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shysuccubusstuff · 2 months ago

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Bodyguard! Mr. Scarlatella:

Content: Yandere! Mr. Scarlatella but he is actually human + assassin + farmer! scarlatella; non proof-reading; female anatomy + dubcon/noncon + kidnapping + usage of substances (once for the kidnapping) + mindbreak + lovesick! Mr. Scarlatella; cunnilingus + breeding kink + baby trapping + possessive! dom + overstimulation + orgasm denial + creampie + impregnation + trophy wife! reader (kind of?)

Summary: You never imagined that the guy that was about to end your father's and your life would end up falling head over feels for you, but hey, at least you're alive, right?...

Word count: 4240 words.

Note: I just hate how my brain decides to get dry af as soon as I end with my exams/essays... btw, Merry Christmas to everyone who reads this!! I'm thinking about making a kind of pt. 2 but with Mr. Crawling, let me know if you would want to read it!! It's weird to go back to the more dark stuff when I had started to write less heavy stuff... I feel I may have gotten a bit too creative for his personality, so let me know!!

Note 2: Let me know if any content tag is missing-- I wrote this over a whole week so I may have forgotten some...

You were the daughter of one of the wealthiest so it was only natural for you to live under the feeling of being targeted by someone, even since you were a child. So when your father presented a new bodyguard for you, it was nothing out of the ordinary, just some new guy who would probably quit by the month (at most). So he arrived, long black hair falling in a cascade and deep purplish pupils that pierced you through his polarised glasses.

"Dear, this is the new bodyguard, I hope you know how to behave yourself, I don't want to keep on complaining to that damn company, they keep saying it's your fault, but it's impossible for it to be solely your fault, I mean, it's been over 10 bodyguards in less than two months... Anyways, I have to leave, Daddy has some work to do." With that, your father left, his expensive cologne lingering in the air as he slammed the door, the new bodyguard still on the entrance of your room, a slightly unsettling smile creeping on his lips as he stood there.

"So you won't even introduce yourself? Seriously, the quality of that damn company is so freaking low... Can't believe they didn't even teach you how to introduce yourself." The man bowed a bit, taking a small notebook and giving it to you. "What the...? So you're saying that you're still learning the language and don't want to mess up? Ugh, ok, whatever. What's your name?" The man with crimson hair refused to speak, stating that he had not received a proper code name yet. "Seriously? Can't even call your name cause they didn't gave it to you, well that's just perfect. Don't bother me, just stand outside or whatever, as if I care." With those last words, the man left, finally leaving you alone in your room. "What the heck is wrong with that dude? I'm gonna complain to that fucking company of security, how am I supposed to trust him when I don't even know his name..."

As time went on, you were slowly able to get to know him, getting to know that he was actually coming from Japan because of some "old acquaintance" he knew since many years ago, that he loved magic tricks and that he was actually quite... cute. It hurt to even think it, but it was true, he was a cute man, always behind you when you allowed him, always running around you with your delicious drink ready and your purse hanging off his shoulder. God, he even learnt how to do your nails, makeup and hair in case you wanted to get it done on the days you were just too lazy to get out of the house... He was even there that night.

You had waken up by around three in the morning, making your way to your door so you could get something to eat in the kitchen, soon noticing that Scarlatella (as you liked to call him in a kind of playful way because of his hair colour) was nowhere to be seen, but hey, he was human as well, maybe he just went to the bathroom or something like that. As you were about to arrive to the kitchen, you noticed that the mansion was a bit too quiet, one would even say that it would have been possible to listen to a pin dropping to the marble ground. Unsettled, you quickly made your way to your father's bedroom, but you soon found out that the bed was completely cold. Now alarmed, you run to his studio, the sound of your feet resonating all over the empty corridor as you forced the door open, soon finding a terrible scene.

It was your father, well, what used to be your father, as his body was already turning cold, his skin turning slightly blue with clear signs of choking. Just as you were about to scream, your vocal cords were unable to produce a sound, your lungs being completely filled with a strange air that made you gasp for hair before you started to feel lightheaded. As you felt your conscience drift, you silently cursed that stupid company and that useless yet slightly charming man.

By the time you woke up, you soon noticed that your whole body was intact, expect for slight marks of rope on your wrists. As soon as you recovered a bit, you took a deep breath, deciding to try and scream to the top of your lungs in case someone could hear you.

"Hey! Someone there? Some crazy jackass has kidnapped me and---!" Suddenly, the heave iron door was opened, a familiar face entering the room.

"Good morning, dearest. I'm so glad you were finally able to open your eyes, you see, it was a bit difficult to get the amount of dose correctly, as I have never tried to keep someone as tiny and beautiful as yourself." Your old bodyguard entered, the heavy door closing behind him as he brought a tray on one of his hands. "Here, I brought you a few things I know you like." You looked at the delicious-looking food, your mouth watering as you saw all your favourite desserts, together with a bunch of your most beloved fruits. Despite the confusion, you tried to keep it together, looking to the other side and refusing to do what he asked. "Dearest, you've been asleep for over t--" Before he could end his sentence, you had already hit the tray with one of your legs, sending the appetizing food.

"Why the fuck are you here? You failed protecting me-- Fuck, you left my father to die, you're lucky I'm tied here cause I would crush your fucking skull with my---" The crimson-haired man got closer, dangerously close, in fact, his warm breath hitting against your face.

"Oh dear, I always knew you had quite the filthy mouth, but you must have been quite shocked to see that pig like that... I understand, I would never stop loving you for something trivial like that... Nor for anything, to be fair." His cold hands touched your face, the callouses in his hands making you frown even more than before.

"Listen fucker---." The man covered your mouth with his much larger hand, the shivers resulted from the cold shifting into goosebumps from the fear.

"Shh, dear. I understand, no need to explain it to me. I will make sure to re-educate you so you can go back to your natural self, that pig tricked your poor mind, but I will be able to fix it for you, see? I’m being such a good man for you, after all, I was supposed to kill you, but I even decided to turn my back to my client and let you live, I even avoided someone to think that you were alive. It was a bit of a hassle, but hey, I would do everything for you, dear.” The man finally got away from your face, taking the tray that had fallen to the ground because of you, together with the food that had been smashed to the ground. “It’s ok, dear. I understand this will take some time, luckily, I have all the time in the world, you just need some… hard love. I’m sure you will start to appreciate my company and care soon enough.” With that, the man smiled one last time to you, leaving the room with the sound of the heavy iron door closing, leaving you in the middle of the dark.

Since that moment, your slow torture started. The man left you in the dark for who knows how long, covering your eyes with a soft cloth, only taking out when he was around so he could start to… kind of associate him with the light, you supposed. He kept bringing you scrumptious plates, from your favourite foods to exotic ones. Of course, that was until the… maybe over tenth time you had throw his tray to the ground. That time, he simply took the tray, taking once again all the food on the floor and leaving in complete silence. The next time you was him was after… maybe one whole day? Your stomach kept rumbling, and what began as anger quickly became desperation, then crying and finally crying while screaming.

By around two months, your mind and body had become completely accustomed to his timetable and behaviour, letting him pet you as you ate what he brought, letting his hands clean your whole body and hair, not even complaining when you felt his hands drift towards your more private parts. Scarlatella looked extremely content with his work, rewarding you with constant praises and even a “pretty” collar for you. Despite it was a clear symbol of your turn into a kind of pet, the collar was beautiful, the gold glistening under the cold light as the beautiful charm with the form of a heart made a small noise of a bell each time you moved.

“Do you like it? I wanted something to congratulate you, after all, you have finally graduated. You are now back to your natural self.” You nodded, letting your head fall on his lap as he kept petting you. “I was thinking about giving you whatever you want, you can just ask.” He waited patiently until you were able to think about something other than the warmth that was coming from his body.

“…Freedom. I want to leave this room, please.” His eyes widened a bit, perhaps surprised that you were still able to think about your freedom.

“Dear, I know this can get suffocating, but you must stay here, it’s for your sa—”

“Please! I can feel my mind… slipping. This is getting worse each day, I… I don’t want do it, but the constant darkness is making me… think about… Just give me a bigger place, I don’t need something as fancy as my house, just something bigger than this room.” Scarlatella looked at you with a puzzled expression, his hand still massaging your scalp as he thought. Finally, he answered, not before letting a deep sigh.

“I suppose that’s fine. I can think of a story to explain your sudden appearance. Give me a few days so I can get everything ready, yeah? Promise I will do it.” As soon as he said that, he got up from the sofa that was in the room, quickly leaving the place before you were able to beg him to keep his promise.

Contrary to what you believed, Scarlatella kept his promise, coming back with a small suitcase and some clothes for you to change yourself, taking your hand as he made you walk with your eyes covered by that well-known cloth. When you were finally told to take it off, you were in the middle of a beautiful flower field. All the flowers were spider lilies, making it seem as if it was some kind of blood-filled battlefield.

“Do you like it, dear? I had to pay some money so they could build this house, together with planting these flowers.” He kept his grip around your wrist tight, not hurting you, but not letting go either. As he opened the door, you finally saw the house. It was a beautiful villa, completely decorated with cottage-like furniture.

“Yes, I like it.” Scarlatella smiled, a strange sheen in his gaze.

Soon, you realised why was he looking at you like that. You had fallen completely into his plan for turning you into his wife. He had created some complex story about you being his wife for over eight years, having to separate because you had been taking care of your sick father while he worked to the bone to get you as much as he could for the moment you came back to him. Everyone in the small hometown believed him, after all, he had been working there as farmer for quite some time, using it as a mere disguise so he could plan every little detail, creating a perfect façade so everyone would simply nod and smile to whatever he said. After that, your role became the one of a housewife, making you bake, cook, and clean, keeping the house warm and tidy by the time he arrived back home.

Soon, the days started to melt together, and your deep engraved hatred for him turned into a less bitter resentment. After all, he was the one that was providing for you, keeping you all warm and cozy while buying every single thing you asked him for, never doing anything that could hurt you. Slowly but surely, your mind started to reshape once again, now seeing him as a still intimidating, yet protecting figure. With that, it was finally the perfect ground for Scarlatella to create his perfect little wife.

Since that moment, Scarlatella started to become more physical with you, helping you around with all the cooking, “accidentally” rubbing his groin against your ass while he pretended to search for something on the top shelf. Not only that, but he made sure you could see him as a capable man, carrying the animals over his shoulder with ease, other times he was simply fixing stuff around the place. But the last moment he needed for your brain to start to see him as a possible partner was when you found him around town playing with the small children from the orphanage. He was surrounded by all of them, lifting them around and making them fly across the hair, his relaxed smile plastered on his face as he tried to make them control themselves as they waited their turn. Your eyes widened a bit, surprised to see him in such a… casual scene. So when he got back home, his working shirt slightly drenched because of the sudden rain that had started quite recently. The shirt was getting clung on his body, making his lean and muscular body stand out even further.

“Hey dear, how was your day? I hope it went great. Sorry I’m late, can’t believe I got caught in the middle of the rain while I was finishing some errands…” As he said that, he made his way around the kitchen, taking off his shirt and leaving it hanging on one of the chairs, surrounding your smaller frame with his arms. “I missed you so much, dear.” You tried your hardest to pretend not to notice, but of course you did, fuck, his groin was rubbing against your ass, and even then, it was clear that he was quite… gifted, down there. Still, you simply tightened the grip on the knife, biting your lips as you kept trying to focus on the food you were cooking.

Ever since that moment, you were no longer able to control yourself, always orbiting around him with your hand tightly wrapped around his arm every single time any other persons started to look way too affectionately at him. Scarlatella quickly noticed this, looking completely pleased with how he had been able to fix your precious little brain into a loving wife. In fact, he even started to pamper you even further, kissing your forehead every morning, asking you to let him shower together… Of course, you said yes.

So then, the two of you entered the bathroom, slowly undressing each other as the water started to warm up. “Love, you look so nice like this… All naked for me… I could just eat you up.” His hand drifted around your body, making your body shiver under his hands, and even if you were about to kiss him, he got away, extending his hand so he could help you get inside the bathtub. “Let me help you, dear.”

As the two of you finally entered the bathtub, he calmly traced your body with the sponge, making sure to scrub your skin without causing any type of harm. Then, he moved to your hair, taking the bottle of shampoo and scrubbing it while he hummed a little tune. Then, he focused on himself, redoing everything he had done to you. As he did that, your naked bodies kept pressing against each other, making you squirm at the slightest touch and forcing you to let small whimpers out every time you felt his lower half rub against your back. Finally, Scarlatella lost his composure as you kept pressing against him on purpose. “Dear… I have a feeling that you’ve been quite, eager to make our relationship more physical, am I right?” His eyes were now fixated on your face, making you feel even more flustered as you avoided his gaze. “Oh sweetheart, if you wanted that, I could have given it to you any time, after all, I do believe it is time we get to expand our little family.” And despite you would have normally shivered in disgust, this idea now started to charm you. So you nodded, accepting whatever he wanted you to do at that point. “Then we should get to business, let me get you ready love.” With that said, Scarlatella finally kissing your lips, his tongue entering your oral cavity as if he had been starving for a long time. “You taste so good… I could stay like this forever.” Scarlatella kept kissing you, his hands starting to glide towards your chest, starting to play with your nipples as his tongue kept exploring your mouth. “Dear… I think we should move to our bedroom; I don’t want your first time to hurt.”

“Oh, that’s fine, not like it’s my first time, you know, I did it a few times before you became my-.” Before you were able to finish your sentence, Scarlatella was already getting the two of you out of the bath, lifting you up and carrying you over to the bedroom he had been preparing for quite some time. Despite his gaze looked a bit crazed out, he let you down softly on the bed.

“It seems I was a bit too gentle with you, that was my fault. I suppose you must prefer someone meaner, treat you as if you were a little fuck toy, I suppose your brain is still not that adapted to having a husband, that’s ok, I will fix it.” With nothing left to say to you, he got on top of you, towering over your smaller body as he started to kiss your neck. “I just wish I could have arrived earlier… Get to be your first, let you make me yours…It’s a shame we had to meet under those circumstances.” And even regardless his almost apologising words, his actions were crude, clearly showing his uncontrollable desire to make you completely his. “… I should definitely get you pregnant, make sure everyone knows who your husband is, let’s see if any other fucker tries to get with my sweet wife.” As he kept mumbling to himself, his lips started to make a trail towards your chest, moving even further down as your moans got louder. Suddenly, he got away from you for a second, taking something from the small nightstand. Still quiet, he opened the small bottle, letting the sticky liquid help him prepare your pussy for him. “Not like you will need it, apparently you were more prepared than me.”

“Come on, it’s not like we are… fuck, I don’t know, it’s just, it’s not like you are a virgin, right? There’s no need for---”

“I am.” His hands stopped for a second, his fingers a few inches away from entering you. “I’ve been investigating so I could make it as comfortable for you as possible, but that’s ok, I will make sure our next time is perfect… Let’s just use this time for letting you know how this works.” Without further due, Scarlatella started to tease your entrance, rubbing his fingertips against your entrance, while his other hand started to move towards your weak spot, starting to tease your clit as he kept kissing your neck. As the minutes went on, you started to notice a weird warmth inside your cunt, making your tears swell up in your eyes as Scarlatella kept teasing you.

“Stop— Can’t—It feels weird, like really weird, it’s not normal!” Scarlatella smiled wickedly, his eyes darkening as he saw how your pussy kept releasing your sticky fluids, with no shame, he got his face closer, starting to leave kitty licks over your clit before he began to fuck your entrance with his tongue, making you cry due to the overstimulation as he kept stopping just before you could release. This torture kept going for a couple minutes, making you clench the sheets, biting your lips as you kept mumbling barely understandable words: “Please, please… Just—Please! Fuck, please, let me cum, please, please…” Your words kept slurring, making him smile at the beautiful portrait he had been able to turn your gorgeous face into, he caressed your face with one of his hands, his lips still curved into an amused look as your face had become a mixture of snot, tears, and saliva. Suddenly, you felt Scarlatella’s arms wrap around you, lifting you from the bed and letting you lay on his lap, his unclothed erection rubbing against your clit, rocking your body back and forth as he kept taunting you.

“I just can’t believe you preferred some random person over me, love. I’ve waiting for you my whole life, I even learnt all this… tricks to get you to feel as good as possible.” All of sudden, his tip went in, barely letting you get ready as he kept pushing it inside and out, making your eyes water as he kept tormenting you for a few minutes more, his gaze becoming more and more obscure as his erection just kept growing. “Fuck, whatever… I’ll just have to prove you that nobody will ever fuck you like I can, get you pregnant so you can only see me… love me…” His eyes lightened for a second just from the thought, and before you even noticed, your back was once again pressed against the mattress, with Scarlatella towering over you as he was finally able to gradually introduce his whole length, the stretch making you whine and cling to his back. “You feel so good around me, love… Just wait, I’ll fill you up, fill your pretty pussy with my cum so nobody ever tries to get too close to you—You’ll look so pretty with your tummy all round—” As Scarlatella’s hips started to punish your sore cunt, you were finally able to cum, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your legs locked around him, as a poor attempt on getting him to stop for a second.

“Wait—Too soon, I can’t get pregnant yet!” You pushed a bit against his lower abdomen, your hands barely stopping him as they kept shaking because of the constant orgasms that just kept pilling up, forcing your brain to become more and more fuzzy each time. It was then that Scarlatella wrapped his own hands around your waists, using them as mere handles for him to push the tip of his cock just a bit further, just enough for you to cum once more with a pathetic whine. Despite you had already cum all over him, Scarlatella’s thrusts didn’t slow down, if not growing stronger as his mind was already too far gone.

“Gotta get you pregnant—That’s all I need—Fill your pretty pussy with my cock and get you to- Fuck- cream all over my cock, that’s it baby… Cum all over your husband, make a mess on my cock, you’re doing so good love…” His words kept resonating in your mind, almost as if it was some kind of chant, and despite you tried your best to endure it, your brain gave up, after all, Scarlatella had been taking care of you so nicely… It wouldn’t hurt to let him keep doing it for the rest of his life… right? As Scarlatella kept muttering to himself, his cock was already twitching, signifying just how close he was to releasing his essence inside of you. With your mind now completely broken, you smiled, your arms and legs tightening around his waist as his cock kept hammering against your cervix, one of his hands carefully pressing against the lower half of your abdomen, causing the pleasure to just build up even further as he finally released his load inside of you, his constant groans now turning into soft praises and kisses. “You did so good, love… Let me take care of everything from now on, I will make you the happiest wife ever, no need to think about anything, just promise to tell me everything you need or want, yeah? I’ll be the best husband int the world.” His hands kept petting your hair as his cock started to deflate inside you, still remaining inside as he refused to pull out in case some of his essence spilled out. “Let’s wait a bit, love. I will prepare the bath in few minutes; I just want to make sure everything goes correctly.” He peppered a few kisses all over your face, his hand rubbing your tummy as he kept imagining that near future he had been longing for.

#fanfiction #x reader #smut #homicipher #homicipher headcanons #mr scarletta #mr scarletella #mr scarlatella x reader #mr scarletta x reader #mr scarletta smut #mr scarlatella smut #mr scarletta hc #mr scarlatella hc #homicipher smut #homicipher scarletella #homicipher x reader

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supernovafics · 4 months ago

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series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 6.7k words

warnings: explicit language, lots of fluff, smut (18+), fingering, protected piv sex, a bit of praise kink, mentions of reader’s strained relationship with her parents, alcohol consumption (drunk!reader and drunk!steve moment)

summary: the semester comes to an end

a/n: this turned out so much longer than expected wow but last chapter! wooo!!! (simultaneously happy and sad woo) epilogue coming next week !!

CHAPTER NINETEEN | ❝𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖❞

Fall Semester 2017

“I’m gonna come over here all of the time.”

“When we actually get a couch, feel free to be our honorary fifth roommate anytime you want, Munson,” Robin said, which made you laugh as you also nodded in agreement.

It was the first night in the apartment and it definitely showed— there were boxes everywhere, lifeless walls, and nothing in the living room aside from said boxes and a TV (courtesy of Vickie’s mom) on the floor that you all were currently surrounding. Your bedroom was also nothing but a mess, and so was everyone else’s, which was the main reason why camping out in the living room for the night became the immediate consensus.

At first, you expected it to be a night of watching bad movies and ordering takeout, but Talia— now deemed as one of the coolest people you’d ever met— was adamant about making an actual meal for you all. She said something about how nice it would be to have a real meal on your first night, and who were all of you to deny an actual home-cooked meal?

Eddie came over right when you mentioned spaghetti to him over the phone. His own shared apartment was also in a state of disarray, but he was fine with setting unpacking to the side for the time being.

“Okay, the food’s done, but I’m so sad that I forgot to get garlic bread,” Talia said. “Next time, though.”

“I can’t believe you’re already thinking about next time. You’re way too good to us,” Vickie said and the rest of you hummed in agreement.

Talia only laughed in response as you all joined her in the kitchen to grab some food and then once again settled on the living room floor. Eddie left afterward, but promised not to “eat and run” next time; none of you were entirely sure if you actually believed him.

The rest of the night felt equivalent to the kinds of sleepovers you imagine you would’ve had if you had close enough friends when you were younger. There was a mass of blankets and pillows on the floor and you were watching probably one of the cheesiest romcoms to ever exist.

The four of you already felt like a little family. And perhaps it only already felt that way because you’d been craving a feeling like that for the past few years, maybe even for as long as you could remember. In your eyes, it was somehow so easy to immediately call the apartment your home.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

Anyone else would’ve deemed it as horrible timing— it was the middle of finals and all that should’ve been on both of your minds was studying— but neither you nor Steve saw it that way. You two had been through worse timings, you figured.

It was hard for both of you to focus on what needed to be focused on, but you and him made it work. Mostly.

You could admit that there were probably too many moments where you were in the middle of working on an essay and you stopped to text him a random thought that came to mind, and then there were other moments where he was calling you when you knew that he was supposed to be studying for one of his many tests.

Even in this instance, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be at Steve’s apartment instead of in your own space, and yet here you were anyway— “writing” an essay that was due by midnight, the last one you had to do actually, as he “studied” for the last test he had that was tomorrow.

“Okay, we should really get serious,” You said when you pulled away from Steve, maneuvering off of his lap and settling back on your side of the couch.

“What? We were just taking a quick break.”

“Yeah, and five minutes turned into fifteen,” You responded, and then proceeded to say the words that you really didn’t want to say. “I think I should go.”

Steve frowned; it was probably the cutest thing you’d ever seen. “No. Stay.”

“We’re just gonna keep distracting each other.”

He considered your words for a second. There was no way that he could deny them; you two were inadvertently distracting each other and had been for the past hour that you’d been at his place.

“Okay, what if you stayed out here and worked on your essay, and I went to my room to study. We wouldn’t be able to distract each other then.”

It was endearing how adamant he was about you staying that you were nodding along to his suggestion instead of saying how kind of silly it was, like you were little kids that needed to be separated in school; but maybe that was actually a pretty accurate description of you two in this moment.

“Okay, yeah, that works,” You told him, biting back your amused smile.

“Okay,” He nodded and smiled, giving you a quick kiss before he stood up from the couch and gathered his stuff off of the coffee table. “See you in a few hours.”

You managed to finish your essay in what felt like record time, and you hadn’t even been trying to rush through it. You proofread it two times before you submitted it and it was only a little after eleven when you closed your laptop, placed it on the coffee table, and then headed over to Steve’s room to see how he was doing with studying.

“I’m done.”

You gave him a skeptical look because the timing seemed a little too perfect. “You sure?”

“Yup, you can even test me if you want,” He said, giving you a teasing smile.

You laughed a bit as you nodded and went to sit across from him on his bed, crossing your legs under yourself. He handed over his notebook and you spent the next fifteen minutes “testing” him and, much to your happy surprise, he knew everything.

“You are, in fact, ready for this final, Harrington,” You smiled at him. “I see an A+ in your future.”

“Thank you,” He said, smiling back as he reached out to pull you into his lap and the notebook became discarded to the side.

You rested your hands on his shoulders and his settled on your hips.

“I’ve missed you,” You told him before you thought about what you were saying, and then you were quickly shaking your head at yourself. “Sorry, I know that probably sounds so dumb to say because, before this, the last time we saw each other was only three days ago, and it’s not like we didn’t text and stuff… But, I don’t know—”

He cut off your rambling with a quick kiss. “It’s not dumb. I’ve missed you too. I’m so glad finals are gonna be over tomorrow.”

“Me too,” You said and then thought about something. “Well, I’m technically already done with everything, but you’re gonna ace your test tomorrow. What time is it at?”

“One.”

You nodded at that and then looked over at the digital clock on his nightstand and took note of the time; it was only a few minutes past eleven-thirty right then.

“Okay, good, so you don’t have to kick me out yet?”

He immediately shook his head at your question. “I’d never kick you out. Even if the test was at eight in the morning.”

There was a playful tilt to his words, but you could also hear how true they were, which warmed something inside of you. You kissed him instead of saying anything else in response.

Your hands settled in the hair at the nape of his neck as you pushed yourself closer to him, getting rid of the little bit of space between you two.

It wasn’t the first time you two had been in this position— you in his lap or just simply being this close to one another. However, this was the first time that it finally felt right to do more, and you suddenly really wanted to do more.

Other times, you and him had been at your place and things were noisy and it felt as if you two could be interrupted at any given moment, so you always slowed things down instead of pushing them forward. This time, though, you didn’t want to keep things slow or ease away from him. There was no need to— no potential interruption a few feet away, or random noises that carried through thin walls.

You had never cherished the quiet as much as you did in this moment in Steve’s bedroom.

Slowly, you moved yourself against him, searching for any sort of friction, and the soft groan you received from him in response made you smile and do it again and again. You could feel him growing hard beneath you with every teasing stir, straining against his sweatpants.

“Shit,” Steve’s hands immediately went to your hips again and gave them a quick squeeze as you continued your slow movements.

“Is that okay?” You had a feeling that you knew what his answer was going to be, but you still asked it anyway and tried to sound as innocent and normal as ever.

He let out a contented sound. “Much more than just okay.”

“Good,” You responded and then leaned into his ear as you softly said your next words. “I want you, Steve.”

He gave your hips another squeeze. “Yeah?”

He was sort of guiding you at this point, controlling your movements; making you move a little quicker and then slowing you down again. It was subtle but so fucking hot and you could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. You desperately wanted to slip out of the simple pair of leggings you were wearing so that there could be one less layer between you two.

“Mhm, yeah,” You answered his one-word barely heard question and then pulled back to meet his eyes. “Please.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice.

He shifted things with ease— switching positions so that you were pressed back into the bed and he was settled between your now parted legs.

His fingers teased the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing, and you expected him to push it up and off of you, but he instead slipped beneath your shirt and found the waistband of your leggings so that he could pull them off of you.

The cool air hitting your now bare legs sent a chill through your body and your eyes slipped shut for a moment. When they opened again, you expected to immediately meet Steve’s eyes, but he was instead focused solely on the wet spot on your underwear.

“You’re soaked, aren’t you?” He asked as he started stroking your inner thigh, another action that sent something equivalent to a chill through your entire body.

You nodded shyly, closing your eyes again. “Yeah…”

You felt his hands find the bottom of your t-shirt again and that time he guided it off of you, leaving you in just your black bra. He leaned down to kiss you; it was slow and sweet like you two had all of the time in the world and it genuinely felt that way. “What do you want?”

“Mmm,” It was hard to answer when your brain could barely form any coherent sentences. You could feel his hand traveling upward, getting closer and closer to where you needed him to be, but it was too hard to verbalize that right then. “Fuck…”

“Go on, pretty girl, use your words,” Steve said, and the sweet term of endearment made your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

His middle finger ghosted over your clit through your soaked underwear and your hips bucked upward, but he pulled his hand away before you could feel anything and you suddenly felt so close to crying. “Fingers— Your fingers, Steve. Please.”

“Mhm,” He hummed softly and your eyes were shut but you could tell he was smirking. You were close to playfully calling him an asshole for all of his teasing but your brain was still practically running on autopilot, and then he was speaking again, anyway. “Anything for you.”

Your underwear was pulled off of you in one slow movement and you whimpered when you felt Steve’s middle finger trace through your soaked folds, gathering your slick and leisurely circling your clit. His other hand came up to firmly squeeze one of your breasts through the thin material of your bra that was the last piece of clothing left on your body.

“Take this off for me, honey,” He told you and you listened almost embarrassingly fast; bra gone and tossed somewhere on his floor in a matter of seconds.

“Good,” His finger continued teasing your clit, and the thumb of his free hand moved to rub your now exposed nipple. “Good girl.”

You barely had time to process the soft praise and what exactly it did to you before two of his fingers finally entered you and you sucked in the sharpest breath, all thoughts suddenly gone again.

“Steve…” Was all you could manage to say in the quietest voice as your eyes slipped shut and you focused on the feel of his fingers inside of you, somehow quickly finding and hitting the most perfect spots.

“You look so good like this,” Steve whispered, fingers slowly picking up speed and making you softly whine at every movement. “Spread out for me and squeezing my fingers so tight. Fuck.”

A part of you wanted to say something back— match his words and tell him how fucking perfect all of this was, how perfect he was— but your brain was effectively mush and all you could do was moan and whimper and mewl in response to him. Lucky for you, that all sounded like music to his ears.

He added another finger and his thumb found your clit, which made your body jerk harshly off of the bed.

“Steve, fuck. Right… Right there, yeah.”

The rough strokes against your clit pushed you so close to the edge, you could feel the pressure starting to build in your lower stomach. You turned your head, burying your face into his pillow and trying your hardest to hold back the scream you wanted to let out.

“Shit,” He said. “You gonna come, honey?”

You quickly nodded. “Yes, yeah.”

“Go ahead,” He told you, voice low. “Come for me.”

Your eyes opened and you met his gaze as you did. He looked completely enamored by you, which only made your orgasm hit you a thousand times harder. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears as Steve continued fingering you through your orgasm, trying to prolong it for as long as possible. He withdrew his fingers when he could tell that the overstimulation was becoming too much for you.

“You’re so good for me,” He said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “That was so fast.”

Finally, your brain was able to form coherent sentences. “You’re so cocky.”

Steve let out the softest laugh. “Mm, but you love it.”

He was a thousand percent right, but you still shook your head. “Hate it, actually.”

“Doesn’t feel that way,” He said as he pressed the most featherlight touch against your sensitive clit and all you could do was softly whine at the feeling.

He was smiling as he lay down next to you and pulled you close to him, the side of your head pressing against his chest and one leg tangling with his. It was quiet as your breathing continued to return back to normal and your mind became clearer. After the briefest moment, your hand moved to dip beneath his sweatpants and boxers.

Steve let out a low groan when your hand found his hard cock before he softly said, “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” You told him and then moved so that you were straddling his lap again. Your arousal was practically dripping down your thighs and making the hottest mess against his sweatpants. “I need you inside of me.”

“Fuck,” His eyes slipped shut for a brief second as if imagining what was about to happen. “You sure?”

“Very sure. Really sure. Super sure,” You answered, smiling at him.

Your hands went to grab at the ends of his t-shirt, pushing it upward, and he got the hint and quickly pulled it off. You then lifted your hips so that he could push down his sweatpants and boxers, and when his cock sprang free you let out a soft sound that slightly resembled a gasp. Your hand seemed to take on a mind of its own as it reached out to wrap around his hard length again and your thumb brushed against the tip.

He let out a strangled noise. “Shit, shit.”

“Is this good?” You asked softly as you slowly started moving your hand.

“So good. So fucking good.”

It was nice seeing him become a mess due to your teasing like you’d been because of him a few minutes ago.

After barely a minute, he placed a hand on your wrist to stop your movements. You were about to ask him what was wrong, but then he was leaning over to his nightstand and rummaging through the top drawer to pull out a condom. You quickly grabbed it from him and did all of the work of slipping it on his cock, which he immediately thought was the hottest thing he’d ever seen and he was close to cumming right then and there, but he somehow managed to hold back.

He so badly wanted to let his eyes fall shut as you slowly lowered onto him, but he kept his gaze on you and he promptly decided that that was probably one of the best decisions he ever made. There was nothing else that felt more like heaven to him than watching you throw your head back and let out the loudest moan as you took him inside of you completely.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” Steve groaned, still not taking his eyes off of you, and you could only nod in response.

You didn’t move for a few moments. Instead, you savored and got used to the feeling of being so full of him. When you did finally start moving, lifting yourself ever so slightly and then sinking right back down onto Seve’s length, you let out a string of curses that morphed into soft moans.

Your hands became lost in his hair at some point and he had a near-bruising grip on your hips as he guided your movements, helping you ride him.

He flipped you two over when he couldn’t take it anymore, hand finding your hip as he pushed deep inside of you.

“Fuck, Steve!”

The thrusts were rough and quick but surprisingly didn’t feel as such.

“You feel so good,” He told you. “You’re so fucking perfect for me.”

You could feel yourself clenching around him when he said his words and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

“You gonna come?” You mumbled, brain barely about to form a coherent sentence, but Steve nodded wildly.

“Yeah. Yeah, honey, so close.”

You mewled. “Mm, me too.”

Upon hearing that, he let one of his hands slip between your bodies to find your clit. He started circling the sensitive nub, bringing you closer and closer to that edge with him. You clenched around his cock again and your back arched off the bed, hard nipples brushing against his chest.

You came when his lips abruptly found yours in the messiest kiss; it was a mix of tongues and teeth that was perfect and pushed you over the cliff. You cried out his name again and again and again as your orgasm abruptly hit you, it almost sounded as if you were saying some sort of prayer. Steve followed suit moments after, spilling into the condom with a loud groan after a particularly hard thrust.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest and it barely felt like it was slowing down, but eventually it did. Steve’s weight crushed you in the most soothing way possible and he buried his face in your neck, placing soft kisses against the skin.

You had no idea what time it was and you felt too exhausted to turn your head and look at his nightstand.

“Do you have to kick me out now?” You asked, mostly joking with your question.

Steve pulled away from your neck then, eyes meeting yours. “You’re staying the night.”

You were too tired to play into your joke further so you nodded your head at his words and simply tilted your head up to kiss him instead. You two fell asleep just like that for the time being, exhausted bodies and tangled limbs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You smiled when Steve opened the door and you fought the urge to greet him with a hug and kiss like you normally did because in this instance you were holding something behind your back. “Hi.”

“Hi,” He smiled back before giving you a curious look when he noticed that you were hiding something. “What do you got there?”

“A surprise,” You answered as you stepped inside his apartment. “A very important surprise, actually.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” You nodded and he looked at you expectantly but you let a silence linger for a few beats to make things more dramatic. After what felt like way too long of a pause, you showed him what you were holding, which at first didn’t look like anything special since all he saw was a gray plastic bag, but then you pulled out the package inside. “They’re curtains for your living room!”

Steve smiled at you immediately and you could tell he was trying to hold back a laugh. “Finally.”

“Do I get the ‘best girlfriend ever’ award now?”

He couldn’t help but laugh a little then as he reached out to pull you into his arms and then he pressed a kiss against the top of your head. “Yes, a thousand percent.”

“And they’re black too so they’ll block out the sun perfectly in the morning,” You told him as you returned the embrace for a brief second and then pulled back. “Come on, let’s put them up now.”

It took an hour to put the curtains up— the directions were a lot more confusing and meticulous than expected— but once it was done they looked great.

“Now we can fall asleep out here whenever we want,” You said when you and Steve were settled on his couch.

His hand mindlessly stroked one of your legs that were resting in his lap. “I think I’d much rather be in my bed with you.”

You looked at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “We haven’t had sex on the couch yet, though, and now it’s a possibility because we don’t have to worry about the people across the street looking in.”

“That’s a great idea,” Steve said, smiling back as his hand moved up to slip beneath your shirt and rest on your waist.

You were slightly tempted to lean into his touch, but you shook your head instead.

“Wait, no, let’s save that for later. We have other important things to do right now,” You said, and when he gave you a confused look, you leaned over to lightly poke his side. “You said you were gonna show me your favorite movie. That was the reason why I came over. Aside from gifting you your curtains, of course.”

“Oh, yeah,” He nodded as he leaned over to grab the TV remote off of the coffee table. “I haven’t seen this movie in a long time, probably since I was a kid, but for some reason it was the first thing that came to mind when I was thinking about movies I really like.”

Seconds later, he was pulling up Big Fat Liar, which you didn’t at all expect, but it was the best surprise. The smallest part of you had thought that he was going to out himself as a film bro and force you to watch some Martin Scorcese movie with him. This outcome was a thousand times better.

“I love this movie,” You told him, smiling. You also hadn’t seen it in forever, but in your eyes, it was still a classic. “It was one of the three that would play on repeat in my house when I was a kid; the other ones were Mulan and the second Spy Kids movie. At one point, my parents hid the DVDs away from me since I played them so much. I did manage to find them, though.”

Steve gave you an amused smile. “Now I’m imagining a five-year-old you ruining your entire house to find the movies.”

You let out a laugh. “Whatever image you’re coming up with is probably very accurate.”

“Hey, since we’re on the parent topic, I feel like I need to talk to yours.”

You immediately laughed again, assuming he was joking, but when he didn’t join in on your laughter or give you a playful smile, you stopped. “Oh, you’re being serious.”

“As your real boyfriend this time around, I think I should probably meet your parents before we go to a different country again,” He said, playfully smiling at you, but you were certain that he was actually being serious. If it weren’t for his abrupt mention of your parents, you would’ve happily smiled at him bringing up your and his plans for the summer; plans that actually managed to come together pretty fast.

The day that Steve finished his last final, he came over to your place and you two spent hours upon hours figuring out your plans for the summer; the places you both wanted to go, specific things to do and spots to eat in said places, where to spend the most time and where to spend the least, etc. All of the research was exhausting— you had ended up falling asleep around three in the morning with your head on Steve’s shoulder and your computer opened up in your lap— but it was the good kind of exhausting if that was even possible. The entire thing was impulsive and abrupt, two factors that could’ve easily made the whole thing be deemed as a bad idea, but you truly felt like it wouldn’t be.

You were quiet for a few moments, processing Steve’s previous words, and then you gave him a quick nod. “Okay, yeah, um, sure.”

He was easily able to pick up that something was at least a little wrong. “Yeah?”

“Yup,” You nodded again, looking away from him then and focusing on the TV. You were about to shift the conversation back to talking about the movie, but he started talking before you could.

“If you don’t want them to meet me yet, that’s okay.”

“No, no, you’re right. It would make sense if you met them. Like, if we did a quick phone call or whatever,” You said and then let out a sigh. You got quiet again and tried to figure out the best way to say what you really didn’t want to; talking about your parents was a hard feat. You had barely gotten to the point where you felt like you could easily do it with Eddie or Robin or anyone else.

Your eyes were still on the TV when you spoke again and decided to be entirely honest with Steve. “It’s just… It’s really hard talking to them sometimes. Like, talking about myself with them. Life stuff. It always feels like they won’t care.”

Steve’s hand found yours, intertwining them and giving a light squeeze. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“You’d be surprised,” You told him and then finally met his eyes again. There was a soft look on his face that you wanted to get rid of, so you quickly tried to make things lighthearted and a lot less serious and sad. “You don’t need to talk to them. The only parental approval you need is from Robin, which you have, so everything’s fine.”

Steve nodded and didn’t push you further on everything, even though you could tell he kind of wanted to. Weird and strained parent relationships weren’t foreign to him, but you could tell that he was wondering if it really was only just about that. It was a thought that you quickly wanted to shut down.

“And I promise this really isn’t about you. It’s completely about them. If I had actual good parents, I would love to tell them about you and how much I adore you, and how I can’t wait to spend the summer with you. And I’d probably go into an annoyingly deep amount of detail about what all of our plans are,” You rambled and the smile he gave you warmed your heart. “But, I don’t have good parents, so we don’t need to worry about telling them anything.”

“So, if they randomly call when we’re in London, that’s when you’ll break the news?” His question was playful and lighthearted and just what you wanted to hear right then.

“Yes, exactly, that sounds like perfect timing,” You answered, laughing a little. “Y’know this whole parent conversation is making me realize that your parents are probably gonna hate when you tell them that we’re together, or I guess, “back” together. Your mom really didn’t like me.”

It was a weird set of circumstances that you weren’t entirely sure how it would be solved. Even before Steve told them that you two had broken up because you “cheated,” you could tell that his mom wasn’t at all a fan of you and wanted Steve to be with anyone else. Probably a girl handpicked from a specific list.

“Remember when you told me that it’s my life, and I should do what I want because I have to live it?” He asked, and you nodded, the smallest smile on your face.

“I’m what you want?” It was a question that you were certain of the answer to, but you still had the urge to ask it.

Steve nodded as he pulled your intertwined hands up so that he could press a quick kiss to the back of yours. “Always. You just got the ‘best girlfriend ever’ award, remember?”

You smiled wider as you nodded back. “Ah yes, you can never break up with me, no matter what your parents say, because of the curtains.”

“Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The party had been an idea since mid-March. Robin randomly suggested it to you and Vickie one night— “How fucking cool would it be if we threw a graduation party for Talia?”— and you both immediately agreed.

And now, a month and a half later, here it was. Over thirty people were crammed into your guys’ apartment, but everyone was having fun— especially Talia, which was all that really mattered— so it made the mess that you’d all have to clean up in the morning worth it.

It was pretty safe to say that you were drunk. It was actually a statement that could’ve been said just an hour into the party, but it was even more certain now as the second hour moved into the third.

You currently lingered by Eddie who, right at the start of the party, had appointed himself as the one in charge of the music, which didn’t surprise any of you. He was sitting with your laptop that was connected to the speakers set up in the living room. Every few minutes you jokingly suggested songs for him to play and he kept playfully shooing you away and vetoed all of your suggestions. When he actually did play the Pitbull song you requested, you laughed for what felt like five minutes straight.

Eddie shook his head at you, but there was a smile on his face, like he wanted to laugh at your current antics. “You’re so drunk right now.”

You had enough self-awareness to know that you couldn’t argue with his words, so you simply stuck your tongue out at him instead.

He couldn’t hold back his laugh that time. “And that confirms it.”

You started walking away then and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up when he told you to “Stay safe!” as you wandered off. You headed into the kitchen for no particular reason— a part of you wanted another drink, but you could also recognize how bad of an idea that would be. You considered grabbing some food; a room-temperature slice of pizza didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world right then.

A pair of hands abruptly grabbing your waist made you jump and yelp. The touch didn’t feel entirely unfamiliar, though, so when you turned and saw Steve in front of you, you were quick to smile at him even though your heart was still racing.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him tonight, and you also couldn’t remember how exactly you two had gotten split up in the first place.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

That was suddenly the last thing on your drunken mind.

“Hi,” You said, practically jumping into his arms. “Where’ve you been?”

He laughed a bit at your enthusiasm. “Talking to Robin. She was rambling about this one summer class that she signed up for, and then she roped me into playing a drinking game version of Uno with her and a couple of her music major friends.”

“Oh, that makes sense. That’s one of her favorite things to do at a party. It gets very intense so I always stay away,” You said, and then noticed his flushed cheeks and lazy smile which made you laugh a little. “How much were you forced to drink during the game?”

“A lot,” He admitted and then proceeded to give you the most exaggerated sad look that you’d probably ever seen. “Turns out I kinda suck at Uno.”

You let out a soft “Aw” and leaned in to kiss his cheek, playing into how “sad” he was. “You should’ve let me warn you how good Robin is at that game. That’s why we never play it at game night anymore.”

Steve’s hands settled on your waist and he pulled you close. You so badly wanted to kiss him at that moment, and there was so much going on around you both right then that you were certain that nobody would’ve paid attention to the two of you making out in the kitchen.

Instead of doing that though, you pulled away from him abruptly. Your hand found his and you started pulling him out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” He asked, and you weren’t looking at him, but you could hear the amused smile in his voice.

“I need to show you something in my room,” You answered and then took a quick glance at him. “It’s super important.”

When the door was closed behind you two, you looked at Steve and he gave you a certain look.

“What did you wanna show me?”

“Hmm, weirdly enough, I completely forgot,” You gave him a quick shrug and a small smile before getting closer to him and circling your arms around his torso.

“Oh my god, did you bring me in here to seduce me?” He asked, returning the embrace immediately, and the playfulness in his tone made you let out the softest laugh.

“Maybe a teeny tiny little bit.”

“That’s very cute.”

You lifted your head from his chest and finally kissed him. It felt like it had been years since the last time you’d kissed him and it was definitely your inebriation making you so hyperbolic and over-dramatic because the actual last time was definitely just a few hours ago, but you still savored the feeling of his lips on yours.

Steve’s hand found your cheek and he deepened the kiss immediately. You inwardly sighed in contentment and your hands fisted themselves in the shirt he was wearing and pulled him impossibly closer to you.

It was when he started guiding you back toward your bed that the tiniest bit of logical thinking suddenly sunk in and you broke the heated kiss. “Wait, shit, anyone could walk in.”

Steve considered your words for a moment and then walked over to your door to lock it. “Problem solved.”

The door being locked didn’t change the fact that you could still be interrupted by any sort of harsh knock against it, but who were you to deny his logic in this moment and the stupidly happy smile on his face?

You let out a breath of a laugh as you nodded in agreement. “Problem solved.”

It was a blur of movements that led you two to laying on your bed— Steve on top of you and settled perfectly between your legs. Your skirt had ridden up into oblivion and his jeans-covered hard-on was rubbing against you in the best way possible.

“I can’t wait to spend the summer with you,” You mumbled at one point. Steve’s mouth had moved from your lips to your jaw and then down to your neck.

“Just the summer?” He mumbled against your skin. “You planning to get rid of me after that?”

You mock gasped. “Oh no, you caught me.”

He nipped harshly at your neck, which made you giggle.

One of your hands came up to find his face, pulling him away from your neck so you could meet his eyes in the darkness. “I can’t wait to spend the summer with you, and also many, many days and years after that.”

“Mm, that’s what I like to hear.”

You two were very drunk and it was obvious that most of your words were exaggerated, but your previous statement didn’t entirely feel that way.

Steve’s lips found yours again and you let out a happy hum in response. His hand moved higher and higher on your thigh which made you moan softly, and you felt so tempted to grab his hand and guide it right where you needed it to be.

Before you could do any of that or even contemplate it further, there was a loud knock on your door and then you heard Robin’s voice. “Are you two in there?”

“No!” You yelled out loud enough for her to hear. “Nobody’s in here.”

“We’re about to do the cake, so your presence out here is very importantly needed!”

The smallest part of you wanted to say no and resume what you were doing with Steve, but you couldn’t.

Your eyes met Steve’s for a second before you shut them. “Okay, we’re coming!”

“Thank you!”

Steve pressed a quick peck against your lips and then rolled off of you. “We’ll pick this up later.”

You followed suit and stood up from your bed, readjusting your skirt in the process. “I can’t promise I won’t pass out before then.”

“In that case, I’ll make sure to carry you back here and tuck you into bed,” He said with a smile as he circled an arm around you.

You sighed dreamily and leaned into his touch. “Ugh, you’re too good to me.”

He laughed a bit and then pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “You’re also way too good to me. Remember last night at the arcade? You actually let me beat you at air hockey.”

You quickly shook your head. “Shh, you weren’t supposed to know that.”

“I’m sorry, but you made it very obvious,” He said, laughing again, and that time you couldn’t help but laugh too.

You got the sudden urge to pull him back into your bed. Not even to do anything that would lead to both of your clothes coming off in the process, but to just simply talk to him. About nothing and everything until you fell asleep and woke up with what you assumed would be the worst headache. It had only been a few weeks, but you had quickly gotten to the point where you wanted to tell everything to Steve; every one of your random thoughts or whatever else was on your mind. And you always did, and he did the same.

Of course, you knew that you couldn’t do that right in this moment because another knock from Robin was inevitable. So you instead laced Steve’s hand with yours and led you both back into the noise of the party.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff , @lilacccs , @thehairington86 , @welcometohellsock , @dreamerjj , @newyorkangelbaby

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson x reader #bestfriend!eddie munson #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things series #stranger things fic

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sylvan-librarian · 17 days ago

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RE: Nissa’s Retcon

* * *

About once a month, I get a comment on one of my posts saying something along these lines

“Uhhh, you left out the part where Nissa was a fascist!”

“Nissa was more interesting as an elf-supremacist, imo.”

To be perfectly frank, I think both of these points are stupid and not worth my time, but just to give these posters the benefit of the doubt, I’ll assume they mean well and respond to them, once and for all, this way:

To address the first point, you’re right: in my posts celebrating Nissa and the journeys she has taken, I do tend to leave out material that was retconned. This isn’t entirely true, however, as I wrote an entire essay about this on my Tumblr page, which I doubt people slipping into my comments to post “gotcha!” have bothered to read. But anyway, to assume the best of these posters, let’s take a brief look at this retcon. Outside of a few brief blurbs in the “Duels of the Planeswalkers” video game and her 2009-era character description on Magic’s website, the “racist Nissa” characterization comes entirely from the In the Teeth of Akoum novel from 2010. And yes! In this book, Nissa is a hilariously stupid racist (frighteningly like real racists, imo). However, many aspects of this book were retconned in Nissa’s Magic Origins reboot. To note, in the 2010 novel, Nissa has no idea what the fuck Akoum even is and lets herself get led there by Sorin and Anowon. In the reboot, we learn that, among many other changes, she went to Akoum previously in her life, as that journey is what led to her sparking. Either way, post-Origins, many aspects of Teeth are questionably accurate at best. It’s quite safe to assume that with how horrified Nissa is when she sees Lorwyn elves hunting goblin children for sport that that particular aspect of Nissa’s personality (white supremacy) is no longer a part of her characterization.

For the second point, this one is just crazy, man. I don’t know y’all come up with this stuff. I don’t even know how to address this politely. Keep in mind that I am not by any stretch saying that Nissa is now a perfect cinnamon roll that never did anything wrong ever. Nissa is at fault for not trusting Sorin and setting the Eldrazi free. This is a decision that forever will, and should, haunt her. In the newer lore, she still distrusts vampires and outsiders in her youth because of how she was raised, and this is wrong of her. But Nissa does not distrust them because she thinks she is somehow morally superior to them by nature of birth. Nissa was raised as a member of the Joraga nation. The Joraga, as even the most basic of searches into the Magic wiki tells us, “eschewed outsiders and held even the other elves of Zendikar in disdain.” Nissa carries this distrust of outsiders with her into her adult life and doesn’t really learn to let go of this until she meets the Gatewatch and learns to expand her horizons. And again, Nissa was wrong for this xenophobia. But don’t get it twisted: there is still a big difference between fear and distrust of outsiders and fascist, ‘hierarchy of races’ bullshit. Both are rooted in fear, but for all her many shortcomings, the retconned Nissa of the new lore would never advocate for elves ruling the multiverse at the top of a racial hierarchy like the older Nissa would (and did). This is hammered home in her Origin story where she is horrified by watching Dwynen lead other Lorwyn elves as they slaughter entire tribes because they think it's funny. Furthermore, on the subject of Lorwyn elves, I would argue that old Nissa is fairly boring as a villain, as “racist elves” as a concept was already explored in depth in the Lorwyn stories. An entire planeswalker with that as her bit would get boring very quickly.

Lastly, and I suppose this is subjective, but isn’t a nuanced character, deeply flawed but trying her best to shed the xenophobia ingrained in her more interesting that an unrepentant, racist dumbass learning that “goblins are people actually!” only after she condemned an entire world to death? The latter might be (darkly) funnier, I’ll give you that, but the former makes for a much more interesting and emotionally satisfying narrative arc.

#magic the gathering #nissa revane #vorthos

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overnighttosunflowers · 2 months ago

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Once again I essayed in the tags of something a few weeks ago and have been meaning to pull it out into its own post, and I guess there's no better time than twelve hours before we see Bell's Hells again:

It absolutely breaks my heart that after Imogen has spent all this time agonizing over whether to trust her mother, it's come to this. Because I can so easily imagine that guilt is going to tear Imogen apart. She's the one who didn't tell her mom to come with them to Exandria, worried about endangering herself and the Hells and the world by doing so, and instead she abandoned Liliana to this fate. In the weeks since, you can see her agonizing over that choice. She's been moving in the direction of the one she didn't make then: to trust her mother. She told Liliana she loved her. She let herself get Power Word Stunned by the Matron's facsimile. She stood in the top of Caleb's tower wondering if that trust was dangerous, if she would ultimately doom the world by wanting a mother. And then none of it mattered. She didn't doom the world. She doomed her mother instead.

That's not what happened. But it's how she's going to blame herself, I think.

And it kills me, because like so many of the things Imogen destroys herself with guilt about, it wasn't her responsibility. Liliana chose to leave. Liliana chose to stay gone. Liliana has been dwelling on a version of her child that doesn't exist anymore, and she fell so deep into a cult to protect that long-ago child that it took her months of Imogen begging and begging and begging to realize that her daughter was a person and not just an idea. That she was hurting that daughter more than she was protecting her. And that the way to save her was to listen to her. And she was so unmoored and lost by then that she looked to Imogen to make her choices for her—looking to her daughter the way a child looks to their mother.

None of that is Imogen's fault. None of it.

I have a deep well of empathy for Liliana—who has not been a good mother, but whose daughter wants more than anything to let her relearn it now—but Liliana is where she is because of herself. And I know that even if Imogen is somehow able see that, if she's able to feel at all angry at or betrayed by Liliana alongside the guilt and grief, she'll feel even more confused and guilty and agonized for it.

But, god. All Imogen has ever wanted was a mother. And she deserved to have a mother who stayed, who loved her plain and simple in that quiet-life way she wants to be loved. She deserved to have a mother who prioritized the daughter in front of her in over the abstraction in her memory. And she deserves to have a mother who will come out the other side of this, not because Liliana intrinsically deserves that, because Imogen wants to give her a second chance.

How devastating, then, to get this different version of a mother she deserves: one who will, for her, face and maybe fall to the danger she's created.

Because ultimately, that's the reason the Hells had her stay on Ruidus: it wasn't just about trust, it was about where she could help. And she has. And now her story might be bookended by doing things for Imogen that break Imogen's heart.

Anyway, what I want more than anything for Imogen to get to save Liliana, and hold her close, and cry on her, and yell at her. I want her to get to have a mother who's in a position to do small things for her, not just awful sweeping ones. And I want Liliana to have the opportunity to struggle with how she can earn the second chance her daughter has given her. To learn how to be a mother to a real live daughter and not a memory.

I don't know if Liliana deserves that. But Imogen does.

Liliana left Gelvaan for Imogen, and in doing so helped doom the world. Liliana stayed on Ruidus for Imogen, and in doing so she might've helped save it.

Maybe one of these echoes has a mother who dies for her. And maybe one has a mother who lives.

#liliana temult #imogen temult #cr3 #cr meta #mine

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farfromstrange · 8 months ago

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Thumb v Printer | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Your clumsiness keeps Matt on edge at all times. Like when you cut your thumb on a printer.

Warnings: None. (Maybe slight description of injury for those of you who are squeamish). Tooth-rotting fluff.

Word Count: ~1k

A/n: This did happen to me. It's healed now, but a piece of my thumb was missing for like a week and it wasn't fun. All because I had to print my sources for an essay and the paper got stuck. Smh.

Read Me On AO3!

If a stranger came up to you and told you, “I smell blood,” it would be more than enough to make you run for the hills. Sharing a home with Matt Murdock though, you have heard stranger things.

You turn from your spot on the sofa, putting your laptop aside for a moment to greet him. “Hello to you too,” you answer casually.

He tilts his head in your direction. His nostrils flare. You know better than to question it. He’s wearing the same suit he left your shared apartment with this morning, his tie only loosened slightly to allow him some air to breathe. The last streaks of sunlight filter through the window, enveloping him in an ethereal glow. He’s so beautiful, but he doesn’t allow you much time to admire him as he stands in the hallway, his hands propped up on his hips as though he is about to lecture you on criminal law before the Civil War.

“You opened the first-aid kit,” he states. “What happened?”

It’s an astute observation, you have to give him that. “Oh. Yeah.” You chuckle. “I just cut my finger on the printer, that’s all.”

He stutters for a moment, almost like an old engine. “You… I’m sorry, what?”

His worried expression fades into something else entirely. You know that look all too well; he’s confused—so confused, in fact, that he forgets how concerned he was a minute ago.

“I cut my finger on the printer,” you repeat, shrugging. “Happens.”

“I’m gonna regret asking you this, but…how?”

“Well, I was printing some documents earlier, and the paper got stuck, so, I had to lift the top and get in there, right?”

He nods. “Right.”

So far, it sounds plausible, but he knows you. Matt is well aware that your clumsiness manages to exceed his in many ways, and you have gotten yourself into predicaments in the past that he still hasn’t wrapped his head around. Sometimes, shit happens to and around you, and he has to accept that. He never fails to try though, which is kind of endearing, in a way. It’s something you have gotten used to over the years; he has to ensure you’re okay or he can’t find a moment to rest.

“I wasn’t wearing my glasses,” you confess, “so I had to put my face as close as possible to see what I was doing. Anyway, the paper ripped and since my position didn’t allow for any traction, I accidentally got my thumb caught on a sharp edge because if I’d pulled my hand out I would’ve hit myself in the face.”

A moment of silence passes. The wheels in Matt’s head visibly turn. He fidgets with the waistband of his pants, still processing. Eventually, he asks, “What?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry for not cleaning up. I was busy trying to fix my thumb and the printer.”

“I’m not… sweetheart, I’m not worried about the mess. I’m worried about you.” Matt slips the glasses off his nose and places them aside.

“I’m okay,” you tell him. But are you, really?

“You sure?” He bridges the gap between you, tugging at your hand to run his fingers over the bandage; the cut underneath screams in protest. “Let me check.” His hazel eyes focus blankly at the space where your nose is, but it feels as though he is staring into your soul.

“Matt…” You try to stop him, but he swiftly unpacks the injury.

He sucks in a sharp breath when the scent hits him. You wonder what it smells like; blood, definitely, and maybe some of the ink you accidentally got into the wound before disinfecting it. His thumb gently inspects the area around it, trying not to hurt you. Matt can’t help but shake his head again; it doesn’t take much for him to realize that it isn’t just a tiny cut.

“Jesus,” he curses under his breath. “Feels like you’re missing some skin there.”

You try to make light of the situation. “Maybe we’ll find it the next time one of us prints something.”

His jaw clenches. You’re not in pain anymore, and your fight with the printer did not lead to a life-threatening injury, but he can’t stand the thought of you being hurt, not even for a second.

“I love you,” he says, “but you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” It’s not as endearing as it usually sounds.

“Huh.” You huff. “That’s saying a lot, considering you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m blind,” he retorts, eyebrows raised to his hairline. He’s standing there, expression suggesting he thinks you have officially lost your mind, and it rubs you the wrong way.

You retract your hand, glaring at him with all you’ve got. “And I’m extremely short-sighted!” You don’t have to yell for him to feel the intended sting of your tone.

His hands find their way back to his hips like a condescending mother. “Why weren’t you wearing your glasses?”

“Because,” you say, “I accidentally got coffee on them this morning and forgot to put them back on.” Your confidence falters halfway through though, realizing it doesn’t work well in your defense. Especially not in an argument with a skilled lawyer such as your boyfriend.

You love his caring nature more than life, but sometimes he treats you like a child who needs saving. Your heart is racing in your chest, and perhaps that is why he stops before you can make an argument out of a simple cut on your finger. It’s not worth it.

“I… you know what,” Matt caves, and his biceps relax, “I’m not even going to ask.”

You nod, albeit not triumphantly. You didn’t exactly win this battle of wits. “Yeah. Probably for the better,” you answer, chin held high, but it’s of no use.

You got defeated. By a printer.

His lips curve into a soft smile. “C’mere.” He leans in, his nose brushing against yours. He smells of his cologne, paper, and coffee—like home. And he probably tastes like what he had for lunch or maybe the water he gozzled before heading home, but there is always a slight tinge of something indescribable when he kisses you.

Before your lips can finally touch though, he halts. Matt sniffs, licking his lips and tasting the air. “You smell like ink,” he says.

Your eyes narrow. Asshole. “Thank you. That’s…should I pour bleach into my mouth to accommodate you, Murdock?” you snap, pushing away from him.

Instead of begging on his knees for forgiveness—a dramatic notion you would not be opposed to—he laughs. Matt Murdock has the audacity to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out between giggles. “I’m sorry. Hey!” He tugs at your arm once more. “At least let me hug you. Please.”

You pout. “I’ll bite you.”

“Please don’t.”

“I might.”

He brings you into his arms with little resistance from your end, guiding your head just above his heart. So you can hear him. Feel him. Smell him. “I love you too,” he murmurs against your hair.

You bury your face in his chest. It’s unfair how comfortable he is. “Hm. You’re lucky you’re irreplaceable,” you say, but it lacks conviction.

Matt clicks his tongue. “You’re so nice to me.”

“You started it.”

“That’s fair.” Grabbing your chin, he tilts your head back up. “I still love you.”

You can’t bite back a smile this time, purring, “Oh, I know.”

That’s never going to change, you know. And you love him. All of him, all the time, and unconditionally.

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #daredevil x reader #charlie cox

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 9 months ago

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ppl please. You are making Vaggie stupider than she is in canon

"Why didn't Vaggie know angel weapons could kill angels, when Lute used one to permanently gouge out her eye-"

Because Lute also ripped off her wings, seemingly permanently, WITHOUT using a weapon.

It makes sense that Vaggie would figure only other ANGELS can HURT angels. And that's still not the same as KILLING ONE.

You can say "well if she was scarred then by it then she should've assumed a real attack could have killed her" but why? In hell, Sinners can be TORN APART and pull themselves back together. Why wouldn't Vaggie assume that she can take damage up to a point but still not die? Or that she would just reform again afterwards?

"It was a writing mistake to have Vaggie not confess her past to Charlie before they went to heaven, no believable character would do that-"

It was a character flaw, one many other characters in the show have, and it is very true to life that longer you keep a secret about yourself- especially one you're afraid people will hate you for- the harder it is to admit to it.

We know she feels like her only point in existing is to help Charlie. She said it. And later it ties in perfectly with her backstory of losing everything about herself and being found by Charlie, of rejecting her life killing Sinners and devoting herself to supporting the dream of saving them instead.

We also know the last time she "failed" people in her life she was hurt and abandoned by them. We know her FIRST plan was to NOT go to heaven with Charlie, to try and make some kind of excuse.

But then she couldn't come up with a good excuse. And she couldn't bring herself to say no to her supportive and loving girlfriend. And then they were in heaven, facing a COURT HEARING to decide the fate of SOULS, that her girlfriend would have to argue a case for-

Does that really sound like the best time to drop an emotional relationship truth bomb?

Sound. Not "was". Would it have FELT LIKE a good time to come clean to Charlie about being a former Exorcist.

HOW would it have FELT like a good time for that to Vaggie? Especially after Adam and Lute got through telling her how being scarred and crippled by them was her fault, being left down in hell by them was her fault, and her girlfriend will ALSO hate her if the truth comes out?

THIS IS A SHOW. ABOUT PEOPLE. WHO MAKE CRAPPY SELF-SABOTAGING CHOICES (look at Angel Dust) AND THEN HAVE TO DECIDE WHAT TO DO WITH THE FALL OUT OF THaT

THATS THE SHOW

THATS. THE POINT OF THE HAZBIN HOTEL

it's not "bad writing" when a WOMAN does it TOO without an essay explaining her every thought leading up to it!

like im sorry her scenes were rushed, im sorry they had worse animation and story boarding and pacing than the guys' moments get, im sorry she didn't get more focus, im sorry she isn't a fav character of the show creators-

but she IS well written. tbh all of the characters in the show are.

they do things that makes sense based on what they've been through, and what they feel, and what they want, and that's. that's good character writing.

i don't LIKE a lot of the characters but they're still WELL WRITTEN

I HAVE QUESTIONS ABOUT VAGGIE- BUT ONLY BECAUSE IM OBESSEED WITH HER AND WANT TO CRAWL INSIDE HER SKULL! SHE IS, IN THE SHOW, A PERFECTLY BELIEVABLE CHARACTER

bad writing would have been- her getting angry at Charlie for being upset about the secret! it would've been her CAVING to Adam's blackmail and arguing against Angel Dust to save herself! It would've been her moping on the top of the hotel while Charlie was angry with her instead of actively doing what she could to help, like she did!

i've lived through SO MANY badly written characters DO NOT try telling me VAGGIE is one of them- i remember the horrors. THIS is not THAT

......anyway

im probably gonna regret posting this aren't i

#hazbin hotel #vaggie

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tiredsmashbros · 14 days ago

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🌿⛅️ HAPPY BIRTHDAY KYLE !!! 🦌

@rmgkyle 💥

wanna get back into the habit of posting any of my art like i used to, so we gonna start the end of the month strong IYUGJHDW

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KYLE!!!! I SRSLY HOPE U HAD AN AWESOME ONE AND ENJOYED THE BIRTHDAY PARTY EVENT AAAA I GEN HAD A LOT FUN AND GETTING TO TALK BOUT SOUTH PARK GUH... we need to actually do a watch party of that and watch scott pilgrim again yes uwu 💛🍔

my mini sappery essay jajaja go away this is for the deer girl /srs

i've kind of said most of what i've been having in my mind from my response to the bday gift you made for me a bit ago, but i'm going to continue saying them because seriously, getting to find someone else who shares multiples interests and fixations- ESP SOUTH PARK AND SCOTT PILGRIM- has been seriously and incredible joyride, and im so excited to continue to yap about them and so much more!!!

omg i needed to move my foot for a sec and my roommate's cat on my lap left me what a bitch am i right /j /silly ILHKJGFNEDSH

anyways- kyle you genuinely are one of the most sweetest individuals i've met and i get excited to see you pop around in vcs and get excited to see what new masterpieces you got cooking up!!! i hope this birthday had made you realized how much you mean to a lot of people, including myself, and how much we all appreciate you. obviously i can't speak for everyone, butt you've been so joyful to hang and talk with i don't know what happen if your silly little presence wasn't rolling around.

you really do make a difference in folks lives because you did for me. i think i mentioned i've personally encounter bad "kyles" within my lifetime and i meant it how paranoid it made me. but meeting you and getting to know you from these past months have seriously washed away those fears, and those calmed the tides to the horrible memories. something i didn't know could go away. but you made it happened wether you meant to or not. and i thank you wholeheartedly for that. you make me smile and excited to know whats going to happen bc my god any of you sillies shenanigans will be the death of me /j /silly

alas, despite chaos, i've never had such a joyful experience before and i want you to seriously know how much i appreciate you man. yeah maybe i could've ended this gift with just a "happy birthday" and a sketch doodle, but that's not really up my alley, and even more so i wanted to really do my best to try to express how much i care by trying to illustrate you something wholesome, yet lovingly. a piece filled with care and enjoyable company, accompanied with comforting such as clouds, though simple, thats all it really is. its all a straight-forward warm breeze comfort you bring to me and no doubt. to many others. your exciting to be around and a relaxing hotspot to inform myself to never need worries.

you're just so cool man.

please continue staying cool and the sweet silly person that you are

i love you kyle, and i hope we can continue to being friends for many more

happy birthday dude 💛🍔

and im definitely buying lesbian color nail polish on our next sleepover ong you aint gonna catch me slaking /silly iHKJGDCS

#tsb official #smg4 #smg4 oc #rmg #smg4 saiko #smg4 fanart #i love makin birthday gifts omg i've made so much than usual in the past 4 months wtf

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consultingskeletondetective · 6 months ago

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Virginal, chapter 2

Michael had left you alive, and you couldn't begin to fathom why. You know all you can do is try and forget it and move on with your life.

Except...Michael has followed you home.

masterlist ❤️🖤 ao3

chapter tags: serial killer, murder, death, violence, blood, gore, weapons, knife, female reader, non con, stalking, hair pulling, forced orgasms

The police hadn’t caught him yet.

It had been almost a week since your encounter with Michael Myers in the woods on your way home from work, and he’d been on the run ever since. You hadn’t reported what had happened to the authorities, even if you’d been on the verge of it many times. You’d spent the whole week waking up in cold sweats with a gooey and shameful mess between your legs at the memory of Michael’s large hand on your neck, or the sense-memory of his cock pressed heavy and dangerous against your core. The way he’d used you, fucked you, like his own little plaything haunted you.

No one could know what he’d done to you, no one could know how you felt about it, even if the guilt gnawed at you. Maybe if you’d told someone, they might have caught him by now, and people might still be alive. But there was a part of you, a part of you you wished you didn’t have, that reminded you that if Michael wanted someone dead, then there was nothing any earthly power could do to keep that person alive. Michael left no survivors.

Except for you.

It had been on the news religiously all week; police were baffled by his location and utterly at a loss for his motivations and patterns. Michael, it seemed, cared not a bit to cover his tracks. He even seemed to decorate his murder scenes artistically, propping bodies up and, blurred though they were on the television, reminding you of a sick and gruesome game of action figures. They were Michael’s bodies, to do with as he pleased. Twelve people he’d killed since he found you. Twelve. That the authorities were aware of, anyway. The thought chilled you to the very core.

You’d learnt from the heavy reporting that Michael Myers had been being held at the Westbrook Sanitarium for the criminally insane, not four miles from where you worked, and he’d escaped that night he’d taken you - thrust against your weak body until he came on your cunt like a wild animal.

You were the first person he’d come across, apparently, and after years of solitude, Michael had some frustrations to take out on you. You knew well who he was, you recognised that mask and that boiler suit the second you’d seen it. You’d grown up with stories of the boogeyman who’d murdered his sister the same as everyone else, thrust into the spotlight when he’d escaped from Smith’s Grove Sanitarium a few years ago and murdered a bunch of teenagers on a spree. You’d seen the youtube video essays and buzzfeed articles on the stoic killing machine who’d baffled psychologists and doctors up and down the country, maybe even the world. You’d walked past books in shops written about this monster, his silence, his rage, his gore and death and damnation were a part of your culture. It made it easy to forget that Michael Myers was real, and not just some fictitious product of a sick mind. He became very real to you that night, your own personal boogeyman.

You’d learnt that Michael Myers was no man, he was an evil spirit, a hell-sent silent demon, a ghost - one that was haunting you.

You turned the television off and went into the bathroom, shucking your clothes into a messy pile by the bath as you stepped under the cool spray of the shower.

It was a warm day, your skin over-hot, and you welcomed the clammy dribbles down your back. You washed quickly, fingers pressing too familiar over the lips of your pussy, you expected them still to be swollen, puffy from use where Michael had rutted his scorching and elephantine cock against you like a beast in heat, but it wasn’t. It was like it hadn’t happened. Except it had, of course, because you still wore him on your skin. His fingertips were in every bruise, his grip was the ache in your bones with every groan of your sore body. It was like he’d marked you, made your tiny body a part of his eclipsing form.

You shook your head frustratedly to yourself in the bathroom mirror before flicking the lightswitch off and making your way to your bedroom. You couldn’t think of him every moment for the rest of your life, you couldn’t live in fear of the boogeyman. He had left you alive, and you had to live with that. Michael was gone, and you’d never see him again.

You pulled a short nightdress on, the flimsy material to combat the hot and sticky night you anticipated, and you made your way to the kitchen to fill up your water bottle to take to bed.

The outside light was on.

It wasn’t yours, but your neighbours. It was motion-sensored, you knew that because it blinded you every time you stumbled back from a night shift.

You frowned before crossing to the door, to close the blinds over the glass so no one would be able to see into your home in the middle of the night. Your hand tangled in the string before it froze, along with the rest of your body. Like your blood had frozen to ice inside you and made you a dead weight to the floor.

Michael was standing under the light, 50 yards away from your door. He was staring sightlessly at you through the empty eyes of his mask, utterly emotionless. His hands rested unclenched by his sides, his back razor-straight as always. He was just watching. His form gave no indication of how long he’d been there. Maybe hours.

Fear shot through you and the string began to shake violently in your grip as you stared at him. He’d come to finish what he’d started, you realised in horror, he’d noticed his mistake in leaving you alive. Was it so you couldn’t tell the police? Was it just that you needed to die, he’d had you in his grasp and that was that, a rageful itch under his skin that wouldn’t be quenched until your blood was soaking his hands?

It didn’t make sense. He was stood in the street, bathed in your neighbours motion light like a bloody homing beacon. Surely they’d seen him. Surely someone had seen him and called the police? Why weren’t there any sirens? It was deathly quiet. Just you, him and the wind. Maybe it was a fever dream, a sleep paralysis nightmare and your demon had returned to you.

He began walking leisurely towards the door, his pace bone-tinglingly unhurried as ever, before he stopped at the glass and peered down at you. You shrank, paralysed with fear. You’d somehow forgotten just how big he was. He might have been two foot taller than you, and just as broad, taking up the whole of the door so he blacked out any light behind him. That was as good a metaphor as any to describe Michael. The darkness followed him.

You didn’t know why you weren’t moving, dazzled, you supposed somewhere in the back of your mind. A monster brought to life, in front of you, enough to convince yourself that you were dreaming.

His fist shattered through the glass, shards of glittering ice hitting the kitchen floor as his hand curled down to find the handle. You screamed, backing off so violently your back hit the fridge and tears wept down your cheeks until they were quite literally soaking the front of your nightie. This was no dream. It was a nightmare incarnate.

Even his violent outburst seemed calm somehow, shattering your backdoor into shards of glass like it was nothing. His large hand found the door handle and began to rattle it, and the noise caused your brain to snap back to where it needed to be.

You forced your eyes from him, pushed yourself away from the fridge and scurried into the living room. The front door was in your sights. You didn’t know precisely what you planned to do with yourself when you got outside, your brain hadn’t made it that far yet. All you knew was that you needed to survive, and you had no chance of that locked in the same cage as this rabid animal.

You grabbed for the front door handle with a hiss of accomplishment, throwing your gaze back over your shoulder to ascertain how much time you had. No time. Michael was already in the living room, walking towards you like he had all the time in the world. You shrieked in pure terror at his towering form as you flung the door wide open, the concrete of your front step was cool on your barefoot but the sensation barely lasted a second as fingers tangled roughly in your hair and yanked you roughly until you fell onto the carpet. The open-palm of Michael’s free hand slammed the front door shut, cutting off your exit, and the oak creaked under the force of it, the foundations of the house damn-near shaking.

You scrambled onto your knees, screeching, crying, grasping at his hand in your hair, wincing when every flex of his fingers yanked at your scalp, tearing individual hairs out by the roots. He had to bend his back to hold you to the floor, his emotionless mask looking down on you. His breathing was barely audible over your devastated screams. You couldn’t move.

“Please, please, please, Michael, please don’t kill me. I didn’t tell anyone, I swear! I won’t! I don’t want to die, please let me go, please, please-”

You could barely beg, your throat hoarse, your words sobs. He didn’t respond except to drag you into the middle of the room by your hair, kicking the coffee table aside to make room for you both in the middle of the floor. One of the wooden legs of your poor table snapped under his boot before he tossed you down like a ragdoll. Your back hit the carpeted floor and it shook your whole frame. You instinctively planted your palms on the floor behind yourself, to crawl back, to spring up, you didn’t know.

Michael’s boot came to rest on your bare thigh, his weight utterly solid and you wailed as he pinned you to the floor. Your nightie had ridden up, not to the point of indecency, but enough that his boot kissed your flesh. You froze as fresh tears streamed down your face, remembering exactly what he’d done the last time he’d had you like this, as if just realising how acutely vulnerable you were in this position. Were you even wearing underwear? You didn’t think so. His boot was mere inches away from your exposed cunt, all he’d have to do was push your dress up and he’d see everything. See how fucking wet you were. You hated yourself.

“Please,” you tried again, voice barely a whisper as you looked up at him. Submissive, you realised, prey before a predator, begging for its life. “What do you want?”

He didn’t move, you could barely tell if he was breathing, just staring down at you as everything else in the world fell away. His hands were still loose by his sides, no knife, you noted, but a grim red-hued dirt on the rough palms of his hands you could identify without too much guesswork. Your stomach rolled.

His hand raised and you jolted, expecting pain, to be struck, stripped, killed.

How long had he been searching for you? Maybe he’d never left, maybe he’d been one step behind you all week, watching you sleep, watching you shower - were those twelve people dead because they lived close to you? Did you kill them?

His large hand came to rest over the front of his crotch and your mouth fell open. Not again. Why me? You were already shaking your head, breathy hitching sobs racking through you.

“No, Michael, please -”

He toed your thigh with the steel-gap of his boot, shoving it to the side, affectively opening your legs and you wanted to close your eyes, the feeling of vulnerability and shame as he spread your legs for him hurt something deep inside of you, you felt dirty and shameful in every one of your nerves. Your slick was soaking the back of your nightie and probably your carpet too. What the fuck was wrong with you?

He fell to his knees in front of you, in a way that could only have hurt, but he didn’t make a sound as his large, gore-stained hands gripped your bare thighs and tugged until you were lying in front of him. You squeaked, your legs not quite touching his, more left hanging in the air as he scraped his calloused hands down your thighs in a way that definitely didn’t make your heart speed up, no more than it was already hammering, before his palms were flat on your inner thighs, pressing them apart and into the floor. You tried immediately and desperately to close them and his grip on you tightened to the point of extreme pain, your femurs tremoring dangerously like they might snap if you moved even an inch.

You stilled completely, you couldn’t tell where he was looking, but it seemed to be right at you, that emotionless masked expression, or lack of, giving you nothing, but you could feel the rage and the dangerous power wafting off of him, you could feel the coiled strength in his fingers, the strain of his bicep muscles in his boiler suit as he held you immobile and you swallowed, shivering in fear and pitiful acceptance as you stopped struggling. If you had any hope of getting out of this alive, and as uninjured as possible, you had to stop fighting.

His pathetic, mewling hole, your brain supplied almost bitterly.

Once apparently satisfied you’d stopped struggling, MIchael’s grip on your thighs lessened somewhat, leaving deep red bruises regardless, and he shifted forwards on his knees, taking up more space between your legs, as he rucked your nightie up to your belly, sitting back a little just to stare at your pussy, exposed and dripping and vulnerable, as if getting a good look at the wet little hole that had made him come so hard the last time.

Your cheeks burned boiling hot as he looked at you, your thighs twitching conspirately to close but you forced yourself to try and calm, utterly impossible, you trembled like a newborn foal.

He dipped his head between your legs and your back arched, startled, wondering what he possibly meant to do, particularly, your horrible brain chipped in, with a mask over his face. You could hear nothing but that breathing, before it was sucked in, the nose of his mask just nudging your folds and making you jolt.

Was he - was he smelling you?

He made no noise, his body shifted an inch. What was he doing? It was like he was searching for something. He kept his nose buried against your soaping heat for a few more moments before he apparently found it. Then he was sitting back up again. Your knees were nearly knocking together in terror when his hands, fuck, how were they so big? framed your cunt, pulling at the flesh of the tops of your thighs, spreading your folds, revealing the vulnerable pink flesh of your seam, your clit.

Oh fuck.

He prodded you with a long finger a few times, painful sharp jabs until he caught the rim of your opening and sunk in to the knuckle. It burned, it burned so hot, you clenched painfully around his finger. Fuck, it felt like the size of a cock all on its own. But the finger was withdrawn as quickly as it had breached you, like a fucking dip test, but no less rough on the way out and you grimaced. You had a pretty good idea about what was to follow, and the anticipation of the pain alone was enough to make you cry again.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tried again pathetically, wondering somewhere in your mind why you were trying to distract him from fucking you, when the alternative was his heavy hands shattering your collarbone until your heart was pierced by your own brittle dagger. Survival, you kept saying to yourself, one day you might believe it, you were trying to live. Nothing else. Nothing else.

He’d already unzipped his boiler suit, you could just glimpse a sliver of pale flesh beneath but he undressed himself no further, reaching down into his trousers and pulling his cock free.

Fucking hell.

It was a goddamn fucking monster. It sat snug in Michael’s large hand, long and thick, crown red with blood and dribbling precome, it curved up slightly, in a way that was designed to attack that spot inside of you, and when he dropped it, it dipped, bobbing against his boiler suit, so heavy under its own weight it could barely hold itself up, but it did, his cock stood proud and to attention, ready for action, as he shifted down a little, hands once more finding your thighs and hauling you practically into his lap. He threw your legs over his broad hips, stretching your thigh muscles, as his cock rested hot and heavy on your pelvic bone, like a leaden weight on you. Oh fuck, you were so fucked. It was near enough the size of your thigh, and you knew it was going to wreck you.

You jerked your hips uselessly, trying in vain to put some distance between you and Michael’s thick cock, you’d never had a partner that size before, you’d never even had a toy that size. It wasn’t going to fit, it was as simple as that. Except he didn’t care.

He pressed his hips up, taking you with him, lifting your back clean off of the floor so your spine was arched uncomfortably. He paid you no mind as he gripped the base of his erection and slipped himself down through your folds.

He was silent, calm and ferocious as he pressed forward against you with so much pressure that it hurt. You could feel his heaviness hard against your pelvic bone and you trembled in fearful anticipation of what was about to happen.

Finally, Michael found what he was looking for and his thick cockhead breached your hole barely a centimetre but still you gasped, already undone by being so violently penetrated by not even a goddamn inch of that fat unforgiving head.

Michael surged forward, in triumph perhaps, or just in a hurry to get his cock stuffed deep into you as quickly as possible, but your traitorous cunt was wet enough that he slipped straight back out again, whole cock fucking upwards and jamming through your folds, gliding gloriously against your clit. You let out a loud moan and he stilled entirely except for the throb of his cock against you. You clapped your hands to your mouth and forced your eyes to the ceiling. You hadn’t meant to do that. You didn’t want to give him the sick satisfaction. It was the last thing you could keep for yourself.

Michael was a fast learner, it seemed, because this time he inched a little more slowly inside you until a good inch of solid cock was spearing you open. You thought you might die, knees knocking against his hips helplessly as he forcibly stretched you obscenely around him. You will take me, I will make it fit.

Only when he was firm in you, and you were surely going to pass out from pressure alone, did he plunge his hips forward, his whole cock sinking to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

The pain, fuck the pain was indescribable, burning, aching, stuffed full, stuffed beyond full - he didn’t care - he didn’t care that he’d probably just ripped you in half, stretched you so full you were more cock than you were yourself anymore. He didn’t care you were crying, shivering, he cared that you were an open, wet heat to warm his cock in.

Those blood-stained, murderous hands gripped your hips and an ache blossomed in your bones, your skin beneath his skin turned white to red to near-black with bloodied pressure-bruises as he gripped you hard enough you fully believed he intended to shatter bone. He could, you knew he could. It was enough to lose yourself to, you were going to pass out, you were going to die from the stress and agony forced upon your weak and small body. This was how he was going to kill you.

He moved, shifted his heavy length inside you, nudging spots of your flesh where a cock was not meant to be. He pulled out incrementally, shoved back in and oh - oh .

Your thighs shook again, trembled, as spiralling pleasure mixed with pain and your pussy clenched around his cock, contracting around it as he thrust in again, as if traitorously and deliriously pulling him in to you, to where that thick and hot pressure felt the best. He thrust in again, harder than before, faster than before, immediately picking up an athletic, robotic pace as if he were half-way through a marathon fuck, thrumming with energy. You had no time to adjust, no time to build-up - you were there immediately, clenching uncontrollably on Michael Myer’s mercilessly hard cock, your cunt fluttering and clenching on every brutal, animalistic intrusion, until you couldn’t take it anymore. There was no edge, there was just falling.

You yelped, back arching up even more than it already was, legs squeezing the small of Michael’s back as your poor cunt spasmed, coming hot and hard until you felt your own slick dribbling down the backs of your thighs. Michael didn’t stop for a second, he didn’t even slow, you nearly choked on your own spit.

He was utterly devoid of anything, breathing heavy and focused, no movement except the piston of his hips as he fucked you deep and unforgiving until you were sure his thick crown was kissing at your cervix.

Your head was hazy, eyes unfocused, you had absolutely no control over your overworked cunt anymore, whining pitifully as you came around him again, lathering his cock in your traitorous spend, praying every time that he’d slow, but he didn’t, and you felt that molten lava in your core building again until you were covered in a sheen of your own sweat, spent, exhausted. He didn’t care. He wasn’t done yet, he wanted more. He took it.

He angled his hips up, chasing a sensation, you weren’t prepared for it. He hammered into you until his hip bones were slamming against your inner thighs with enough force to shake your entire body. His cock against your sweet spot was like a punch to the gut and you screamed. Pain, pleasure, you didn’t know anymore as your hips convulsed and jerked, clamping down on him hard enough that if he were a normal man, he wouldn’t have been able to move.

But Michael was no normal man.

He held your hips down, taking your clenching orgasm for himself as he slammed into you. Being fucked into your leg-shaking release was like being volted off of this ethereal plane and into another, your eyes whitened, your brain slowed to juddering holt as dizzying, mind-numbing ohmyfuckinggodthisfeelssogood short-circuited your entire being.

Michael slammed into you one final time, unable to withstand the vice-like grip of your velvet walls any longer before he was stilling completely, his cock an erupting volcano inside of you that spurted hot white heat against your walls, filling you utterly.

Your mouth opened in shock, or exhaustion, as your whole body trembled, jerking uncontrollably in the aftershocks.

He didn’t linger. His hands left your hips first, the bruises behind ached immediately, black and devastating to your skin where even taking a breath in bothered them. Then he snapped his hips back, swollen cock slipping free of your drenched heat, sopping with white. He let it hang there, between his legs, a stark contrast against his boiler suit, and you trembled with undignified arousal. Your cunt felt wrecked, stretched wide, forced open to accommodate him, and yet your body still somehow ached for more. No, you were terrified, fighting for your life, this wasn’t real. None of it was.

He stood, using core strength alone, leaving your legs to fall heavily to the floor. They ached where the muscles had been stretched, kicking the pain in your back and your hips into eleventh gear. You’d been twisted like a pretzel for too long. You frowned. How long had he been fucking you? It felt like no time at all, it felt like days.

You pulled your nightie down as far as it would go, scrambling your legs together despite the way they twinged. You could feel him squelching between your thighs and your untouched clit twinged pitifully.

When you gathered the courage to look up at him, you saw that he’d tucked himself away and zipped himself back up. He stood tall and menacing over you, gargantuan in your living room, his head near-touching the ceiling. He was peering down at you, that devoid mask giving nothing. The utter silence was as terrifying and deafening as any death cry.

He cocked his head ever so slightly and you winced, fight or flight response, before he was turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen.

Terror rocked through you, vomit-inducing, head-spinning terror, and you were on your feet in a heartbeat. Your mauled insides and your ruined hips complained at you but you ignored it. They would mean nothing if you were dead. Which you were about to be. He was going for a knife, surely he was. He -

The creak of the kitchen door caught you by surprise, but it took a few long minutes for your heart to stop thudding loud enough for you to realise that he wasn’t coming back in. After a few breaths, your curiosity got the better of you and you crept into the kitchen. The back door was shut, except for the hole gaped in the glass by his fist, of course, and the kitchen was empty.

You were careful with your bare feet to avoid the shards of glass on the floor, not that it would make massive amounts of difference to your ruined body, before you shakily peered through what remained of your door.

The motion detector light was on, the street was empty.

Confusion and shame rocked through you with enough force to make you tumble and you had to grip the countertop to keep yourself upright.

How on earth were you still alive? For a second time? What did the most infamous serial killer in the country get from keeping you alive?

A hot, wet hole to come in.

You could feel the ache between your legs like Michael was still there, it was a glorious, horrible burn, trembling pleasure, irrefutable depravity - the best fuck of your life.

What did that make you?

Everything was eerily quiet. Your water bottle still sat on the side. If it weren’t for the broken door and the shards of glass, it would be easy to imagine that Michael hadn't been there at all.

Except for the warm come dribbling down your thighs where he’d marked his territory inside you. You swallowed. Whether you were his next victim or his fucktoy - you couldn’t escape that you were his. And you knew, even now, with terrifying certainty, that Michael Myers was not going to let you go.

link to chapter 3

#virginal #skeleton_detective #michael myers #halloween #michael myers x reader #fanfiction #multi chapter #pls read the tags #dark fic

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yuri-for-businesswomen · 7 months ago

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i have left

hey everyone this will probably be the last thing i post on this blog albeit im keeping it up for resources.

im eternally grateful for how this community has helped me through prostitution and everything, i have amazing mutuals and i have learned so much 💜

but it has become toxic. many of yall cant handle disagreement and default to being as condescending and obnoxious as possible. one of us calling out a post is not enough, we have to dog pile everyone with a slightly shitty opinion. some of yall have severely lost the plot if you ever had it in the first place. not everything is that serious, especially when it comes to online drama.

im sick of it. so many engage in the same bullshit we accuse online trans activists of. this is an echo chamber. so many just mindlessly parrot slogans and arguments. what im very sick of is seeing single tweets or posts by a nobody, usually anonymous, being spread as receipts and shit. you know how annoying it is when everything a self proclaimed terf somewhere on social media says is taken by trans activists at face value and representative of the community when theyre not even radical feminist, just transphobic? yeah. yet a lot of yall do the same by saving and sharing „receipts“ where some random person who claims theyre trans (or not even) says some fucked up or out of pocket shit. you will always find people like that online, from any politicial „camp“ or ideological alignment!

a lot of yall seem to think that debate is about winning and not like, having an exchange of arguments and let the audience come to their own conclusion

and i just dont hate trans people. in fact i feel kinship to any female or homosexual trans person, anyone except heterosexual males. many of yall dont even realise how male centered you are when you more or less equal the trans community to heterosexual men who have a fetish for humiliation and forced feminisation or whatever. who exist and are an issue and i do wish the trans community at large would distance themselves from those men, but its not all there is to it. yes i agree that we need to protect vulnerable young people, girls and especially lesbians and gay boys, from being pushed into transitioning, i think the age of consent should be put at 21 or something, but we have to acknowledge and consider that there are people who have already transitioned and will transition in the future and i just dont understand how you cant have any empathy for them. no matter what you think about transition, many trans people ARE vulnerable and marginalised. plus consider how many detransitioned women are in this community yet yall talk about trans people as mutilated and shit its gross. in the end we can only try to establish structures that keep people from self harming, but an adult of sound mind has the right to do so anyways, including plastic surgery and trans surgeries. and i want to keep my arms open to them; but a lot of rhetoric around it spread on here will only alienate them further.

right now im saving all my essays in notes so its out of my mind. i have missed the community a lot so maybe i will return at some point but i have also been feeling better since i stopped being on radblr. i miss the rare valuable input and thoughts by other women but overall i have felt unaligned with how things have been handled on here. it has been mostly negative instead of constructive and pragmatic. ive had the impression some of yall enjoy the „being in the in-group“ community aspect more than actually being here for feminist exchange. lack of nuance, lack of empathy, lack of reason. it pains me but i have more and more come to understand why people just block us without engaging on general suspicion because ive also come to be annoyed with some of yall engaging with posts - and im on „your side“.

anyways im doing okay, im going to drug counselling regularly now and am trying to establish a stable life for those of you who inquired, and i hope anyone reading this is self reflected enough to know whether this applies to her or not. bye

#and yeah i may have been guilty of some of this in the past and i dont like that i was swept up in this and distancing myself now

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ttalgi · 1 year ago

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missent letters

wanderer x gn! reader

part 1 || part 2

"hey, i was wondering why you even wanted to send that letter to hat guy, anyways?"

it took a moment to process what kaveh said, and when you did, you felt your body freeze up. it took an unusual amount of effort to get the words out of your mouth, maybe because of how dry it suddenly felt.

"what...what do you mean letter? i don't know about any letters?! why would i, of all people, write him a letter?! " you scoffed out the last part, hoping that your haughty tone would defend you from what you were about to hear.

"UGH! first of all, spend less time around alhaitham, you're copying his mannerisms a bit too well," he exasperated. "secondly, are you having early stages of memory loss?! i'm talking about the multiple page letter you left on your desk to be sent out alongside that package for your family."

your first instinct was to yell at kaveh for even sending the letter, but then taking a moment to think, you can't help but to berate yourself over why you would even leave the letter out on your desk. thinking even further you realize that it's actually all hat guy's fault.

you've spent too many years of your life trying to stay at the top of your vahumana class only for hat guy to swoop in and tear at your efforts. the last straw was when he received the top score on the latest essay, bumping you down to second,,,for the fifth time now.

your vexation for him caused you to begin writing how he shouldn't even be in the akademiya because he just showed up one random day in the middle of the year out of nowhere. which led to how you thought that he was insufferable, especially when he discovers that he surpassed your score. which somehow led you to write about how you sometimes stare at his stupidly pretty face when you spot him at the library, about his voice which holds a tone that musicians wish they could play forever, about his hair that you imagine combing your fingers through-

"hello?! anyone present up here??" kaveh knocked at your head.

"kaveh...im so screwed."

notes: i was reading "i hope this doesn't find you" when i suddenly thought of this prompt with scara so i made up this small drabble hehe. also this is not edited, so apologizes in advance...also it's 4 am where i am...i should really sleep

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #genshin imagines #gender neutral reader #ttalgi writes #genshin drabble

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the-real-rain-world-confessions · 7 days ago

Note

I love Five Pebbles. He's like, the best and most developed character of the entire game. His growth happens across the entire timeline, yet they manage to write him consistently and I can't help but love that.

He used to have a 'young and reticent mentality in the past.' But he grew past that. He's fully-fledged iterator with his own real struggles spurted by the trauma of his situation. He even is embarassed of his younger self's clumsiness. He criticizes his old "poorly-done work" even when he was just young and he didn't knew much things anyway. (Viridian Pearl from Garbage Wastes; FP's reading) I like to think he probably made a lot of technical goofs in the past?

Anyway, his own creation sparked a huge controversy which left him, unfortunately, stuck in the middle of it. The citizens that were against him coming into being walked all over him as if he didn't have work to do. But some others loved him and brought him gifts. He unironically preferred more the citizens that despised him because they brought him puzzles for him to solve and, even when they probably did it out of spite because they underestimated his intelligence, atleast he wasn't dealing with "the endless rituals and pleasantries of the monks of his own Houses which he found to be the most wearisome of all." (Pale Green pearl in The Exterior; FP's reading)

And he used to argue about old methodologies for global ascension, which he realizes now that they had a lot of holes. This kind of defiant and young mentality stuck to him for a while because, even when you are born with the knowledge of the world at your fingertips, it wouldn't make you good at your job if you are young and unexperienced, which Pebbles was. Also NSH went through that "phase" as well, as he describes: it seems to take "many iterations for our worldviews to change" (Source from one of The Spearmaster's broadcasts)

It's not until he meets Suns that he started to change. He learns about SoS, which became a huge part of Pebble's life and influenced a lot of his theories. (Viridian Pearl from GW again; FP's reading) Which, funnily enough, Moon herself doesn't quite agree with these type of theories about SoS's fate and she thinks she should be allowed to rest in one of her essays. (Pale Yellow pearl from Shoreline; Moon's reading)

He joins anonymous groups under the pseudonym EP: "Erratic Pulse" which is literally one replaced word away from "FP". He begins to shed his resilient mentality in order to learn and grow, and he ends up throwing most of his old theories out of the window. And new ones develop too.

He thinks death is the solution. That they only had to surpass the taboos to achieve ascension, which he believes is what SoS did. However most, if all, iterators didn't believe ascension was possible for them because they are not built to ascend like their creators. But he believed they had to shed that perception of reality. But they were 'too deep in theory and tradition' to believe him. This made him massively misunderstood in those groups and perhaps even in the local. Because nobody, not even his local group apparently, understood his theories. And the only iterator that seems to think equally the same as him, seems to have gone off their rocker. Which makes him look bad. It's not a good look at all. (Read Dark Purple pearl and Dark Blue pearl both from Sky Islands; FP's reading. Very important for the next points.)

Case and point; this whole broadcast (Dark Blue pearl: Moon's reading, by the way)

"NGI: SLIVER OF STRAW WAS A TRAITOR TO THE CAUSE

NGI: SLIVER OF STRAW BROKE THE SELF-DESTRUCTION TABOO

UU: How did this idiot get in here? Kick them out ~

NGI: <Forcefully removed from group>

EP: I think they had a point.

UU: Hahaha really? Elaborate!"

He only had… Suns, who eventually becomes a close friend and a mentor to him. He really looked up to them because he knew they trusted him. It's not like he says Suns understood his theories, now pointing out this very specific wording in the Dark Green pearl of Sky Islands: "None of them understood my theories, but Suns, they trusted me." Makes me thinks Suns was the only one who seemed to support him.

It seems like, to me, he may have some issues with trusting others. One broadcast I think empathizes my past point a little more clearly is this one: The Dark Purple pearl from Sky Islands. Which should also be read fully to understand where I come from. It's only when you bring this pearl to him as The Artificer, when he goes into a full blown mini-rant. (He was right to blow some steam off about THAT) He feels awfully disappointed they couldn't understand. Because it's very interesting to me… how he doesn't say anything else in that broadcast. His only comment is a, probably worried, "where did you hear this?". Then he's overshadowed by NSH's open mocking of his anonymous persona. Then it's at the end lf the rant when he… deflates because he realises you might not even understand what he even is saying to you.

I still think it's pretty damaging to hear the blatant disrespect and distrust, especially from nearby leers. Because it seemed to be that, as Chasing Wind mentioned, that he only listened to Suns and a 'few others'. And we know that Suns is the only one who trusted him with his theories.

Also, their friendship/mentorship makes me so sad. Because Seven Red Suns, as much as they tried to push Pebbles away (because too bad this is the kind of love Pebbles is used to), eventually also came to appreciate how Five Pebbles still stayed with them until the end: "The fact is, he really looked up to me. As much as I gave him a hard time, that's not something I took lightly."

Because really, SRS was lightly teasing in their, sadly, only canon conversation. (That isn't via pearl) althought it's probably Suns making friendly teasing something trivial to further their self-hate , I think I'll take it at face value. I'd like highlight it here:

"FP: I'm tired of trying and trying. And angry that they left us here. The anger makes me even less inclined to solve their puzzle for them. Why do we do this?

SRS: Yes, I'll spell this out - not because you're stupid or naive… Also, not saying that you're not ~

FP: Please, I'm coming to you for guidance."

On another point, he is also frustrated about the iterator's pointless work and he wishes to escape this 'maze' as much as he wants others to find their way out eventually. And because there was nothing to do to convince them, he attempted to self-destruct to try and prove a point, because it seemed the only way to get them to understand. Because it seemed the only way to convince them was by proving himself. Not only that, but it was also a mix between his own frustration and desperation and desire to help himself. AND the others aswell.

Then he tries with the methods given from the pearl by Suns. He ends up speeding the process out of desperation, and eventually came the forced broadcast at that almost fated moment. He fumbled it so hard it gave him some sort brain Rot.

Either way, He says he hates the "benevolent gift" he received from Suns but that's not true. He knows, and appreciates the efforts and risks they took to give him the pearl. He lashed out at them because they were the least iterator he wanted to confront him about his mistakes. "And I hurt them" I really cannot take that as anything other than than raw, extreme guilt. (Dark Green pearl from Sky Islands; FP's transcript)

Because he couldn't even understand why he got so angry. He regrets deeply what he has said, and he wishes to speak to them again. But for all he has said and done, he cannot imagine Suns would want to talk to him anymore. What makes this even more tragic is that SRS didn't exactly gave up either, they wanted to try and make another messenger, to reach out to him again. But they felt unable too. Now, in The Artificer campaign, he's trying his best to fix his mistakes, and he wants to recover. (Same pearl from above) But he never recovered. Take into account this is all said in The Artificer's campaign, which is very on par with The Spearmaster's timeline. So it didn't took him long for him to understand.

And for Moon, even when he us upset for her interruption, he does care deeply for her. And he regrets what he has done, but since he can't go back after everything, the irrepearable damage… Because in his attempts to fix himself was also done to fix her aswell. Because they knew they would be both doomed if he didn't try to reverse the rot's effects. Desperation made him think it was the only way and that he could do it himself. (Olive Green pearl from Sky Islands; FP's reading) Now he hopes the collapse of the bridges between them managed to stop The Rot spreading to her.

Because he doesn't wish for her to face the consequences of his actions, he doesn't want her to rot. He does not hate her. Nor he seems to push the blame on her because he knows these are HIS mistakes to endure. The sad thing is that this sort of martydom is not helping him... (Deep Green pearl from Metropolis; FP's reading)

And after Moon's collapse, he says he has tried for ways to help Moon. But since The Rot is impending him to do so, he can only find ways for that very big problem for now. An attempt to try to reverse, or even slow it. But he knows Moon needs all the help she can get. It is why he is determined to help The Hunter, and encourages them on their quest and even praise them for their nobility. Now citing, FP's direct dialogue with The Hunter:

"I am not without responsibility for her situation. It would only be suiting that I aided in this... rescue mission. As other endeavors have proven futile, I'm not ashamed to admit I've become more invested in day to day matters."

I was not a medical facility even when the equipment was functioning, but I will attempt to do something to buy you a little time.

You do not have much time. It is admirable what you choose to do with it.

Send my regards."

"In the latter case, I hope it was of some help to her. Not that I can imagine what one of you could be able to do for one of us, but she needs all the help she can get."

Now, the only sort of 'companions' he has are the random wild slugcats that somehow manage to make their way into his facility. He is curious about how they communicate, but he wants them out and away from his work. Because it is not exactly pleasant to 'have a rodent run over your desk as you work'... Although, he still wishes to help you and gives you the unimaginable gift. Iterators are supposed to help the collective, so he might have been bending the rules a bit, even for a temporary solution for you. He painfully knows everything won't matter at the end but he still wishes to help you. He wants to help himself too.

He says he is god-like to the lesser beings yet he mentions he feels as trapped as they do. He relates and sympathizes with The Hunter and even goes his way to give them extra cycles for them to make their way to The Void Sea so they can escape their sickness, and even when he is persistent of wanting Hunter to leave, he is only worried because he knows they do not have unlimited time.

He helps The Gourmand reunite with their colony by opening the exterior gates for them. He helped both Survivor and Monk by indirectly causing their reunion at the end of the base game or DLC, wherever at the tree in Outer Expanse or by ascending. He is okay with playing pretend with The Artificer as if they were his citizen, and he gives them a place to stay. He put his trust, for the very first time, on a stray slugcat to help him tend to his structure. He gives Rivulet instructions on how to get the rarefaction cell to give it to Moon. He had put his fate on the hands of small beasts atleast two times. (And he doesn't even realize it with Artificer).

And for the fun traits: He is a nerd for his now-gone citizen's history, music and art. And although he mentions his kind doesn't focus on those aspects, he stills decides to have a fondness for them anyway. He's sarcastic but it comes across as funny. If he had a mouth and he could eat he would like cup ramen and hot pockets. He likes the light of his chamber shining through the diamond sphere you can bring to him. He is angry at the scavengers for destroying ancient history for the sake of 'shiny trinkets'. He is a little hater to a crude art from a child. He thinks the ancients rituals were silly. If you bring him a picture of monks doing odd poses he will say he thinks it's funny. He has many of ancient farmer-poet Pel's works archived. He relates to a silly little painting of five bottles of water standing upon a surface of filter feeding plants. He thinks Twenty-One Spokes of a Stone Wheel was a "true visionary". He misses the old days. He misses his citizens. He misses Suns and Moon, but he thinks he can't be forgiven for what he did.

It's only at the end of everything, where he is at the last of his generators, that he realizes that he did not have to go through this alone. But it's already too late. Then there is Moon, the person he has tried to avoid all the time. And they both had changed so much, that they find solace in eachother. Alone, at the end of the world.

And all of this development happened in one single game and one DLC. And he is not even the protagonist, because you play as a small animal! In the game, he is portrayed as this distant, powerful being that you need to visit to allow you to progress. New players would never know that this guy has single-handedly the most fucked up lore in the game. Love him.

...It is impossible to agree with everything I just said. But, please, if you think FP is as stuck-up as people think, please read his own reading's on the pearls. I beg you…

#rain world confession #five pebbles

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