of it because she knows that's the best way to get andrew to not want to do anything

so she decides to be casual

and by casual she actually just tells andrew that she had a conversation with katelyn that sounded like she and aaron were maybe thinking about getting engaged soon

andrew picks up his phone, intending to ask neil right there, but renee stops him and forces him to reconsider this proposal to at least do it in person

even so, there isn't a lot of fanfare

neil can sense something is off immediately when andrew walks in the door but he doesn't push him because he knows that's not the best way to get anything out of andrew

andrew won't look at him at all, doesn't say a word, just sits down next to him on the couch

neil: "drew?"

andrew:

neil:

andrew: "i don't want to wait for kevin to get me to you"

neil doesn't really know what he's even talking about, so he just kind of stares at him, waiting

andrew, actively staring at the wall: "this is not going to be some kind of fairytale shit and i refuse to get down on one fucking knee so yes or no?"

neil, finally having his lightbulb moment: "don't ask stupid questions"

andrew rolls his eyes because of course he'd get stuck with this one: "yes or no, junkie"

neil: "i already told you. it's always yes with you."

andrew: "this is different"

neil: "not the way i see it"

andrew: "this means no running away"

neil: "i stopped running a long time ago"

andrew really is going to kill this guy one day

they don't discuss real details until a few days later when neil asks if they have to have a "real" wedding or if they can just go to a courthouse and getting the papers signed

andrew was under the impression that that WAS a real wedding and thus it was the only thing they would be doing regardless

the two of them settle on a date — only a few days out because hey, might as well just get it done because "who knows the next time some fuckface is gonna kick your ass and land you in the hospital"

at first they decide they aren't going to tell anybody, but then renee asks andrew if he ever actually talked to neil and so she becomes the only person to know about this weird wedding thing

she keeps trying to convince them to tell everybody else, but that does not go over well

neil decides it's probably best if he dresses kind of nice for his wedding (even though he's a thousand percent certain that andrew is just gonna show up in his usual attire) and since he doesn't want to tell nicky what's going on (for everyone's sake), he calls wymack instead thinking he can just vaguely ask a few questions and wymack'll stay out of his business

wymack: "somebody better be dead for you to be calling me this late"

neil: "what are you supposed to wear to a wedding?"

wymack: "who the hell is getting married?"

neil: "me"

wymack: "are you fucking with me?"

neil: "andrew is sick of asking kevin to get him into my hospital rooms"

wymack: "maybe if you stopped going to the fucking hospital—"

even though neil didn't think he needed wymack there, he unexpectedly asks if coach'll be his best man.....and even though wymack is so sick of these idiot kids shortening his life-span, he can't help but say yes

so that is how the four of them end up at the courthouse, waiting for the judge to make it all official

that is, until andrew gets a phone call

neil doesn't see who it is when he picks up, he just watches andrew as he answers straightfaced

andrew: "we're at the courthouse....getting married.......coach is here.....no."

the others look at each other, but andrew keeps staring at the wall ahead of him

neil nudges his knee: "who was that?"

andrew: "nicky"

[frogletscribe]

Until It Doesn't Hurt

Chapter 2 - Me to a Stranger

Summary: 20 years since the RDA was pushed off of the moon of Pandora, they are back once more. The RDA thinks their only problem is the traitor Jake Sully and his family, but as it turns out, Jake wasn’t the only ‘problem’ left behind 20 years ago. Anthe was a child soldier, stolen from their home and forced to learn the ways of the humans, erasing any of their connections to the Na’vi from before. Finally free from the RDA’s hold after being trapped in cryosleep, and they're about to make themselves everyone's problem.

---

Neteyam finds what he's looking for.

_____________________________________________

Pairing: Aged Up!Neteyam X Nonbinary!Na'vi!Reader/OC (OC and Neteyam are both around 20)

Warnings: Mentions of Past Violence, Mentions of Past Trauma, Mild Claustrophobia, No Use of Y/N, Blood

WC: 2035 words. AO3 Link Here

A/N: I'm so excited people are liking this oml. Thank you for reading! I dont know that i will keep up this particular pace that I have going right now, but im trying to stay ahead of posting by about a chapter as of right now, if that makes sense.

{ } indicate speaking in Na'vi

Masterlist

Previous Next

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It had been about a week since the raid, and Neteyam still could not get the thought of that stranger out of his head. The image of them disappearing into the trees, golden eyes burning, seemed burned into his mind, coming back to haunt him anytime it got too quiet. Mo’at had meditated on the incident, but Eywa had given her no clear answers, and thus Neteyam was left to wait and hope he would see the stranger again. Worse still, his siblings had caught on and started to tease him about it, how he was so caught up in a person he had never even met. Lo’ak was the worst, constantly poking him about his ‘special someone’, even going so far as to make jokes that Neteyam had already chosen his future mate. Neteyam brushed off the comments with great annoyance and no small amount of embarrassment. He didn’t know how he felt, or why the stranger plagued him so. He tried seeking answers at the Spirit Tree, asking Eywa for some kind of answer, and ended up leaving feeling just as frustrated as when he arrived. He took instead to looking for a distraction, something to keep his mind from wandering back in circles where it had seemed stuck for the last week. 

Hunting came to Neteyam as naturally as breathing, a skill he had honed to a perfect edge. He stalked silently through the forest, looking for any signs of prey worthy of a good hunt. The forest around him was quiet and calm, the syaksyuk chittering in the branches high above Neteyams head. The warrior's ears swiveled forward, catching the sound of something further up ahead. He dropped to a crouch, bow drawn as he silently crawled ahead. Before him lay a small clearing, one he knew yerik would often frequent for the small pond at its center, but there were no yerik that he could see. There was another sound, branches cracking, as something pushed its way into the clearing. Neteyam heard it groan as he pressed closer to the tree line, trying to get a better look. 

It was a person, quickly collapsing to their knees at the edge of their pond. They were Na’vi in shape, but wore the torn and tattered garments of the sky people. The stranger huffed tiredly, shoving their backpack and massive gun off of their shoulders and onto the ground besides them. Their hair hung limp and unkept around their face, obscuring their features. Neteyam watched, frozen, as the stranger hastily shoveled water into their mouth and across their face. He watched as they paused, smoothing their hair back with three-fingered hands before pulling a canteen from their bag and filling it. Neteyam could properly see them now, how tired and thin they looked. Their clothes were stained and dirty, torn full of holes. He saw the faint lines of old scars along their bare arms, surrounded by glittering tahní. He noted the delicate touch to their features, marred only by a slight hollowness to their cheeks and dark bags under their eyes. The same eyes that had haunted him for the last week. Eywa had heard his prayers, Neteyam would have his answers.

Neteyam lowered his bow, before pulling himself up to stand, eyes never leaving the figure at the pond. The stranger stiffened at the movement, their eyes locking on him, wide and bewildered as Neteyam made himself known. They did not move as the warrior stepped into the clearing, their expression quickly training itself into something hard and unreadable.

“{Hello.}” Neteyam started, holding the stranger's gaze as he made the Na’vi gesture for ‘I see you’ towards them. They did not speak or return the gesture, only watching as they very slowly gathered their belongings back onto their shoulders.

“{You were at the raid.}” Neteyam tried again, “{You gave us warning.}” Still, the stranger remained silent. Neteyam wondered if perhaps they did not speak Na’vi, given their choice of clothes and weapon. The stranger rose to stand slowly, golden eyes never leaving him.

“Do you speak english?” Neteyam spoke again, the foreign language feeling strange on his tongue. He never liked speaking the sky peoples tongue, it felt clunky on his lips, but learning it had been a necessity for communication with the sky people at Hell Gate. The English seemed to surprise the stranger, their naked brow furrowing slightly at the sound. They seemed to regard Neteyam for a moment, then huffed a breath and nodded. Progress. Feeling emboldened, Neteyam took another step forward, only for the stranger to take several steps back, hand darting to a large knife on their belt and hissing defensively. Their tail thrashed anxiously behind them. Neteyam held up his arms placatingly, trying to show he meant no harm, making a show of putting his bow down slowly. But he made the mistake of looking away from them. It was barely a second but the stranger was already running, taking off through the trees and away from Neteyam. The warrior cursed, quickly slinging his bow over a shoulder as he began to give chase.

The stranger was faster than Neteyam would have expected for someone both clearly exhausted and so heavily encumbered, still not so fast that he wouldn’t catch up with relative ease. They darted through the forest like a panicked yerik, crashing over roots and low hanging branches in their scramble to escape him. It was loud and messy, but they still managed to keep just far enough ahead that Neteyam could not reach them. 

“Wait!” The warrior tried to call after them, but he went ignored, the strangers sprint hardly letting up as they hastily ducked another branch. Neteyan ran harder, reaching out to try and grab hold of their arm when they suddenly stopped. Neteyam crashed into them, sending the pair sprawling into the dirt in a tangle of limbs. The stranger began to scramble beneath him, shuffling backwards, but Neteyam grabbed them, hauling them both upright from the dirt as the stranger struggled in his hold.

“I said, wait.” Neteyam huffed, feeling exasperated as the stranger twisted in his grip. Again they surprised him with their strength despite their less than stellar state, as he held tighter to keep them in place.

“Fuck- Ah! Let go!” The stranger yelped, seeming increasingly distressed, but they weren’t looking at Neteyam, they were looking past him, at something behind him. Neteyam scowled, turning his head to follow their gaze. Above them, perched the hulking form of a Palulukan, slowly stalking towards them, its four pupils shrinking to slits as it released a low growl.

“Oh shit. Run!” Neteyam scrambled to haul them both to their feet, dragging them to a sprint back the way they had come. The Palulukan sprang after them, crashing through the trees with a roar. Neteyams path was quick but calculated, attempting to avoid the snagging roots and branches, pulling the stranger by their bicep to keep them with him. He needed to get them both up and out of there, beelining for where he had left his Ikran to wait for him during his abandoned hunt. The Palulukan tore after them, hot on their heels as the Na’vi ran. The stranger was breathing heavily at Neteyam’s side, they made no move to remove themselves from his grip, running with him to the best of their ability. 

The Palulukan roared again and Neteyam was suddenly shoved to the ground hard, the heavy weight of the stranger landing painfully on top of him. The predator crashed through the trees in front of them, struggling to stop its momentum. The pair rolled, the stranger pulling Neteyam up with a pained grunt as they took off once more.

“This way!” Neteyam panted, pulling himself up onto a low tree trunk. The stranger followed, and Neteyam noticed their massive gun and backpack were gone, lost somewhere in the chase. He led them quickly up into the trees, towards his waiting Ikran, his head on a swivel trying to track the Palulukan still hunting them. Neteyam whistled for his mount, calling the creature down from the tree tops, and quickly pulling himself and companion onto its back. The stranger let him pull them against his front as Neteyam connected with his Ikran, quickly taking off just as the enormous Palulukan bounded onto the branch where they had just been. Neteyam ascended quickly, breaking the treeline above faster than what might have been considered safe, but the adrenaline was pumping too hard in his veins to worry about that now. 

“Fuck-” Neteyam heard the stranger gasp, their hands frying to grip where his arm held them around the waist for dear life. Their back was pressed hard to his chest, enough that he could feel the erratic beating of their heart. Sweat trickled down their neck, sticking stray dark hairs to their blue skin. They looked around, wild eyed as Neteyam evened out his flying. He tried pulling away slightly, but they only gripped him harder.

“The danger is gone.” Neteyam tried to reassure them. This is not how he had envisioned finding the stranger again, but he could admit, he was not displeased.

“Put me down.” They spoke finally, voice sounding shaky.

“I will take you somewhere safe. We can talk-”

“No.” They interrupted. “Put me down. Now. My gear is back there, I need it.”

“Back- Are you insane? There is a Palulukan back there! We barely made it out!” Neteyam guffawed in disbelief.

“I need- fuck- I need my gear!” The stranger insisted, now sounding pained. Neteyam scowled at them. Then he saw it, or rather felt it. A growing wetness across his right side, trickling down his arm where he held them as well as his front. He pulled away, making the stranger wince, and grimacing as he saw the cause. A large gash stretched across their shoulder blade and bicep, bleeding profusely. The Palulukan had managed a swipe at them, most likely in that last fall. Quickly, Neteyam pressed himself back into them in an attempt to to lessen the bleeding.

“You are injured. You need a Tsahik.” 

“I’m fine-”

“You are not fine! I am taking you to the Tsahik. Do not argue.” It was his turn to interrupt, pulling the stranger more closely to him as he turned his Ikran to the direction of High Camp. They seemed to deflate, groaning but not fighting him anymore, seeming to settle. Neteyam decided to send word ahead with his throat com, 

“{Devil Dog, Eagle Eye, this is Pathfinder, do you read me?}”

For a moment there was nothing, then, the crackle of static as someone answered.

“{Pathfinder this is Devil Dog, I read you.}” Neteyam’s fathers voice spoke, crackling in his earpiece.

“{Sir, I’m headed back to camp. There was a Palulukan, I have an injured Na’vi with me in need of immediate medical attention.}”

“{Are you injured?}” The Olo’eyktan asked, sounding concerned.

“{No, Sir. Just the person with me.}” Neteyam reassured him. He glanced down, checking on his passenger. The stranger was still, breathing ragged as their head drooped to one side as they struggled to stay conscious.

“{But they’re not doing well. They’ve lost a lot of blood.}”

“{Alright, I’ll let the healers tent know you’re coming.}”

“{Understood.}” Neteyam let the com line go silent, mentally urging his Ikran to fly faster.

“You use military call signs…” A soft voice murmured below him, sounding labored and raspy.

“We do.” Neteyam agreed, not sure how to respond to the observation. The call signs they used were in English, something taught to Omatikayan warriors by his father for communication during the raids. Neteyam was Pathfinder, Lo’ak Eagle Eye, and their father was Devil Dog. The stranger remained quiet, not elaborating on their thoughts further.

“We are almost there.” The warrior soothed. He could feel their blood dripping down their back and over his right thigh. The stranger did not respond as they rounded one of the many floating islands of the Hallelujah Mountains towards High Camp. Neteyam shook them lightly, trying to rouse a response, but got nothing. Only the sounds of shallow breaths. They were still alive, just barely.

[chocmarss]

spare us a hint for the pickle jar idea 🙏

It’s. Idk how to say this but it’s different than my usual ideas when it comes to fic writing, I guess? Which is to say that I usually write on Vibes but this is half-solid enough that the plot won’t have holes in it? If that makes sense?

Warning: TW child abuse, TW implied torture

LMAO okay, but it’s Ahsoka centric —because I’m predictable— and a series has been somewhat sketched out in my head that consists of 3 to 4 fics. Maybe the first fic will be 25k-30k words while the rest would be around 10k each. The timeline is in the middle of the rebellion era, which means Ahsoka’s settled into the role of Fulcrum and is doing whatever spies do to bring down a fascist regime.

The basic point is that it’s a bit like the Winter Soldier but with clones. I’ve written something like this before in Rewrite Your Story with different characters, but I decided to expand on it more with Ahsoka, and the only reason I wanted her to be in it is because of this Specific Reason That I Will Not Disclose Until I’ve Written the Fic because I’m a baby, and I get embarrassed easily HSJSJSK

Anyway, Winter Soldier clones. Terrible, terrible things will happen the moment Sidious releases these men onto the world, and it’ll be soo much worse than what happened during Order 66. Because they’re superhuman, with more enhanced genes in them, while also trained to be the most ruthless motherfuckers there are out there, who also do not have any sympathy or compassion whatsoever when they do their job. Very Winter Soldier, very droid-like.

AND, get this, in this fic, THIS batch superhuman clones are at the earlier stages of being groomed into super weapons, WHICH MEANS, as I’m being predictable yet again, they will be babies. Superhuman tubies being experimented on. Pocked and prodded with needles. They will be even more dangerous than their older brothers who were forced to go through torture in order to bleed out their compassion. Very bad, very fucked up.

SO, Ahsoka finds the lab/nursery of super babies, finds out only two survived from the experiments, and swooped them down to save them. Later, when she has these 3 month old babies in her arms, ahe goes,

“Well, shit, I don’t know anything about babies.”

And thus begins the story of Ahsoka trying to care for two superbaby clones. And, being predictable yet again, she will go through the emotional rollercoaster that I usually put her on because seeing Ahsoka trying scramble with whatever problems that are dropped onto her lap will always be fun. I’d like to be clear that in the first fic, she’ll be less of a mother figure and more like a new intern learning to be a caregiver but with no direct supervision. Except maybe, with the occasional pediatrician she’ll visit once in a while.

I know I’ll enjoy writing this because I’ve been letting this idea roll around in my brain for months. I just haven’t added the necessary details on it yet because I know if I start thinking on this fic any more than I should when I have other things to complete, I will be pulled down the rabbit hole so fast that I’d abandon everything else. My self-impulse is usually threatening to spill over the edge, and the only person who can reign me in is myself RIP

[mrpseunom]

"CTE isn't real" - man who is probably suffering from it.

Just saw a post on Reddit sharing this article:

And wanted to write about it. The Reddit post itself was eight hours old, anything I posted would be washed away like a sand castle, so I wasn't going to. Then I remembered I made a Tumblr blog for what I hope will someday become my writing handle, figured I could just dump my thoughts on the matter here just to get it out of my system. Treat this like a diary.

Anyways, here we go.

Steve Austin isn't a scientist. I think if you gave him an IQ test today, he'd probably score above average, but not to a degree that makes you do a whistle. He's quick witted, got a good head on his shoulders, learned from past mistakes, and a whole load of other colloquialisms towards 'He ain't math smart, but he knows his ass from a hole in the ground.' Whether he believes in it or not though, CTE is real, but for once and on an individual level I don't condemn him like I usually do science deniers. I won't apologize on his behalf or try and excuse it, but I do understand where he's coming from.

If you compare Austin to his most generalised peers, other retired professional wrestlers, the most obvious difference would be in his legend. Although Austin didn't climb up the totem pole of the world like the Rock did, Dwayne Johnson is the only one who could compare to him in terms of fame, fortune, and legacy. They were the pinnacle of the pinnacle in terms of wrestling stardom. And looking at them now? They're both... Fine. Neither one of them seems to be suffering truly horrendous side effects from a career fraught with brain injury.

Steve WAS seriously injured though. His neck was broken at one point during a match thanks to his opponent's mistake, and it completely changed his entire methodology towards how he performed his job. He went from being, to use a metaphor, a seamster who made complex and intricate doilies to spinning silk. His wrestling style was forced to change from chain-wrestling into big, flashy moves that weren't hard to pull off outside of the fact that fuck they hurt. So he does comprehend that life-changing things can occur in the ring, it's just that CTE wasn't one that hampered him.

Don't let the change in his work fool you, though, he was still fantastic at what he did. He wasn't just handed his spot on the top of the bill on a silver platter, he fought tooth and nail to get it, and it was inarguable that he deserved it. Despite what my own borderline-communist views might tell me to say, affluenza is a real thing. Neither he nor his only true equal in the industry suffered from debilitating mental issues after their careers were over, the only ones who did were those beneath them. It's not hard to imagine how that could lead to him having a (less than altruistic and externally mindful) point of view that says CTE isn't real, 'the consequences of sucking at your job do though'.

As I said, this isn't me making excuses for him, it's just me putting into words why I'm able to understand it well enough that I don't think way less of him for it.

It's such a dissonance to know that you've gotten hit in the head with chairs, been dropped on your skull by uncareful amateurs, been punched square in the jaw more times than you can count, and been in countless other CTE-causing situations and NOT suffering from it. Not noticeably, anyways. Although no one but whoever does a potential autopsy on the man can say for certain, it wouldn't surprise me at all if Austin was a great deal less intelligent than he could've been. That he does suffer from it, but that it's dropped him to a level that falls within the bell curve of normality and thus leads to him seeming unaffected.

Plus, the disease only gets worse. I'm sure there's some treatment that will come out tomorrow or next year or next century or in Futurama that will cure it, but for now, as far as I know, it's a degenerative issue that only has the one trajectory. And that's a terrifying thought if you've still got enough of your brain to recognise the reaper might come to collect his due. Can you imagine that paranoia hanging over your head like a guillotine, that someday everything will have changed without you noticing, and suddenly you have some orderly napkinning your lips between bites of oatmeal or apple sauce? Trying to live with the notion you've sacrificed your cognitive well being for all that fortune, fame, and legend; but the tab hasn't been paid yet?

I'd probably deny that such a thing is possible too.

Ignorance is bliss.

I can't write off or ignore Steve Austin denying CTE is a real thing. I can't pretend like I don't think less of him, because that man is a hero to countless kids and young adults who dream of being the king of wrestling, just like he was. Charles Barkley once infamously said in a commercial that 'I am not a role model', but that doesn't mean that when you've taken all that your industry has to give anyone, people aren't going to model themselves after you. It's a dangerous thing to tell impressionable and reckless dreamers that there's no consequences to putting your brain at risk.

I can't write it off, but I do understand where he's coming from.

[drawnecromancy]

I have a lot of thoughts, I guess, about the Emperor and the kind of... aura he has around him. Of course everyone is scared of him, they've seen him murder people for petty ass bullshit.

But also, by the time he's a statue, how long has it been since a true rebellion ? Before the one spearheaded by several grumpy officials and two Vanneans (and one from the VANO FAMILY, the OLDEST VANNEAN NOBLE FAMILY, which is unprecedented !) ? How many people have actually seen the god of perfection incarnate kill anyone ?

Surely, they've seen him force nobles to do embarrassing shit because he was bored as hell while they were going on about politics and whatever the fuck is going on (he does not pay attention. he has delegated everything. The provinces could fuck off on their own at this point. He is too scary for them to try, mostly. That's part of what the last rebellion was about, i guess).

But like... actual murder, before the rebellion that would kill so many people and make Lumeria empress... I don't think a lot of people saw that from him, because even this gets boring after a while.

And then it's the whole... incredibly isolating thing of pure evil.

Because, essentially, that's what the Emperor is- or thinks he is at least. Pure, condensed, perfect evil.

And then, you are forced to spend time in his house because you're Lumeria and you just married him. And you slowly, slowly start to realize that he built this cage himself, and he's just... kind of lonely and sad. And he's committed atrocities and made his life worse, over, and over, and over, and over again. Because he is pure evil and change is not a thing people just do, according to him.

And no matter how much of a sad mop he is, he's thus fully unwilling to try to be kinder to others, to try to be a better person, because he will just say "that does not work", without elaborating. He straight up refuses help, or to try to do better, and he keeps fucking digging.

It has to be kind of jarring, I guess.

To realize the man who murdered your friends, and so many people, actually feels like shit over it, and did it only so that YOU would HATE HIM and KILL HIM.

To realize that, somewhere in there, there's a guy who is just incredibly afraid of changing and afraid of realizing that he could have stopped all of this at any time. He's terrified of putting in the work to become a better person that others don't hate, he's terrified of it working because then it means that the past five thousand years were a needless slaughter. So he just keeps digging himself into a deeper hole.

And at the same time, he's just... trying to be nice to you. Because now he's stuck living with you and he can't keep up that pretense of being an uncaring asshole, actually. He cares so much, all the time.

It's worse, in some sense.

Because you know that if whoever he killed wasn't just a bunch of faceless strangers, he wouldn't have done any of it.

Because now that he is more relaxed around you, that he's assured you'll kill him no matter what, he's... almost normal. Besides the whole marble statue thing.

Because now, there's a choice :

Kill him, do as everyone including him expects, especially after you've figured out how to actually do it. That's what people want, that's what he wants, that's the most logical choice to get rid of this asshole who constantly chooses to do the worst he can do because "if people hate me, someone will finally figure out how to get rid of me".

Or, or, don't. There aren't a lot of people who can read that kind of research. You know he won't actually have the courage to ask anyone to look over what you wrote, after you die. You know there's about only one person who would, independently, just go steal it - but he doesn't even believe that you've been doing any of this work, because if you had, he'd be dead already. Curse him to stay alive and use your last words to tell him that he HAS to step up and become better now.

I wonder, I guess, which one people other than Lumeria would've made.

[husbandohunter]

A Small Predicament [Baby Genshin x Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Cursed for a week, the boys either have to live with it or find a cure as soon as possible. You on the otherhand hoped otherwise.

(A/n): It only takes ONE glance for me to start having ideas. It was twelve in the morning yall, enjoy~

Oh here's part 2

--------

Scaramouche

• "Oh you shrank? I couldn't tell-"

• Threatens that he will murder you to pieces and burn your remains but his voice was so squeaky and high pitched (voice crack) that you couldn't help but burst into a tearful laughter. 

• Its payback time  Bully him, take his hat and hover it above his head. Truthfully, without his hat Scaramouche looks like a little schoolboy. Overall less intimidating.

• Tries glaring. Cute. He's really bratty as a kid, sitting on a high chair (which you had to help him get on) and demanding his servants to do his bidding. In reality, his personality never changed. You realized that even as a grown up he still acts like this (bratty kid in a grown man body).

• The curse made his week a living hell. Signora had the audacity to pull his ear when he misbehaves. Childe constantly messes with his hair while giving head pats and the WORST of all, pinching his cheeks. Scaramouche never wanted to commit arson so bad in his life.

• Eventually finds a cure so he doesn't have to deal with it anymore and orders everyone to never speak of it again. Though, he's plotting how he'll get revenge on everyone who made fun of him using the very same curse (You better run).

~~x~~

Diluc

• "Oh…Oh my! Diluc you're just so cute!" 

• Diluc grimaces as you glomp him in this state. How can you help it? With his head so small it makes his hair all the more fluffier! His coat no longer fits him to the point the sleeves had made past his fingertips. He tried wielding his claymore again, only to lose balance and fall flat onto his bum

• (insert kid voice "Retribution!") Did I mention the babyface?

• Diluc tries to act as if everything was normal, acting like the Darknight hero and Mondstadt's Tycoon but fun-sized. He couldn't. There was no way people would take him seriously in business meetings. Same with fighting abyss mages, his smaller form was too much of a disadvantage. Thus you ended up doing most of his paperwork.

• One time you caught him sitting on the floor couldn't reach his office desk  while reading away the various books for a cure. It was three in the morning. You told him it was way past his bedtime and he argues saying when did he ever have a curfew schedule. In the end you managed to convince him and he begrudgingly obliges.

• The type to NOT ask for help even when it's obvious that he really needs it. Before he was the one who helped you reach things from the top shelves, oh how the tables have turned. He avoids Kaeya like a plague unless he was in it for another round of funny remarks. When he wanted to go out and get some fresh air, you insisted on accompanying him. Worst mistake in his life. A travelling merchant bumps into you and commented that you had a very cute son. Diluc was mortified.

• The day ended up with him sulking in his room. Although it was tempting, you resisted from cooing over his adorable form after days of treating him like a child. It wasn't because you were teasing him, Diluc just works so hard that you wanted to spoil him a bit. At least he could still play a game of chess with you.

• When things went back to normal, Diluc ensures that you will NOT see him as your son.

~~x~~

Kaeya

• "Well look who it is, my little Prince Kaeya~"

• Tries really hard not be bothered by it at all. Kaeya still maintains his suave facade, throwing in a couple of flirting lines here and there (and forcing his voice to go a few octaves too low in which puberty has yet to occur HA). Though no matter what approach, he couldn't ignore the sparkling mischievious glint in your eye. You were obviously not taking him seriously.

• Things couldn't get any worse. He lost his masculine physique and boob window, he wasn't able to go to certain places without supervision. But the worst thing of all was that he was underaged. Kaeya hated the fact he couldn't drink anymore, he even insisted you to sneak him a few bottles (which you refused) and had to settle with plain beverages such as fruit juice (what an insult). He was never really grounded since his childhood days but he certainly felt like he was grounded now. 

• Kaeya still kisses you on the lips whether you like it or not. If you ask him to sit on your lap, he will find a way to turn the position into his favour such as resting his face between your breasts. You're not gonna treat him like a kid, nuh-uh, he actively avoids it.

• Since his personality still remains, Kaeya is a naughty child. He will use his innocent appearance to sway people (even you) to get what he wants. That was how he was able to take a sip of the wine he stole somewhere (he wouldn't tell you). Diluc scolded him heavily and threatened to ban him from drinking from his Tavern for a week (they ended up arguing, Kaeya being the passive aggressive little shit he is).

• He was extremely relieved to return back to his normal form again. He has so much to catch up (specifically his bedtime activities with you *wink wonk*)

~~x~~

Child(e)

• "Hmmm to be honest, this actually suits you very much."

• Unlike the other boys, Childe was completely okay with it. Turns out that YOU were the one who was not going to be okay. If you thought taking care of Teucer was energy-draining then expect Childe to take that tenfold and beyond.

• You've officially became his full-time babysitter who is in desperate need of a raise (and rest). You can't take your eyes off of him and archons forbid that he will ever meet Klee. One point he'll be running ahead by your side and the next you'll find him getting himself in a 1vs7 situation with some shady looking treasure hoarders. Childe genuinely thinks he could take them on but the curse downgraded his abilities. You carried him and barely made out of it alive. (This made you ponder whether the best solution would be to strap him against a chair for the time being…)

• Childe being a child will eat all the candies and ice cream he pleases. You wonder if the curse also turned him a few years back or was it that he acts like this simply because he wanted to (it was the latter). He loves being spoiled, spoiled by you! Childe demands your full attention, spoon-feeding his meals, back rubs and head pats. Yep, he's definitely doing this on purpose.

• Did he just call you 'mommy'? (Childe has mommy kink confirmed).  He has so much energy that it was exhausting, you literally had to drag him away from what ever he was doing in order to get him to bed. "No Childe, your sleeping time is 9p.m stop whining." He bargained that he'll sleep if you sleep beside him (you didn't get any sleep. You knew what he was planning. In the end, you tried to make sure he didn't sneak out behind your back.)

• Finally you were able to get out of that hell-hole. Childe promised to make it up to you, you deserve it after all~

~~x~~

Small (aka Xiao)

• "Did you know in the Liyuean language, Xiao translates to small?" You didn't say that out loud. Not when he's this angry (this angy)

• He just stands there, crossing his arms and grumbling. You were hesitant to touch him in case he might hiss at you. Xiao has always been short, maybe an inch taller than you, but seeing him like this made you think 'my almighty yaksha can't be this cute♡'

• He gets mad when you no longer call his name for help. How could you? He's just so precious~ Xiao makes it clear that no matter what form he takes, it doesn't make him weak ("Adepti and you mortals are nothing alike." Or so he says but you could tell he wasn't running as fast as he used to because…small legs). You may not comment on it aloud but he can tell just by the look on your face and it irritates him.

• Also the type to not ask for help but worse. Xiao is an agressive little kid, he seems as if he'll be willing to bite someone's finger off if they try to pet him (He gives strong cat vibes, so thats understandable). His spear was too big for him to wield so he often has to put it away or else he might knock someone over with it. Xiao hates being short so you'll be hearing him complain alot.

• Since he was an adepti, he didn't need to sleep however, the curse must have brought down his power by a significant amount to the point you DID catch him napping. You almost swooned out loud just by taking a glance upon his face. For once he didn't wear his signature grumpy look. Xiao appears like a normal child, one full of innocence. His snoring was soft and breathly but that just meant he was deep asleep. (You wished to take a picture). 

• Of course, everything had to come to an end (much to your disappointment), he still complains about the incident to this day.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• How is it possible for a baby to still look so handsome? (Must be his godly abilities)

• Zhongli is unfazed by this 'curse' since his past lives have already taken many forms. Though for some reason whenever he walks down the streets of Liyue, young girls, mothers, ladies all come him was and start complimenting him and gushing over him (he was suffocating). They'd squeeze him tight or squish his cheeks, it only takes once glance before the little girls start blushing and hiding behind their moms.

• Needless to say, despite what form he is in, Zhongli is still able to get free stuff. He got some free candies and some free kites to play with. You had to help him carry his items. Zhongli ends up tripping too much because his tailcoat reached his feet (he decided to just take it off. You had to hold that too). Seems like he can have anyone do things for him in the end HA.

• He still got that drippy voice and you're just like ???? "What on Teyvat Zhongli, you're a kid." This is why you can't see him as one, its nearly impossible.

• Actively avoids Hu Tao and Childe. Once Hu Tao caught sight of him and chased him for hours, he couldn't stay in one spot knowing that she might just pop out of no where. Childe still spoils him, however Zhongli feels irritated by the fact the only things Childe buys him toys (its different when other people do it.)

• Everytime you guys go back strolling through Liyue, you had to hold his hand in case more women come swarming hin again. You swear that at this rate he might get kidnapped because hes just such a beautiful baby.

• Zhongli learned an important lesson after his curse was lifted: no matter how many years he lives throughout  never take a form of a child.

~~x~~

Albedo

• You find him buried beneath a pile of books and had to dig him out before he suffocates.

• Albedo has the cutest eyes, they're big and round full of curiosity and they sparkle too (he has the prettiest eyes out of everyone tbh). He is the only person who is fascinated by this outcome and immediately goes in the wild to test out his new physique. 

• He was always curious why Klee T-poses when she runs so he decided to try it out himself. She was thrilled to find out that she now has a little brother to play with. In the end, Albedo indulges in the games she always wanted to play but couldn't because he was too old: princess dress up tea parties.

• You felt many things when you saw Albedo wearing a frilly gown and a plastic tiara tucked on his head. Deep down you knew regardless of what gender Albedo was still pretty. Klee even had the guts to redo his hair and hardly anyone was able to recognize it was him at all. He has pigtails, PIGTAILS! You made sure to burn that image into the very depths of your mind forever.

• The only advantage was the he was ablw to fit through small spaces, other than that, being small was way too inconvenient. He knocked down a few of his potion bottles which damaged the floor (thankfully not him) because they were lethal (he wonders how Klee was able to not injure herself when using bombs). You carried him and lifted him to alot of places such as trudging through the snow because Albedo would surely fall on his face due to his small form.

• Enough was enough, he only lasted a day with this and decided to just make a potion and put an end to the curse once and for all. 

[notanotherreidgirl]

ok so imagine that u and virgin!baby boy Reid are roommates (you share an apartment and ur rooms are right next to eachother) and he can always hear u moan every night that you play with yourself, but he feels to guilty to do anything about his little ‘problem’. and suddenly one night he’s like super horny and jerks off, not knowing that you’re awake and can hear everything. you try to drown him out until you hear him moan your name, so you go to his room and slowly open the door so he doesn’t hear you and when he feels you on the bed he’s super apologetic but you’re like “it’s okay baby boy😏” and he’s like “please mommy let me make you feel good🥺” and even though its his first time hes so good and when you let him fuck you hes so whiny and needy 😩😩😩😩

We Shouldn't

Warnings: loss of virginity, masturbating, handjob, oral sex (male receiving), perv!spence, sub!spence, mommy kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 1444

A/N: I embellished a bit - apologies

Spencer made life or death decisions nearly every day. He had to carefully craft his words when talking down unsubs and be able to assess dangerous situations in seconds to decide whether or not to shoot someone but now, when faced with a relatively simple choice, he was completely stumped. He had been rooted to the spot for nearly 20 minutes, unable to process the sight before him.

In his defense, Spencer had very little experience with women’s underwear and certainly no experience with something like the lacy little number you had left in the dryer. At this point, he had spent so much time staring at you that he knew without a doubt that they were yours. He also knew that he most definitely should not be picking them up right now or putting them in his pocket or running out of the laundry room and back to his apartment without putting his clothes to dry. And he most definitely should not be stashing your panties in his bedside table. But, alas, should not is not the same as did not.

For example, he should not watch you from his window when you went off on your morning run clad in running shorts and a tank top. He also should not linger behind you in the stairwell, eyes glued to your ass as you bounded up the stairs. And he certainly should not listen to you get yourself off at night but he did, even going as far as to take down his framed map and press his ear up against the wall. Spencer’s only saving grace was that thus far he had managed not to touch himself thinking of you, the overwhelming guilt forcing him to take a cold shower instead. But tonight was different. Tonight the panties in his bedside table were beckoning him as he ate leftover takeout, calling his name as leafed through books he’d already memorized, burning a hole through the wooden drawer as he slipped under the covers and listened for you on the other side of the wall.

There’s no harm in just holding them, he reasoned. The next thing he knew the panties were out of the drawer and in his hand and his pants had somehow slipped to mid-thigh in the process. This could be fine. I’ll find a way to give them back tomorrow and no one will know.

And maybe, just maybe, if Spencer was a man of more restraint he would’ve gotten away with it but he was not. He could hear you getting ready for bed, singing quietly to yourself. It was oddly intoxicating to know that you were going about your business, completely unaware of him and convinced that you were operating within the privacy of your own home.

Except you weren’t ignorant of your next door neighbor. Thin walls worked both ways and you could hear his soft moans reverberating into your own bedroom. You sang a little louder to drown him out, guilt eclipsing your excitement. You had often wondered about the young doctor next door - always coming and going at odd hours, never meeting your eyes or bringing anyone back to his for the night. He was so nervous around you, it made you wonder if he’d ever been with a woman but you shook the thought from your head. I should not be thinking about my neighbor’s sex life or lack thereof.

Just as you resolved to go in the kitchen and leave him in peace you heard it. It was unmistakable. You stilled listening intently, half-convinced your imagination was playing tricks on you as it often did. But there it was again clear as day. “Fuck, Y/N”

You were an overthinker, always going over your options rationally and hardly ever comfortable with making spur of the moment decisions. But you were out of your apartment in seconds, using the spare key he had nervously entrusted you with weeks ago to slip into his place. A little voice in your head tried in vain to talk sense into you. You should not be breaking into an FBI agent’s apartment.

If only should not was the same as did not.

He had his back to you and you took the opportunity to perch yourself on the edge of his bed, the shift in the mattress finally alerting him to your presence. He whirled around in alarm and instinctively tried to hide himself and the stolen underwear, already soaked in precum and wrapped around his erection. You tilted your head slightly, trying your best to hide a smirk. “I thought I heard you calling for me”

“I-no-I can explain,” he flushed a deep scarlet, his futile attempts to conceal his predicament were only making it worse and there was no way he could come up with a plausible explanation with your eyes on him. The panic rising in his chest swelled - the feeling that he had ruined everything starting to trigger an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”

You softened your gaze, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his thigh. “It’s ok, baby boy”

Just then, something changed. A switch flipped, a light came on, a natural dynamic fell into place. Very gently you took his hand, forcing him to uncover himself.

“Wouldn’t you rather the real thing?” With that you trailed his hand up your thigh and to your soaked core, letting him skim his fingers over the wetness between your legs and take in the notable lack of panties.

“I-uh-yes, but-” he stopped for a moment, searching deep within himself for a shred of courage before blurting out the rest. “I’m a virgin”

Much to his surprise, you didn’t even bat an eye, instead, you sunk down on your knees and ran your hands up his thighs. “Well then, we’d better make this extra special”

You replaced his hands, taking hold of his cock over the panties and setting in with a deliberate pace before running your tongue over his balls. You toyed with the soft flesh until you felt his thighs tremble and the whimpers he had been trying to suppress spilled from his lips. Once you were certain he had abandoned any sense of restraint you started to suck on his balls, relentlessly pulling him into your mouth and teasing him with your tongue. At this point he was incomprehensible, any words he might have said being carried away by the sobs working their way up his throat and the tears streaming down his face. Just when you were sure he’d come you retreated, pressing sloppy kisses down his thighs and removing your hands from his cock.

He whined. “Please, Mommy. Let me make you feel good.”

You pushed yourself up and into his lap, taking your shirt off in the process and cradling his face in your hands. “You think you can make Mommy come?”

He nodded into your chest, capturing a nipple into his mouth and instinctively sucking on it. You guided his hands to your waist and you lined yourself up with his tip, slowly sinking down and adjusting to his size. He gripped your waist tightly, willing himself not to come as he watched himself disappear into you. “All right then, let’s see if you can be a good boy.”

Spencer sprang into action, taking hold and bouncing you on his cock as he rutted into you. Simultaneously he continued to latch onto your breasts, littering your chest with marks. You dug your nails into his shoulders, feeling the tide of your release start to sweep you away. “Yes, just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me. So fucking good. My good boy.”

Just before you reached your peak, you threaded a hand in Spencer's hair and pulled him up to look at you. Those big brown eyes stared up at you, pupils dilated and vision hazy with lust. “I want you to come with me, baby. Right now.”

It was like nothing you had ever felt before, pure euphoria coursing through your veins and only amplifying when Spencer flooded you with his warm release. He gave a few more shallow thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation before the two of you collapsed back onto the bed. You shifted slightly so you could hold him in your arms without separating, brushing his hair back behind his ear as he buried his face into your neck, now overcome with embarrassment over his actions. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I shouldn’t have taken your panties”

You tightened your embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s ok, darling. I’m glad you did.”

---

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[kkusuka]

HQ poly Headcannons  pt. 2

Poly Headcannons <3  part 1 

pairs: Oikawa & Ushijima, Hanamaki & Matsukawa, Suna & Osamu, Kita & Aran, iwaizumi & Kyotani, and Oikawa & Kageyama

nsfw and sfw

Oikawa Tooru & Ushijima Wakatoshi

Sfw

This was an interesting match up

Considering the fact that Tooru can barely stand sharing you sometimes, they seem to make it work!

You were most likely Ushiwaka’s girlfriend, and Tooru just couldn't stand for that

Well at first he didn't really know that fact

He met you in the stans after an Alders game that he 100% wasn't there to spy on Toshi or to see how much better he got, no way

But luckily, you the beautiful angel of light, sat next to him to cheer for Waka’s team!

So after the game when Tooru was flirting with you and you completely ignored him to go to your boyfriend, Oikawa was more than let down

And you ignored him for the brick wall???? He just didn't understand.

Now he wanted you more than he did when he saw you, even more so that you belonged to the bastard Ushiwaka.

After almost 8 months of befriending you, he finally weaseled into your relationship! And Ushiwaka was so whipped for you he let it happen!

But at that point, he was so whipped for you that he didn't even care that they shared you!

Your guy’s dynamic is a bit twisted and hard to get a good understanding of.

Where Tooru makes it painfully aware to everyone that the two of you are dating, Wakatoshi is like a silent predator

He’s silent but deadly, and you’ve known him for far longer. That means he knows what you really like.

It's simple, he let’s tooru take you on extravagant dates and all that meaningless stuff.

But Ushiwaka is always there waiting at home to cuddle and watch a ton of movies with, he even lets you climb on him and cuddle him like a big teddy bear

Nsfw

This is one of the pairs that I think you're fucked in

It’s a silent competition of who can wreck you worse

Unlike some other Oikawa pairs, I truly believe that Oikawa would top

But Wakatoshi is also a top, a big man who has big needs

This ends up with you most likely with a two cocks one hole situation

If not that, it's the classic split roasts or Eiffel tower!

Oh to have Ushiwaka reaming you with Tooru in your mouth, yeah it's not as peaceful and soft as it sounds

But it’s still worth it

It starts softly! Then they go harder to try and beat the other! Then they really just treat you like a fleshlight.

Thankfully Tooru knows good aftercare techniques

But you still can’t walk for a while

“You can cum for me, show Toshi why you like better, go ahead”  

“You stretch so good for me, even after Tooru’s turn, you're always so tight”

“Look at her little clit, did Ushiwaka not pay enough attention to it? That’s ok! Tooru’s gonna make it all better for you!”

Hanamaki Takahiro & Matsukawa Issei

sfw 

Let's be real here, you met them at a spencers or a sex shop in a mall.

But it was a cute meetup!

After that, you guys just seemed to keep bumping into each other and became close friends

The initial relationship was started by Makki, he was the more open of the two so it made sense

And it’s been smooth sailing from then on

The amount of inside jokes you guys have is almost ridiculous, everywhere you go in the city you have a joke

You guys spend almost every waking moment with one another

One of their favorite things is to take you shopping, so you can do a little fashion show for them with anything you want to try on!

As in them make you try on revealing outfits for them

Dates normally would include random dinners at restaurants them a movie night/ sleepover

Like you guys would just stay up an fool around for hours on hours

They literally have no problems sharing and are always making sure you're perfectly ok with everything they do.

Nsfw

As expected you guys are very adventurous

Daddy Matsun got you and Makki covered

Well that's when Makki isn't trying to ream you into the couch

They both like toys, like a lot, a lot

Punishment is where the toys really shine, but you can't really call the toy punishment, punishment because you feel really good during it.

And it the most repeated thing you guys do

Mattsun’s the punishment dealer, so he’ll give you the biggest dildo that you guys have, no lube, he’ll tie your arms up and make you try to get down on it

BUT if he’s feeling a bit more punishing, he’ll set up a vibrator and set it to your little clit and turn it ALLLL the way up

But if that isn't enough, he will either let Makki in your ass, or the fuck machine will come out

They really love watching you try to get off, it does two things

1-  it gives them new ideas

2- it shows how much you need them, and their cocks in your little aching holes

This lead to them having you wear plugs in public, which moved to wearing a vibrator

Sometimes, they make you wear a mask, but under the mask

(come here)

(closer)

(closer)

They make you wear a ball gag under your mask

Good babies do what their daddies tell them too <3

“Look ‘Kawa, her hole is so tight she can barely fit both of us, just relax baby. They’ll get in, we’ll make sure of it”

“Makki, spread her legs wider, don't let her his from this”

“Don't make me gag you brat, you’re lucky Makki is in good mood, huh?”

Suna Rintaro & Osamu Miya

The way you got together was like love at first sight  

For both of them too

You met Osamu first, you were seated next to him at an Italian cooking class

You guys had joked around and he was so impressed by your cooking that he got your number!

(he won't tell you but he had already sent pictures of you to Suna, and he was doing it allllllllll night)

He immediately invited you to Onigiri Miya, where you met Mr. Rintarou

Who was already practically in-love with you just from pictures.

You were clearly drawn to them, they were so cool!

They made a big scene of asking you out too

They both took you to one of the best restaurants in the city and had a private balcony dinner

After dessert they took both of your hands and asked you, in sync nonetheless, you do wonder how long it took for them to figure out how to do that

Clearly, you said yes, and that was the first of the many great memories you have with the two!

Since they both have pretty busy schedules they can't always come to you, so you go to them!

Even if they assured you that you didn't have to work, that never stops you from taking up shifts and Onigiri Miya on Monday and Fridays, (sometimes on Wednesdays if Osmau relents)

Even when you do work, you make time to make and bring Suna lunch every time he has all day practice

(you make them both lunch every day, but they can get it themselves, they are grown men, and you serve no one)

Traditional dates are less common, you guys mostly just like to hang out with each other

Like 3 am cooking challenges and asking to get ice cream from the shop down the road

You guys also, when you can, just spend hours cuddling in your bed or on the couch just in each other's arms

(can you tell i’m uwu-ing)

Nsfw

For having a busy schedule you guys sure do have time to fuck

A common theme is having Samu fuck you when Suna watches

God, watching you fall apart around his best friends dick will never get old, so so pretty when you're all fucked out and begging for him too

Sometimes hell have you suck him off, but he isn't unstable he can wait his turn~

Osamu works just as hard as he does, he has to let oust some stress and, you're just so good at making them feel better

Remember the cuddling?

Yes, that's a guise to cockwarm you, let them relax you always feel so good and today was s stressful

I can tell you saw this coming but, Suna likes to put whipped cream all over you, it gives him an excuse to eat you out for hours and Osamu and excuse to have you naked and able to eat as much whipped cream as he wants

Do they like double penn.?

Yes, very much so ma’am.

Just know that you are stuffed at any available moment they can manage

*cough*  whipped  *cough*

“look she’s grinding into like a circus whore huh ‘Samu? go harder” 

“look into the camera baby, tell them all the things you’d love for them to do to you” 

Iwaizumi & Kyoutani

This was an interesting one for sure

A senpais pretty girlfriend thing too

Iwaizumi knew Mad Dog had a crush on you before he did, and he did everything in his power to deny the accusation

The entire team could see how the second year was calm and behaved when you were around, so taking the high road

Iwaizumi came a with a plan: bring you and Kyotani as close as possible

All with consent firm you and knowing he was ok with anything that would happen

Suddenly inviting him to hang out with the two of you

Then it was letting him have you in his lap while you watch movies

And that progressed into letting him cuddle you after bad days, never  without Iwa of course

Everyone on the team could tell the effects that it was having on him, he was calmer and easier to get along with.

He even started listening to Oikawa when he spoke, it was like a miracle.

And k\Kyotani finally got enough courage to tell you!

(you had pretty much known, but wanted him to say it himself)

Thus began what I would call that “Kyotani learns how to love” saga

Dates were first, they both took you to a small field of flowers to have a picnic and when it got dark out you guys set up a sheet and watched a movie!

For the both of them being temperamental, they got along really well

(mostly because Kyotani hangs off nay words you or Iwaizumi say)

You also make the both of them lunch and some afternoon snacks for practice!

(and if anyone who sees you guys, they’ll never mention how odd the two angry boys look next to their sweet little princess)

Nsfw

Sir Iwaizumi holds the torch

He’s the main dominant force, though Kyotani tries oh he does

Yeah, hate to say it but you bottom for them, every time.

A big thing is when he lets Kyo get you alone (while he watches)

Yeah maybe he lets kyo take over every once in a while, he’ll let him have you

Iwaizumi love having you under him, putting you in the mating press while Kyo watches from a chair a vibrator tied to him, just watching until Iwa finishes and leys Kyo try and breed you

You guys have also dedicated hours to getting you stretch enough to take both of them in one hole, but if not that then one hole for each of them will do

As you could imagine, they both love marking you up

You always come out of sex looking beat up

Most of the bruises are on your neck and inner thighs, but the bites on your nipples and the curve of your ass beg to differ

Now the real question is when Kyo is being bad!

Feathery kisses all over him, that's not where he wants your mouth, lower go lower

Don’t leave him!

He always learns his lessons after hours of waiting Iwa breed you

You being bad?

No cumming for a week, they can play with you but unless you want the time to get longer you don’t even think about orgasming.

“Calm down Kentaro, it’s too early to break her, we just got started.”

“Yeah i let Hajime have you but you still belong to me too, don’t forget that”

Kita Shinsuke  & Aran Ojiro

This was the perfect girl next door story!

Middle school aran was so thankful to have you calm him down after yet another Miya twins episode

So as the two of you grew up it was natural that you became friends with his friends!

Namely his bestfriends- Kita!

Who was practically at your feet the second you met

From first to third year, they both grew to REALLY like you

They were both ready to spend the rest of their lives with you and were prepared to share if you wanted that.

The day you guys all got together was when they lost to Karasuno at nationals

You guys went back you the hotel room and just sat, cooing how well they did and how great they were no matter the outcome

It wasn't out of the normal for them to be all over you, both of them got a hand, but Aran was nestled into your lap and Kita was snuggled into your chest

Nothing was planned either, at that moment they knew that it was their chance!

The look on their faces when you said that you felt the same!

From then on you were treated even more like a queen

Every Monday before school one of them gets you a bouquet of flowers for the week and the other comes up with a date idea!

You're involved in the dates cycle and that now have a pile of stuffed animals that you got them from things like festivals or the mall

Since your relationship started with a cuddle, it's a favorite between you guys

A movie and some take out. Making fun of the Miya twins, and when Kita won’t admit it, you guys watch a rom-com, where you and Aran laugh at Kita's confused face when he doesn't understand the joke

Even with all of that, the real favorite between you guys is staying after practice and just having fun while cleaning up.

They just wuvvv uuuuuuuuu <3

Nsfw

Even if Kita is the commanding voice, Aran id the driving force

Kita likes when you two put on a show for him

Not that it's hard, even if Aran wasn't half as good as he was, your faces could satisfy him until his dying days.

Speaking of shows, Kita is a dictator, which means punishments

One of his favorites is having you finger fuck yourself in front of him and Aran until you can't move

Another is tying you up at having you watch the both of them jerk off to seeing you try and get off by grinding on the sheets (which does not work)

Aran, whether he admits it or not, he took a page out of Suna’s book

His entire hidden photo album is of you either being fucked by him or sucking Kita off

He also has an entire recorded version do you guys fucking that he and Kita watch when you aren't home

When Kita does have you to himself he takes on the Dom/Sub kinda thing

Aka borderline pet play

You sit and listen to him and what he says like a good pet, and you get a reward!

He dresses you up in little white dresses and he has you kneel in front of him and cockwarm him while he works

When Aran has you alone he takes the chance toooooo

….

…

…

..

Breed you!

Like a good little girl!

You take his cum so so well, don't you!

Yes yes, you do!

“Don’t let her walk all over you Aran, breed her like a good cow” (i had to, I really did)

“You look so pretty stretched around my cock, you're a good breeding whore, right? Yes, you are!” 

Oikawa Tooru & Tobio Kageyama

This was a classic “in love with my senpais pretty girlfriend” kinda thing

Kags didn't mean to

He had known you from middle school and had a huge crush on you, but he knew that was as far as it would go

But when you came up to him after the game with seijoh and told him that he would have better luck next time

It was the hug that got him and in true Kageyama fashion he just couldn't help the words that fell from his mouth

“Thank you, you're still really pretty, and I've always loved you!”

Silence………………………………….

He couldn't even apologize because Oikawa was already on you yelling at him about never letting you near Kageyama again.

Yeah you had calmed both of them down, telling Tooru that he was overreacting and Kageyama was harmless to your relationship

After a few days of silence, you had invited Kageyama to have a “talk” with you and Oikawa

It was really just talking about feelings and ultimately Oikawa admitting that he was willing to give it a try, but you were his first and foremost and that won’t change

But you were quick to realize that they were actually really good together

The rivalry between the two always kept you on your toes and fueled both of their superiority complexes

Dates were always happening all the time, anther constant competition for you to like one of them better than the other

It's mostly movies and take out but its a date nonetheless

One thing they love to do is try to teach you how to play, all the time they try to get you to hit their sets

Even if you're awful at it, they appreciate you trying to learn more about their greatest passion.

You also try to go to as many of their practices as you can manage, they really love having you there to cheer them on!

Nsfw

Ok so at first Kageyama had absolutely no idea what to do, so some exploring was mandatory

Finding out he was a switch was a happy surprise!

That leads to things going two ways!

You could have Tooru taking his throne in the bedroom and he commands his two peasants to do exactly what he wants them too

This can include just regular soft sex with your little tobio gazing and longing for him, while tooru watches

Or

Tooru will have the two of you grinding, Tobio with a cock ring and you a strict order to no cum until told.

Or maybe he’ll have the two of you ride dildos, tied up and making a pretty show for him

Or you could have Tobio dictating both of you

This is mostly having you ride him while Toru watches, but he can't touch

It also might be Tooru eating you out and kags in your mouth, fucking your face. <3

Whenever either of the boys wins something you take all the time in the world and worship him as he deserves!

“Aw! Tobio I know you can go faster than that! Oh ho ho, ~ y/n I know you aren't about to cum! I didn't give you the go-ahead! Hold on, baby!”

“Tooru you look so weak. You haven't even touched her and you're ready to cum.”

“You look so pretty under me, Tobio~ let me and Tooru take care of you!”  

[nyxyxx]

Harmless Sweetie - Sucrose

Lack of yandere Sucrose content is making me go insane- especially when she has such good potential. So here is my best take of trying to write self aware Sucrose and I may or may not being crying - (a very weak) Sucrose main

Forgot to put the warnings lol

Warning!: Yandere, Cult themes, Religious themes, A little angsty at one part. Unhealthy dynamics

Sucrose was always researching. She never stopped, nor did she ever want to. She couldn't take a break, because they were torture to her. She never understood, how someone could spend a large amount of time doing absolutely nothing and not solving all of one's questions.

Even the time when Albedo had basically forced her to take a 7-day vacation because she was overworking herself, she was restless. She wanted to learn, she wanted to know more and more. After all, if she didn't study how to make everything acceptable, how could she ever create a wonderland?

That is until, one day a little while after she had received her vision. A box was left at the door to her laboratory. At first, she thought that someone must've accidentally left it there, but curiosity eventually overtook her and she peeked inside.

Inside was a small crystal brooch, with a light green colour crystal in the center. The gem was surrounded by some form of metal, which seemed rather expensive. On the top of the brooch, engraved in the metal was a name.

Sucrose

Furthermore, there were strange words engraved across the rest of the brooch in a language she didn't understand. Millions of thoughts raced through her head, hundreds of questions she would be inclined to answer, otherwise she'd become restless.

Who could this mysterious gift be from? What is this crystal made out of? What do these strange words say? What is the purpose?

Of course like any good researcher, she had to solve all of her inquiries. Thus, she eventually fell down a rabbit hole of mysteries, with the purpose of solving one. After her long and tiring research had concluded, she had solved all of her questions.

Although, she had not received answers she would have ever thought possible. Was everything she had ever worked for, simply for nothing at all? This person...this creator, this person their world was meant for. Sucrose spent endless amounts of time wondering.

And then all of a sudden, a traveler had arrived in Mondstadt. It was nothing new, people often came in and out of the city. However, this particular person was seen fighting the dragon Dvalin- or more commonly known as Stormterror. Quickly this traveler began to become more and more popular, and eventually news of them reached Sucrose.

Of course, she was flooded with questions once again. Who is this person? What can they do? Where did they come from? She wanted to meet them, but she also didn't at the same time. She's always had trouble with people, but recently it's gotten worse and she couldn't figure out why.

Somehow, she managed to peek a glance at the strange traveler. At first, there was nothing particularly abnormal about them, except for their odd clothing. It was with a second look did she notice the almost invisible second pair of eyes present in their form.

It felt crushing, but heavenly. Kind and loving eyes, but eyes that could also contain bloodlust and cruelty. She was utterly taken by the strange, second being that this one form contained.

That is when she remembered. A divine being, this world's creator. The God above the Gods. The reason for existence. The reason for meaning. She wanted to speak to this person, but she was so incredibly scared.

She held a great fear of upsetting them, she didn't want a divine being like themselves to come to despise her. Even Master Jean was too scary for her, a God would definitely be too much.

And yet, she wanted to appease them so badly. She wanted to get on the ground and bow before them, to offer them her entire being regardless of whether or not they'd accept her. Such desire was consuming. Her mind could no longer think straight, there was too many questions. Too many questions she would have to solve.

Eventually, she began to watch the strange traveler. Observing them, she called it. There were times when the strange, divine-like presence would vanish, and all that would be left would be the traveler. To most people, they didn't seem to notice the difference.

But Sucrose did. Every time this happened, the traveler, would seem almost like a normal person to her. There was of course, the oddity of them being able to manipulate the elements without having a vision, but that wasn't nearly as shocking to her as the heavenly presence she wished to bathe in.

Everything was so fascinating to Sucrose, and she'd never been more inspired to research than she'd ever been. She often forgot to eat meals or get proper rest, as she was too focused on learning about this God, this heavenly being she couldn't seem to ever get out of her mind. Not that she would want to anyways.

Eventually, there came a very unusual day. She was in her lab as usual, reading through old scripts she managed to find in a restricted section of the Knights' of Favonius library. Lisa let her borrow the books, in turn for the results of her research, for she too wished to learn more about this strange deity.

All of a sudden, things became foggy, and she was put into an almost trance-like state. She was still conscious, but her actions weren't her own. There also was the lingering presence of someone deep in her mind, someone familiar yet unknown.

She felt the urge to give in, to let this person to whatever with her being, whether it be cause her pain or win a million battles. Her endless research was halted momentarily, although this could still be considered researching.

She glided over mountain tops in Liyue, ran across fields in Inazuma, and fought slimes, hilichurls, and treasure hoarders across all of the lands. It was exhilarating, and she enjoyed every moment of it. Eventually, she came to look forward to those times where nothing seemed to make sense.

It was lovely, absolute euphoria when she was being controlled by this God, the God of all Gods, the ultimate creator of their world. It felt like everything for a moment made sense. Of course it made sense, because you were sense. Everything happened and existed because of you. You were reason, you were meaning. You were Sucrose's answers.

That is, until you stopped showing up. She was left alone, once again. She waited and waited, for her heavenly deity to return, and bring her on another lovely journey, but it had been so long. She had gotten much worse than she'd ever been. She went back to researching all day, all night, barely any time for rest unless her body absolutely demanded that she take a break.

But she couldn't, she couldn't take a break for even a minute. What if you came back and she wasn't there to greet you with open arms? It was only until Albedo told her that if she was waiting for someone important to come back to her, then she should probably take care of herself until then.

It did help. It truly did, but she still felt...abandoned. She wondered what she did wrong, had she upset you? Offended you? Did she do something she shouldn't have?

And when you did return finally, she had never been happier. All of her previous grief and anxiety had instantly dissipated. Of course, you arriving to Teyvat in a mortal form was a complete other story. A story for another day.

But please. Please. Please. Please. Just don't leave her. Don't abandon her. Don't hate her. Afterall, what is she to do if her reason for living...despises her?

[whetstonefires]

heavier than a mountain, lighter than a feather

[my take on @misskirby's not-prompt about obi-wan beating palpatine to death with an office chair]

-

Obi-Wan had once touched the cold-burning edge of the Dark Side to give himself the extra edge he needed to cut down the Sith who had cut down his Master. He had fought with rage pushing him, he had fought with all the fear that Qui-Gon lay expiring on the reactor floor, that he might yet win and find himself seconds too late to bring the emergency med-treatment necessary to survive a lightsaber to the chest.

(Not that it had mattered; all he’d gotten from his desperate, hasty win was a few seconds of farewell bereft of comfort, and the burden of Anakin hung around his neck, and oh, he wished his padawan was not a burden. There had been no option but to take him and thus taking him must have been right, but no one should take on a student they did not feel ready for, and he had.)

If he had fought that way this time, he would have lost.

The Sith Master would have done what the apprentice could not, and twisted the Dark Side within him as it rose, and snared him in it, so he could not find his way back to the Light, and used that grip to bear him down with Sidious’ greater power, because the Sith said the Force will free me but it was the way of the Dark to place one will over another by pure force, so even what narrow freedom there was on the dark path was offered to one alone. Even in the best case, he would have been overwhelmed too heavily to fight for more than long enough to finish him.

Perhaps he would not have been killed. Perhaps he would have been kept alive to be used as leverage against Anakin. But assuredly he would not have been able to win.

Obi-wan however had what he would have thought of, if he had allowed himself to think about it, a trick for using his attachments and the desire not to lose them as fuel without reaching into the destabilizing, consuming whirlwind of the Dark Side. It was a dangerous, stupid trick, really, at least the way he used it, although Obi-wan thought of that way as fundamental to being a good Jedi, which would have explained a great deal about him if anyone had known.

The trick was this: it was easy to push yourself to where your limits should have been and beyond using your attachment to a person, without falling into the hungry selfishness of the Dark Side, if you simply did not intend to survive.

When he was thirteen, he had tried to persuade Qui-Gon Jinn, who had not yet been his Master, to use the bomb in his recently fitted slave-collar to blow open a door, killing Obi-wan but allowing him complete the mission, which was not Obi-wan’s mission

It was not difficult to return to that place, that space in himself where serenity came easy because soon there would be nothing left to go wrong or to lose—Anakin had made it difficult, for a long time; Anakin he was obliged to raise and train. Anakin who needed him.

All his obligation to the war and the Council and all the men under his command had not pinned him to himself the way his duty to Anakin had, and—knighting him had been helpful. It had been a relief, to finally cast off that weight. There is no death, there is the Force was much easier to believe of oneself than of those one grieved, and some weeks Obi-wan breathed it in and out with every breath, and there was no fear.

He knew several things, as he entered the Senate through an entrance that was technically, perhaps, a window. One that did not open, at that. That the Chancellor had some kind of failsafe embedded in the GAR’s brains. That the Chancellor was a Sith Lord. That the Chancellor had been using his access to Anakin all these years to hurt his Padawan.

That if he took the time to assemble the rest of the Council and try to stage this as a proper arrest, word would have time to reach Palpatine of Obi-wan having been publicly informed, because Maul was the least subtle sentient Obi-wan had ever had the misfortune of meeting more than once, and that if Palpatine knew the jig was up he would use his fail-safe.

So Obi-wan needed to do this alone.

It was possible, of course, that it wouldn’t be difficult. Sidious was a creature of stealth and insinuation. He spent most hours of his life maintaining a posture of harmlessness. When could he have found the time to do regular lightsaber drills, let alone practice live combat?

But Maul probably feared the man for a reason. So Obi-wan was going to do this as quickly as possible, but he wasn’t going to be hasty.

Spring the trap.

He’d closed himself down in the Force before he got near the Senate building, jumping through the hole he’d sliced into the window with only his physical strength and no Jedi edge, and only when he got near the Chancellor’s office did he reopen his senses just a thread, to make sure there was no one in there meeting with Palpatine whom he needed to keep alive. The Force didn’t slam into him with a warning, which would have to be confirmation enough.

Obi-wan yanked the door open, hurled five primed thermal detonators in the direction of the great ship-like slab of an occupied desk, slammed the ornate portal shut again, and threw himself to the ground at the foot of the wall, as far away as he could get, head tucked under his arms. He was fairly sure he’d seen Mas Amedda in there, standing beside the desk as the Chancellor in his thronelike chair raised his head with a gratifyingly startled look on his face.

Pity. The Vice-Chancellor could probably have explained so much of what had been going on behind the scenes, all this time.

The blast left the office door half-shattered, belching smoke, but Obi-wan escaped with just one splinter, not terribly large, in the back of one calf. His robes and boots had absorbed the rest of the shrapnel that had made it that far. He tugged it out as he got up—no time to do anything more, it wasn’t bleeding much. He drew a deep breath of half-clean corridor air and dashed into the opaque ruin that had been the Chancellor’s office, senses fully unfurled now that the time for stealth was over. Though in the interest of not being an irresistible target, he did not ignite his lightsaber just yet.

The Force guided him through the smoke, and he brought his sword to light even as he swung it through the murk.

It stopped, humming, against a bar of red light that hissed into being at the last instant, and that felt equally inevitable.

“You.” Sheev Palpatine’s face looked like a Sith Lord’s now, twisted with hate and lit red from below. And, gratifyingly, somewhat scorched. His hair had sizzled from the heat, and his left arm seemed to have something at least mildly wrong with it. Obi-wan hoped the explosions had affected at least one of his legs, as well, since his own maneuverability was cut by the shard of door to the calf.

“Me indeed, Chancellor,” he said, taking advantage of his two-handed grip to bear down against the block with extra force. Palpatine bore up admirably, but as his snarl tightened it was clear that it was not without cost. “Or should I say, Lord Sidious?”

The smoke was starting to thin, leaking away out of the shattered room. Sidious was still behind his ruined desk with its weakly sparking console, which seemed to have taken much of the impact for him—he was standing, anyway, sadly. Mas Amedda’s corpse, on the far end of the desk from the one Obi-wan had circumnavigated, was one of the things that was still smoking. Most of the brocade and other decorative fabric in the room must have been thoroughly treated with fire-retardant, but he had not been.

“I thought you might have learned my true name,” Palpatine said, far too complacently for someone whose long deception had been uncovered and who was staving off death one-handed. “But what brought you racing here in such haste?”

“Well, you see, they used to call me Sith-killer because of Maul, and since that’s been proven regrettably in error, I thought I had better—” Sidious tried to fling him back against the opposite wall with a sharp jerk of his wounded hand, and Obi-wan had to push back with the whole of his will and stance to slide back only a few feet.

This had freed their lightsabers, though, and Sidious chopped low with a terrible speed. Obi-wan leapt clear, knowing the blood soaking into the pale fabric of his pants was betraying the weakness in his leg—Anakin had had a point, he admitted grudgingly, about black hiding all kinds of stains.

For better and for worse.

He tried to catch Sidious with an overhead slash while he was up, to keep that red lightsaber busy for the most part, and when it was intercepted used the force of that impact to somersault back in a momentary return to his master’s old Ataru style—not too far, though, at all costs he must prevent the Sith Master’s escape.

Sidious wouldn’t need to get far, just to a room with a working holo transmitter, to destroy everything.

He flung himself back in.

Palpatine sidestepped his next attack, parried another, stepped back with the third. His single arm was telling against him, and while he was regrettably fast his movements were stiff enough that he had clearly taken at least one other hurt. Probably somewhere in the right hip. Obi-wan stayed on the offensive—it was how he’d beaten Maul, after all, though he was at pains to avoid overreaching to the point of recreating Anakin’s loss to Dooku.

His attacks did more damage to the sparking desk, bisected the thronelike monstrosity of a chair, which turned out under all the gilt, padding, and chromium to be mostly of durasteel, got close enough to put additional charred rents in Palpatine’s ornate sleeves. Nearly a minute had passed since he threw those detonators, and Sidious was still alive. Too long.

“Really,” said the politician, dropping his stance to one that would allow him to parry more from the shoulder, his first hint of fatigue. His style was not quite Makashi even as he adapted to the one-handed approach that was clearly not his preference, but there were some notes to it that rang so strongly of Dooku they could come from nowhere else. “What do you hope to achieve?”

“You won’t have Anakin,” Obi-wan said, the plot that had been in retrospect laid so horribly bare with just a few sentences from Maul, supported by a few more from some of their most trusted troopers, put together with a hundred hints and oddities and he should have guessed on his own.

Sidious grinned, the amiable wrinkles of his face lying deeper and more correct, somehow, in this attitude of wild, infinite gloating. “Possessiveness, Master Jedi?”

“No,” said Obi-wan, and it was true because he had given Anakin up, given everything up before he came here. He was holding onto nothing, he was an object in free-fall but not falling, because he was at exactly the right place and momentum at the outer edge of a gravity well that would let him remain at a constant height.

Orbits degraded, given time, if not carefully maintained. And if they were disrupted sharply enough it meant a violent, flaming spiral down into explosive doom, or sometimes out into the fathomless dark. This was not a true, secure serenity like a Jedi should strive for. But it would serve. For today, it would serve.

He fell on Sidious again in a flurry of blows, pushing his physical advantage, but although the Chancellor was clearly straining to keep up this defense, his stamina continued to fail to run out or even noticeably decline, as though he had learned to subsist on some constant well of the Force alone.

Probably he had, because it was welling up out of him, filling the room, an endless pit of the Dark that had lain concealed like a trap under pinned canvas and scattered leaves all this time. He was drawing heavily upon the Dark Side now and that wasn’t precisely goodbut it was promising.

He was beginning to develop something that was not quite optimism or confidence but approached both by the time the progress of the humming, crashing process of the duel took them past the far end of the desk, back into sight of what had been Mas Amedda. Palpatine angled his next fractional retreat toward the corps, away from the cracked and blackened windows, avoiding the treacherous footing of a shattered vase that had probably been a valuable antique.

Obi-wan tried to take advantage of the change in angle in the next rapid, whirring clash of lightsabers.

Unlike every other time they had crossed blades this duel, Sidious simply—shut his off in the moment before contact.

Obi-wan had committed a little too much of his weight to the blow to abort it entirely. Sidious ducked away from the remainder with a sinuous grace even as he activated his weapon again, now on the inside of Obi-wan’s guard—trakata, executed with terrible excellence.

The need for the dodge was the trakata maneuver’s great weakness, and gave Obi-wan time to avoid the worst of the stroke, but even still the red lightsaber clipped him across the wrist—not a clean sweep slicing off the hand entire, but a glancing blow, that seared through the skin and flesh and took a significant bite out of the ulna.

Obi-wan didn’t try to repress his strangled scream, and Sidious leaned into it in the Force, pressing at the pain, stoking it and encouraging it to drag him down into the Dark, where he would be the Sith Master’s plaything. He was smirking now, more deeply and honestly than ever, a laugh rising into his mouth, for if Master Kenobi had had a slight edge in their fight with two hands to one, with the Jedi’s primary weapon-hand incapacitated, the Sith would surely dominate.

In that moment, Obi-wan moved to rebalance the odds. His blue lightsaber chopped down—not onto Sidious’ flesh, which it was clear he guarded with the preternatural awareness of a being whose own self was as valuable as all the Galaxy else, but to sheer through the emitter end of the crimson lightsaber.

It spat and burst but, unfortunately, tragically failed to explode.

As Sidious raised his eyes from the ruined weapon looking like he might explode in its place out of pure outrage, Obi-wan brought his sword back up to go for the decapitating blow now that the Sith had no weapon to block with, but in that moment Sidious’ burnt and broken hand jabbed up, and shot a gout of lightning into his face.

His back arced so violently it threw him off his feet, and it was all Obi-wan could do to keep hold of his lightsaber in his good hand and deactivate it as he went down, to avoid doing himself a worse injury than Sidious had yet managed. The lightning followed him down, scouring its way from just beside his left eye down every nerve ending he had in a screaming, jerking chorus of pain.

The deep lightsaber burn on his right wrist somehow hurt more now than it had to receive, but the force of his constant convulsions kept him from screaming again.

Then it stopped. He had no idea how long it had been, and wondered if Palpatine had become too fatigued to keep up the electrocution. There had to be a limit to how long he could maintain that kind of power output. His chest was heaving, trying with animal need to make up for lost oxygen. Smoke and the scent of dead Chagrian weighed down his sensory world, since his eyes declined to open and most of his body would only say pain.

The whisper of expensive Senate slippers crunched toward him over the rubble of the ruined office with a surefootedness that no one would have expected of the elderly Chancellor. At least he was still here; Obi-wan had angered him enough to bother sticking around to kill him rather than running off to activate the troops.

Or maybe he was confident he could spin this whole event to his benefit—Obi-wan had destroyed the security cameras that would have recorded his Sith activities, after all. Maybe he would say Master Kenobi had been tragically killed defending him from the dreadful Sith Lord. Maybe he would ask Anakin to become his constant protector in Obi-wan’s memory. Anakin would do it.

He was struggling to turn his lightsaber back on and raise it, though getting it between him and the next round of lightning seemed unlikely when he was exposed in a supine position, when Palpatine kicked it. Kicked his hand, actually, so hard at least one bone cracked and the lightsaber went flying.

This weapon is your life.

“Should I summon it back and use it to kill you?” Palpatine murmured, with a deadly, vicious good humor that suggested he knew very well Obi-wan had no backup coming, that the only interruption they could expect would be Commander Fox and his men in red, here to protect the Chancellor. “Or should I step on your throat until you breathe your last? Or should I keep you alive and put you on trial, and drag the name of the Jedi in the mud through you, so that when your Order falls it will be your name that the Galaxy uses to call the killing just?”

Horror twisted in Obi-wan’s chest and Palpatine chuckled, a whispering foul sound that still resembled his polite politician’s laughter. “Yes, very good. I’ll make young Skywalker believe you tried to kill me out of pride and greed and because you despised him, until he curses your memory. Everything that happens now will be your doing.”

The rage and the fear that he had left behind when he entered were flaming up now in Obi-wan, the orbit deteriorating, the gravitational pull of abandoning them and letting the Order down and ruining everything and too little, too proud, the same hopeless arrogant padawan and of that terrible, world-tearing no dragging him down to shatter in fire against them, like he had on Naboo all those years ago but so much more utterly and irrevocably and--this wasn’t all him.

He sucked in his breath, shaking through teeth still clenched too convulsively tight to pull apart for a witty retort to all that poison, and melted away inside himself.

Over him, Sidious frowned, feeling the Jedi escape his grip in the Force. “Are you dying already, Master Kenobi?”

He thought Sidious had mentioned summoning his lightsaber through the Force to encourage him to try it. It wouldn’t be impossible. He knew the feel of it in the Force like he did few other things in the Galaxy; he didn’t need sight to reach for it.

But it was too small, and too far away, and his senses were too scorched and blasted by that awful lightning. Long before his weapon could make it to his hand, Sidious could kill him, even with no working lightsaber of his own. He couldn’t win that way, or even (that far lesser goal) live.

Instead, Obi-wan grabbed for the closest large object he knew to look for that wasn’t a corpse: the sliced-loose upper half of that baroque monstrosity of a desk-chair, conveniently bulky and only a few long steps away, just behind the desk he’d fallen from behind.

It came, and in coming swept Palpatine’s legs from under him, knocking him not quite sprawling, and then the curve of it had smacked into Obi-wan’s outstretched left palm, jolting the broken bone which did not matter in the slightest, and he rolled up onto his knees, graceless but fast, the slab of steel and leather still moving with the momentum that had dragged it to him, and clobbered the sitting-up Sith Lord across the face with it.

One of Obi-wan’s many faults was his tendency to take a vicious glee in striking low his enemies, but he did not think he had ever taken quite the joy from any beautifully executed maneuver that he did from watching Palpatine knocked to the floor by a slab of office chair. Obi-wan lunged after him, not bothering with niceties like getting to his feet, and brought the chair-slab down on his face again, this time with the strength of both arms—his right hand was mostly numb but for hurting, only the thumb and forefinger would move at all, and it was very weak, but none of that interfered with placing his whole forearm against the upholstery and slamming the searing-hot, bare metal inner side down.

There was a crunch, probably nose, and then instead of diminishing the awful seething presence of the Dark Side rose like a hurricane, and Obi-wan felt his throat close as from a powerful phantom hand, cutting off all breathing.

This caused him not an instant’s hesitation, because he had come here fully intending to die.

He raised the sheered-off slice of chair, adjusted the angle so the sharp edge where he’d cut the durasteel was pointing down, and aimed for the throat.

The ensuing explosion threw him after his lightsaber, and he knew nothing after hitting the wall.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Sparrow

Prince!Satoru Gojo x assassin!reader

Warnings: violence, swearing, suggestive themes, dubious themes, blood

A/N: request numero dos is done! It’s kinda silly, but I think it’s pretty fun! I think it can be read as pretty lighthearted, even if it gets a little violent! it’s a little different that what was originally requested! I had the elements for a sword fight set up, but it wasn’t working out the way I wanted it to, so I took a slightly different route! theres still fighting though! I hope you like it!

It’s been a long journey to get where you are now, silently scaling the castle towers towards the prince’s bed chambers. An extra long journey, considering how many royal guards have been posted on top of kingdom rooftops. Like a shadow in the night, using nothing but the black elements to mask your presence, you’ve managed to slip by them, as well as the gatehouse soldiers, undetected, leaving only four men incapacitated, and not a vestige of your presence. All this sneaking around has been a trying job thus far, but it’s almost over now. You’re about to finish what you came to do.

Light as a feather, quiet as a dormouse, you swing your body up and over the limestone-clad palace window. The room is adorned with priceless artwork watched over by gilded ceiling paintings. Framing the biggest bed you’ve ever seen is a corona with royal blue drapery that hangs down to each corner. In the center of the bed lies the sleeping and wonderfully unaware prince.

His body is lopsided, and only partially covered by silk sheets. One of his feet hangs off the bed. Tousled white hair sticks out in every direction while still managing to frame his admittedly attractive face. Long white eyelashes. Peaceful and full lips. He’s young, you think, although you’ve been aware. But seeing him in the flesh solidifies the thought: you are about to be the end of his short life.

However, this mission comes with little remorse. There have been rumors that the Royal Gojo Family has been dabbling in alchemy for over a century now. To you, there is nothing more disgusting than the use of the unnatural sciences. It’s ungodly. And even then, this kill shouldn’t matter much since you can call it what it is: a job. This is what you do. Do as your master commands, kill without question, leave no trace, get paid, repeat. It helps that there have been rumors specifically centered around your charge; rumors that Prince Satoru is a complete and utter womanizer.

Well, not for long.

The bed doesn’t shake the least bit as you climb on top of him. The prince sleeps soundlessly and doesn’t stir when you situate your thighs over his firm hips. Normally, you’d simply slit your target’s throat, quick and easy, but since there are those rumors about the use of alchemy, you need to work a little differently tonight. To kill an alchemist user, one will have to pierce them directly in the heart with a silver blade. You don’t particularly believe that the prince is a user; his focus has primarily been on balls and parties and other social events, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. So, your primed weapon of choice, a silverlined dagger, slides up your sleeve and into the palm of your hand. You grasp its hilt, then line it parallel to his heart, pull up, and plunge it in.

Rather, you would be plunging it in, if it hadn’t been for the swift-acting hand wrapped tightly around your wrist.

“Drop it.” The low, sleep-crackled utterance sends shivers up your spine. Acting fast, you use your free hand to push on the hilt, your strength against his, but it doesn’t budge a centimeter, and instead, both of your wrists are captured by the prince. His grip tightens, squeezing you so harshly that you feel the tips of your fingers tingle, but you don’t relinquish your weapon.

Vibrant blue eyes blink up at you, narrowing into a scowl. You try pushing harder, ignoring the fact that his eyes seem to glow in the darkness, ignoring the fact that they are the prettiest eyes that have ever gazed at you, ignoring the fact that those pretty eyes are now trailing down your body. Your skin burns at the attention. You can’t let yourself believe that he’s checking you out in a life or death situation, but then you figure it’s in your head when he says, “if you wish to keep your wrists intact, you will drop. Your. Dagger.”

Surrendering is not an option. It’s either kill or be killed, because even when you choose to not kill, your termination will be absolute. You will be tried by the king with his son at his right side, then you will be hanged for your crimes. So with shaking hands, you attempt to exert more pressure, trying to keep your breath steady to not raise a commotion.

Surprisingly, the prince chuckles. “Has a little sparrow flown through my window to try to kill me?”

In one fell swoop, Satoru manages to flip you onto your back, his hands bringing your wrists down on the side of the bed, forcing you to drop the dagger to the floor. He eyes you speculatively for a moment, then his mouth turns up into a half-grin.

“A woman, no less.” He muses incredulously. Then his eyes dart back down your body, and by the way his grin widens, you’re sure he actually is checking you out. “Are you supposed to be some kind of peace offering?”

What an odd man. Although you've just made an attempt on his life, he’s smiling down at you like you’re some kind of acquaintance—no, friend.

“I mean…sending a beautiful woman to my bedchambers says a lot, wouldn’t you agree?” Prince Satoru asks after taking in your dumbfounded expression. “Not much for words?” He asks. “That’s okay, little sparrow. We don’t need to talk.”

You gasp when he begins to lean down, eyes trained on your lips. Without a second’s hesitation, your feet meet his bare chest, and with all of your might, you kick off, throwing him back a couple meters. You flip back onto the floor and attack him with throwing knives while you search for your dagger. If he is in fact an alchemist, your other weapons won’t do much damage, but could slow him down if you could manage to hit him.

“You’re strong,” Satoru gleefully appraises, dodging another one of your throwing knives, and catching the other. He throws it back at you, but you manage to duck behind the corona curtain at just the right time. “And fast.”

The dagger is under the bed. You grab it, gulp some air, then use the curtain as a distraction before charging at the prince, using the same swiping technique your master has taught you. Your blade cuts through the air with one swipe, and another. You’re barely missing him, and it’s frustrating because that goofy grin stays plastered to his dumb, pretty face!

In a moment’s notice, he grabs your outstretched arm, pushing down on a pressure point that has your limb lock up. “But you’re messy and unrefined,” he says as a hand slides up your arm. Now behind you, he places his free hand on your waist, moving you into a stance similar to what your master has shown you. “Don’t you fret, little sparrow. It’s nothing a little polishing won’t fix.”

His breath is hot and fanning your ear. Your stomach knots when he squeezes your waist, and to your utter horror, his lips graze down to your neck, tongue sliding over your skin. “Mmm…sweet.”

“What! Are you—?!” Bouncing away from him, you cover your slick neck with one hand while the other continues to point the dagger outwards. What’s even worse is that he doesn’t look the least bit jaded!

He laughs. “Even your voice is cute!” In the dim light of the room, you can see pink beginning to bloom across his cheeks. “Won’t you speak more? Say my name, pretty please.”

“Prick,” you hiss, once again charging forward.

“Do you kiss your master with that mouth?” Satoru begins using his arms to block and redirect your attacks, until he’s twirling you around as if you’re dancing and not trying to kill him! You fume, hating the fact that the prince knows you have a master to begin with. “I should hope not. The only person I’d have you kiss is me!”

He dips you down low, your dagger somehow tucked between the junction of your arm, and very smoothly places his lips against yours. You’ve been kissed before, but never in such a way that made you feel like floating. Like gravity ceased to exist. Like you were falling into a black hole that you didn’t want to claw out of. Prince Satoru Gojo’s kiss is different. It’s light and it’s heavy. It’s heaven and it’s earth. It’s a blessing and a curse.

He hums into you, making the knot in your belly tighten. For a moment, you don’t struggle. Instead, your lips part, and you allow the prince to cup your face to pull you in deeper, tasting you, relishing you. You wind your fingers through the soft strands of his starry hair, and lose yourself in the moment. When he breaks the kiss, pulling away with an expression you can only call beguiled, his thumb moves along the bottom of your lip. Your mind is the fog that clouds the streets at night. It doesn’t mean anything to you when you kiss the tip of his thumb, but when that grin you hate so much comes back, your body erupts in blusterous rage.

Realizing what you just allowed to happen, you snap at his hand. He pulls it away just in time for you to reach for your weapon and slice it across his chest. You push him back, only allowing yourself a second to collect yourself before aiming the dagger at his heart. He catches your wrist before it makes contact.

“So passionate,” he says with a smile, but through gritted teeth. “I must admit, this has been the most fun I’ve had in my bedchambers in a very long time. You might even be spoiling all the fun that the future entails as well. And I don’t even know your name yet. How sad.”

Satoru throws you against the wall, pinning your dagger-wielding arm against one of his extravagant paintings. He nods towards your weapon. “Throw that away.”

“You scared, alchemist?” You bite back.

“I’m only afraid you might hurt yourself, little sparrow. Sharp objects are dangerous, you know. Wouldn't want to clip your wings.” He winks. “And you should be referring to me as your royal highness. I am a prince, afterall.”

“With the dark craft that you and the royal family use, you’re no higher than me.”

Satoru chuckles. “Won’t you please tell me your name? Or at least join me in bed before you insist that I need to be killed.”

“This is not on my insistence.” It’s a slip, but it’s a big one. You’d cover your mouth if your hands were free.

“So, who sent you?” The prince prompts. “It can’t be a scorned lover. Hmmm. The Fushiguro clan? Pshh. No. They’d do it in person.” He flashes his teeth, omniscience glowing in his beautiful blue eyes. “Master Suguru Getou?”

You suck in a breath and he reads it all too well.

“I already know,” he purrs, lips brushing against yours. “Your fighting style is very similar to his. I’m just surprised he sent somebody with so little experience. It certainly proves how much of a coward he is.”

Your blood boils. How dare he insult your master to your face! Satoru Gojo, the sleazy prince and a lowly alchemist. He is scum compared to Master Getou.

You ram your head into the prince’s. Pain shoots down your spine, but you ignore it and thrust your dagger forward. Satoru grabs your arm and pushes it down, and soon, you scream after hearing a tearing sound, and feel a very sharp stinging at your side. Sticky warm fluid seep through your fingers at your side. It’s not a deep cut, but it’s just enough to make you bleed.

“Oh no,” Prince Satoru says in earnest. “Oh, this was my mistake. Dear sparrow, that was a reflex of mine. I didn’t mean to—“

There’s a knock on the prince’s chamber doors, followed by someone’s low voice asking, “your highness, are you well? I heard screaming.”

Shit. This is it. You’re dead. Sure, the prince wants to play with you, but anyone else will have your head in a heartbeat if they see what you’re doing. You should say your prayers now and kiss the world goodbye. You’re sending a silent apology to Master Getou when Satoru lifts you up and carries you to his bed.

“Sir Nanami?” The prince calls while he throws the sheets over both you and him. He climbs on top, pressing his chest into yours. The side that’s injured seers with pain, so you let out a little whimper the moment you hear footsteps enter the room.

“Don’t tell me you have a woman in here,” the man groans. “You know the king has forbidden any partner of yours from walking through these palace doors until further notice.”

“She flew in through my window, actually,” Satoru slyly admits. “But she’s no ordinary woman. She’s very special to me.”

Both you and the knight scoff at the same time, though you hope he doesn’t hear you. If he can believe this charade, perhaps you can get on with your night. And once you kill the prince, there will be a knight who will think that his murder is nothing but a lover’s quarrel gone wrong.

“I see.”

You’re staring at Satoru’s chest, and you realize that his wound from earlier is nearly healed. If you had any doubts about the Gojo family using alchemy, they’re out the window now. You run a fine finger across the red line that contrasts against his ivory chest, feeling the smooth bump where you’d cut him. Will it scar? you think. Disappear completely?

The prince squirms and grabs your hand. “That tickles!” He exclaims, bringing your hand up to his mouth to pepper kisses all over it. Even though the attention burns the back of your neck, you let him, since it’ll only convince the knight that the two of you are in fact being intimate.

Finally, Satoru says, “did you need something, Sir Nanami, or are you ready to confess your voyeuristic sins?”

Sir Nanami sighs, but you hear him back up a few paces. “Then, nobody’s hurt, your highness?”

“No,” Satoru says dubiously, “however, if you could fetch the healing medicines, that would be appreciated. She’s a little feisty!”

You slap his chest and he yips playfully back at you. It would be good fun if the two of you weren’t enemies.

Once the knight leaves, you’re quick to slink out of the bed, albeit wobbly. Dots of blood line his sheets, the sight making you feel a bit dizzy, but it doesn’t stop you from picking up your weapon.

“You don’t tire, do you?” Satoru asks impishly. “As admirable as that is, I simply cannot allow you to try to kill me anymore! You’ll get more hurt!”

“You’re nothing but a dirty alchemist.” You weakly thrust the dagger forward, nearing the window.

“Well, and a dashing prince, but that’s besides the point.” Satoru steps forward and you step back, your legs hitting the window’s wall. “Your master is no better.”

You bare your teeth at him. “Don’t you dare say a word to me about my master!”

“Please, little sparrow, you’re injured. Step away from the window and let’s bandage you up.” He reaches a hand out, and you swipe through the air, splicing his palm. More blood falls to the floor. Unafflicted, Satoru says, “you can’t hurt me.”

“Then let me leave, so that when I return, I can hurt you!”

There’s a purse on his lips. A pensive pause. Then the prince raises both of his hands, one of which is already healed, in defeat.

“There’s a medicine man who lives south-east from the gatehouse,” he says. “His name is Kiyotaka Ijichi. He’ll be asleep by now, but he’s a bit of a pushover and a sucker for a lady in distress. If you wail a bit outside his house, he’ll come out to offer you aid.”

“I don’t need anybody’s help,” you spit as you begin climbing out the window. You half-expect him to push you then. It’s a wonderful opportunity, one that you would seize if you were in his position. But the prince just watches you begin your descent.

“Do try to not bleed on any of the garden flowers,” he calls.

You wordlessly growl back at him.

“Oh, and little sparrow! Should you return here tomorrow evening, or perhaps the next night, or even a week or a month from now, shall I prepare red or white wine for you?” Prince Satoru offers you a charming smile. “And would you like there to be a violinist present? Anything to set the mood?”

Once you’re on your feet, you glare up at the beaming prince. He’s far too confident, but you make a mental promise to ruin that confidence someday, somehow. You don’t answer him, like you’re sure he doesn’t expect, but you allow him to watch you disappear into the black from whence you came.

[aetheternity]

Hello! I’ve read your work and fallen in love! I don’t know if your requests are open, but I really like the Armin x you x Levi post you wrote🥰 may I please request a smut of this? Thank you!

First of all thank you! I'm so glad you're in love with my work. 😊 Second of all I'm sorry this took a while I got sick and writing smut while being sick is honestly disgusting. Plus I recently fell in love with Saiki K and have been binge watching it . 🤭 N e ways! Hope you enjoy this.

Warnings: Polyamory, threesome, Nsfw content.

Ok you'll be honest with yourself four years ago you didn't expect to be as happy as you are now. 

After you'd grown sick of your living arrangement with your parents. You'd left that life behind. Moving into the small empty bedroom your best friend since your last year of middle school had open in his surprisingly tiny apartment. 

And when you said tiny. You meant tiny. 

Some rooms in the apartment weren't even big enough for someone to stand in with their arms outstretched. Not to mention a couple of your nights were spent huddled next to Armin on the couch with a huge blanket around your bodies because the heat randomly shut off. 

You'd think a situation like that would be worse. But weirdly enough it had been the best for both of you as your relationship had always had a sort of looming sexual tension that went unexplored. 

Long lingering touches to your waist got just a little bit longer while trying to squeeze past you in the bathroom. "Sorry I just need my brush." Armin would whisper. Warm palm against your hip. The ghost of his pelvic bone so close yet so far away. Just the realization making you arch in his grasp. You'd hold his gaze and in the back of your mind you could watch the soft slither of his tongue as it wet his gorgeous pink lips so many times over. 

Of course it escalated with neither of you ever saying a word about your feelings. You spraying water from the sink on a shirtless Armin during a heat wave that just wouldn't let up as he walked into the kitchen wearing only grey sweatpants. (Yup.. only sweatpants.) The way they hung so low on his hips practically begging for your tongue to stretch across the expanse of his pelvis. 

Him hugging you tight around the waist for literally any reason he could think of. (And he found a new reason everyday.)

And then it escalated a little further.. you pulling back the shower curtain to "complain" about him eating your leftovers. Him pulling you into his lap while the two of you watched tv. 

And one day it just ended. And by ended it meant you two opened a bottle of wine on New Years and the ball wasn't the only thing that dropped. He had you laying ass up, legs spread and pussy sobbing as he rocked your hips for eight fucking hours with no stop. Did that table break? During hour five but Armin managed. 

And then you guys moved. After a mutual agreement that the two of you were aware of each other's feelings and wanted to be together. You'd both managed to pool enough money together to afford a bigger place with two bedrooms. One unused and one that was immediately broken in with Armin over stimulating you the second the boxes were halfway unpacked. 

Fast forward to a man named Levi moving in across the hall, him developing feelings for you over a long period of seeing you daily thanks to his best friend absolutely adoring you and constantly inviting herself into you and Armin's home.

After a while you'd started picking up on the signs of his affection too. His long glances that sometimes didn't even break when you looked back at him. The little gifts that began to show up at your door. The way he'd bring over food when he knew Armin wasn't home. 

Once you'd started to develop feelings too Armin allowed you a night. One night to see if those feelings were actually real and what they might mean. Cue a night of carriage rides, roses (lots and lots of roses), stargazing and a kiss that damn near floored you and it was more than one night. 

Two nights and Levi had had you on his couch with him snuggled in what would soon become your favorite blanket. Three nights and Levi had you eating his mom's homemade spaghetti. And by a week you were begging for Levi to fuck you harder, fingers shaking on his white tiled kitchen floor. His relentless thrusts still causing your thighs to tremble hours after. 

He looked so lost in bliss in a way you'd never seen him before and you hugged onto him so tight you didn't even go back to Armin that night. Just curled up under your favorite blanket on his couch with his cock nestled deep inside you. His kisses littering your face till the moment you fell asleep. 

It was definitely a cause for fear. An unrelenting kind and you sat down on the couch with Armin the next day explaining how deeply you loved them both. Only to be shocked when he brought up the topic of polyamory. It definitely shocked you a ton when Armin agreed to it after some explanation of his own feelings but the real surprise was Levi explaining how he'd also thought about it and would be up for it. 

And thus began the beautiful bloom of a poly relationship after him and Armin had gotten better acquainted. You know after you guys all moved because Levi hated living in the apartment. 

The three of you left to live in a gorgeous house. (For once you were living in a place with more than one floor and an island in the kitchen.) A place you'd been calling home for over a year now. 

~~~~ 

Your breath hitched soft moans stuttering off your lips. You don't even remember who started it but here you and Armin were, his breath tickling every bit of your face with sweet languid kisses. One hand brushing over every curve you possessed while the other was softly brushing in between your pussy lips. 

Your body perched in his lap as he sat against the headboard. Pillows scattered around the two of you as you writhe and begged for more of his touch. 

You were probably drawing blood where you were grasping his shoulders but you couldn't even begin to think about it. Armin's warm breath tickling your lips in a soft chuckle. The tips of his fingers softly caressing your clit as you let out little whimpers of pleasure. 

"You promise you'll moan nice and loud for daddy's fingers?" He asked, closing the distance between your lips with a much slower kiss. 

"Yes." You could feel his nail brush inside and you almost buried his fingers but his harsh grip on your ass paused your movements. Your thighs shook and you rubbed your forehead against his. Leaned into his broad chest with both hands. "Please daddy.." 

"Good girl." 

With one more small kiss he laid you out flat on the bed free hand coming up to squeeze your areola. With a tap of your outer thigh you spread for him watching the way his spit dribbled off his lips and directly onto your already wet hole. The mixture making a much wetter sound as he pumped two fingers fully inside. 

With a gasp you yanked the sheets hard, almost squeezing your thighs together. His fingers curling, snatching your breath away. The bed creaked a little as he repositioned himself, stomach flat against the sheets with his mouth on your thighs. Spreading a soft array of little open mouthed kisses. 

"A-Armin.." 

"Keep your ankles in the air, love. I don't wanna punish you tonight." He breathed 

You sucked in a breath, reaching out to hold your ankles. Almost immediately you felt embarrassed by the high pitched moan that fell off your lips at the first long slide of his flat tongue over your pussy lips.

And then right in between them in a beckoning motion over your clit that had you biting into your lip. The smile on his lips so evident over your core. 

You lifted your head in time to watch the slow drip of more of his saliva stretch between your clit and his bottom lip. Tongue immediately outstretched with eyes drawn to your features as he lapped it back up again. 

With his free hand he spread apart your pussy lips a little further giving your clit an almost harsh knead with his thumb. The friction making you cry out and almost drop your legs onto his back. 

His fingers carefully slipped out of you to your own dismay. The slow drag against your walls almost painful, that is until his tongue was sliding in to replace them. Giving your inner walls a massage that made your gaze fall white. 

You felt him hum. Sweet vibrations flowing through your cunt as he slurped down every bit of your juices. His arms snaking around your legs to yank you so much closer as he pushed his tongue impossibly deeper. 

"Daddy.." You begged 

"Shh, keep moaning for me baby.." He hummed, flicking your clit with his thumb. 

You obeyed with an arch that probably could've launched you off the bed if not for Armin's tight hold. Your eyes squeezed shut, brain going completely empty. 

"Such a good girl." He breathed "So good for daddy." 

The pad of his tongue stretched over both sides of your lips with little nibbles. Sucking the skin into his mouth roughly. You could feel his eyes on you, practically see those bright blues pop with lust as he pressed his tongue back inside with languid thrusts. 

Your heartbeat pounded in your ear and you felt the hold he had on your legs loosen. His two fingers delving and sliding back into your warm fluttering cunt. The overwhelming pleasure forcing your hands back on the bed holding out for dear life. 

"Daddy.. daddy please.." You cried 

"Getting close baby?" When you nodded vigorously he smirked. "Come on baby almost there." He hummed 

He sped up his tongue, fingers stretching you open quickly adding another. Your breath caught with a high pitched cry that left tears  flowing over your cheeks. An endless chorus of his name flooding off your lips. His own moans sending vibrations through your core. 

Your stomach tightened, toes curling in the air as you tried and failed to steady your breathing. One of your hands unfurled itself from the sheets now sticking to your sweat soaked body. Carding it in the beautiful blond locks between your legs. 

"Baby.. baby I'm about to-" He sucked your clit into his mouth and your eyes went hazy, head falling back. 

"Finish baby, come on.." He whispered 

Your lips spewed curse words between every breath lost. When his fingers tapped smoothly against your g-spot you knew that was it for you. And with one last shudder you came around his fingers, screaming his name as your orgasm racked over you in a loud burst. 

And he licked up every drop, nose buried to collect it all like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. 

"A-Armin.." You shuddered body flush and hazy. 

His fingers feel wet, a combination of your pussy juices and the sweat between both your bodies. You slowly blinked in the darkness combing strands of his hair back as your lips made contact. The mixture of your taste and his on your tongue, in an almost overwhelming way. 

You tensed under him. Hands stretching over every part of him you could reach only for him to back away a bit. With your nails still gently grazing over your back he pressed his damp forehead into yours, fingers sweeping over every bit of bare skin. 

With barely any warning he hoisted you to your feet next to the edge of the bed. And you reached out for his shoulders as he slipped his boxers down his legs. Inching himself back up to the headboard. 

"Take a seat." He gestures, laying back. 

He's got a hand around your waist in seconds. His cock soon just below you, so so close to where you wanted it. Where you needed it so badly. 

Your knees came down on both sides of him, carefully administering your weight evenly until every inch of his hot cock was stretching you open. His tip soon resting firmly against your cervix like it always did and you both relinquished a sweet gasp. 

"F-fuck.. so full.." You huffed 

It felt like it had been so long when in reality it'd probably only been a week. And yet you were moaning like you'd been starved of him. Rocking your hips like he'd punished you with no cock for months. 

Suddenly his arm wrapped itself around your waist again. He hoisted you up with a strong hold moaning directly in your ear as he thrusted up into you like it was the first time. His knees pressing your thighs open.

A hiss falling off your lips as he kissed over your shoulder and collar. Hands squeezing both your breasts like they were his personal stress balls. 

You hadn't been aware of how hard Armin was going until the rough knocks of the bed hitting the walls finally began to settle in your ear. But you could barely care Armin's cock was hitting every spot inside of you and your leg was starting to twitch where it was forced outward. 

His breath grew more ragged with every thrust. Sweat dripping off your forehead onto his. His sweet murmurs of praise turning you on even harder.

"Love, you take me so well.. You're doing so amazing…." He moaned 

You leaned your head into him, feeling that sweet familiarity deep in the pit of your stomach. You reached around to the back of his head, yanking a little rougher than intended on his scalp. 

The uneven slaps of your skin meeting managed to keep the two of you distracted  until the sound of the door practically slamming into the wall shook you both to a halt. 

Levi's dry sigh filled the once noisy bedroom. "Do you two have to make so much noise? I'm busy with a work project." 

Despite Levi's gripes Armin angled his cock back towards your g-spot barely grazing it but it was enough to force a little mewl from your lips. 

He laughed, pulling you a little closer. "Mm sorry Levi. Didn't know we were being so loud." 

There was a small glint in Levi's eyes. The quick dart of his pupils to where you and Armin were joined and then back up to your face putting a devious grin on your face. 

"You should take a break, daddy." You said 

"Tch." Levi huffed, "This thing needs to be done by tomorrow. I don't have time for this." 

You reached out for him with one arm. An arm that unsurprisingly didn't even reach close to him from his stance near the bedroom door. By this point Armin's thrusts were going at almost the same pace as before. Not as rough but enough to resume the gentle rock of the bed. 

You let out a soft moan as Levi took the bait, slowly walking over to the bed. His finger carding affectionately through your tousled hair. He leaned in, pecking your kiss swollen lips. 

If there was anything you knew for a fact about Levi it was that he always had a hard time saying no to you. 

To be completely honest it didn't surprise you that Levi was already more than a little hard. Though it did surprise you how easily he gave in today. Watching with unchanged expression as you pulled his belt from the loops and buckle, undoing it with a light clatter which quickly followed the almost inaudible sound of his zipper being pulled down.. 

You let out a relaxed hum, lip pressed between your teeth at the sight before you. His thick cock poking out over the hem of his underwear. You grasped at the sheets with one hand a little shaky as you slipped his boxers down over his ass until they pooled at his ankles. 

Armin slipped his hand under you right up against your stomach. Levi immediately followed suit already knowing what he was doing. He stepped over to the edge of the bed as Armin laid you down on your stomach. Levi's wet tip dangling in front of your lips. Before you could even register it Armin had your hips in the air slipping all the way back inside with a loud gasp. 

Meanwhile you were wetting your lips. Hand curving up and down the length of his dick. You inched forward on your elbows to slowly surround Levi's dick in the warm confines of your mouth. The hiss he let out sending shivers over your spine.

"How's it feel? I know how much you love taking two dicks." Levi grunted 

Armin reached forward, tugging your hips in close with one hand. The other hand on your ass as leverage. Allowing him to ease out to his tip before slamming back inside. Your eyes rolling back with pleasure. 

As if it wasn't already difficult enough to take Levi he wasn't even fully hard yet. Just expanding in your mouth as you coaxed your throat into relaxing enough to slide every thick inch down. 

"I know that pretty mouth can do so much better than this." He reaches out with zero warning to grab a fist full of your hair. Yanking you forward with barely any restraint. 

Though you must admit the sound that leaves his throat when he does is almost worth the tears pricking over your hollowed cheeks. 

"Baby I'm so fucking close.. I'm gonna fill your pussy." Armin sighs, his hand comes down to wrap around the base of your throat angling your mouth into Levi's rough thrusts. 

Your heart is hammering but you close your mouth as best as possible without biting to take Levi's cock. Already feeling the effects on your jaw as he presses in a little harder with a deep moan. 

By now his cock is fully hard rocking you back into Armin with deep rough thrusts that almost make you gag. 

"That's my g-irl.." Levi grunts, even though they're small his nails dig into your scalp so roughly you could swear you felt something trickling down to the back of your neck. 

You grip the bed sheets with both your toes and fingers, the creaking around you unmistakable. 

"I'm cumming.. I'm cumming!" Armin cries out and you'd honestly give anything to see his gorgeous blue eyes roll back and the little smile that curves against his lips as he climaxes. 

You finish just a couple seconds ahead of him. Eyes unfocused where they roll into shut. Little sounds muffled by the thick dick stretching open your throat. The feeling of Armin's cum flooding your walls makes you whimper and he lets out the softest moan as his orgasm slowly whittles away. 

Your gaze soon fixes on Levi only to be met with the prettiest tint of pink brushed right up against his cheeks. His eyes pressed tightly closed, lips parted over every harsh breath. 

It didn't take long for the sweet drag of Armin's cock to begin again. His light touches to your spine making you arch a little higher. 

"You look so fucking pretty, you know that?" Armin mummered, cock slamming into your g-spot. "Doesn't she look gorgeous, Levi?" He asked with a little whimper. 

Levi's eyes fluttered open a hint of a smirk cresting on his lips. "Like she's gonna.. pass out.." He combed your hair back again gripping it a little tighter forcing your head up. He paused at the back of your throat. "Can't take it baby? Want me to pull out?" 

You grunted at every slam of Levi's dick until that all too familiar sound flooded your ears, followed by almost every curse in the english language. 

"You're doing so well.. f-uck.." He moaned "Swallow my cum.. swallow it. I'm almost there.." 

Levi hoisted his leg up against the already shaky foot of the bed using as much leverage as possible. His fingers tugging your head forward on every pump of his thick cock. Mixing with the loud gasps of Armin behind you as he also neared his end. 

And with one more deep thrust Levi was spilling down your throat with a choked groan. Cock head nestled deep in your tired throat holding you still as his orgasm flooded from his body. 

You were a little relieved when he stepped back allowing your jaw to relax. The still wet tip pressing sweetly against your lips. 

"Such a pretty girl.." He said, so low you thought you imagined it. 

"Switch with me." You heard Armin say 

You sighed as his cock left you, feeling yourself immediately being flipped onto your back. His large hands coming down from where he now stood over you to perfectly envelop your breasts. Meanwhile Levi was pulling your hips close and sliding in as effortlessly as he always did. 

"Levi!" You threw your head back 

Armin smirked over you, his hands kneading a little rougher. You arched into his touch pressing the balls of your heels into Levi's back, pushing him just a little deeper- 

God it was perfect. The feeling of his dick so much different from Armin's but honestly just as perfect. The moan you let out was downright pornographic and you pressed your head back into Armin's thigh. 

One of Armin's hands came up to your face brushing aside your hair soaked in tears. "You look perfect. But I wanna make you more perfect." 

He pulled himself off the bed, sliding a hand over your cheek. "I wanna paint your face baby. It's so perfect.." He mumbled already pumping his long dick over your face. "You'll let me right.." He whimpered 

When he leaned in again it was to press a little kiss to your lips. "P-please.." 

The curve of his lips made your heart flutter in your chest. "Mm.. let Levi see when I'm finished." 

One of Armin's hands sat rather aggressively on the edge of the bed. And you could see the way every vein in his hand moved. Grip tightening a little with every pump of his cock, back and forth his knuckles practically ripping through his skin. 

You gasped as Levi leaned over you, fat cock pressing into your G-spot. "Stop ignoring me." He grunted 

He slid his teeth beneath your earlobe administering a barrage of sweet nibbles mixed with more aggravated bites. 

"Levi.. Levi!!" 

Armin gasped above you, "Almost there.." He moaned 

A bright white was starting to take over your vision as you shut your eyes, mouth hung open for Armin's cock with absolutely no sound coming out as Levi continued to use your tired pussy. 

Small huffs of fuck littering the air. You bore your nails into Levi's back and chest. His leg shaking against you as he pushed through his last thrusts. 

"I-I'm.. I- shit!" Armin came first, missing Levi's head by a hair (literally) as ropes of hot cum plopped onto your face, you barely registering it as your own orgasm hit you like a two ton truck. Levi's thumb coaxing small spasms from you through your clit. 

Levi huffed, face scrunched, lip bitten and eyes shut as he came for the second time with a hard gasp. 

The room went quiet for what couldn't have been any longer than 2 minutes before Armin was pulling himself up from where he'd slumped over the bed. 

"Levi, look how sexy she looks with my cum all over her face." He cooed 

It stuck to your eyelids as you blinked though ultimately chose to keep your eyes shut. You felt Levi's small chuckle and the brief feeling of him slipping out of you to your own disappointment.

"Open baby." Armin said 

As soon as you did his fingers slipped into your mouth. The salty/sweet residue of his cum littering your tongue. Quickly joined by Levi who swiped his thumb across your eyelids before pressing it into your mouth. 

"How're you feeling?" Armin asked as you opened your eyes slowly. 

You blinked in their faces standing above you with a small smile. "Tired." 

"You can't sleep until you've washed off. It'll be better for you anyway." Levi replied, heading into the bathroom. 

Armin quickly followed after carefully lifting your fatigued body off the bed. It took a couple minutes for Levi to get the temperature to perfect but once he did you slowly felt yourself sinking into perfectly warm water. 

The soreness in every part of your body already beginning to dissipate as you leaned back against the edge of the tub. 

"We did a number on you hmm?" Armin asked, carding your hair back. 

"I'll make you some tea once you're cleaned up. Then we can cuddle under your favorite blanket." Levi said 

"Thank you guys but I feel like I could fall asleep here." You say lifting your thighs for Levi to clean under. 

"I promise I'll pay you back big time tomorrow." Armin replied, rubbing your arm with soap. 

Your lips curled up deviously, "Now that I look forward to." You grab his chin pulling him into you, pecking his lips. 

[cryoaquila]

downpour

summary - trying to move on is difficult when you don’t know how.

pairing - childe x f!reader

tags - tags contain spoilers! break ups, strong language, death, angst, feels, alcohol mention and consumption, drunkenness.

wc - ~3.3k

a/n - so, i wrote his sister, tonia, in this as a supporting character. let’s just say she isn’t as young as teucer lol. she’s probably like in the 18 - 21 range here.

he had so many names and nicknames given by multiple people with varying degrees of like and dislike for him, but you knew him by the pet name you had given him when you two started dating: childe. he was hyper, never stopping to take a break unless an injury forced him down, but that’s where you came in, taking care of him until he was well enough to go off on another journey. wherever he went, you went, whatever wild antics he thought of you were always right beside him waiting to pick him up and dust him off. you gave him your world, and he gave his world to you. you thought he was the one, even when he turned to you with a black eye and broken nose, you still loved him. you both weren’t just a couple, you were the best of friends, the two of you against the world, not even the hardest difficulties could break you up, or so you thought. 

but then she stole his heart away from you. he met her, and they clicked in a way that you thought couldn’t be possible. he stopped chasing after thrills and started chasing after her, and she just pulled him along. you tried to keep up with him and with her, but eventually, you finally gave up and let him go.

you wondered if he was happier now that he was with her. hell, they could be married for all you know. you held a grudge against him for leaving you as he did for another woman, and yet... you still missed him in your life. after these years apart, you still loved him, something you hated admitting to yourself. you couldn’t move on with these feelings holding you down, and thus you tried everything in your power to help yourself forget about him, as he probably forgot about you a long time ago. you lower your head down against the cool wooden table below, thinking to yourself as glasses clinked together and people spoke in drunken, slurred speech. for a second, you think about ordering something but decided against it as you weren’t feeling up to eating or drinking, the only thing you were feeling was overtly numb from the mix of longing and unforgiving. the bar noise was welcoming. you came here to feel less alone and isolated, and the liveliness of the place was a comfort that helped you focus on other things besides him. hearing all the noise around you made you feel better already.

that was until he entered the bar.

your eyes widened and, without even thinking, you duck your head below the table. you were trying to heal! to get him off your mind! what was he doing here!? he knew this was your favorite place, why’d he come here? was he going to bring his girlfriend here? did her forget about you and how much you enjoyed this little hole-in-the-wall bar? your thoughts and questions turned your mood sour. well, you wouldn’t give him what he wanted. no, you’d hide, and pretend you weren’t here. he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of rubbing his relationship in your face.

you watched his actions with scrutiny. he went straight to the bar, and you expected him to order something for his date, but instead, he asked the bartender a question, “hey, i’m looking for a woman who lives in this town and frequented this bar a lot.” the bartender looked at him with raised eyebrows and childe quickly dug around in his pant’s pockets, “um, here, i have a picture of her...” he yanked a photograph from his pockets and unrolled it before showing it to him. you tried to see who the picture was of, but the angle made it impossible. you wondered if it was a picture of you or...?

the bartender eyed him and the picture curiously before shaking his head and saying something along the lines of how he hadn’t seen her in a while. one might think that was an admission that the photograph wasn’t of you, but sadly it didn’t help. the bartender never noticed you. in fact, if you wanted to order something you always had to go up to him directly and get his attention to order.

“oh, alright, don’t worry about it. thanks.” childe sighed, sounding deflated as he rolled up the picture, stuffing it back into his pocket before leaving.

you finally free yourself from your hiding spot, grimacing as you did so. him visiting caused unnecessary feelings to resurface, feelings you were trying to get over. having your night ruined, you decided to leave the bar and go get some rest instead.

-

the second night you tried to stay away from the tavern, but couldn’t help it. the feelings for him became too grand, and you felt nothing but your aching heart and tears form in the corner of your eyes. thus, you made your way back to the same place, as usual, to try to get your mind off him and onto the bustle and happiness of others. you walk in and sit at the same table you always do, in the back, a perfect place to just sit and watch the people drink away the night. the bartender didn’t notice you, once again, but that’s fine. you’re not here to talk or eat or drink. you’re there to heal, to feel anything beyond want for him. maybe one day you’d order something and mingle with the crowd, perhaps even find someone else to date, but today was not the day for that.

as the night lazily ticked on, you watch people come and go, drinking and chattering, enjoying the activity. that was until he entered again. you glare in surprise and huffed in anger that he returned. what was he doing? why didn’t he just go back to his girlfriend?

however, your gaze softens into worry when you notice how unwell he looked. heavy black bags hung under his eyes, his hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed, and he was wearing the same attire as yesterday - you wondered if he was sick. you continued to watch as he slunk down at a table in silence. the bartender, upon seeing him, left his position behind the bar and walked over to his table.

“did you find her?” he questioned him.

“... yes...” childe’s voice was barely a whisper and you strained to hear.

the bartender scratched his chin for a moment, “she someone you love?”

“... yes...” he said something else, but you weren’t able to catch it. after a pause of silence, he spoke again, a little louder this time. “it just took me another woman to date and dump to figure out how much i love her. but it seems i figured it out too late.”

the bartender hummed a soft tune, turning, “i’ll get you something to drink, on the house. you sound like you need it.”

“make it a double order.” childe requested before resting his forehead against the table.

you were at a loss. so he had broken up with his girlfriend, perhaps that’s why he looked so sickly. “too late?” you mutter to yourself, resting your head in your hand as the bartender came back with two pints of beer for childe. “too late for what? for me to take him back?” you thought about your own words - did you want him back? you bite your lip, you loved him, but you weren’t trying to love him. you came to the bar to move on from him, but it was becoming a difficult task as his presence alone was causing you to feel that warm feeling of love all over again.

the rest of the night you watched him silently drink himself into a stupor, unsure of what to do. you needed time to get your thoughts and feelings together. maybe tomorrow you’d finally have a chat with him and you two could figure out what to do. for now, he was far too wasted to hold a thoughtful conversation.

-

the third night you start going to the bar for a different reason than before. it was like you were drawn there, at the same time per usual, the want of seeing him being your driving force. you still were at a loss whether you’d get back together with him or not, a mix of feelings holding you back, but at the very least you decided to chat with him today about it. he entered, a new routine for him, and somehow he looked worse than before. you started worrying for him as he ordered another large pint of beer. he never was much of a drinker, but suddenly he was downing pint after pint two days in a row. you decide now would be a good time to confront him, before he got too intoxicated, and perhaps seeing you would lift his spirits while subsequently erasing any amount of healing you had accomplished. you stand from your table, but the bar door clanging open caught your attention. a woman you recognized entered the bar, it was childe’s younger sister, tonia. she went straight to his table and slammed her hands down, “you can’t keep doing this!” she shouted, causing every patron to glance at them awkwardly, whispers echoing throughout the bar. you sat back down, staring in disbelief at the poor-timing of her entrance.

“i can do what i want.” childe muttered back brazenly. 

she grabbed a tuff of his hair, lifting his face up from the table, “look at you, you’re a mess.” she let go, dropping his face back onto the table. “and this poison isn’t helping you.” she picked up the two pints of beer he ordered and poured both of them out onto the floor below.

he turned his head to the side, his cheek resting against the table as he watched her with an uninterested expression, “hey i wasn’t done with that...”

“you are now!” she said cheerfully, dropping the now empty pint glasses back onto the table with a clink.

the bartender watched her and sighed, “ma’am you can’t just-”

she turned on her heels, glaring at the bartender who stopped midsentence before clearing his throat, “carry on.” he said, going back to mixing drinks for the normal customers.

tonia sat next to her brother, crossing her legs as she looked him over. “you look like you’ve lost a little weight. have you eaten anything in a while?” she muttered, poking at his side.

“no.”

“you need nourishment.”

“I need her.”

her mouth hung open as she tried to find the right words to say, but she couldn’t come up with anything. after an awkward pause she glared at childe, “the younger sibling taking care of the older sibling, oh how our roles have switched.” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “sorry, just, seeing you like this... is hard. but i should be kinder...”

he was quiet for a moment, the bar’s chaos now nothing but a quiet whimper as people began leaving for the night. “i’m sorry, too. i just can’t help-”

“no, no, there isn’t any need for you to be sorry. you act however you need to to get through this. but, some of it is detrimental to your health... you know... i think you should see someone... professional, to talk to. i can help you get an appointment...”

“... that... would it help me?”

she smiled at him. “of course it will! now, c’mon, let me help you home, there’s some leftover food waiting for you!”

“is it... your cooking?”

“hell no, our house would be burned to the ground if it was!” she laughed loudly.

“good, i’m glad it’s not yours!” he chuckled, and it sounded so pleasing to hear him laugh, even if it was only for a moment. you realized something as you watched him rest an arm over tonia’s shoulder before the two left the bar together, causing you to miss your opportunity to talk with him. what you had realized was that you still loved him. even after what he did to you, even after all his screw-ups, he was still your world. you realized you felt a spring of joy from seeing him feel just a little better, and you wanted him to continue to get better. you wanted him to be the best that he could be. you cared for him. you wanted to watch him heal from the break up and feel better day-by-day with you by his side. you finally admitted it to yourself: you forgave him. you forgave him for the mistake he made those years ago. and, not only that, you wanted to get back together with him. you wondered if he’d be back tomorrow. just in case, you’d wait at the bar before seeking him out as he had tried doing for you.

-

the fourth night you felt relieved when he came into the bar. you decided to confront him as soon as he sat down before tonia or anyone else could interrupt. you slowly went over to his table, his forehead pressed down once again. you reached out a hand to tap him on the shoulder, but stop short before touching him, and instead brought your hand back to your side before saying softly. “childe...” he jerked his head up, looking around the bar wildly.

that’s when tonia came in, “i was hoping i wouldn’t find you here again. c’mon brother, i thought we were getting somewhere yesterday, but here you are again. what happened?”

“i heard her...” childe uttered in disbelief.

“you... what?” tonia questioned, walking over to his table.

“i heard her voice, just now...” his tone was so soft as he continued to look around. 

you blink a few times, trying to see if you were dreaming. “that’s because i’m here...” you mutter as they continue on with their conversation.

“no, you didn’t.” tonia sighed.

“yes, i did! i heard her i... i heard her, i swear...” he argued back, getting a little more desperate as he tried to convince her.

“you did! he did!” you shout, but they act like they can’t hear nor see you.

“ajax please, you heard nothing. she’s... she’s gone-”

“i know she’s gone! i know she’s fucking gone!” he shouted, slamming his fist against the table, causing both tonia and you to jump, “why her!? it’s not fair! why not me!? i’d take her place in a heartbeat...”

“ajax please don’t say such things, if teucer ever heard you talk like that he’d cry all night long!” tonia snapped.

this caused him to become quieter, his tone turning from yelling, “i... i won’t say anything like that again, sorry. i just... i shouldn’t have let her go.” his voice cracked as he held back tears, his head hanging low, “i made such a huge mistake, a stupid mistake. i didn’t realize that until it was too late. she was perfect. the calm to my storm. and now she’s gone. i can’t tell her how much i love her.”

“you still can, you know. you can say it at her grave... have you been yet?” tonia asked.

“n-no... i couldn’t... i just... if i see it then... she’d really be dead.”

“but... she is dead. you have to come to terms with that. whether you see her gave or not, she’s dead.”

his body shook as he whispered, “i know. i know...”

tonia rubbed his back, “i’m here for you...”

“i want to see the grave...”

“maybe tomorrow, when it’s light out.”

what were they talking about!? your eyes were wide as the words circulated in your head. dead? grave? “childe i’m here, i’m here, i’m right here. please, look at me. look at me! i’m not dead! no way! no... no way...” you say, you shout, you try to get his attention, but he never looks at you, and neither does she, nor the bartender, nor anyone in the bar.

no one can see you.

no one can hear you. 

you run out of the bar in panic.

-

the next day was terrible. you had spent all night trying to grab the attention of anyone: passersby's in the street, driving cars, shop owners, anyone, but nothing, they walked by like you didn’t exist, like you weren’t there. what was happening to you? your memories were a blur, days were a blur, all you remember recently was attending the bar. had you even ever left the bar? you couldn’t recall. you couldn’t remember. your thoughts were a fog besides the nights at the bar and the conversations you overheard from childe. 

you curled up outside the bar’s closed doors, forehead against your knees, confused, lost, hurt. and that’s when you heard his voice, like a song to your ears, cutting through the misery. you snap your head up, seeing him walking with his sister down the opposite sidewalk, both dressed in all black. you decide to follow them as they walk the city streets. you needed answers. the bustling downtown turned into quiet city limits as they came to a small gated area. 

“here.” tonia said, opening the gate, “how are you feeling?”

“... bad.” childe answered.

“bad,” you answered, too.

“s’okay, if you still can’t we can just-” tonia began closing the gate, but childe topped her.

“no. i want to see it... i’m ready.”

you stood by the open iron gates, staring helplessly in front of you. multiple gravestones lined the gated land, and there went childe and his sister, heading toward one particular grave that made your stomach tie itself into knots. you take a step forward, and then another, forcing yourself to follow, and you wondered if this was how he was feeling right now.

you were still behind them when they finally came to a stop. both their heads bowed in silence before childe looked up to the blue sky above, closing his eyes as he muttered, “it’s a terrible day for rain.”

“but brother, it isn’t raining.” tonia responded, looking at him curiously. that’s when she noticed a tear making its way down his cheek. “oh, i see what you mean. indeed, it is a terrible day for rain.”

you walked over to stand beside childe, opposite of tonia, and looked at the grave in front of them. there was your name. and your birthday. and another date that felt terribly familiar. and plenty of flowers surrounded the stone. it was just as he had said - you had died. and yet, the anxiety you were feeling before vanished and you were left with a certain calmness that washed over you, almost like you had always known, but hadn’t... accepted the truth yet. no, not when there were things you still needed to know and do... and then, it all made sense to you. 

“let it out.” tonia said, and as if that was all he needed, he began sobbing loudly, his whole body jerking with each sob. you had never seen him cry before, not even when he broke bones, it was quite a shock to behold. “it’s alright, it’ll be alright. i’m here for you, your family is here for you. we love you.” tonia comforted him, rubbing his back as he cried on her shoulder. you were thankful she was there for him.

just then, you felt an airy, light feeling breeze flow through you. you finally realized that you had everything you needed to pass on peacefully. the things holding you to the mortal realm had been completed. you had forgiven him, confronted your own love for him, and found out that not only he remembered you but he still loved you. and now, looking at tonia hug him as he sobbed into her shoulder, you knew he would be ok. he had his family to support him as he worked on healing. you knew it’d still be a rough road ahead, yeah, you knew that well, but, eventually, he would be ok.

he would be ok. that’s all that mattered.

he would be ok was your last thought before you moved on.

[anarchy2021]

PSA Day! (Rp etiquette)

{ID: A person standing next to a flipchart. They're thin, and have medium-length brown hair, pale skin, and dark brown ears. The ears are angled horizontally. They're wearing thin-rimmed glasses, and their expression reads as confident. Their hair is partially tied up in a bun. They also have a long tail the same brown as their ears, with brown fur the same color as their hair on the end. They're wearing black trousers, a black waistcoat with a white shirt underneath. Additionally, a black overcoat with gold edges is draped over their shoulders. The inner lining of the overcoat is red, and partially visible behind the person. They have their right hand on their hip, and with their left hand, they're holding a stick up to the flipchart, which reads "RP 101 :)". The 101 is underlined. END ID.}

Greetings! You may not recognize me (unless you were watching the debate perhaps, then, sup) as I admit I’ve been a bit…. Behind the scenes as it were (as secretary of VOID there is a lot of looking at the void, usual routine for me mhm mhm). Regardless, I’m Days (or Nights, either or) and for today’s PSA I’m here (along with some words from our recently freed from totally-not-prison president, Graphite, at a later date) to talk to you about roleplay! More specifically, rp etiquette and terms and how that relates to the DSMP and how it should be talked about. 

Now now, you might be wondering “oh but what is your experience?” Glad you asked! I’m a long term text rper with over 5 years of experience- and my main avenues of rp are rps similar in structure to that of the DSMP- long term improv driven sandboxes that also have important events planned ahead of time in some regard but are often player driven most of the time. Now, let’s get into it!

Head writers/admins

Let’s start off with a pretty hot topic regarding the server, which is the existence of a ‘head writer’ (usually in reference to Mr. Soot). Now, mainy take this as meaning quite literally a writer- like in a show, but, with what information we have I think it’s safe to say he’s not really that and more along the lines of an rp admin/head. The admin’s main purpose is to keep things structured and organized, as well as putting together the events they’re in charge of. This is pretty much how everyone treats the man anyways, BUT, while an admin is in charge of a lot they do NOT have the final say over everything, particularly in regards to the characters and their players. 

Players in an rp for the most part have full control over their characters (within reason and the confines of the rp setting) and an admin enforcing their will onto a character (such as enforcing certain backstory choices that don’t seem particularly wanted. For example, the fridge with c!Phil) is often frowned upon unless there is a good reason for it and discussed with the rper. 

It is also notable that just because there is an admin, that doesn’t mean they’re the sole writer/organizer/etc. It is not at all uncommon for specific subplots and or other important events to be headed by players involved in it in this type of rp. This can be seen in practice with how the Eggpire plotline was headed by BBH and the prison plotline was mainly written by Dream and Tommy. 

Summary:

- head writer/admins do not and should not control everything

- organise and structure events

- players might admin their own smaller plots within a rp

Narrative consequences

Now, another hot topic- especially in regards to character discourse (my abhorred personally). Narrative consequences. These are generally referred to when someone thinks a character is not getting the consequences for their actions in the story that they should, or (more rarely in my experience) when they feel a character is being punished too hard for their actions. While this is an understandable feeling to have, at the end of the day narrative consequences just aren’t much of a thing in roleplay, at least not to the same extent as a book or tv show. 

This is for one simple reason, consequences rely on the character’s actions and how they respond to others around them, if a character does not feel like it’s fit to react or if it angers their character- it is 100% within their right to respond accordingly. 

However, there is also an argument that can be made if a character responds to something in a way that doesn’t align with a character’s usual actions. For a personal example, one time in a rp I was playing a character who was intervening when another character was being hurt, however, my character was met with scorn from being somewhat aggressive regarding it- I felt that this was unfair as none of these character showed the same scrutiny to characters who did worse things, and none of these characters had been established as hypocrites. 

This grudge lasted the entire rp until my character died. This is a point where believing that the consequences to a character are unjust is more or less fair, but, a character simply not getting immediately smited or a character getting scorn is not automatically a point against the character, especially since an rper cannot reasonably make their fellow rpers react a certain way.  

Summary:

- narrative consequences are not the same in RP as in other mediums

- can't force characters to react, or force players to react in a way they don't feel is fit

- but can critique RP if things feel unfairly ooc/inconsistent

Retcons

Next up, retcons. What is a retcon? It’s short for retroactive continuity, in essence it’s when in a piece of media something is changed retroactively- such as a character’s personality, how an event occurred, etc. for an outsider audience perspective retcons are often looked upon unfavorably, as it’s changing something already established which can cause friction among those attached to certain ideas, but in reality retcons are both a neutral concept and fairly normal to occur in rps. 

Rps are (generally) not professional writing, they’re things made up on the fly with perhaps a base to work off of (and depending on the rp, not even that. However in the rps I’ve done we generally had character sheets and the like for backstories and all) and thus sometimes mistakes happen. One of the main causes for minor retcons is when details are confused or left out that would have realistically affected the situation or how characters would have responded to it, unless in severe cases these usually happen on the spot and don’t cause much of a fuss. 

Major retcons often fall along the lines of players and how they choose to present their character. This is especially common when a player is using a character for the first time or even if they’re just new to an rp in general, sometimes as we rp we simply decide to take things in a new direction and sometimes that direction may cause things already established to be retconned, even if not outright stated. 

A good example of this is the enderwalk with c!Ranboo, the enderwalk as it was first introduced is very different than it is portrayed now, likely as a result of Ranboo taking a new direction with his character since then. More widespread retcons may happen if people are unhappy with a certain plot thread, in this case an example would be the canon status of SBI, Wilbur used to push it but Techno (and later Phil) didn’t want it to be canon, so anything about it previously said has been soundly retconned. 

In my own case character retcons very often happen to me when I first use an oc, as the character takes a different shape than what I put on the paper in practice, even sometimes within the same rp (one of my first ocs was practically unrecognizable as the same character in the beginning of an rp as compared to even just a few weeks later).

So, retcons are fine and normal to occur, but, like I said- they’re neutral. A retcon can very well be done poorly and cause problems. This is mainly in issue with retcons made that affect highly established and built upon aspects without discussion with all those who’d be effected, this can cause confusion, plot holes and cause characters to be in a weird limbo if they don’t know how to have their character act without whatever was retconned. Major retcons need to be discussed in order to prevent these problems, and in some cases should be avoided entirely- instead it being better to work for a compromise and rework events rather than removing them. 

Summary:

- retcons are normal and neutral

- small retcons happened frequently in RP to help keep things going in an improv heavy medium. Usually unnoticeable

- large retcons tend to have with new players, or if the story is taking a new direction.

- large retcons require a lot of communication, and sometimes whould be avoided, instead working to compromise and rework the direction of the RP

Metagaming and godmodding

Metagaming and godmodding are two very important terms to know for rp etiquette and if you’ve done any rping you’ve probably seen these words thrown around in rules lists and such already. These are both ultimately negative things that should be avoided at all costs. What are they? Metagaming is when you use information that you know OOC and use it IC even though your character should not have that information. Godmodding is when a character is taken over by another person for one reason or another against the player’s will- such as having a character react to something without letting the actual rper do it. 

The former is a big issue when it comes to discussion of the DSMP and how people interact with it, mainly in the chat and donos. When you are trying to get a character to react to information that they shouldn’t have you are trying to get them to metagame, which is heavily frowned upon in an RP. This is also important to note in discussion, a character not responding to certain important events is not a mark against them if the character has no way of even knowing what was going on, or would not reasonably respond to it with the information they have. 

Summary:

- both frowned upon

- god modding is taking over someone elses character

- metagaming is using out of character information to do in character acting

- Meta gaming is relevant to DSMP particular in how it relates to donos and chats. Don't encourage meta-gaming

All of these factors are important to consider when discussing the DSMP and it’s narrative, it’s not going to function the same as other forms of media nor should it- as once you go in that direction you’re competing with the big boys over at tv and at that point things would fall apart. Improv and it’s unique variables is what makes the DSMP, and anything else like it, special and interesting to follow!

[spitpr1ncess]

BRUISED BODIES CHAPTER 1 LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

                                               (not my image)

“You’re too pretty for this, little girl” remarks your current company. You roll your eyes and have to hold in the audible sigh that almost escapes you. How many times you have heard the same drivel? If you were too pretty, they wouldn’t continue the silent abuse on your body, would they?

You’ve been a working girl since you barely had the ability to think for yourself. You were plucked from your poverty-stricken family with the promise of their debts being written off.

You aren’t special and your family don’t care about you, a lie you’d been telling yourself for twenty two long years. You are a slab of meat and a source of income, that’s all, and believing yourself to be more was a stupid mistake you’d learned not to make, assuming people actually cared about you had caused you more pain than any physical abuse you’d ever endured.

You’re snapped back to reality as a pair of hands paw clumsily at your breasts, you inhale and remind yourself that this is only a temporary situation, but until you figure out how, you must continue to appease the men that Jools sends your way.

Jools is like your older brother, if your older brother worked in a brothel and openly encouraged men to fuck his slightly younger sister. The two of you share an intimate relationship built on a strong foundation of sharing trauma, you know he means well.

Jools was taken around the same time you were, only, as he managed to flourish into a promising young man, he was favoured by boss, and thus, promoted. You and Jools have always seen eye to eye, his depressing background is in servicing men, just like yours and it’s how you built your relationship, why you share such a deep understanding of each other, such mutual respect. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the other girls, and as a mean result, ensures that you are on the less favourable end of their antics, often being the brunt of their absolute frustrations and jokes.

As head of appointments and bookings, alongside other things, he always tries to send you the easy ones, if Boss knew he favoured you, you’re sure Jools would be sacked, or worse, effective immediately. You’re eternally thankful that he chooses to throw you a bone, even if it doesn’t seem much to him, it means the world to you.

Your mindless wandering halts once again, as you make unfavourable eye contact with your unwelcome company, you notice he is grunting as he roughly palms his own erection with his bear-like hands, staring holes through you as he directs his dirty glare at your breasts. Without thinking you grasp his knees and push your elbows to meet, forcing your breasts to squash together in that specific way that the male gaze loves so much, accentuating their plumpness. You are the first to admit that although sex is something that is daily to you, you are a very sexual soul by nature. You love the affect you have on men, and how you can practically melt them down to nothingness in the palm of your soft hand. You’re certain it comes from the trauma that is deep rooted in your hunger for male validation

The man sat in front of you isn’t the smallest you’ve seen but he isn’t particularly well endowed either, weighing up your current circumstances, you decide to make the most of it. Standing up, you lick your lips and undo the tie to your virginal white skirt, allowing it to fall to the ground quietly. It crumples in a small pile and feverishly you step out of it, feigning nervousness. You take your willing participants bear-paw off his own erection and place is gently on the arm of his chair, straddling him, you centre yourself and gently lower down to allow your warmth to press against him. Instinctually, he grunts and pushes back, his actions clumsy and annoying yet you allow it, not wanting to anger him, the men you service are big businessmen and you know better than to piss one off. You have seen first-hand the damage they can and do cause. You let him believe he has control, you grind back and nuzzle into his neck, playing him like a game, inhaling, you pick up on cigarette smoke and some notable cologne brand, nothing out of the ordinary.

You kiss his neck, breathing over his ear, begging him to enter you, you are not stupid, the way you make men feel, like you are infatuated, like there is nothing else you need at that moment than them, always gets you tipped. And tips go straight to your pocket, and any tips that go straight to your pocket, go straight to your running-away-savings. As he clumsily lines up his erection, you lift yourself onto your elbow to assist him in his feeble attempt at entering you, you feel his tip pressed right up against you, simultaneously, you kiss him and sheath yourself entirely. It isn’t anything notable and is in fact somewhat disappointing, nevertheless, you continue to finish the job.

You inhale sharply to sell the fantasy. He grunts again, like some half dead animal, you cringe trying your hardest to not let on as you know that his tips will make the effort worth it. Like a wet dream he was having, you bounce yourself up and down, in and out, in and out, in and out. It isn’t long before you see his head fall back and he stiffens below you, he opens his mouth and grabs your ass, hard. You squeal as you feel his hot seed lacing your insides, you feign your own orgasm, making your legs shake as if you had to convince him like your life depended on it. He buys it; dirty talking you and asking various lewd and cringey questions that make you shudder, if it weren’t for you writhing on top of him, he might have picked up on it. You kiss him before finding your feet, passing him a napkin as he sheepishly cleans himself off, only now feeling shy and vulnerable. He stands and pulls his trousers up; buckling his belt quickly, he then reaches into his breast pocket, he pulls out a stack of fifties, he throws a couple on the floor by your feet. He is trying to regain his masculinity, uncomfortable about looking into your eyes, you used to let it upset you, only you are used to it, each man having the same reaction.

He leaves and you lock the door tight behind him, you tidy up, wiping the chair and cleaning away any fluid that may have made its way to places it doesn’t belong. You wander towards your bathroom; the wooden floor feels cold but welcome on your ever tired feet. You stare into the mirror; a few tears had escaped your eyes without your noticing, it was a pretty normal occurrence for you now.

You glance in the mirror and notice that she is foreign, the girl staring back. Her long brown hair pulled over one shoulder, bruises lacing her frail body, you gently trace a finger over her body and look down to see your body. It is like you are disconnected, her body has not been your body for a long time. You wipe your eyes and turn your shower on, you hop in as it is still running cold.

You inhale sharply. It hurts, and the excruciating pain is welcome, you allow your bare back to fall silently against the wall and slowly lower yourself. You protect your knees with your arms as you grasp them toward you and lay your head between the makeshift protection you have created. Loud sobs escape your lungs as if they'd been brewing for a century.

A long while passes and you don’t hear the door unlocking.

Jools lets himself in, he hears your measly sobs coming from the bathroom and heads toward them, he slides open the shower door, startled, you jump up and let out an ugly shriek, Jools looks at you, pathetic, slim, bruised and sobbing. His head falls to one side as you try to somewhat protect your modesty. Jools has seen everything you have, and you, him, yet it still feels embarrassing and intimate.

“Olive.”, his voice is cool, patient, and laced with a little sympathy, “What am I going to do with you?”, he steps into the shower, allowing his clothes to get sprayed with water, you turn to him and press your forehead to his.

“I am sorry Jools; my emotions are all over the place. I will be ready in ten minutes, just allow me to clean up”, your voice sounds tired and you let out a little sigh. Jools places a hand on your shoulder and gently turns you around. You have been each other’s comfort in such a long life of trauma and you know what is coming next, he picks up your shampoo and lathers some between his hands, he rubs his fingertips into your scalp, scrubbing the dirt of the day out of your hair.

His touch is welcome, if not a little alien. It is rare these days that a pair of hands aren’t grabbing, pulling, pinching or pushing you around, you let out a long sigh, letting go of the anxiety and slowing your heart rate, you close your eyes and allow yourself to be cared for. By the time Jools finishes showering you he is soaked, you both step out into your bedroom. You pull on your skirt and replace your corset, a “uniform” as far as Boss is concerned. You hate it, making you feel vulnerable and cheap, you would rather slip on a t-shirt and shorts, or a loose dress.

Jools discarded all his clothes sans boxers and made himself comfortable on your bed as you were stood contemplating. You stare at him, with his light brown, almost ashy blonde hair. He is handsome, you have always thought this, you just never placed you two together, with him acting the “older brother” for all intents and purposes.

Jools breaks the silence, “Your four o’clock has cancelled, it’s what I came here to tell you” he pats the bed next to him and smiles “come and sit, unless you’re going somewhere”.

You pause momentarily before undoing your skirt again, you let it fall to the ground before reaching for a pair of linen shorts sat on your vanity, pulling them on, you take a few steps before collapsing on the bed next to Jools in complete exhaustion. “I’m tired of fucking the same men Jools” you remark.

“The same men, with the same predictable sex routines, the same sized cocks, the same moves. I’m bored. I’m climbing up the walls, Jools. Throw me a bigger bone, I’m begging you.”, You feel Jools eyes on your face, you let your head fall and meet his gaze. He snorts and pulls himself closer to you. You slide your body next to his and he drapes and arm over your waist.

Your foreheads touching, you lay in comfortable silence for a while. You close your eyes miss him protectively watching over you.

“I’m not sure what I can do for you Ol, unless you want me to fuck you myself. We don’t have much new clientele and any we do have seem like the abusive type, so I deliberately don’t send them your way.” he laughs. You ponder his first sentence, unable to tell if he was joking. You try your luck and shift your weight so you’re straddling him.

“Wh.. what the fuck are you doing Ol?”, You decide that he didn’t mean it, judging by his response. You begin to tickle his sides and he goes bright red before kicking you off, you land on the wooden floor with a loud bang.

“OW. That fucking hurt you fuck.” You stand up and cross your arms like a grumpy child. Jools looks at you and sticks out his tongue, you both pause, waiting for the other to break. It is you who laughs first, shortly followed by Jools who snorts, like a little pig. You can’t stay mad at him, he is so sweet, and you started it, after all.

“I was thinking Jools. If you have some time this afternoon, maybe we could go for a walk?” Your schedule was usually so full you don’t have time to visit outside. It was the beginning of the spring too, so everything was just starting bloom, it was one of the things that gave you a little peace and hope.

“I can’t Ol, I can’t leave the others unattended, in case anything happens, you know the rules” his voice holds a little sadness and disappointment, you can tell he’d like nothing more.

“Maybe I can open up a space for you this weekend? Then we can go out together?” Jools doesn’t work weekends; part of his promotion demands of course, but you did.

“Weekend rates are higher and I rea..” Jools cuts you off.

“I will charge one of your regulars more in the week; I’ll make it up for you, pleaaase?” he draws out.

You look at his face and the little boisterous glint in his eyes. You ruffle his hair like a little boy and laugh.

“Sure thing.”, You reply.