#but revered somehow ;D]

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 5: Naga/Lamia [Elemental Sacrifices Part 1/4]

I am fashionably late and since this story was supposed to come out on my birthday I switched the prompts since we all know Nagas are my roman empire, hehe >:3

Also this is part 1 of 4 of a little mini-series happening in this Monstober Challenge, and I will lovingly call it the Elemental Sacrifices. I know we already had a sacrifice before, but what if—hear me out—we have 4 more? Yes, I thought that was a good idea too, glad we agree :D

(They are not much related aside from the concept, but they are in the same universe, so maybe there's some potential for future ideas! :D)

Prompt: Day 6: Naga/Lamia | Scales // Wrapping around // Poisonous Warnings: Yandere, AFAB!Reader, Sexual Actions (Dub-Con, Use of Aphrodisiac, Drinking said Aphrodisiac and getting it stabbed into your arm, Deep Kissing, Accidentally cutting your own tongue, Fingering), Violence (Biting with fangs, Description of (meager) fighting, Cutting the enemy, Blood mention), Monsters + Descriptions of Monsters, Light self-degradation, Long Post

The tradition had always existed.

From the moment you were born, you were told about the sacrifices made to the four gods, which took place twice a century. The four tribes would unite in peace and unity for this month of reverence, choosing their sacrifices carefully and laying down their weapons to organize and strategize the ceremonies so that no god would feel aggrieved. It was a wonder that people that worshipped different things, lived by different means, and usually clashed like hot and cold, light and shadow, could work together meaningfully to pay their respects, assure that everyone would continue to be in the favor of the different gods that roamed the lands you lived on.

And yet, somehow, it had always worked out.

"There, almost done," your mother mumbled, curling your still-damp hair around her finger so it would frame your face. You clenched your fists in your lap as you sat in front of the mirror, unable to even look at yourself without retching. 20 years ago, when you were told the stories for the first time, no one had assumed you'd be the one to be sacrificed in the next ceremony. No one informed you that your days were numbered, your purpose to be nothing but monster fodder.

Because that's what they were, monsters, nothing more, nothing less.

A two-headed snake, an ancient tree, a tentacled beast, and a fire-spewing reptile with wings—those were the four monsters you and the other tribes worshipped with offerings and sacrifices. All your life, you practiced the mindful handling of the teachings, learning how to hunt, fight, and serve your god. But even so, just because you were born the child of the leader, you were going to be discarded by your own people, and your hatred was as fiery as the vulcanos that surrounded your homeland.

"I heard the water tribe sends their most wonderful singer this year, too."

It was a frail attempt at small talk, and you couldn't care less about how pleased your mother sounded as she told you about the other sacrifices. The other poor souls that probably wanted nothing more than to run away about now. You had hidden your tears very well with your head hung low, but you couldn't imagine the other sacrifices felt any less miserable as you did.

You had plans for the future, plans that involved leading this tribe and creating a family sometime. Maybe participate in a war with the other tribes and show off the prowess of the fire tribe leader's oldest child. It was in the nature of your people to be strong and powerful, as was the exceptional artistry of the water people.

"And the earthclan sends another one of their scholars. I don't understand why they think the nature gods would like all these people hiding with their noses in their books, but I'm sure they have their reason for choosing them. Oh, but the wind people are also sending their ruler's child, just like you!"

A tone of pride swung in her voice as she continued arranging vividly red flowers like a crown in your head, pulling at strands of your hair to wrap them into the stems so they'd hold. "And yet, you'll make the prettiest sacrifice of them all. You'll make us all so proud!"

Inside of you, a war broke loose. A war you knew you couldn't win as you knelt on the floor of your childhood home, the place you always thought safest in all of the lands, yet it was no longer the place you'd return to after this expedition. All your good deeds and all your achievements were for naught because when the announcement was sent out that the sacrifice was going to be held that year, it ended your life instantly.

A part of you knew it could happen. Although you never wished this fate on anyone, you had always hoped for a sibling, born or adopted into your family, that could take this responsibility from you ever since you learned of it. Other tribes voted. They chose by luck or by skill at the time of sacrifice. But not yours. Yours had traditions, which meant the leader's strongest family member would go to the gods and ask for their blessings. Get eaten in exchange for a promise of safety and prosperity that the monsters could easily break on a whim. Returning would mean the blessing failed, so that wasn't an option. If you couldn't appease them alive, you would do it with your death. The ultimate sacrifice.

"Now, you're perfect. Look at you, my pretty child."

Pushing her fingertips into the underside of your jaw, your mother forced you to look up into the mirrors. Tears tumbled from your eyes as your head snapped upwards to avoid the discomfort of her nagging touch, and you watched her expression fall in her reflection. Not from sorrow, mind you, but anger.

"This is your duty," she reminded you. "Now that you have grown up and proved your worth, you should feel honored to be chosen."

You bit your tongue, swallowing the disrespect you wanted to voice. You couldn't care less about the sacrifice, about gaining the ire of some monster that some old people had decided to worship. About your mother's opinion or that of anyone else!

Deep inside you, you were afraid. Fear, first and foremost, had always been your teacher. It showed you the boundaries of your abilities and pushed you to perform deeds beyond your capabilities in times of need. It wasn't something to be ashamed of or scolded for; it was natural and normal.

But right behind it was anger. Anger at this tradition, anger at your family, and anger at the monsters for demanding lives in exchange for peace. Gods they called themselves, but there was nothing godly about how they conducted their demands. They were cowards with a taste for human blood, and instead of fighting and being slain by those humans, they demanded sacrifices to satisfy their hunger.

And there was nothing you could do to save yourself.

If you rebelled, you'd be dragged out by your limbs and hair, even if that destroyed the work they put into prettying you up. Who needed to be pretty when they'd be eaten alive? Still, as a warrior at heart, you couldn't imagine a greater shame than to force your friends to bring you to that dreadful sacrificial space, even if they might think it was for the greater good. If you had to go out, you wanted to do so with your head held high, no matter how foolish that pride of yours was. It was better than to put your unfair death entirely into the hands of others.

If you were going to be a martyr, then you'd at least die fighting until your last breath.

---

"That's far enough," you announced, coming to a halt at the edge of the lush green forest you used to hunt in. Before you, vulcanic stone spread in dark hues as far as you could see. Ash filled the air, mixed with the taste of metal and fire. Nothing grew on the stone ground, it was as welcoming as a death threat. Veins of red broke through the stone, leading to pools of lava that was cooking beneath the stone surface, the air simmering from the heat that immediately greeted you, coating your skin in a sheen of sweat. Once you had found the duality of this place beautiful. Now you dreaded it, hands curled into fists as you took slow, steady breaths to calm yourself.

"I wish to face the gods myself."

"Go forth then. Make us proud," your father expressed, resting his hand on your shoulder. A simple squeeze was all you got, and much like your mother who hugged you before your departure, their gestures were too brief to be any comfort. You wondered how they could have possibly come to terms so quickly with losing their own child when you, the one to be sacrificed, were struggling with your fear and pride.

Every step on the hot floor was like a stab of a knife in your back. The hunting party that had accompanied you watched as you continued your journey towards the sacrificial space the ancestors had created, their gazes like whips that spurred you on. But they didn't linger. Since they didn't have to tie you down on the altar, they had no reason to watch the gruesome death of their own kind, knowing that either way, you weren't going to return. You knew the way back to your village like the inside of your pocket, years of roaming the jungles teaching you how to go home. But they'd kill you before you cursed the village with your failure to be sacrificed. Merciless, cold. You were no longer a part of them. You were a meager part of the tradition now.

However, the way to the altar was actually more of a challenge than going home. You had only been there once as a child, laying flowers down for your uncle, who had been the last sacrifice years before your birth. Your father may have called him your uncle, but it turned out he was an adopted orphan who ended up paying for his dedication to your family much later. Your father seemed unsympathetic towards him, but it dawned on you that he must have never been close to this brother of his, probably knowing the fate that awaited him.

You never knew your uncle, but back then, you had been proud of him, too.

That day was also the first time your father explained the traditions and the importance of keeping them up. How much honor it brought to your family and how many lives it saved to lose one person. You wondered why, after he taught you so many skills, worked so hard to make you a respected member of your tribe, and loved you like a father would, he could so easily send you to your death. But it slowly dawned on you what kind of person your father was. One that didn't truly cared for his "family", only for his own pride and gains. And you had been so easily fooled as to believe him all this time.

It took you much longer than you remembered, but eventually, you reached the grounds your ancestors had created for this spectacle. It was close to the foot of the volcano, an altar erected from the stone sprouting from the ground with nothing else present in this wasteland. The heat had increased substantially over time, every breath burning in your lungs, your eyes dry, and your feet chafed from walking over the smoldering stone for so long. Dread was no longer a constant companion as acceptance slowly crept into your mind. You had seen the bones of many humans on the way to this place. Apparently, not everyone had been so lucky to have made it this far, either the environment or the monster killing them before they reached the altar. Or maybe themselves, now that you thought about it.

The sight of the raised altar forced a shuddering breath out of your lungs, the stinging sensation barely enough to distract you from the blaring truth. You were going to die. One way or another, you would. Touching the side of your leg, you felt the leather holster beneath your dress. The dagger you sneaked would probably not be enough to kill the monster, if there ever was one. Still, if you could inflict some damage to it, perhaps your tribe would one day snap out of the trance that it was this immortal threat that your ancestors appeased by offering their own children to it. Maybe they'd see the wounds and realize they didn't have to cower in fear of it, and thus, maybe your sacrifice would not be in vain.

Brushing your hand over the warm stone, you felt an untypical cold shudder run down your spine, knowing it was meant to be your deathbed. You wondered how many before you had laid here, waiting for the monster to come. How many had prayed, hoped, and begged to be saved, and how many had fought and struggled like you were going to. Following in their footsteps now, you knew they did what they thought was their best. That was the greatest honor you could bestow on them.

You hoisted yourself up, struggling to climb on top of the massive stone slab, before you sat close to the edge and stretched out your legs, feeling the burned and chafed soles of your feet crack as they finally got some rest. Hissing, you were confronted with the pain, yet you only sighed, swiping your hands over your face to free you of the sweat that was desperately trying to cool you down. Even if you were used to the warmer temperature of your home, it was nothing against the volcanic heat, and you almost admired it for burning for so long, never bothered by anyone. The air was as heavy as your soul felt, trapped in your body and scared to the heavens.

Imagining the snake did very little to soothe your mind, but you still tried to prepare for the shock its sight undoubtedly would be. You imagined a snake as tall as a building, with two heads splitting apart at one end. Heads with sharp fangs and venom dripping out of their mouths, eyes that ate you up before their maw even got close to you. It would slither over the ground, nimble, avoiding the lava pools, but too large to hide behind the wasteland it reigned over. Bloodlust urging it on as it smelled the sweet fragrance of the flowers on your head, which were delighted to bloom in the warm temperatures. A green tail? Brown? Perhaps a little of both? Maybe its scales were dark red like all the blood it drank from the sacrifices.

"Look at that, they do sacrifice their own kind."

Deep in thought, the heat probably having gone to your head, you hadn't noticed the chafing sound that slithered closer from behind. Only when someone suddenly spoke did your mind alert you of the danger, and you jumped down from the altar, swiftly spinning around and bracing yourself. One hand hovered over your dagger beneath your dress, and the other arm stayed defensively in front of you. With the distance you managed to jump and the massive altar separating you from the monster, you were at a surprising advantage, and it felt good to have the upper hand.

Your eyes widened at the sight of two men standing behind the altar, one of them leaning down on the stone surface right next to where you had sat. In contrast, the other stood straight with his arms behind his back, but both watched you with burning intensity. Immediately, you noticed their similar appearances, the light grey hair falling from their heads, bound by braids, and still with countless strands falling over their exposed chests. Their eyes were like marbles, reflecting the different colors of the area in them, elongated pupils slightly vibrating as they fixated over and over on you. But what really put you off was their size. Their legs must have been easily as tall as the altar, and that was no size a normal human should have had.

"Mother never told us sacrifices were this cute."

The man leaning on the table rolled over on his side, his hair splaying all over the altar in waves. And yet, even while moving, his gaze never trailed off—but yours did. You let out a horrified gasp as the scaled tail of a snake buckled and arched to accommodate the man's movements, and with a surprised jolt, he reared upwards, exposing even more of the tail that started at his hips.

A moment of silence washed over you three, and you felt incredibly exposed and stared down by two pairs of eyes as if they were pinning you into place. Willing you to not move a muscle, to be eaten without putting up a fight. No one said anything before the startled man laughed out loudly, shaking his head and holding his belly before slapping his free hand attention-seekingly against his companion's arm.

"That scared me," he chuckled. "I've never heard that kind of sound before."

The other man let out a hum of agreement, nodding his head before looking back at you. You were at a clear disadvantage, unsure where to look first and who to focus on, as you were outnumbered by the two. The one that kept talking was smaller than the other, although this could have been the heat playing tricks on you. Both were muscular, but he was less refined than his almost-twin. You wagered you could take him on if there wasn't a scaley tail winding from his hips. That would be additional weight you couldn't topple, no matter how much you playfighted the other hunters and warriors of your tribe, which sometimes outdid you in terms of weight and size.

The quieter one, on the other hand, had the typical looks of a working man in the village: big arms coming from a strong back and toned muscles that the woman would drool over, while the other seemed fit and nimble. But your eyes unwillingly focused on the tail as the two scaled the altar, moving forward oddly in sync until it became clear why.

Their two strands of tails flowed together between them into one massive one.

It was mesmerizing, you had to admit, the scales an iridescent white. But whenever the tail moved, it took on the hues of the land, grey and red, only to return to their original color as it wound itself. You were awestruck and panicked at the same time, as the tail seemed to be neverending, wrapping around the altar, finding hold on the stony ground that even your feet struggled with. Fear filled you as you watched their slithering movements, the mistake in your thinking now glaringly clear: The monster existed, and it had come for you.

"Y-You're the monster!" you screamed, and the smaller one of the two scrunched up his nose, taking offense. The white scales swept over the altar, landing in the space between you and the stone with a heavy thud. His body was barely shaken by the impact, so perfectly in balance with itself despite their unnatural split into two different entities, and the seriousness of the situation rained down on you like their sharp gazes as you realized there would be no chance of you overpowering either of them.

Even with their connection, they spread out too far to reach both simultaneously. They could still move independently, even if their range was limited to what their body could give. But even without them rearing up on the tail, they were almost two heads taller than you were. They knew their body better than anyone, and you didn't doubt they had some tricks up their non-existing sleeves to best you.

Biting your lip, you finally slipped your hand beneath your dress, never letting the monster—monsters—out of your sight. To your surprise, you watched their gazes slip to where you raised the fabric, observing you with curious intention, their split tongues slipping out from their lips, tasting the air as they ogled at your exposed thigh.

Your hand curled around the grip of your dagger, and the moment you pulled it from its holster, the snakes lept forward. There was no time to be proud of yourself, but your reaction was immaculate. You jumped back just in time to avert the nimble one's grabby hands, even drawing blood as your blade slit open the skin between his thumb and pointer finger.

However, as fast as you dealt with one of the snakes, you couldn't recover quickly enough to avoid the second pair of hands. Much like you anticipated, their range was too extensive to fight both of them at once, and although you ducked beneath one hand of the stronger monster, his second hand latched on, right in your hair. You watched as the red petals of the flower crown loosened and swayed in the air like a sad veil of defeat.

Your head was yanked back, and you acted quickly, directing the knife towards the unprotected free shoulder, somewhere that would hurt. Somewhere that would leave a visible scar and show everyone that these monsters could be injured. But a bloody grip around your wrist prevented you from pushing the dagger into the creature's partially scaled bodies, your hopes crumbling into ash.

"You good?" the more muscular man asked, and the other clicked his tongue in annoyance while you flailed and struggled in their grip. Your free hand was useless as you couldn't even reach forward enough, and so were your legs as you stood on your tiptoes while they yanked you around.

The latter lifted the hand that was holding your wrist to his mouth, licking up the blood that spilled from the cut on his as he maintained eye contact. You bared your teeth in both pain and defiance, not showing any of the miserable fear and panic you felt inside. You didn't manage to do what you came here for, and you felt the power surging through their bodies just from their hands on you. The failure gnawed at your determination, the fight as good as lost.

"We're not monsters," he hissed, glowering at you, although it looked more like a pout. "But you sure are quick on your feet."

Their comments should not have caused your heart to swell with pride, but hearing it from the monster you swore to hurt in exchange for your life did feel good.

"Surely you wish you'd have gotten an easier meal, monster! But I won't go down until I have shown everyone that you can be wounded and defeated! That you will bleed if the people unite! There will be no more sacrifices once they've seen what I did to you!"

"We're not monsters!" they repeated in unison before exchanging a brief glance with each other.

"Well, I won't call you god and beg for your mercy!" you spat, and the lips of the snake with your hand in his grip curled into a grin.

"Are you sure about that?"

With his blood coating your hand, he raised it way over your head, causing you to gasp as your whole body strained to accommodate the movement. His hand slipped upwards, a few fingers holding you in place, while some snaked between your palm and the knife in your grasp, prying your hold from it inch by inch. You let out a soft whine as the leather grip was torn from you and watched the metal clatter to the ground.

But you didn't have the time to mourn the loss of your only weapon, not when your arm was bent backward. Immediately, your free hand shot up, trying to dig your nails into the fingers wrapped around your wrist still.

That was your greatest mistake. With his free hand, the quiet monster immediately reached for both of yours, wrapping them in his palm as quickly as their tail could around your body.

You were kept on your tiptoes as you felt the scales of said tail slither over your skin. Creeping beneath your soles and running up your ankles, squeezing the flesh of your shins firmly together before wrapping around each thigh individually. You kicked and squirmed, but their tail was almost as unrelenting as their hands, and you involuntarily winced as your wrists were squeezed together as if tied by a rope.

"It's true we are not the monster you're trying to defeat," the leaner one claimed again, licking his wound like an injured animal.

"That's our mother," his brother explained curtly, and your head whirled around to him, the questions etched into your face.

"Look at us; we're only half the snake she is."

With an exasperated huff, you looked back and forth between the two, reeling at the revelation. "That's not possible! You... you are a snake with two heads. It's exactly as it's told in our stories!"

"They're not wrong..."

"I mean, she is a literal snake with two heads. And she's gigantic. You should be glad she didn't find you first, or you'd be even less than a small snack for her."

"And our dad is human. Like you."

You must have looked rightfully befuddled as the two went back and forth on their explanation, but once they were done, you could only gulp, unsure what to make of the situation. "So... you're not the monster that demands sacrifices?"

"No."

"Not really."

"Then..." It was hard to form the words that zapped through your mind, your mouth suddenly feeling dry again as the adrenaline sifted from your blood flow. Nothing could rationalize this situation, and you were still strung up by their hands and tail. This almost felt too good to be true, so you had to take your chance as long as you could. "You'll let me go?"

A moment of silence hung over all three of your heads before the brothers slowly ripped their gazes off you to exchange sly smirks. You wobbled as their body—and by extension, yours—set into motion, slithering back to the altar until you were sat down, your back forced to rest on the stone like a lamb to slaughter, hands hanging over the edge above your head and legs still wrapped by their tail.

"Oh, you can't just leave," the lean one purred, coming up from below you and planting his clawed hands firmly on either side of your arms. "The nights get so cold, and the days are so lonely with our mom busy occupying our dad. She never lets us play with him or come back to our home. Won't you keep us company for a while longer? I'm sure you can teach us some things, and we can teach you."

The other settled on the opposite side, still holding your hands in place as he grunted in agreement. You felt the bile rise in your throat as one touch slipped below your line of sight, claw-like nails raking up your thigh and moving beneath your dress. Their intentions got more apparent as the fabric was gripped from above, too, slowly, sensually raising over your skin until the hip strap of your underwear was revealed.

In a last-ditch effort, you tried to struggle once more, legs tugging upwards and kicking at the ever-winding tail while your hands twisted in their hold, causing it to crush down onto your bones even more. That wasn't how you wanted to go down; it wasn't the fight to death you thought you'd have!

"End me, then. Get it over with," you yelled out, laying your head to the side and closing your eyes, the reality too hard to face. Sooner or later, you'd die anyway, and if this were the things you'd have to endure, you'd rather be dead. It wasn't the kind of sacrifice you wanted to be, one defiled and molested before you'd be killed, so you'd rather be dead than witness it.

"Hush now," someone murmured, and you felt a hand sweep underneath your chin, turning your head forward again before tugging it up and over the altar's edge. Your eyes snapped open as your instincts kicked in, but as you opened your mouth to scream, it was quickly covered by another.

A tongue slipped between your opened lips before you could close them, slashing around inside harshly and clogging your throat. There was too much to take, and you gulped down the wetness it brought, sloshing it everywhere to the point it dripped from your lips, running down your face that immediately heated up beneath the fluid. It tasted sweet and even when you wanted to stop, you couldn't, gulping down all that was given to you.

Your body began to relax while you felt a hand drive down the front of your torso, brushing an entire palm over your breast and getting stuck on your nipple. You jolted, a pang of electricity flying to your head and down your spine, your back arching as you couldn't understand what was going on anymore. You had never felt this sensitive before, and as the hand continued to roam from one side to the other, finding the budding nip beneath your dress and twisting it, you let out an unholy moan into the mouth of the monster, your own tongue lashing upwards until it got caught on a sharp fang. Despite not feeling it, you were pretty sure your tongue was ripped open, but even more of the sweet-tasting, addictive stuff dripped from the fang, gushing into your mouth. You gobbled it up, considering you had nothing to drink throughout your journey, and your mind was not getting enough of the taste.

"Considering how quickly you got hooked on our mating fluids, I'd not be surprised if you do end up calling us gods when we're done with you."

You barely heard the voice of the curious onlooker beyond your line of sight, your mind wholly crazed by the liquid that coated all of your mouth and senses. It took almost more work to extract the monster's tongue from your throat than it had putting it inside. Your head followed it upwards, unwilling to part while the drool kept dripping down onto your face.

As you were freed of the kiss, a shameful, miserable sigh of disappointment escaped you, and you barely regained the ability to reply, "Never," in response to what the snake had said. That caused both of them to chuckle, and the sound sent a core-clenching, spine-tingling warmth throughout your body. Your lips quivering as your mind begged for more of that deep rumble cursing through their bodies.

"We'll see about that," the monster from below mumbled as he raked his claws over your thigh. Immediately, you were jolting upwards in their hold, caught between pain and pleasure as he lightly scabbed your skin. It was a small revenge for his own wound, and the scratches burned deliciously as they welcomed the hot air all around you two. "You're already so wet for us."

"It's called sweat," you mewled defiantly, the sound of your voice not befitting your sarcasm. You clenched your legs together, but it was a vain effort with the tail still stuck above your knees, easily prying them open by driving upwards. The scales rubbing over your skin didn't help your misery at all, and you wanted to throw your head against a solid wall with how dizzy and needy you felt. It wasn't you on that altar, but a very distorted version of you, one that wanted to be fucked silly even though what you really wanted was a good fight.

The two laughed at your comment, and you moaned in annoyance at the electricity that sapped through you at the sound of their voices. Your head fell back over the edge, and you came face to face with the more muscular one of the brothers as he lowered himself to your eye level. His eyes raked over your face, then up to your exposed neck just waiting to be bit.

"You're so cute," he mumbled, split tongue darting out again, tasting the air. Your pussy clenched as you wished for that tongue back in your throat or, even better, caressing your quivering folds below that were begging for something to fill their loneliness. The experience was new to you, as you had never wanted intimacy like this with anyone before. You had been so focused on your goals and diligently upholding your parents' rules and traditions that you never craved anyone, but especially not these two beasts.

"I'm not cute," you mewled, closing your eyes and biting your lips as you felt the sharp claws hover above your abdomen, gently stroking the skin below your navel from side to side, your core clenching even harder with pure, undiluted desire. But when the fingers slipped beneath the rim of your underwear, you moaned as you expected them to dip into the wet mess that lay just beneath, the expectation almost enough to send you over the edge.

"Oh, yeah?" the snake-man grinned, and you felt one finger press into your slit, your folds welcoming it warmly and with a shudder going through your body. You quaked in pleasure, eyes blown wide open, and the two fangs of the monster were all more prevalent as his lips split into a toothy smile. "So cute," he doubled down, pulling your arms taut until your body stretched to the last of its capabilities.

With his lips gently brushing against your forearm, you were wholly unprepared for the sharp pain as he dug his fangs deep into your skin. But the shriek quickly turned into a moan, your hips grinding against the finger probing at your entrance as more of the aphrodisiac went straight into your bloodstream. You watched the dark fluid drip off your arm, causing even more heat to spread where it flowed, and you were mercilessly whining as you couldn't move your hips nearly enough to satisfy your needs.

"Please," you snapped upwards, staring at the creature settled on top of the altar next to you, leisurely rubbing his hand along your pussy.

"There goes the begging," he reminded you, and you bit your lip to the point of hurting yourself.

Fuck, that wasn't what you wanted to say. It wasn't how you wanted to die, you never intended to let it get this far. Pathetic, pathetic, absolutely pathetic. You were a fucking warrior, you fought threats and hunted prey, you were not going to surrender to them—

"Fuck!" you gasped out loud this time as one digit slipped inside you. You felt it hook inside your pussy, slowly dragging out despite being clung to firmly by your insides. All the faster did he push it inside again, every joint that buried inside you made you arch your back and rejoice. You nearly avoided being scratched open inside, purely by how slick your pussy and his hand were by now, more fluids gushing out as he pulled his finger from you again and again.

Simultaneously, another digit curled down, fondling the heated folds until it pressed down on your clit, forcing a mewl from you. Fangs tore out of your skin, but you barely noticed as the two fingers united, taking up more space inside of you and scissoring your walls apart until you felt your pussy gaping and drooling obscenely.

"I'll not... submit," you stammered between bated breaths. "I'll not... be your plaything."

"And we wouldn't want it any other way," they chimed in unison, exchanging a satisfied glance before grinning.

"Mom always said to look out for the feisty ones."

"We just didn't think you'd come to meet us so soon."

"Or that you'd be this fun to play with."

Your whole body shuddered as both fingers were pulled out of your terribly needy hole. Your breath was almost non-existent, the lack of air only stimulating you more as you heard the sloppy sounds of your wet pussy letting go of the monster's fingers. A hand slipped beneath your head, helping you to hold it up as you watched the leaner brother lifting his pointer and middle finger to his face, split tongue lapping out to taste your slick pulling strings in the gaps while maintaining eye contact with you all throughout it.

"They're perfect," he purred as he looked up, stretching his arm towards his brother, who leaned forward to have his taste of you from his brother's fingers.

"Damn, that's sweet," he commented too on your fluids, licking them from his lips as he looked down at you in a mix of surprise and awe.

"And so pretty, too."

You felt their eyes in the same way their claws had raked over your body. Hungrily, with the intention to harm you. And yet, your hole kept gaping, needing more stimulation, wanting more. You were the pitiful prey you kept denying you were, but it seemed that in their eyes, you were so much more than that.

"Our little fighter," the one at your side murmured, stretching upwards to hover beside your face.

"Are you not even finishing what you started?" you spit, your venom not nearly as effective when your voice sounded as if you were drugged and disgruntled.

"Oh, I will, little fighter. We're going to make sure you can take us before spreading you on our cocks and make you cry out in pleasure until you call us "god". But before that, you have to be good and let us take you to our nest. Bonding will take so much time, and you are much too vulnerable out here."

"Fuck you," you grunted, trying to elbow him, but your arm barely moved.

"Keep it up," he grinned. "Wouldn't want you to give up too easily. Breaking you in is part of the fun."

"You're a fucking monster after all."

The snakes hummed thoughtfully as you were finally pulled off the table. Instead of being dragged by your arms or wrapped in their tail, however, you were slung over the bigger brother's shoulder, feeling his hand immediately settle beneath your asscheek, not so subtly poking at your pussy with his claw.

"Let me go!" you demanded weakly, your sore hands pounding pitifully into his shoulder.

"And miss out on all this fun? I don't think so," the leaner brother answered.

"Mother told us you can't go back anyway," the one carrying you added, throwing salt into the wound. They were right, but that didn't mean you'd go down so easily, even if your legs were still quivering and your head throbbing with need. "They'll kill you on sight, won't they? And then they'll return you to the altar so we can eat you."

A hand clasped around your jaw, claws digging into your cheeks as your head was lifted to face the leaner brother. "You know we prefer a different taste," he grinned, and you felt your anger rise again together with the shame of his implication. Collecting your saliva and some of the residues of the aphrodisiac, you spit them into his face, not caring whatsoever what that meant for you.

The snake-man scrunched up his face, quickly wiping it away. "Save your drool," he snarled, and you grinned victoriously despite the clasp he held your face in.

But as if on cue, a large palm flattened against your ass, and you jolted forward on the shoulder, eyes blown wide open as you gasped. You couldn't believe it as the wave of pleasure finally crashed into your rockfest resolution, your toes curling upwards and your eyes rolled back, your orgasm hitting you harder than even the slap had.

"Oh, god," you whispered breathlessly while riding the high of pleasure and shame as you felt your juices leaking even through your panties, dripping and running down the body of the other stronger brother.

"Seems like you finally get it, sacrifice," the guy in front of you noted, brushing his thumb over your lips, which opened automatically to his beckoning.

"Let's go, brother," he urged. "Seems our little fighter needs just a bit more convincing as to why they'll love being ours. I can't wait to make their belly swell with our clutch, just like Mother has always told us."

"We're lucky we found a mate so quickly," the other agreed, and you let out a defeated huff, no more words to counter them with coming to your dazed thoughts.

Their tail set into motion, scales slithering over stone, while your mind drifted off, the aphrodisiac having too much of a hold on your conscience for you to be rid of it quickly. You were going to be taken by the monsters, and if you thought you were helpless before, your body now barely felt like it belonged to you. It was as if you weren't its master anymore, but that drug and those snakes were. You could only shiver, even though the air was getting hotter the closer you three got to the volcano, wondering if you at least fulfilled your duty as a sacrifice.

And when that duty would finally end.

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Can I be the Snoflake emoji? :D Requesting a 15...of Zayne AND Dawnbreaker Zayne somehow?

Hello! Yes you can be my snowflake anon! I'll update the emoji list. Now, I almost said no to this because I have a Dawnbreaker and Zayne threesome fic I'm working on with a very similar concept but I can't help myself, I'd religiously be taking cock everyday from these 2 if I could.

So if there are some similarities spotted between this and my other fic, pardon. I just really like both of them.

DVP

--------

Sex had always been a two person act according to you. You'd never wanted anyone else, not with Zayne satisfying your every need so thoroughly, not to mention his possessive streak.

So what the fuck were you doing, allowing Zayne's doppleganger to pull off your shirt as he gently traces your smooth skin reverently. This alternate dimension with Zayne's future self was mindboggling. You can see the differences between him and Dawnbreaker as plain as day and night.

Zayne's eyes hold tenderness for you, his girlfriend of many years, while Dawnbreaker's look at you with longing, like a man finding an oasis after wandering the desert. And both of them wanted you equally. Zayne had been thrown off when you both saw him at first but after hearing his story, it appeared that his mind had softened for his alter ego.

"I love her too, and I never thought I'd have her in my life," Dawnbreaker had whispered, gazing at you with those haunted eyes that made your heart ache for him. And somehow, Zayne had yielded, perhaps because in his mind, he was giving you to himself. You doubted he would have gone through with this if it was someone else.

And now you're having your first threesome, except it was with the same man you'd been sleeping with, copied, and feeling the same way Zayne did. It was so arousing, having two of him, with none of the awkwardness of a threesome because you knew him and what to expect.

Still, your body shivers as both Dawnbreaker and Zayne take one of your nipples into their mouths, their lips and tongue feeling similar but flicking different patterns onto the heardened peaks. You whine against the dual stimulation. One Zayne left you satisfied and warm. Two was going to break you, you were certain, in the most delicious way possible.

They suckle and pull, two pairs of hands roaming over your skin, squeezing and stroking every inch of you. Dawnbreaker is under a spell, marveling at the softness of your skin and the taste of your breast as he leaves a mark on the swell of flesh before kissing his way down to your navel, dipping his hot tongue into the little depression, making your squirm with need. Zayne reassuringly pets your hair before pulls you back against his chest, and he grips your thighs, spreading them apart for Dawnbreaker.

A flush erupts over your skin as he completely exposes you to Dawnbreaker's attentive eyes which widen at the sight, seeing the glistening membranes, and the proud little pearl peaking out of your folds at the apex.

"Suck it, like you did her nipple." Zayne issues the advice softly and Dawnbreaker, feeling his mouth water at the sight, obliges, running his tongue between your folds, making you sigh before sealing his lips over your clit. Your body is sensitized and your arousal keeps mounting, the knowledge that these two men were so utterly consumed with you and eager to bring ecstasy into your veins.

You moan and your hips buck but your legs are firmly held apart by Zayne as he helps Dawnbreaker bring you to your peak. "Does it feel good?" He whispers teasingly in your ear and you nod breathlessly.

"It's just like you," you admit then bite your lip as Dawnbreaker slips his fingers into your fluttering hole. His fingers work up a tantalizing rhythm inside you and your eyes squeeze closed and you let out a broken mewl as you cum so satifyingly on his fingers. Dawbreaker crawls up to kiss you and you're sandwiched between the two men.

"I think you can take both of us," Zayne purrs seductively and you're shifted so that you're laying on top of Dawnbreaker. As primal instinct takes over, you raise your hips and start taking his cock into you, feeling a rush at the way Dawnbreaker's eyes go wide as your velvety wetness envelopes him, welcoming him into your heat. He seems unsure what to do but you shush him and start to ride, and his head falls back as he lets out a groan.

Zayne embraces you from behind, kissing the back of your neck and fondling your breasts before leaning you onto Dawnbreaker's chard chest. You gasp as you feel him enter you, gently pushing past the muscle and filling your channel alongside Dawnbreaker. The headiness of being so full, so stretched and used draws a shuddering cry from you. Their cocks move in tendem inside you, strokng your walls and pushing you to the brink, caressing your gspot and kissing your cervix with their tips.

Dawnbreaker grunts and Zayne empathizes with his counterpart; of course he didn't know how needy he would become after experiencing you and your delicious cunt. He's barely holding on, teeth gritted from the additional stimulation of having another cock rub against him. He cums first, releasing his load into you as his hands grip your sides. Zayne starts playing with your clit as he thursts and stars form behind your closed eyes as a second orgasm rips through you before Zayne allows himself to climax, his seex mixing with Dawnbreaker's and making a mess in your already sloppy cunt.

[pileofmush]

blue raspberry, red sun ୧ ‧₊˚

ft. monkey d. luffy

hello! this is an entry for the lovely @threadbaresweater's summertime (and the livin' is easy) event! haven't written for luffy in a while but i missed him, so.

details ➸ tags: modern au, tooth-rotting fluff, no plot just vibes // cw: gn!reader, mc is implied to have cleavage // wc: 1.3k // ao3

“how can you fuck up eating a popsicle that bad?” you ask, eyes wide at the straight-up murder scene before you. your own ice cream cone sits pristine in your hands—vanilla with a waffle cone. cute, contained, simple. 

you’re sitting on a curb in the middle of who knows where. the sun is particularly vengeful today: bright, hot, loud. it chases away all the shadows and beams down on you like you called it’s mother a whore. sweat pools between your thighs; concrete digs into your ass. you’re afraid that when you stand up there’ll be a sweat-stained print on the sidewalk, free for everyone to see.

your boyfriend shrugs, messy raven hair falling over his tan, toned shoulders. “dunno,” luffy says blandly. he licks his hand in one long stripe like a heathen and hums. “it’s good—wanna taste?”

you balk at the suggestion. “no, don’t—!”

too late.

🍓 .・゜-: ✧ :-

you can catalogue the days spent with luffy during a week by the amount of damage done to your closet. 

the pretty pale pink blouse you thrifted a few months ago—the one with the lace trim that shows off the perfect amount of cleavage—tossed in the hamper with thoughts and prayers thanks to the gigantic-ass stain luffy blessed you with last wednesday. 

(you should’ve seen it coming, really, neon blue sludge dripping from his sun-speckled fingers with reckless abandon near moments before he grabbed you by the waist to bring you in for a sloppy, tart kiss. it was quick and bright, an explosion of blue raspberry, before he pulled away as quickly as he initiated the kiss. he wiped his mouth with a lazy flick of his hand, then grinned a proud, dopey grin, teeth glinting in the sunlight. 

you remember feeling dizzy and warm, baked in the sun and your love and the sheer aura your boyfriend possessed.

“tastes good, right?” he asked. 

your eyes caught his flash of tongue as he spoke, tongue stained blue. 

“yeah,” you agreed quietly, reverently. “tastes good.”)

then there was the trip to the beach a few days ago that luffy suggested, which… alright, maybe you can’t blame him for getting sand all over you at the beach.

(and really, it was a nice trip. you and the straw-hats all packed into franky’s van like a baby soccer team getting driven to their first game. windows down, luffy happily chewing on a sandwich you packed him, nami rattling off directions like it’s her day job, brook belting 2000’s pop. and then, the lot of you spilling out and ambling to the beach. sunscreen slathered on every inch of your skin. the feel of hot wind and sand in between your toes, the salty tang of the sea on your tongue, and your hand in luffy’s, always, as he drags you across the beach with glee.) 

but still. luffy brought home a slimy strand of seaweed to prank you with, and it somehow found its way into your underwear drawer. 'no, he did not put it there', let him tell it. you had to resist beating him with a slipper. gosh, he’s such a dork.

so, yeah. dating luffy definitely means more frequent loads of laundry, but it’s fine. it really is. s’not like you didn’t know what you were getting into. s’not like you mind any traces of luffy you can get. 

luffy seems the type to be born in the summer.

he’s not- he wasn’t. a spring baby through and through, to your initial surprise. and sure, there’s probably something poetic you could say about blossoms and rebirth and fresh starts, but really, luffy reminds you of the hot, everlasting summer. he’s practically the sun incarnate. could’ve been a sun god in another life, for all you know, because his touch is so hot, hot, hot, and his laugh is crude and bright, and he is the only person you know to not wilt under the full force of the sun. instead, he feeds off of it. it gives him life, vigor, sustenance. 

you used to dread the summertime. now, it’s your favorite season.

so when luffy pops over with a blanket and a basket, you don’t need to think too hard to throw in a couple of (okay, several) sandwiches and some leftover fruit.

you decide on a quaint spot at a nearby park. the two of you walk side by side underneath the orange light of the dying sun. it’s a cooler evening. the grass next to your feet bristle; trees dance in the gentle breeze. the endless drone of the cicadas meshes with luffy’s rambling about his latest outing with ace and sabo—apparently, it ended in a fire—and you sneak a few glances at him. luffy’s skin is a rich, warm gold. underneath the last few embers of day, the sky soaked in warm oranges, pinks, and a devastating purple, you find traces of its colors reflected on his skin. 

and luffy is loud, loud, loud, but he is also quiet. and underneath the weight of the sky, you feel incredibly lucky to be a part of his life. 

his hand, looped lazily around your free wrist, snakes down to intertwine with your fingers. 

“what is it?” he interrupts his spiel with a sudden question. 

your teeth sink into the plush of your bottom lip as you consider your response. “it’s nothing.” you pause. parse through your emotions and will them to become coherent thoughts. “i guess i just missed you.”

slowly, he drags the two of you to a stop. he tugs on your hand, a reminder, even as he blinks in confusion. 

“i’m right here,” he says, solemn.

“i know.”

a beat.

“you don’t have to miss me. i’m already yours.”

and, he’s right. like a sun rising above the horizon after a night plunged in the dark, he returns to you, again and again. 

“i know that.” in a stroke of luffy-branded honesty, you admit to him with a shrug, “but i don’t think i’ll ever stop missing you.”  

it is not a bad thing. not a bad thing at all. just another way to say i love you. perhaps the only way you can say it, right now.

luffy stares at you for a while and then releases an uncharacteristic sigh. he takes the picnic basket out of your hands and lets it drop in the grass, along with the blanket he was carrying. then, without warning, your boyfriend tackles you to the ground.

you barely even register it, he breaks your fall so gently, and then he’s clambering over you, long arms pressing you into the soil, long tendrils of grass tickling your skin, and you’re thinking about the dirt undoubtedly ruining yet another shirt of yours as he clumsily lowers his mouth to yours. he smells like grass and sunscreen and maybe a little bit of sweat, and tastes a bit like koolaid. but all you can register is him, the ever-present heat radiating off his body, the nimble fingers digging into your skin almost brutally, the clink of his teeth against yours. hot and sloppy and luffy, luffy, luffy.

you kiss until you can’t breathe, until you breathe fire, until your head is spinning and you can think no more.

then, he rolls off of you. the two of you pant: you, content to remain a puddle on the ground, him, leaning back on his arms. still close, though. still above you, dark eyes roaming over your form intently, tracking your every flutter. 

it’s quiet, save for the cicadas. soundtrack of the summer. 

you sit up and try to pat yourself off. it’s probably useless. you know there’ll be nasty grass stains on your back when you get back home. ah, well. can't be helped.

“i get it,” luffy says, eventually. after you’ve both caught your breath. he runs a finger down your leg, tracing inexplicable patterns into your skin. “i miss you too.” 

oh, how silly it is, to be in love.

“i know,” you say, cheekily. 

he relaxes. “good.” luffy reaches up to pat your head. 

you bat his hand away.

he tosses you a toothy smile.

you catch it.

this was v fun to write. hope u liked reading it <3

[biolumien]

Hiiii!!!! 😊👋 So I only just started Kaiju no. 8!!! New to the fandom and not a manga reader. Idk what’s going to happen in the next episode—all I know is that Hoshina better not d*e lol.

Anyways!!! Obviously I am a huge Hoshina fan/simp!!! I really like your blog and I have enjoyed your Hoshina fics!!!!!! 🥹 And since your requests are open, I wanted to know if I could perhaps make one??? 👉👈

If so, I was wondering if you could do something sort of related to your “say it!” fic??? Like where Hoshina (+ reader) somehow bumps into the ex from operations you mentioned in the fic??? And reader gets SUPERRRRR jealous (lord knows I would be especially if said ex was really beautiful and smart) and insecure. Maybe reader acts a bit distant/moody after the encounter but once Hoshina realizes what’s up he immediately reassures reader and let’s them know how much he loves/cares for them???

Sorry if this request is weird or doesn’t make sense to you, I’ve honestly just been thinking about a similar scenario ever since reading that fic of yours 😭😭 anyways thank you so much for your time 🫶❤️ and please never stop writing, your fics are beautiful 💖💕

notes: hihi; thank you so much for your request; i hope that this is okay; you sent this in before the most recent episode but hoshina's a fairly important character to the story of kaiju no 8 overall so he'll be alright... i combined this with a slightly different ask which also surrounded jealousy but with okonogi; it's very briefly mentioned though.

jealousy as the crux

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings should apply, i think. wc: 837

hoshina always maintained rather easy conversation with a lot of people—friendly conversation that sometimes got the better of your self esteem when he teasingly doted on okonogi or otherwise. 

you’d tried not to bring it up, to not bother him—because envy and jealousy like that was an ugly emotion, of course. it wouldn’t be right to burden hoshina with them–mostly because you weren’t even sure how he’d react. he was plenty envious on his own, you think–key point on think. but it might have been for more reasonable things, surely. like the envious desire to become stronger, or something noble like that.

nothing quite like yours. 

but stumbling on hoshina’s ex was never on your list of priorities at all. 

so the fact that she was here—was her name amaya?—only made you more uncomfortable. you barely knew anything about her other than the fact that okonogi spoke her name with strained reverence, cautious to never bring it up around hoshina. hoshina seemed to be uncaring of it all, even so–as if he couldn’t be bothered to remember. 

she was smoking indoors, her eyes tired and weary. 

hoshina didn’t seem to tense up when talking to her, which strangely irked you more. 

“hoshina,” amaya says, approaching hoshina with a raised eyebrow. she pats his shoulder, and he chuckles.

“you look well,” hoshina murmurs. 

“hm. well as i’ll ever be.” her eyes flit to you, her eyes narrowing. you felt uncomfortable under her gaze, as if you were some unique kind of insect to be pinned up in a collection. “this your new partner? they’re cute.”

“hm?” hoshina laughs. “aren’t they?”

the compliment doesn’t feel good, somehow, as it usually does.

“thought you said you wouldn’t date again,” amaya says, dusting off some ash off the tip of her cigarette, taking another breath before blowing it away from the two of you. “not that we really were.” she snorts. “you were too much of a coward last time.”

“hey,” hoshina says, sounding mock-hurt. “i figured we were better off as friends.”

“hm.” amaya exhales. “whatever you say.”

“i wish you’d sound more enthusiastic about this,” hoshina retorts, laughing again. it’s the same laugh he has when he talks to okonogi, that same doting laughter–but it also wasn’t anything special. it was the same kind of laughter he had when he talked to you, though perhaps it was tinged with more fondness when he spoke to you.

if there was anything hoshina was, it might’ve just been annoyingly consistent.

"it's hard to be enthusiastic surrounding you. your sarcastic energy exhausts me," amaya drawls.

you turn away from the conversation at this point–and yet you can feel amaya staring daggers into the back of your head. 

“i’ll let the two of you finish this up,” you say, and your voice sounds far more obviously strained than you’d like for it to be. 

hoshina was allowed to talk to other people. but why did amaya irk you so much? was it just the irreverent way she spoke, the way she seemed to be watching you so intently for no reason? what the hell was her problem? as you stormed off, your footsteps grew angrier as you continued to mull over it. no, seriously! what was her problem? 

but what was yours, being jealous in the first place? you were being irrational–worried because you wanted hoshina’s attention for yourself but of course it wasn’t right to worry this badly about it to the point that envy would turn your stomach like this, create the brittling sensation in your heart. it wasn’t right, and the fact that you knew it wasn’t right made the whirling sense of bad in you feel worse.

you rub your face roughly, trying to shock yourself into trying to just be fucking normal.

“hey.”

hoshina’s voice is quiet when you turn around, and his face is contemplative, brows furrowed in worry.

“are you done? talking to amaya?” you ask.

“for now,” he says. his eyes focus on your face, concerned now. “are you okay?”

“i’m…”

the words die in your throat.

“i don’t want to be jealous,” you say weakly. “of whatever’s going on. but, i–”

hoshina’s hands are on your face before you can even finish your sentence, squishing your cheeks together.

“mm, i see.” hoshina blinks, humming. “why didn’t you just say so earlier?”

you blink.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask.

“mad?” hoshina raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. it looks cute. “should i be?”

“no,” you say. “i–or, i don’t know. maybe? yes?”

“which is it?” hoshina asks, a teasing smile on his face before his brow furrows a bit. “if you would have just told me earlier i could have easily just told you that there’s nothing going on between me and anyone else but you. i chose you. don’t forget that, okay?”

you blink.

“and i love you,” hoshina says, completely straightforwardly, with sure honesty. “don’t forget that.”

you nod, and he squeezes your face, leaning in to kiss you on the lips.

[yandere--stuck]

AaaaaAAA I was so happy to see you already had a gore fic for Bill in the works! I have reread it like. 5 times. Your writing scratches my gore itch perfectly, and I just adore fics the intestinal stuff especially <33 and his mentions of your heart also… the romance!! I was inspired by what you wrote, I hope you enjoy it once again :D! (also im doing great, hope ur doing well too :D!!) - zagreus gore anon

Notes for anyone else: This contains gore!! So much gore!! Body horror— It’s Bill’s love language!! (intestinal trauma, mouth trauma, eye trauma…. Honestly ‘you’ here are violated in like every way possible.) No sexual content, but it’s suggestive to me. Bill Cipher is a Weirdo.

---------

You never quite get used to the pain. You wish you did.

In your memories, the sensation is dulled. You know it was painful, you know it was one of the most horrible sensations of your life, but the full extent of it… You can’t remember. Your brain must be protecting you from it. Every act of Bill’s love would constitute life-long trauma for anyone else, yet you live through another session of it day by day. No. Scratch that. They wouldn’t be alive to recall it. They wouldn’t make it half as far as you. For you, no such easy, simple fate can ever be attainable. The weirdness of his new world has conquered Death itself.

Bill had cradled his intestines in your arms, laughing as they helplessly twitched and writhed against his body, cooing at them as you howled in pain. “Aww, are you excited to see papa?” He’d said, and only the strangeness of it had kept you from repressing it. He talked to your guts as if they were puppies, as if blood smeared across his bricks were innocent licks against his skin instead. Another time, he’d wrapped your guts around his triangular body, and called it the ‘world’s most intimate hug’ as he whispered sweet nothings about how much he looooves you, and also the health of your gut bacteria. Somehow, he always outdoes himself.

Bill had dug even deeper, crumbling your ribs to smithereens in his hands, and held your still-beating heart in his palms as an object of reverence. “All mine, all mine…” He’d muttered to himself, his pupil momentarily expanding to a large, inky abyss. The pain had been so intense that you’d slipped into shock. A bad habit of yours, as Bill called it, would be your tendency to slip into memories of the past to escape the present. When you should be focusing on him.

That time, he’d jolted you back to reality by fire-hot pain slashing through your heart. All the time, it continued pumping, spurting blood in Bill’s direction with every pump. His powers were the only thing keeping you alive. When, once, blood sprayed right into his eye and he was forced to take a break, you smiled for just a moment. A lopsided, crooked grin. He’d used a mirror to show you his handiwork. In the outer flesh of your heart, he’d burned a little triangle. He’d already healed the skin. The lighter pink scarring stood out against the rest of your heart. Marked forever. Though he’s usually so talkative, at that moment, he’d been quiet for just a few seconds.

Then, he’d laughed, breaking all tension. “Wow, it sure smells like barbecue in here!”

On another occasion, he had hummed a little tune to himself, comically large saw in hand, as he cut off your limbs one by one. You could never forget the sound as the teeth sawed through your bones, bit by bit. Tearing through muscle. The clunk of your arm hitting the floor. Your leg. Rinse and repeat. You swore you could still feel your arms and legs, once you lost enough blood and your vision went hazy. Bill had hugged you against his smaller form. (He could change his body’s size, technically. But he always preferred appearing just as he was to you.)

“Without all those gangly, long limbs of yours, we can really cuddle now!” The next day, all of your limbs had regrown.

He’d cradled your face with one hand, and kept your mouth open with his other wrist. You could see nothing except for that giant eye of his as he pried your teeth out of your mouth, one by one. The taste of blood filled your mouth. He’d tug and tug and tug, not nearly using enough strength, and being entirely aware of it, until finally yanking it out once and for all. (Until it regrew, that is.) Under your gaze, he took your teeth one by one, drilled a little hole in them and strung them together on a necklace.

“Hmmmm,” he’d hummed to himself, a long, drawn-out noise. “I feel like it’s missing something. What do you think?” Before you could answer, not that you had any desire to, he snapped his fingers. “Oh! I know! For a sign of our undying love for each other, it’s a little plain with just teeth!”

In the next moment, Bill had taken out one of your eyes. You cannot comprehend how such a, relatively, small part of your face could hurt so unimaginably much. You wanted him to drape his guts all over himself again. You’re sure a point-blank gunshot to the head would’ve hurt less. Been less discomforting. His fingers had shrunk into paper-thin appendages and slipped past your eyeball, digging and cutting away at the nerves behind it. You cried tears of blood. If there was anything in your stomach, you might have thrown up.

Then, all at once, pain had blossomed into pure, mind-numbing pleasure. Compared to the pain, this is what you would like to forget the most. You’d gurgled out a moan through the spit gathered at the back of your throat. Your limbs had twitched helplessly against your restraints. When your optic nerve finally snapped, you’d whined as Bill took your eye out, exclaiming “Pop!” as he did so. For just a moment, he’d juggled your detached eyeballs in his hands, having left you panting.

“Yes, now this’ll make a good centerpiece!”

Pain had become just pain once again as soon as his touch left you. There is nothing good about a gaping, throbbing hole left in your face. You whine, sniffle softly, to get his attention. You hardly ever speak out loud anymore. Bill can read your every thought and is aware of your every idea. When speaking takes up more energy than it saves, why should you? In that moment, you had lacked the energy to think about it, your body desperately trying to recover itself.

Right now, you wonder why he’d make it feel good. Why, this one time. You don’t immediately get a response. Bill just laughs and laughs and laughs, running his fingers across the teeth of his necklace, poking the eyeball in the very middle. In your eye-socket, an exact replica of it has re-formed itself.

“You’re so funny! Why do you think I did anything at all? That was all you, baby!” His pupil transforms into a heart. It’s a blink-or-you-miss it transformation, and as soon as it happened, you think you’ve made it up. “I told you that you’d come around to it! Maybe we can even share in a little bit of pain next time, huh?”

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since, both his words and how mind-numbingly good it had felt. Maybe he’d simply lied to you, maybe it’d all been his doing. That would be the best outcome, right?… With time, you know Bill will ‘show you his love’ again— He always does. But this time, you await it with fear, largely fear, but with a little anticipation, too. There’s no need to tell him. He already knows.

ANON I AM BARKING LIKE A DOG!!!!!!!! BARKBARKBARKBARK THIS IS AMAZING!!!!! God, your descriptive voice is so good, it's so vivid!!!! Bill tricking reader into thinking they like it and them believing it...... Yummy yummy corruption in my tummy <3

Thank you so much for this, I can only hope what I write holds a candle to this!!! You never disappoint raaghh.

Bill draping your guts around as the world's most intimate hug. GOD. Also it's so fashionable! Gut scarf, teeth and eyeball necklace, literally wearing pants of your body to shoe his love and claim of you. Aaaa I'm kicking my feet!!

Thank you so much again holy smokes

[springwitch26]

hots for teacher (part 2) (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

part 1

summary: you've been infatuated with melissa schemmenti ever since you worked under her as a student teacher. what will happen when you meet again a few years later? (part 2: what happens)

warnings: smut, intensely NSFW, praise kink, age gap, squirting, d/s vibes, inexperienced!reader, minors and men please don't touch this post

notes: ask and you shall receive, beauties! thank you for all the love on part 1, it's kinda surreal to be writing my own fics but also super liberating. any feedback is welcome. idk when i'll write again but i may or may not have another little nsfw draft with a more... punishing... interpretation of mel so we'll see! also, feel free to send me asks because i'm lonely. this one goes out to whoever said melissa schemmenti loves sluts, 'cause yeah she does.

the car ride back to melissa's place felt like it would never end. you crossed your legs when you first got into the passenger seat--partly out of habit and partly to get some friction on your aching core--and were quickly reprimanded.

"tsk tsk, baby. guess i'll have to teach you manners, too. keep those pretty thighs apart for me, all the way home. you're gonna wait patiently until i get my hands on you," melissa scolded.

you whined incoherently, and she responded with a dangerous laugh. the trip was short but unbearable. she had one hand on the steering wheel, while the other drew lazy patterns on your inner thigh. you squirmed and writhed, even moaned quietly, but she remained nonchalant.

at one point, when her fingers drew oh-so close to where you needed them most, your thighs snapped shut of their own accord.

"c'mon, legs open," was all she said in response. she tried to act casual, but you could tell from her excited half-smile that she was enjoying this game more than she let on.

as soon as you got in the door, she was on you. you barely had the focus to take in your surroundings as she lavished you with kisses, working her way across your lips and face before burying herself in your neck. her house was cozy and tastefully decorated with gentle lighting. in the soft glow, her slightly disheveled hair and lustful eyes were a sight you'd never forget.

"is there anyone--oh!" you squealed as her fingers began to trace circles on your nipples through your dress. "is there anyone else here?"

"sensitive, huh?" she teased, smirking down at you. "and no, it's just me tonight."

before you had time to consider what that last word implied, she picked you up and effortlessly whisked you to her bedroom. you were dazzled by the sight of her private space--it was simple yet beautiful, adorned with shades of green and twinkling lights. you didn't expect this level of whimsy from her, and it somehow made her even sexier.

she laid you on the bed carefully, reverently. "god, look at you." she whispered, sending shivers down your spine as she positioned herself on top of you and returned to your lips.

by now you were painfully needy from all her teasing, and you just needed her to fuck you senseless. you tried to convey that with your impatient noises, but it seemed the older woman had other plans. she pulled away from your lips to take in your flushed, desperate face.

"soon, sweetheart, soon. i know you're so worked up, but i plan to make this last."

you hummed in acknowledgment, turning your attention to the buttons of her shirt. you thought maybe if you got her a bit more riled up, she would be less inclined to take her time.

melissa groaned, feeling your delicate fingers ghost over her chest, but shook her head in disapproval. she removed your hands from her shirt, grabbing your wrists with surprising force. "i'm not taking my clothes off yet. i'm in charge, and you need to learn patience."

you gave her your best pout, but you knew she wouldn't budge. this was about power, not patience. she wanted to be clothed, composed and in control while you lay naked and vulnerable underneath her.

she started to pull at the fabric of your dress. you lifted your hips, and in one fluid motion, she slipped it over your head and off of you. it was an expert move, and you shivered at the idea that she had done this many times before.

when she saw your body, she paused for a moment, her mouth slightly open and her pupils dilated. "no bra?" she asked under her breath, not looking for an answer. "you're so soft in my hands..." she mused as her hands massaged your breasts. her fingers moved to pinch and rub over your nipples.

you moaned, bucking your hips upward and seeking more contact. she took the hint and directed her attention to your core.

"nice panties, by the way," she said with a cocky laugh, tugging playfully at the soaked pink lace. "who knew little miss gothic had a colorful side?"

"please, mel, no more teasing, i need you so bad," was all you could manage.

"okay, baby, let's get these off ya." she hooked her fingers through your panties and you lifted your hips, allowing her to drag them off. she folded them neatly and tucked them into her front pocket. something cutesy to remind her of you, wet and pliant under her touch.

"mmm, such a messy girl. you must feel so embarrassed, all spread out and naked for me while i'm fully clothed, playin' with you."

you could only whimper and whine, helplessly turned on by her words but pinned to the bed and unable to move. she cooed at you and took pity, moving down your body to get closer to your core.

she placed her hands once again on the insides of your thighs, gently pulling them apart and revealing your glistening pussy. her breath stuttered upon seeing the wetness covering your core and thighs.

"jesus, hon, you're dripping. you're just aching for me, aren't ya? need me to make you feel good?"

"yes!" you finally exclaimed, regaining your voice. "yes, please, melissa, please touch me, i need you," you begged.

"well, since you asked so nicely..." she gave you a smirk and trailed a finger between your puffy lips, gathering the wetness there.

by this point you were writhing all over the bed, so she had to pin your legs down with her knees. neither of you minded, though. you enjoyed feeling completely at her mercy, and she enjoyed watching you squirm under her.

finally, after an eternity of torture, she gave in, slipping a finger into you with ease and rubbing gentle circles over your clit.

"so tight, fuck," she muttered to herself as she began to move inside you, transfixed by the feeling of you around her.

"feels so good, ohhh..." you mewled as her finger quickly found a rhythm, pumping forcefully and curling at your most sensitive spots.

"you're taking me so well, baby, my brave girl," she soothed, relishing in her ability to draw such pathetic sounds from you. "can you handle one more?"

you nodded frantically, almost too lost in the haze of pleasure to hear her.

she grinned and pushed another finger inside you, making you cry out. you were relatively inexperienced, so the stretch was a bit painful at first, but you were soon overcome by the bliss of feeling so full.

"that's new, huh? poor baby, can barely take two fingers," her thrusts got rougher, as if she was trying to break you. "don't whine now, you wanted this."

you were overwhelmed with pleasure and the slight pain of the intrusion. her fingers were long, nimble and skilled, and she seemed to know all the right spots and rhythms to make you see stars. her fingers stroked your clit with more pressure now, making you shake and moan uncontrollably. it was almost too much. you wanted to scream, but you could only produce pathetic little whimpers of "ah, ah, ah!"

she was clearly aware of what she was doing, and she revelled in your pleasure. she would ease up, return to a gentler pace, and then thrust hard into your g-spot just to hear your cries and gasps. she longed to see you lose control.

"that's a good girl, keep takin' my fingers just like that. you're close, aren't you baby? let's see how long you can last against me," she said, her voice deep and her smile mischievous. there was a competitive edge to her words, like making you fall apart was some kind of victory to her.

suddenly she pulled away completely, and you nearly sobbed. your hips bucked up into nothing. your helpless whimpers were music to the older woman's ears, and she snickered to herself as she moved down your body.

for a moment, there was silence. you stared at her, silently pleading for her touch. she cocked her head at you and raised an eyebrow, silently asking you: are you ready? you nodded intently. you weren't sure what she was going to do to you, but you sure as hell wanted to find out.

before you even had the chance to brace yourself, she was thrusting two fingers roughly inside you again, rubbing hard at that spongy spot. for the final blow, melissa leaned down and attached her lips to your clit, sucking harshly.

"not yet, sweetheart. stay with me," she said, grinning from ear to ear as she felt your walls flutter and clench around her.

with her free hand, she reached up and pressed softly on your lower abdomen. between that, the punishing thrusts, and the hot pressure on your clit, you couldn't take it anymore. the sensations overwhelmed you. the world went blank, and all you could feel was warmth. you swam through oceans of white-hot ecstasy, riding wave after wave of pleasure. and melissa was right there, coaxing you through heaven's gates.

melissa's thumbs rubbed soothing circles into your outer thighs, bringing you back down to earth. "come back to me," she whispered sweetly. you opened your eyes.

"there she is," she said, her eyes sparkling with relief.

she gave you a giddy smile and you noticed the wetness all over her face... and fingers... and sheets. you couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

melissa must have picked up on this, as she took hold of your hand and reassured you. "don't be embarrassed, angel. that was probably the hottest thing i've ever seen." she laid down next to you as she spoke.

you hummed and buried your face in the crook of her neck. she was warm and smelled like cinnamon.

"did you know you could do that, hon?" she asked.

"yeah," you giggled, still dazed. "but i didn't know you could do that."

"i'm fulla surprises, kid," she laughed, stroking your hair. "let me run us a bath, and then we'll see what kind of surprises you've got in you."

she carried you bridal-style to the bathtub, and you relaxed into the bliss. feeling the warmth of her arms around your frame. drowning in her.

[starryficsfinishwen]

꒰ . ⋮ # 1 Aftertaste.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ — Kinktober 2024

with a taste of your lips, I'm on ride

syn. week 1 of Kinktober 2024, featuring Wuthering Waves and Punishing: Gray Raven men! (A to E)

kinktober masterlist

other works | playlist

a.n. rlly late but at least we got a month to go :D

pairings. [ pgr ] m!shikikan, noctis, lee, chrome, [ wuwa ] yuanwu x f!reader (separate)

CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW WARNING. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. age play, biting, seggs, a lil' cnc (consensual nonconsent), daddy kink, dirty talking, cardiophilia (attraction to heartbeats), enkuophilia (breeding kink), hints of use of aphrodisiacs (yuanwu), semi-public sex (chrome) dividers by @/cafekitsune!

˚ʚ A for Age play ɞ˚

A Little Death ⟡ Shikikan

In a world where everything is very overwhelming and too much, wouldn’t it be nice if you could actually get someone to do everything for you?

Lucky for you, there was someone else keeping you satisfied.

“Oh, darling,” Your lover purrs in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, “do you not like my gift for you?”

A frilly skirt brushes your soft thighs as you shift in your seat. In the comforts of home, you excitedly wore the Commandant’s pretty gift to you— a pink, frilly short dress that halts by your thighs, paired with a matching pair of tights. The silk around your body hugs you perfectly, but you, in your simple mind, somehow want more.  The numbing vibration down there echoes throughout your whole body, yet never quite enough. You reach out to the Commandant, the golden bracelets shimmering under the fluorescent light of your shared home.

“Daddy,” you whine, desperate enough to rub your cheek on your lover’s hand, “Daddy, I missed you.”

Having the revered Commandant of the Gray Raven is both heaven and hell—heaven in a way that your love is pure and unadulterated, enough that keeps you both sane in this busy battlefield; hell, in a way that prevents you both from seeing each other for a long time. Like now, after many months of him being away, you’re finally back in each other’s arms. Like now—

A gentle hand carefully tilts your chin upward, making you look up to the Commandant.

“Now, now, darling, I want you to use your big girl words.” He tuts, “Do you not like my gift?”

“I-I do!” You cry out, jerking your hips as you try to rub your legs together, “It’s just…I…”

“You want what, dear?”

The Commandant finally kneels to your height. You bite your lips as you feel the vibrator shift a little deeper inside of you. “I…um, I jus’ really m-missed you…”

“Such a little darling for me, mm?” He hums, “Look at you, my darling little princess.”

The praise goes straight to your core, your hole throbbing around the vibrator. With a lithe moan of the Commandant’s name, you paw at his chest.

“D-Daddy,” With small tears in your eyes, you speak, “A-am I doing good?”

The Commandant’s pretty hands caresses your cheeks, to which you lean for his warmth. Such a simple, loving act brings immense joy to your daddy, that he chuckles.

“Ah, you’re doing a very great job, my darling.” Honey drips in his tongue, you shamelessly moan out loud from his voice. With his thumb tracing the outline of your lips, he mutters, “You’re been a very attentive girl these past few months, and you deserve such a great gift, don’t you think?”

His thumb easily slips inside your lips, and you open your mouth. You bob your head in agreement as you suck his thumb, your irises somehow shaped like hearts in your Commandant’s vision. “Yes, yes, yes, I’ve been a good little girl for you, daddy.”

“Well then, spread your legs for daddy.”

Without another word, you obeyed his commands. Opening your legs as wide as you can, you feel a plethora of your essence pool under you. The sight alone makes your lover salivate. After all, a treat like this after long months of absence would definitely satiate his hunger for you. Carefully, he plucks the vibrator out of your poor pussy, with more essence dripping out of you. You moan his name out loud.

“How do you want your gift, darling?” 

Sinful fingers trace your puffy pussy lips, before thumbing your little pearl, causing you to jerk in your seat. You breathe a shaky whine, to which the Commandant tuts.

“I want your big girl words, dear.”

“I-Inside, daddy.” You moan when his long fingers slipped inside, effortlessly finding your sensitive spots, “I-I want your dick inside of me, please!”

“That’s a good girl,” The Commandant praises you, thrusting his fingers upward to make you cry out, “I knew you would listen to your daddy.”

You whine a cry of disappointment when he temporarily withdraws his hands. In one swift motion, the Commandant takes off his pants, revealing his erect cock. Sitting on the bed, he pulls you to his lap. With a small kiss to your jaw, he whispers in your ear.

“Come and get your gift, dear.”

˚ʚ B for Biting ɞ˚

Candy ⟡ Noctis: Indomitus

It’s no surprise that Noctis is territorial. The man hoards everything—glass, toys, anything—causing him trouble with all of the things he keeps, not only to you, but even in Cerberus.

What you never knew though, was that his possessiveness extends to more than just material things.

“Ugh, f-fuck,” Noctis groans at the tightness of your cunt around his dick, “God, you’re so tight, you’re killing me.”

With a sharp thrust of his hips, you squeal as you hold onto the headboard with all your might. “N-Noctis! I-I thought we promised Vera we’ll be quiet…!”

Your meathead of a boyfriend could only moan your name as a response, big hands holding your hips. Noise complaints were already issued as soon as you and Noctis were together, that you’d be too embarrassed whenever you’d meet with Cerberus. But alas, your lover is too hard-headed to ever listen.

“S-Sorry, but I—hngh, so good—this pussy is just too good…!”

Twin moans spill from both of your lips as Noctis fucks you deeper, his hands sliding to the curve of your legs, pushing them to your ears. The new position causes you to cry louder, his long dick somehow feeling like he’s reaching your womb.

“No-Noctis!” 

“Fuck that.”

Noctis rises to see you better under him—with your pretty, fucked out face as uncontrollable moans leave your mouth, tiny hands now gripping his broad shoulders. Was it the blur, or the steam, or the love-lust that somehow clouds his mind as he notices your bare neck. And he gets it—the urge to mark you. No, not just inside of you, but every part of you. In the heat of the moment, Noctis latches onto your chest. With a firm bite! of his teeth in your chest, your orgasm comes crashing down on you, with a loud cry of Noctis’ name. 

“Noctis—! We talked a-abo—haah-!”

Of course, hickies were fine, but you always drew a line for too much. But was it really too much? To him, it still isn’t enough. Noctis is still relentless, fucking you through your orgasm, as he continues to litter your chest with bites. Moving upward, he rests your legs over his shoulder now, the urge to mark you causing him to fuck you harder.

“No-no-noctis—”

“I need to mark you,” He grunts in your neck, the last of his work as his impending orgasm starts to crash onto him, “One more.”

With the last of his precious mark on your now-littered neck, you squeeze his arms as Noctis’ orgasm comes unexpectedly. You cry out with your eyes rolling back as Noctis unconsciously bites your shoulder, triggering you to squirt all over his cock, as well as him filling you up.

Noctis is territorial, you know of that. But seeing the way he had marked you, inside and out, you are sure now that his possessiveness is more than anything simple.

“[Y/N],” Noctis moans, watching his bites and hickies all over your neck and chest, as well as your little pussy struggling to keep all of his cum inside, “...you’d give me one more, mm?”

˚ʚ C for Cardiophilia* ɞ˚

Casually Closer ⟡ Lee: Hyperreal

A construct’s heart is different from a human’s. 

Thump, thump, thump. Apart from its irregular beat, its structure alone runs a different substance. For a construct like Lee, whose heart he had long given up to his beloved brother, he once believed he could no longer love like a human. 

That is, until you came along.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your heart peacefully throbs in your chest as you sleep. Lee watches you diligently, watching your sleeping figure bathe in the moonlight. He has long been accustomed to hearing the thrum of your heartbeat in the midst of the night. As he finishes the last of your paperwork (ones that he forced you to give to him so you could sleep), his eyes find themselves trailing back to you.

Thump. Thump. Your heart is in perfect condition. The rise and fall of your chest. The subtle curl of your lips, as if you are having a nice dream. Were you having a nice dream? Lee is jealous; he wishes he could see it.

But alas, his eyes drift downwards, to your body. The blankets fall off of your body, exposing your skin, in your shorts. Slightly looking away, Lee’s cheeks dusting pink as he approaches you. The bed dips as he sits beside you, taking in your beauty in the moonlight.

“Commandant,” he sighs, pulling the blankets back to your body, “...sleep tight.”

Thump. Thump. His robotic fingers land on the apex of your chest, where your heart was. Thump…Thump. A skip. His eyebrows raise— did your heart just skip a beat.

“...mmn, Lee…” You mutter his name, in your sleep.

“Commandant?”

“...mm, more,” you mutter once more, your face contorting, “more…please.”

Thump, th-thump. Your heart rate jumps. Something is new in your dreams, then. You shift in your sleep, tired hands holding onto Lee’s, as the blanket on your body fails to cover you. His palm falls flat on your chest, the throbbing of your heart increasing.

Were you having a wet dream of Lee, perhaps?

The thought hits harder to the construct, the blush on his cheeks shading to the color of your exposed panties. 

“Commandant…” He whispers, “Please—”

The subtle way your body leans to him, your thighs barely touching Lee’s body. Yet, the action alone somehow makes his pants tight. This is a problem he faces whenever you are around— Lee both hates and adores the way his body reacts to you so easily.

“—Lee,” you softly moan his name, and his cock throbs, “‘m so needy…”

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Your heartbeat clamors loudly in your chest, and Lee couldn’t help but groan. He wants to touch you. He needs to touch you. But despite the throb of his cock, he could never find the heart to defile you.

“Commandant, you’re making this hard for me…” Lee tries to escape from your grasp, but the grip on his hand somehow tightens.

“...and I know you’re awake, Commandant.”

Your face scrunches up. Slowly opening your eyes, Lee isn’t surprised to see your lust-blown irises staring back at him sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, Lee.” You pout, holding his hand to pull it all over your chest, “But you already know that you can touch me, you know.”

“I can’t bring myself to do that to you, Commandant.” He looks away, his “cooling system” failing to hide the reddening blush across his face, “You already know that.”

“Mm, yeah, but I really do need you, Lee.” You whispered, “Can’t you feel it?”

His hand squeezes your breast, before feeling your heartbeat again. Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump.

Your heartbeat is beautiful. You are beautiful. You’re too much— but Lee would kill to be in between you right now.

Without a second thought, Lee leans down to capture your lips with his. In the frenzy haze of lust under the moonlight, he kisses you like there’s no tomorrow. Fuck, it’s too delicious to even think straight, that he effortlessly carries you to his lap. Aimless hands touching skin everywhere, knowing no bounds as you descend into madness.

Thump.Thump.Thump. 

Your heartbeat falls into the same throbbing pattern as his own mechanical heart. You moan into the kiss when you feel Lee’s hands rip through your poor excuse of a pajama, his thumb teasing your now-soaked folds.

“Lee, Lee,” You cry out when his fingers slip inside of your aching hole, despite your underwear, “Stop teasing…!”

“Says the woman who’s been doing that all night.” Lee moans when your pussy flutters around his fingers, “God, so needy.”

“I need you, Lee,” You whine, hips grinding to the way he fingers you, “I need you inside of me, Lee.”

Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump—

Your heartbeat draws Lee wild. With a little assistance from you, he opens his pants to free his erection. An erotic moan draws out of you, as he slowly lowers you to his hard cock, your warm walls contracting around him. A careless grunt escapes his lips, as your cunt flutters as the intrusion.

“Are you oka—”

“—fuck,” You cry out, feeling his cock finally bottoming inside of you, “Lee-!”

The tip teases your sensitive spot, with little tears forming around your eyes. Trying to ease the pain from his size, you helplessly cling onto Lee’s shoulders, catching your breath. But Lee—God knows how far gone he is.

Thump.Thump.Thump. 

Your heartbeat, the way your pussy flutters around his cock— Lee knows he’s in heaven. One sharp thrust, and he has you moaning already. 

“W-wait, Lee—?!” “—You feel so divine, [Y/N],” Lee mutters, the pussydrunk feeling already settling deep in his system, “Let me make you feel so good, please.”

˚ʚ D for Dirty talking ɞ˚

Daddy Issues ⟡ Yuanwu

You are attracted to the owner of the famous boxing gym in Jinzhou: Yuanwu. It’s so wrong, yet it somehow feels so right.

“You seem a bit stiff again today, [Y/N],” You hear Yuanwu say behind you, your roaring heart echoing throughout your whole body.

It’s another workout day. Your arms looped around the bar above you, as you try to accommodate your stretches. Yet, hearing the object of your affections, somehow nearly made you lose your balance. Fortunately—

“Careful, there, little girl,” Yuanwu’s husky voice sends tingles to your ear, “I’d rather not let you fall so quickly.”

Before you could hit the ground, Yuanwu held you by the hips. With a squeal, you quickly brush yourself off of him.

“A-ah, Mr. Yuanwu!” You look away to hide from his knowing gaze, “I’m fine! Sorry, I got distracted…”

He’s silent again. Glancing back at him, you notice gray eyes glazed with worry. Without a thought, you reach out to squeeze his arm.

“I–um, Mr. Yuanwu, I’m perfectly fine, I promise.” You mutter with a sigh, “Can I have a sip of your tea instead? I feel a little light-headed right now.”

Lucky for you, he already had the table set. Sitting across you, drinking his usual brewed Trine tea. The lime-colored tea smells so rejuvenating and refreshing, that you want to drown in its smell alone.

“Say, [Y/N],” Yuanwu opens the conversation for a while, “How are you liking the gym so far?”

You take a sip. The tea oddly tastes sweet today. “Oh…I am enjoying it so far, Mr. Yuanwu. I didn’t even know that I’d be really enjoying the stretches…”

“I’m glad,” He flashes a sweet smile, the laugh lines around his eyes a little more noticeable, “To be honest, when I saw your physique, I always thought you’d be more suitable for stretches.”

Your throat feels scratchy, the more you listen to Yuanwu. Taking another sip, your attention seems to be limited— oddly fixated on the tacet mark on his neck, watching the rise and fall of his broad chest, somehow noticing the way his prominent Adam’s apple bob as he speaks— you snap out of your trance when he snaps his fingers.

“Ms. [Y/N]?” Hell, even Yuanwu’s voice somehow made your core throb, “Are you listening?”

“Hah,” Noticing the intense stare of your master, the blush on your face draws a darker shade. “Yes, Mr. Yuanwu!”

“Okay, so as I was saying…”

His mouth was moving, but the words died down in your ears. Eagerly watching how he took off his gloves, revealing long, calloused hands. They opened and closed in front of you, before reaching for his cup. Tracing the outline of the cup, your thoughts turned naughty—  Wondering how his hands would trace your legs, the inside of your thighs, your wet cunt. Wondering how they’d pry your legs open, how his deft fingers would actually play with your throbbing clit—

“...seeing as your flexibility knows no bounds, I do wonder how far you’d be willing to open your legs for me, darling?”

The words cme hurling at you at a surprising speed. You look up to find Yuanwu’s sweet smile, but this time, laced with something far too lewd.

“I guess you already have imagined that, haven’t you, little [Y/N]?”

Yuanwu stands up, slowly approaching you. His gloveless hands found themselves cupping your cheek, his thumb caressing your lips.

“How long have you fantasized about me, [Y/N]?”

“I…Mr. Yuanwu…”

“Tell me, my dear. I long noticed the way you look at me. It’s unlike any other simple one.” His voice drops an octave lower, looking down on you as he touches your leg. “Do you know the properties of Trine tea is being honest, right? It’ll break my poor heart if you don’t tell me, my [Y/N].”

“A while,” You whisper, noticing the close proximity between the both of you, “I-I have been…”

“Really? That’s so sweet of you. Tell me; what do you usually fantasize about?”

That’s definitely private information. But the way Yuanwu has been looking at you, only made your cunt clench around nothing. “I-I’m too shy…!”

“I’ll help you, then.” He flashes his teeth, akin to little fangs, “Perhaps I need to teach you more about being honest.”

“My dear [Y/N], do you fantasize me holding you like this, then?”

He gently holds your arms above your head, graciously with one hand. In a swift moment, he has you pinned on the table.

“Do you imagine me holding your hands up like this, while I’m in between you?”

He slips himself in between your legs, your legs locking him around his waist, making him hiss.

“M-Mr. Yuanwu-!”

“Do you imagine me holding you by your neck, while I try to kiss you?”

His other hand holds you by the base of your neck, lightly putting pressure. You gasp at the sensation, your hips involuntarily grinding on his hips. He graciously returns the motion, his poking erection on your clothed core.

“Do you imagine me touching you in places that are too precious?”

One hand leaves your neck, trailing from your chest, down to your quivering thighs. Holding you there with a light squeeze, one thrust to your cunt. You moan quietly.

“Or do you imagine me taking you here, on this very table, telling you how much of a good girl you are as I fuck you like an animal?”

You moan loudly when Yuanwu ruts himself on you. You squirm from his grip, but he only urges you further— your back arching, aching for more.

“Fuck me, please!” You cry out, squirming in his grip, “I said fuck me, please, sir!”

“‘Atta girl,” Yuanwu grins, slowly peeling off your shorts, “Let’s make your dreams come true, hm?”

˚ʚ E for Enkuopophilia** ɞ˚

Earned it ⟡ Chrome: Glory

Chrome is a family man, you’ve noted.

Despite living in a house devoid of any familial love, despite only having robots around him. As Langston Smith, his world revolved around “glory”. When he was baptized as Chrome, a new kind of world came— a different kind of glory. Chrome has long learned love through his members, through Strike Hawk. Sure, living as a construct may be hard and different, but it’s a beautiful one. Especially when love exists in his team.

Especially with you in it.

“Your baby is so cute~!” You gush, excitingly holding the small, fragile baby in your arms, “She’s so beautiful…”

On a rest day, Chrome accompanied you to visit an old friend. Long did you both know that your friend had a surprise waiting for you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant!” You playfully teased your blushing friend, “I could have prepared a baby shower for you!”

“We didn’t know either,” She giggles, looking at her husband, “I eventually found out by accident. She really is a surprise for us.”

Chrome could see the love in your friend’s eyes as she gazed at her husband. The latter looks back at her the same way, a soft squeeze on her hand. Looking back at you, who has been captured by the baby’s charms, an unadulterated emotion knocks on Chrome’s chest.

What was it?

“You and Chrome would have a lovely family, if you ever decide to have one.” Your friend comments.

Your eyes meet Chrome’s pensive ones. With a lovely smile, you nodded. “I sure hope so.”

Ah, Chrome knows it’s impossible. How can a construct and a human ever have a family? But somehow, seeing your relaxed appearance as you held the baby— and somehow Chrome sees something else: you, with a swollen belly, looking at him. And something shifts inside of him. And something is different.

“C-Chrome-!” Moans of your lover’s name fill your mouth as you feel yourself fall flat on the wall, “S-slow down!”

Soon after your little affair at your friend’s place, Chrome had you pinned on the wall at Smith’s home. Your panties were thrown somewhere on the floor, alongside Chrome’s jacket. Your body surrenders as Chrome drills deep into you, the surge of pleasure nearly blurring your vision. The whirr of the robots seem absent, but the looming fear that the patriarch would stumble in, would see the lewd and disheveled look on your faces—

“Don’t think of anyone else right now, hah, [Y/N],” Chrome growls, “Focus on me.”

His grip on your hips is ruthless as he fucks you deeper, the tip of his cock precisely hitting your sweetest spots in one go. Your cries only spur his drive— in the face of your lover, you submit to his desires.

“I-I just—hngh, I do-don’t understand w-what got you so w-haah, worked up-!”

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes so gently, in contrast to his thrusts, “You…you were just so beautiful ho-holding a baby…”

Chrome moans your name with a sharp thrust, knocking the air out of you for a moment. Holding a baby? Ah, Chrome saw it. He saw how lovely you were, as you held the baby.

“I want to fuck a baby in you,” Chrome pleads, “I want you to carry our child, [Y/N].”

A cry rips out of your mouth when your orgasm comes crashing without a warning. The idea of having a family with Chrome was something you’ve long wanted. But Chrome— fuck the laws. Like him, the idea of having a family with Chrome is a need. 

“Did you come for me already, [Y/N]?” He chuckles in your ear, fingers rubbing your neglected nub, “So pretty f’me.”

His actions cause you to squirm in his hold. With a cry of his name, your pussy clenches around his length, causing Chrome to hold his breath.

“Do you like the idea of having a baby with me?” Chrome asks so softly, you nearly forget the rough pace he set on your poor pussy, “Do you want to start a family with me, [Y/N]?”

“F-Fuck!” You moan shamelessly, holding onto Chrome’s hand, “Breed me, Chrome, please.”

Chrome looks down to find a frothy white rim around his hard length. Watching how addicting you were to him, your abused pussy taking all of him, his impending orgasm roars loudly in his body— the urge to breed, breed, breed–!

“I’ll put a baby in you, [Y/N],” Chrome pulls you even closer, and all emotions come crashing in— “So take it all.”

“Chrome–!”

As your eyes roll back to your skull, your second orgasm forces Chrome to cum with you, spurts of his hot cum seeping so so deep in you, that some overflowed out of you. It takes a while before you both manage to catch your breath. You try to move your muscles, albeit aching, but Chrome stops you.

“A-ah,” Chrome tuts, “Not yet. I’m not done with you, yet.”

The telltale of Chrome’s still-hard cock still buried inside of you, with some of his cum plugged deep inside of you brings you to reality. It’s only until Chrome carries you, makes you whine.

“I’m not leaving until we’re successful, [Y/N].”

© starryficsfinishwen ᯓ★

please don't steal or own my works!!

*cardiophilia - attraction to heartbeats **enkuopophilia - breeding kink

[lostgirl677]

Hidden treasure

One-shot

Masterlist

AU imagine where the outbreak never happened.

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Established relationship

FLUFF

Summary: Y/N found something for Daryl in a thrift store. A real priceless treasure.

A/N: I still struggle to write Daryl accurately. Don't hesitate to leave some feedback.

I came back from the thrift store. There, I found a treasure worthy of all the haggling and near fights in the world. All because it was a gift for Daryl. Yeah, I almost threw punches to get that treasure. But if it was for him, I’d snatch it from the Devil’s hands if needed. I knew that the package wrapped in brown paper was the perfect gift.

When I arrived, Daryl was in the garage, working on his bike as usual. Watching him was always a delight: the way his arms flexed, his hands covered in grease, the occasional swear word escaping his lips. I could watch him all day. He suddenly turned his head towards me, catching me staring like a creep. ”Like what ya seein’, darlin’?”, he asked, his southern accent more pronounced with the day's fatigue. I couldn’t help but grin. “Hell yes.”  I chuckled as I got closer to him. He snorted and smiled. His smile lit up the room. It was good to see him ditching his signature frown for once. He wiped his greasy hands on an old rag and stood up, towering over me like a mountain of muscles and sweat."Good thing ya ma girl. Else I'd be scared of this sexy stranger drooling and undressin' me with her eyes in my garage" he said, smirking as he snaked his arm around my waist. “Good thing indeed. It would be creepy otherwise.” Then, he pulled me closer and I could smell his scent: pine, leather, sweat and smoke. “How was yer day? Thrift store, right?” he asked me. “Yeah. And I have something for you”, I replied. He raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “For me? Ya didn’t have to, honey”, he blushed a bit. I smiled again and said “Believe me, I had to. It’s in my car. I’ll be right back”. He reluctantly let me untangle myself from his embrace and I ran to my car with a bounce in my step.

I came back quickly, holding the package. “Here. I hope you’ll like it”. He took it in his hand, looking at me, a bit unsure. “Go on. It won’t bite you” I encouraged him softly.  He finally complied. As he unwrapped the package, I bit my lip in anticipation. Inside, he found a vintage leather jacket. “Well, ain’t that somethin’,” he murmured while his hand caressed the worn leather. Suddenly, his eyes widened and became shiny as if he could cry. It was a rare occurrence for a man like him. And I knew exactly why he was about to cry. His hand ran over the embroidered name William Dixon. He looked at me, shaking slightly. “H-how? Where?” he asked with a quiver in his voice, unable to find the right words. “I remember you told me that your grandfather died on D-Day in Normandy, and your grandmother was pregnant at that moment. And she had to sell some stuff to make ends meet. And somehow, it ended up in this thrift store. I found it hidden under a pile of old clothes in the stall. So, when I saw the name, I knew I had to get it for you. I think it wanted to return to its family" He looked like he was about to cry. I could see the tears welling up, and it took everything in him to hold them.

He was still looking at the jacket with reverence due to a relic. Which it was - a precious relic of his family. I gently took his hand to guide him back inside the house, in front of a mirror. “Try it. It looks like it’s your size”. I said softly. He slowly nodded, and I helped him put it on. Indeed, it fitted him like a glove. He looked dashing in it. “Daryl, you’re really handsome in this jacket. I’m sure your grandfather would be happy that his jacket is now yours. He would be proud of you”, I told him softly as I gently put my hand on his arm. He lowered his gaze to look at me in the mirror’s reflection and grunted softly. Even if he didn’t say anything back, I knew he was touched by my words. He just didn’t trust himself with words right now. When he tried to arrange the jacket on his body, something fell from the inside pocket—an old picture. I went to pick it up and showed it to Daryl. It was a slightly damaged black-and-white picture of a beautiful pregnant young woman. She was smiling, a hand on her swollen belly. “Grandma,” he whispered, his voice shattered a bit. “She was beautiful”, I whispered. He simply nodded, his hand running over the picture. “How about we buy a frame and place it somewhere nice?” I asked softly. His blue eyes twinkled, still wet from unshed tears and he said “Yeah. Sounds good.” Then he turned to face me. “I don’t know how to thank ya, Y/N”. I simply smiled. “You don’t have to. I just brought back home something that’s rightfully yours. I love you, Daryl. That’s all that counts for me.” He finally let his tears fall and said in a strangled voice “I love ya too, Y/N”. He then embraced me in his strong arms, his grandmother’s picture still clutched in his hands. I wiped his tears with my thumbs and arranged his hair gently. 

Later, I decided to place his grandma’s picture on the small desk in our room. And we hammered a coat hook next to it for the jacket. “Lookin’ good”, he simply told me while placing a kiss on my forehead. “Yeah. Now, your grandma and your grandpa are no longer apart”. He simply smiled. And his smile was worth a thousand words.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 410: Kacchan Fights a Baby

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was born and then he grew up and murdered the Demon Lord.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan fights a baby. Tomura and Deku finally remember that they were supposed to have been fighting too this entire time, and get on with that once again. Tomura is all, “[literally just reaches out and grabs Deku’s face because Deku’s main character powers suddenly abandoned him in a fit of confusion].” Deku is all, “[chops off Tomura’s fingers which is somehow not even in the top twenty of violent things that have happened in this series in just the last five chapters].” Tomura is all “joke’s on you I still got your quirk :D” and fuck me he actually stole Danger Sense, what the fuck.

logically I knew AFO still had to be alive somehow because he’s too big of a villain to go out that easily without a proper sendoff. but deep in my heart, I’m still secretly disappointed

it just isn’t fair, lol. this guy has died more times than Rasputin and he’s still out here scheming his schemey schemes. when oh when will it end

sir you did not just say you had yet ANOTHER unused trump card up your sleeve??

(ETA: the translation isn’t fully clear here, but I think the trump card he’s referring to is the whole “I’ll just go back inside him and join the part of me that was already in there and we’ll take over Tomura’s body again together” plan that he was trying to pull off. I think. if not though, that’s certainly something worth speculating about.)

well as always the psychology in this series is unironically fascinating! he just wants acknowledgement at the end of the day, huh. just wants some love and attention. too bad he was born in a rat-infested hellscape and learned all the wrong lessons and turned into a crazed omnipotent murderlad

also he really did turn back into a baby sdfsdlkjfl oh no. I need to see Katsuki’s reaction to this immediately

oh my lord

(●__●)

lmao this is so incredibly fucked up

ngl though, this is karma at its finest. he tortured and killed so many people trying to earn everyone’s fear and awe and reverence, only to literally blip out of existence at the end with absolutely nothing to show for it

everyone please enjoy this series of panels of a deeply vexed Bakugou Katsuki picking a fight with this slowly melting evil baby

“you think I care that you’re a baby now. you think I won’t fight a fuckin’ baby. let’s do this you little punk”

also I’m sorry but it’s absolutely ridiculous that the gigantic chest wound Tomura inflicted on him got sewed up so neatly lol. AFO’s not the only one who stubbornly refuses to die no matter what

...

just once, it would be nice if Horikoshi didn’t immediately shred my plot nitpicks to pieces mere seconds after I write them

LMAO

BABY AFO DON’T CARE. BABY AFO WILL THROW HANDS WITH ANYONE ＼(｀0´)／

KACCHAN MY BELOVED FAVE OF ALL TIME, ARE YOU REALLY ABOUT TO LOSE TO A LITERAL FUCKING INFANT

WHAT HAPPENED TO “PERFECT VICTORY” LMAO. MOVING THE GOALPOSTS EVEN AS HIS CONSCIOUSNESS FADES. “EH, CLOSE ENOUGH”

-- OH FOR THE LOVE OF --

me: wow it sure is uncharacteristic of Katsuki to just pass out before he properly wraps up this battle

Horikoshi: oh yeah good point, sure would be a shame if someone... IMMEDIATELY ADDRESSED THAT CONCERN ON THE VERY NEXT PAGE

me: ఠ_ఠ

ldskjflaksdjfkds

fdsfsdkf. “SORRY ABOUT THAT, FOR A MOMENT THERE I ALMOST FORGOT TO BEND THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE TO MY WILL”

holy fucking shit. his body was all “um, just a quick reminder that you’re HORRIBLY WOUNDED and have lost like ten gallons of blood and all of your cells are about to call an emergency meeting to shut this thing down before you get us all killed.” and he was all “WHAT WAS THAT?!” and his body was all “oh my GOD, FUCK, OKAY just forget we said anything”

and meanwhile Baby AFO is just lying there all “(◉⌓◉)”

this six-month-old child is truly and sincerely still trying to kill Kacchan while screeching death threats in high-pitched baby talk

this actually would have killed him too, if he’d succeeded in passing out. all that just to be punk’d by a damn baby

you are actually shitting me right now

at this point I’m genuinely not sure which of them has the more powerful angry toddler energy

oh no ffuffkdsfk

meeeeelting. meeeeeeltiiiiiing!!! oh what a world what a world

jesus Horikoshi I am genuinely speechless

... welp

WAIT NO WAY, REALLY?!?!

?!?!?! WAS IT ACTUALLY THAT SIMPLE THIS WHOLE TIME

-- lkjf

three times. three times in the same fucking chapter. I give up. apparently I’ll literally believe anything this man says. does it feel good, Horikoshi. preying on your readers’ hopeful naivete

yeefuckinghaw lmao

GOOD JOB KACCHAN YOU DEFEATED THE EVIL BABY

awwwww

I actually had a theory about this! well more of a wishlist item, really. I can’t remember if I’ve actually posted about it yet or not. but it’s like. you know how Deku and Kacchan are always being really dramatic about holding hands? wanting to hold hands; not wanting to hold hands; being afraid to hold hands; holding hands via proxy, etc. etc.?

and you know how both Endeavor and All Might have each done their own version of the victory pose that Kacchan is referring to here? with each one using a different hand?

so you see, I was thinking that it might be nice. might be a little poetic and all that. if at the end of the fight, Deku and Kacchan did, in fact, hold hands. and then did the victory pose together. and it became like their iconic hero moment. them standing there together. having accomplished their goal and defeated TomurAFO through teamwork. realizing their shared childhood dream. and sharing that moment of triumph with each other and with the world, ushering in a new era of heroes

anyway yeah. I was thinking that might be a pretty good ending. but it looks like Kacchan maybe really is about to pass out here now, lol, so maybe not? anyways time to finally scroll down

-- okay I literally said awww again out loud

what a fucking nerd. I have never felt more fondness for a character in my life

every damn person watching this on the news better have leaped to their feet and started applauding, goddammit. those motherfuckers better be CHANTING HIS FUCKING NAME. all those nagging reporters better be bombarding his phone with calls. those fuckers who deleted his footage from the Shouto interview better be shamelessly leaving him dozens of voicemails acting like none of that ever happened and presumptuously asking when he can free some time in his schedule to visit their studio again. all the heroes who haven’t hugged him yet better be lining the fuck up. that one guy from the post-kidnapping press conference in chapter 86 better be writing a fifty page letter of apology!!

oh hey it’s a random pre-battle flashback mysteriously taking place in Troy “a few days before the battle” even though I thought they only moved into that place the night before the fight

I love how Katsuki immediately narrows his eyes (I assume. we can’t see for sure but that’s the vibe I get) at Jeanist and has to resist the urge to call the police on him for that pun

so Hadou’s wondering what Jeanist is talking about because they already evacuated the civilians, so what else are they trying to protect. and Edgeshot is all, “well obviously we’ve gotta protect everyone’s future,” which is a nice... rearshadowing?? for him saving Katsuki’s life later on lol

and now Mirko is all “get to the fucking point already.” which, same

so Jeanist says that Tomura is an even bigger problem than AFO, because at least AFO doesn’t want to murder everyone on the entire planet. and he concludes with “he’ll probably try to touch the ground and use his quirk.” which is a conclusion that I have to say wasn’t really worth two pages of flashback buildup for, considering that we all figured that out years ago

I’m guessing this is all just some sort of awkward transition back to Deku’s fight now lol

and now we’re getting two pages of exposition on how long it would theoretically take Tomura’s Decay to spread throughout the city, and then the entire country, yikes

damn. talk about stakes

and now finally back to Deku!!

shoutout to everyone who correctly predicted that Deku was once again talking out of his ass when it came to being out of Gearshifts. we all knew. unlimited supply

wow Tomura way to throw AFO under the bus

the way I recall it, AFO wasn’t the one who failed to kill him back then lol. but go ahead and talk your shit king

DEKU WHAT ARE YOU DOING

holy shit?!?!

like my first thought was “well last time he did this he just tried to steal OFA rather than Decay him, so he’ll probably try that again and it’ll be fine.” only to remember that the AFO inside Tomura is currently permanently(?) out to lunch, and Tomura himself doesn’t give two figs about stealing OFA. so, uhhhh >_>

(ETA: nevermind.)

but then this happened

Deku what the actual fuck

OH MY GOD??!?!

HOLY SHIT

okay. okay, fuck. lemme gather up my thoughts, and then we’ll wrap this up

they’ll never admit it, but you know the other OFA Vestiges secretly resented Shino a tiny bit for being the only one of them to not be gruesomely murdered. bet they all feel guilty for thinking that now

Shino and Banjou also seemed to have this cute little pseudo-rivalry thing going on, so I really feel bad for Banjou now. :/ he looks so horrified in that bottom right panel

gotta admit, I did not see this coming in the slightest. OFA has been this immutable “I do what I want!” quirk for so long that I never thought Tomura or AFO would actually succeed in stealing it, even partially. that shook me to my core

BUT, it’s also really exciting to me because it’s going to make this battle much more interesting if Deku can’t use his get out of jail free card. shit just got way more real and I’m here for it

lastly, so! let me tell you guys my prediction. I still can’t see Tomura being the final villain lol. I just can’t. it feels too anticlimactic. if I’m wrong, I’m wrong, and I’ve certainly botched MANY predictions in the past, but I have not yet learned my lesson from any of it and I will not apologize lol

so here’s what I think. Deku and Tomura battle it out for the next chapter or two, and Tomura snatches up more of Deku’s quirks one by one. we see all of the Vestiges disappearing and the mood gets more and more desperate. eventually we’re down to just Kudou and Yoichi. Deku is panicking, but for some reason Kudou seems even MORE panicked

Kudou/Gearshift eventually gets stolen too, and it looks like this might finally be it for Deku (I have no idea how he’d stop Tomura from Decaying the ground once Blackwhip gets stolen, btw, but maybe Katsuki or someone else interferes in desperation towards the end). but just when it looks like Tomura is finally going to take the last piece of OFA, Deku’s vibes suddenly do a 180, stopping Tomura in his tracks

cut to the OFA Moon Gorgeous Meditation Realm, where Deku and Yoichi are staring at the door -- yes, that door -- in shock. because it’s finally been opened (now that the other Vestiges are no longer there to keep it at bay). and just like that, enter AFO, for the THIRD FUCKING TIME :D :D

tl;dr, HERE’S HOW HORCRUX!DEKU CAN STILL HAPPEN!!! wait where are you all going. wait come back

anyway so wow that was a really bizarre chapter that I truly thoroughly enjoyed, which should probably be a bit concerning. on to the next two week break! (for anyone who’s not aware, Shounen Jump will be on break next week, so yeah.) I’m on chapter 391 now. so close but still so far. the end of the year has gone by too damn fast tbh

[frostbitebakery]

Hi frost!!! I'd love to see more from the loud Au!!! Or handkiss!!!!😍😍😍

:D Enjoy!!

It started with a cough after Melida/Daan.

He got message after message on the progress after he left and it made him smile, sometimes laugh at the betrayed disbelief over how much bureaucracy was actually necessary to form a planetary government.

The laughs soon turned into hacking coughs.

He drank the tea Qui-Gon made him to soothe his throat.

“Just a cold,” he murmured. He’d had that one since before leaving Melidaan, and he and the Temple healers figured it was the stress his body had to endure that finally caught up with him. They would routinely check on him and keep an eye on it.

“If it gets worse,” Qui-Gon started, looked down into his own cup, and fell silent.

Obi-Wan’s return to the Temple was a mixed bag of loth cats, after all.

The last month of the war, when he’d been torn between negotiating, bridging the sides, and somehow always ending up in the crooks and niches for a bit of peace and hearing things.

He was sick of being made the face of the Young by the other side. He was there to help, not have all the attention focused on him. He had dropped back in those last few weeks. Advising from the shadows, operating from them. And that kind of help, that was, he felt, how he could actually help. Instead of being patronized and revered as a Jedi in the same breath.

Coming back to the Temple had been… difficult. Facing Qui-Gon had been difficult. Standing in front of the Council with Qui-Gon next to him, asking to join again. Asking to switch fields, switch… Masters. Because he felt inadequate for the path he was walking on.

Qui-Gon’s supportive hand had slipped from his shoulder.

A year of rumors and no contact showed him exceedingly well and painful in its brutal subtlety of lost smiles and avoidance who his friends were.

Lumi— Luminara had waited outside the healer’s wing after a follow-up check. Had straightened up when she saw him and clasped her hands in front of her. “I am very happy to see you, Obi-Wan,” she said, halted and stiff before the anger got the better of her.

What in the Galaxy had compelled him to leave the Order? No sign of him. Just an official statement that he had chosen to leave the Order. And now he’s back?

“What the fuck, Obi-Wan!” She reeled back immediately. Took a step back.

And Obi-Wan’s life had taught him how to step forward despite the fear clawing at him. “Let me explain? Please?”

She huffed at him, head up high. “This better be good. Quinlan is driving me up the Temple walls with his teenage drama sullenness over you.”

So that’s why Obi-Wan hadn’t seen him at all since he’d come back.

Obi-Wan had explained. The war. Master Tahl. Master Qui-Gon. The war. The children. The war children. The war. The war. The war—

He hiccuped on the tears and something… something changed.

Lumi’s arm was around him, stroking his shoulder and crying with him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—“

He coughed, convulsed with the cough, and there was blood on Lumi.

[writing-in-sin]

LAWLU HC: HANDS

They both have a personal liking towards each other's hands

LAW:

It started after Dressrosa, on the fields of sunflowers. He's reminded of Luffy's words to become the pirate king and the gratitude as well as respect he feels for Luffy just wells up inside him with no where to go

Until his body moves on its own, taking Luffy's left hand to place an almost reverent kiss against Luffy's knuckles

It startles a blush for the both of them but while Luffy feels confused yet bashfully accepting, all Law feels is the beginnings of peace

Somehow, it keeps happening

Mostly whenever they have to part ways or reunite

When asked, Law merely held Luffy's hand. Brushing his thumb against the knuckles as he tries to find the words.

Respect for the future king? Maybe initially

Admiration for these hands that never fails to attack and defend against the injustice of the world? Certainly

It could be all of that and more but in the end, it became less about finding a reason and more because its Luffy

And now after Kaido's defeat, Law can admit that's always been the reason

Because it's Luffy

With his kindess, recklessness, child-like wonder, stubborness and just everything that makes up who Monkey D. Luffy is

Because Luffy is Luffy and Trafalgar D. Water Law simply loves him

LUFFY:

For him, Luffy loves Torao's big and clever hands for the way the older captain saves people. The memories of 2 years ago are murky still, but Luffy remembers echoes of how kind and steady his Torao's hands are

The hands that saved him

Not just with the surgery but with how those hands had cradled his grieving heart and soothed it enough for him to be aware of the world again in a time when Luffy could only cry and scream for the brother he lost

Although the memories are still blurry, Luffy knows that it'd been Torao who had wipe away his tears and held him close in those brief moments of lucidity.

He'd recognise those hands no matter what

Which is why when Torao started to kiss his knuckles, Luffy makes sure to return it with a kiss of his own to Torao's palms

The palms that save and heal and protect in ways Luffy never could

His silly Torao can say that it was a whim all he wants but Luffy knows how kind he is. How amazing and cool and badass he is. And Luffy loves him lots and lots and lots!

But most of all? Because Torao is Torao and that's always been enough for Luffy

[theomnicode]

Hello! What do you think about how the society in OPM accepts that King is the most powerful being in the world? While Saitama is hinted at what may become a danger to society if his strength were to become known? Considering that King has (accidentally and through his own fault) stolen Saitama's merits?

Sorry this one took a bit to answer, I had other business to attend to. This one is another long piece, but I dropped a tl;dr at the end lol.

Honestly though? I think it's perceptional bias.

Perception bias is a broad term used to describe different situations in which we perceive inaccuracies in our environment. It is a type of cognitive bias that occurs when we subconsciously form assumptions or draw conclusions based on our beliefs, expectations, or emotions.

There are several subtypes: Implicit bias: individuals hold attitudes towards people, or associate stereotypes with them, without being aware of this. Fundamental attribution error: individuals tend to blame their failings on circumstances around them, but consider that others are responsible for their shortcomings. Selective perception: expectations about people or situations affect perception.

King is revered as a strong hero and so people would accept and expect him to have strong abilities. Child Emperor pictures these abilities and describes them to King. (Cpt 152, Check) King is also tall, large and mysterious man who somehow exudes a strong aura of being strong willed, capable and a just person. But the public does not know him well enough to actually see through their bias: A physically weak and anxious man who just tries to live his life in peace, but who has heart of gold, wise beyond his years and incredible sense of justice.

Yet despite all this, I worry for King a lot, because the cognitive bias working against him is too strong, almost unnatural. It makes little sense about why this false image is so strong, considering he nor Saitama have THAT many actually proven feats on record or even publically observed. I mean, Saitama literally destroyed a meteor and got accused for it and killed Sea King and the public turned against him...and yet none of those actual, legitimate feats are being exaggerated to this degree like Charanko describes them as in Chapter 192: Level up.

Charanko's examples are so utterly ludicrous without a single shred of actual evidence that the utter shock being told they were lies of it was enough for him to at least start shaking off that cognitive bias and question his perception and seeking out the actual truth. The guy is completely overlooked as just being a weak nobody comic relief character archetype, but he is strong willed, like when he had the guts to attack Garou in direct confrontation.

But I mean, look at this thing, this is completely absurd. Where is the entirety of OPM people's critical thinking skills?

Who in their right mind would seriously believe rumours like solar system destroying level of bomb with a bonus black hole from some rando dude on the internet? Or King not having even been born yet, somehow being the second coming of christ itself?

Plus there is only one goddamn mythology piece in this entire manga that even closely fits the bill of a human(oid) character's birth being foreshadowed and that is OPM's God's mural in a place where literally nobody has seen it before.

Who the F would even be crazy enough to imagine up and spread such a rumour that King, of all people, is actually OPM God who legit nobody even knows exists? So absurd. :D

(Above image is from volume redraw)

It's such a malicious and cruel rumour too, capable of sowing distrust and discord in the entire Hero system when people stop believing in their heroes because they think the entire system is a lie. And they would blame King for it, thinking he's to blame for the lies because he broke their idea of an hero fantasy.

The only hero I can think who actually knows about OPM God is Blast, but he's not malicious. Zero motive whatsoever.

I heavily suspect Psykos for spreading it because this kind of rumour could only come up straight from the source itself. Because she's an alarmist (Cpt 175, Visitor) and OPM God has her in his backpocket to emotionally manipulate. Fubuki might uncover some more information to discover the truth, but I'd take it with grain of salt because Psykos appears to be under some kind of mental illness, possibly psychosis, as Fubuki has pointed out that she had never been a tough girl and something changed her. But I'm no detective and I'm not void of any bias, so here's a sherlock holmes quote:

"How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth? We know that he did not come through the door, the window, or the chimney. We also know that he could not have been concealed in the room, as there is no concealment possible. When, then, did he come?"

Honestly, the magic man in the sky is prolly doing it, we just don't know how because there's not enough evidence, only context clues.

-*-

Bang on the other hand, cannot shake off his bias even if his heart is in the right place. But he was just directly told face to face by King himself that he is weak and he still refuses to believe it because he stubborny keeps believing in his own biases, thinking he's always correct.

Old people do oftentimes think they're always correct don't they? Because they're oh so old and wise and experienced. He does the same thing with Garou and Garou won't accept it.

-*-

Anyways, I worry for King's flailing mental health for reasons because he's thinking about self-harm and he wants to unalive himself by monster hand because he thinks it's already Game over for him.

The cognitive bias around people's minds is actually and ironically, shielding him from the cascading effects of the mass public outcry since he's not ready to face it yet. He lacks willpower, that mental fortitude, to withstand that kind of attack on his psyche. He might do it if people suddenly just snapped out of that cognitive bias.

Some might even say... that he's the cognitive bias itself. King can bullshit so effectively because he's can literally project bullshit out of his every orifice if he needs to. If say, he needs to protect himself or other people. And as long as people keep their cognitive biases, it would help him sustain the image that he's strong and not be hated by everyone if they suddenly snapped out of their cognitive bias. So you could say that...the cognitive bias is helping him survive and protecting him.

A cognitive bias is a systematic pattern of deviation from norm or rationality in judgment. Individuals create their own "subjective reality" from their perception of the input. An individual's construction of reality, not the objective input, may dictate their behavior in the world. Thus, cognitive biases may sometimes lead to perceptual distortion, inaccurate judgment, illogical interpretation, and irrationality.

Look, they're instantly second guessing themselves. Seems to be working very effectively. And Atomic Samurai did some incredible mental gymnastics to convince himself that just by sitting there, King just casually cut the apple even when he saw nothing and nothing literally happened in front his very eyes. (Chapter 189, Blade test.)

At least he has Saitama at his back, because Saitama has a bullshit radar a mile wide and Saitama believes he can change to be stronger. He respects King's opinion to do what is right despite knowing he lacks real power to be that force of change himself. He does not appear at a glance to show implicit bias towards King. He originally saved the guy just because he needed saving and then did it again, despite not knowing a thing about King, aside from the assumption that he must be a strong hero, even if he was asking for information to form an opinion. And then tries to dig deeper into that and questions the logic of King running away and showing lack of bias with his objectivity. (Chapter 38, King)

So as long as Saitama believes in King, he probably won't come to any real harm. But Saitama also has to believe in his own ability to actually help King if the need arises and act upon it, because otherwise it'll just be 166 chapter redux in the absolute worst case scenario.

-*-

So, about perceptive biases towards Saitama, they come out in negative light by default unless proven wrong by him directly.

I'll let the following panel demonstrate. (Chapter 55.7, Sense, vol 20 Extra)

The judge became immediately biased without any reason and attacked his integrity and pretended to know all about him when he actually knows nothing, despite this being ONLY a hero suit contest, not a character judgement and ignoring Saitama's explanation to why he likes to wear what he wears.

The judge won't acknowledge what he saw with his plain eyes as he refuses to believe what happened, Genos is showing different kind of bias because he too, is biased in favour of Saitama and thinks Saitama should win a hero suit contest just because he's strong, despite objectively having a really bland and cheap outfit even HE didn't like. Like a cosplay contest gone wrong if the judge just picks their favourite without any objectivity to their actual suit or performance and what is the point of the judging in the first place. Other people, despite cheering him on...show their true facets with their snide negative comments with their leaps of logic, attempting to tear him down for his good deed and nobody criticises them.

Now for a different kind of perception bias. (Chapter 16, Passed the exam)

Chewing gum might on a first glance, seem very disrespectful when towards authority figures who want your full attention because it inherently implies that the person is too busy chewing gum rather than paying attention, thus creating bias.

However the act of chewing gum in a situation where one wants to study and retain information has been seen as beneficial by studies.

Turns out, chewing gum may have more effects than simply making your breath smell good, or giving you something to do when bored. In fact, some studies show chewing gum can actually increase feelings of relaxation, increase attention, lower stress levels, and improve memory.

Saitama has shown even at the early stages of his teenager years that he DOES actually possess the attention span to study...as long as the subject actually interests him and he has selective interests. Despite all the chatter around him, he's able to tune them out and focus on his study. Give him something really dry and boring that just won't seem to stick and his attention span will waver, because attention is a resource to be managed.

Things like studying psychology can have their humble beginnings often in the interest in what affects human health, because personality types who are keen about bettering others like knowing what makes people tick in order to help them.

So it can be assumed that Saitama, knowing he has a poor attention span in boring seminars but has studied the subject before, anticipated this and simply brought chewing gum to help him focus just a bit more. Unfortunately, Snek became hostile to him and Saitama completely lost his focus and his attention wavered. This is how negative perception bias affects Saitama in his everyday life.

Another example of this selective attention span is where he watches the television because he's also interested in bettering the world as a whole, again because he likes helping other people and it brings him satisfaction. He often watches tv as an adult as well, to the point of doomscrolling. He even has Mob Psycho shirt on, a nod to ONE's other series to show that he's very empathic at his core. (Chapter 8.5, 200 yen, Vol 1 extra)

However, it is also shown that Saitama is incredibly sensitive to baseless judgement, hostility, bias and outside influence and he will get defensive and angry when faced with such and when challenged. (Meteor and Sea king fiasco) People like this who also have high moral integrity like Saitama has shown time to time again, also care great deal about their reputation in other's eyes, because it shows to them if they are doing a good job or not in their moralistic actions. Like a peer review.

Not getting any good feedback and instead met with various levels of hostility just conditions them to not try at all because they think it's their fault that everyone is against them. So Saitama early on has been faced with conditioning and now for instance, he thinks he just can't learn anything new even if he made an honest attempt. He has become insecure and self-critical and will think of himself in a negative light. (Stagnation and growth, chapter 76.) He has effectively build cognitive biases about himself and his true identity.

Here is Saitama attempting to unravel the cognitive bias around himself because he made a self-discovery. King, in his infinite wisdom, gives Saitama some objective perspective when Saitama immediately wants his second opinion about his perspective surrounding this new discovery. King, bless his heart, attempts to genuinely help Saitama but he misses the point of the discussion when Saitama was trying to see if he could bounce his ideas around, such as throwing a video game analogy to King that Saitama knows he SHOULD understand well. Saitama is just very poor at expressing his words due to his upbringing and loneliness and detatchment from emotions, especially without properly parsing it out first. He often thinks a lot louder than he seems to talk, which is why he's often misunderstood.

That is, unless he apparently connects on a deep level like with Genos and then the two of em could talk about anything and everything that comes to mind for days or until they run out of breath lmao. (Maji Drama CD vol 1, Saitama makeover)

King's perception bias towards Saitama is because he just does not know him well enough and his perspective is a bit skewed because of media influence that bring him comfort for his own emotional loneliness...because Saitama is always hung up about something or another because he has so much issues it hurts. King just does not see it or is not willing to believe "Super strong Saitama" could possibly have any issues since Saitama hides them well.

Saitama has far too much free time to think and ruminate, but his own cognitive biases stop him from seeing his true self without all the negativity surrounding him. The negativity of things such as his upbringing as a lonely boy who's sensitive to hostility. (Chapter 15.5, Brushing up, vol 2 extras)

-*-

Perception bias also serves another more...sinister purpose for Saitama. Psychological conditioning. There is potential evidence for deprivation of basic needs, conditioning for violence for protection and subliminal messages for suggestion, among other things. I won't go into details because I'm afraid of also potentially spoiling stuff, so I'll keep the suspense. :D

Here's maslow hierarchy of needs pyramid that explains about our intrinsical needs as human beings to have wellness in both body and mind.

Being deprived of all these needs is akin to mental torture. But so is facing all of the underlying issues at once via hypnotherapy and cognitive behavioural therapy if the patient is sufficiently dysfunctional in a societal setting like Saitama happens to be. Especially if the therapies are performed...poorly.

CBT has shown to be the most effective intervention for people exposed to adverse childhood experiences in the form of abuse or neglect Criticism of CBT sometimes focuses on implementations (such as the UK which may result initially in low quality therapy being offered by poorly trained practitioners. However, evidence supports the effectiveness of CBT for anxiety and depression. Evidence suggests that the addition of hypnotherapy as an adjunct to CBT improves treatment efficacy for a variety of clinical issues. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and its symptoms have been shown to improve due to implementation of hypnotherapy, in both long and short term. As research continues, hypnotherapy is being more openly considered as an effective intervention for those with PTSD.

In short, in order to heal mentally, Saitama may need to face mental torture because he has such strong willpower and such strong mental barriers shielding his vulnerabilities on a basic primal need. He can essentially dip himself on lava and ignore the shock reaction from the extreme heat (Chapter 112, Sacrifice) and does not even need to breathe in space and does not notice the extreme cold or pressure of space nor the sun's harmful rays, that's how strongly he shields himself from outside influence. (Saitama vs Garou fight, cpt 167-168) But there only needs to be a sufficient trigger.

ONE sent Saitama home to restore his energy levels in Chapter 197, What only I can do...because he's going to sorely need them for the upcoming confrontation.

Empty Void's ability to genjutsu people casually and cause parallel shifts in the reality and using these to abuse emotional dependencies is like a loaded Chekov's gun on Saitama's forehead. Because Saitama has been roleplaying to re-learn his emphatic skillset after he had suffered too much mental trauma and he's done that a lot with Genos just via interaction. I heavily suspect that Saitama's emotional regulation and empathy suffered when he became too strong and he was emotionally blunting himself.

So, if they so happened to use Genos against him and trigger his PTSD, there's no telling how Saitama will react.

Saitama more than likely has some mental illnesses like disorders and at the very minimum PTSD, not just depression, which can be used maliciously against him and the entire OPM world. There is one more thing about psychological conditioning, but I'm not gonna say it out loud here on this meta, I'm afraid to spoil it. :p *rubs hands gleefully*

There is also a high chance that if he's stressed enough and sleep deprivated enough, he could honestly go into psychosis if the entire world suddenly turned on him because he's sensitive to criticism and hostility.

Psychosis is a condition of the mind or psyche that results in difficulties determining what is real and what is not real. Symptoms may include delusions and hallucinations, among other features. Additional symptoms are incoherent speech and behavior that is inappropriate for a given situation. There may also be sleep problems, social withdrawal, lack of motivation, and difficulties carrying out daily activities. Psychosis can have serious adverse outcomes.

That's where he would truly become a danger to both himself and the entire Earth he's living on if he starts to have delusions, hallucinations and becomes out of touch with reality and also paranoid. So unless Saitama's mental health is adressed in a proper environment, he's a ticking time bomb till someone pulls the trigger on that PTSD and other issues he has. Empty Void can easily do exactly that by abusing his attachment to Genos in a cruel way, just like he tried to do with Flash and Sonic, starting from Chapter 200, Void.

Even seemingly normal, kind and well-adjusted people at the core can become very unpredictable when under high amount of duress and psychosis.

As underlined above, everyone always seems to default to the negative viewpoint of Saitama due to their perception biases and if Saitama's true strenght became more know...public would outright fear him simply because they cannot understand the scale of how powerful Saitama actually is, abnormally strong. Like they'd suddenly become prey to some unknown entity. Add in Saitama becoming more and more loose with his inhibitions from things like sleep depression and they'd have a huge mess in their hands.

Even Garou who fought against Saitama with everything he has, is completely shocked about how insane Saitama's abilities are, because they defy physic laws like it's nothing, so Garou goes "This is insane! What the hell IS this monster!?" when Saitama sneezed jupiter apart. (Awakening of the gods, chp 168)

Saitama has also shown dubious morality by attempting to punch and kill Garou to avenge Genos, but not really thinking or caring that the entire Earth would become collateral damage like Blast mentions as he portals and contains the explosion in Earth atmosphere. Chapter 166, Squared & Cpt 167, I.o) Saitama's mental state, when normally calm and seemingly well-adjusted, was thrown out of the window when he saw Genos died on him and has now become a PTSD trigger. He literally vented out all that anger in his fist in a massive clash of divine power, as told by the Blastice league.

So if perception bias surrounding Saitama was to turn sideways and he'd get dumped the pressure of the world against him, the consequences might become...bad. Saitama needs to be able to regulate his emotions far better in order to withstand mass scale attack from public opinion. Otherwise ONE is playing with fire with Saitama's mental health state, because he does NOT react well to criticism an such and will lash out like he did during the meteor incident, but far worse.

Thus, a danger to society.

-*-

Tl;dr: King has always been viewed in positive light so people perceive his powers as good thing and non-threat because they believe King is a great hero, whereas Saitama has always been surrounded by negative preconceptions about whatever he seems to be doing and public opinion about his hero status is not good, so Saitama busting out his massive, unknown power would instead cause uproar and mass scale panic that someone is even capable of such.

Thanks all for reading and thank you itsmaferart for this question. :)

[pangolin-404]

I would read a post company fic 🥺 Hell, id read a45 chapter fic just about how buddy and crew got the cat.

All the different things you could do.... lazy morning on the couch... possible angst of someone spotting buddy and calling the space cops/the company to report a 'wild masked' running around.... how would buddy get a new body when its current one rots? Will it break down as fast now that it's not constantly fighting? i like to think buddy would have a nest type deal where it and the crew could all cuddle :]

(Please use this as an exsuse to write 100000 paragraphs, I love your lore<3)

:D <3 thank you!!

it is something I want to get to.. I've written drabbles for myself but nothing with a real concrete exposition-middle-end. it's a time/world I think would be fun to flesh out and overall any story I'd post would be much more casual and lighthearted than a company-era story. it is inherently a safer and more self-indulgent setting :^]

it's part of the wider galaxy's culture, under company eye, to not question things. the (human) crew, survivors of the scrap-collection contract, are basically looked at as veterans. to some extent respected, looked at with awe by people who revere the company, but also, nobody pries deep. doubly so because they're all scarred and are 24/7 uncomfortable in public because they're no longer used to it in the slightest. the company owns most businesses, has a monopoly on things, but.. it is also callous about human life. uncaring. it's omnipresent but not all-seeing .

buddy dresses to conceal and covers its face and overall? it and its crew aren't actually bothered. they all keep their heads down.

as for buddy's host well. it's smuggled in as just a mask, hostless and dormant. it takes the crew several days of 1) trying to feel like people again and 2) scheming, to get it a host. and by get it a host I mean they jump and murder someone in an alleyway late at night. there is no passive way to get it a host they just have to nix someone once every few months. normal :thumbsup:

its hosts last much longer without the constant stress. it's not working itself to death in extreme conditions . the worst its body has to face is like. it rains occasionally and it has to dry off

the crew mellows out greatly. somehow both at eternal peace because they aren't being hunted for sport by wildlife, but also their nervous systems still feel like they're being hunted for sport by wildlife. they like getting to actually hang out together

secret old doodles of it and apparatus (before and after it yoinks her off the street). cats are now just as Slightly Irradiated as every other animal . strays love it because it smells like fish

[idontknowreallywhy]

1 - Presence

I’m pretty sure that the more determined I am to sit and write something fluffy in a spare moment, the more angsty it comes out. This morning I was going to write some nice earth and sky but smashed the Virg instead…

And so we have some Virgil post Scott’s going MIA because that’s clearly where the fluff lies. It’s a slightly weird idea and I maybe have fallen off the mixed metaphor cliffedge here, but sensory stuff fascinates me so…

Err… I’m sorry?

In mitigation I might have an idea for a follow up scene when Scott is finally back…

(Not well proofed, thrown down in a coffee break)

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

It was an unexpected thing that finally broke Virgil:

The smell of washing powder.

An odour none of them ever noticed, because it was everywhere. A background chord running through all the linen in the place, over which all the other scents of the household were layered like a complex symphony. Until some of those more discordant scents became too loud and overpowering at which point the item was laundered, and a new score was opened beginning only with that familiar chord as a canvas.

By unspoken agreement, his room remained as he’d left it. Perhaps none of them had truly accepted he wouldn’t return to fill it with life again. Perhaps it just wasn’t necessary to thrust the knives of practicality into that particular wound yet… they weren’t short of space at the ranch.

Virgil would visit, once or twice a week, usually late at night when the effort of holding everything and everyone together had drained the last drop of his resolve and he needed to renew his vow to his big brother.

It required preparation though. He would shower, thoroughly, using a fragrance free soap he had ordered especially. Only when he was positive that all traces of his own cologne, hair products, coffee, his own smell were washed away would he open the door. He didn’t want to add anything to the faint music that persisted inside.

The bed had only been slept in three nights, on that brief visit home before he was deployed for the last time and so nobody had thought it worth stripping the sheets and laundering them. There was a light gloss of super-shiny gel on the pillow and the quiet but unmistakeable melody of his brother lingered.

The blue fluffy dressing gown on the back of the door had been worn longer and played the more powerful tune of his cologne, with a harmony of pancake batter, coffee and, on one cuff, a hint of whisky from the evening he and Virgil had sat on the back porch exchanging dad jokes and Scott had laughed so hard he’d sloshed his drink all over his hand.

He would check everyone else was asleep, then slip to his brother’s door, enter quietly and reverently remove the robe from its hook to wrap around his shoulders, lifting the outsized hood to cover his head. The intense familiarity was always a shock and so he’d stand there for a moment, surrounded by his brother’s song to catch his breath. Then, slowly he would kneel by the side of the bed, his face resting on the edge of the pillow and he would rest for a while and imagine his big brother’s arms around him. He could almost feel Scott’s forehead pressed against his own, or maybe his cheek resting on the top of his head. He’d promise again that he would look after the others. He’d be big brother as long as he had strength left in his body. And somehow, some strength would return. He’d made it through nearly three months now. He could keep going. He could do it for Scott.

He couldn’t linger there for too long. He couldn’t fall asleep here, couldn’t risk a sweaty nightmare eradicating all he had left.

He’d replace the robe and close the door, sneak back down the hallway and return to his own room. Then, and only then, could he allow the tears to fall.

One night he missed a step.

He didn’t check on the others. Maybe he also messed up the stealth part as he was jolted out of his bedside reverie by his youngest brother’s gasp:

“Scotty??!!”

He spun to face the doorway and was able to see Alan’s heart break all over again as the wrong brother looked out from under the hood.

That had been a long night. He’d done his best to explain what he’d been doing and held back his tears as he confessed he didn’t think Scott would come back as a ghost to visit them. He held the devastated child as they both wept and lay awake until the birds signalled another day to survive through was moments away from dawning.

He’d thought little more of it until one evening, well after the kid’s bedtime, Alan burst into the kitchen in a terrible panic and seized grandma by the hand, dragging her upstairs. Curious, Virgil followed and paused at the top of the stairs as he heard Grandma’s low comforting voice interspersed with hiccuppy sobs. They were coming from Scott’s room.

Virgil peered around the half open door to see his grandmother and brother crouched together on the floor, Alan clutching his empty hot chocolate mug and sobbing his heart out. He caught grandma’s eye and she indicated with a look that she had things under control. She’d handle this. He wasn’t needed this time. Virgil nodded and was about to back out when his gaze fell on the bed. And Scott’s robe in a heap by the pillows. And the marshmallows on that robe, surrounded by a spreading brown stain.

Virgil lied and said he had a migraine the following day. He shouldn’t be angry with an 8 year old for wanting to drink his bedtime cocoa with the ghost of his big brother. But he was. Because he, Virgil, was a terrible big brother. Scott wouldn’t have been angry. He’d have laughed and said it was cute and ruffled Allie’s hair and that was why Scott should still be here and Virgil couldn’t do this. They left his food outside the door, with a little get well soon card drawn in a rare fit of cooperation by Gordon and Alan. Alan had surrounded his name in hearts and kisses. He didn’t deserve it.

Late that night, after his usual shower he crept back along the corridor to Scott’s room, quietly opened the door and shut himself inside. Grandma had, indeed, handled it. The bed was neatly made again with freshly laundered sheets and the robe was hung back on its hook, fluffier than ever from the dryer. A new score was opened, only the starting chord could be heard.

Virgil took a deep breath in through his nose and tears filled his eyes.

He was gone.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

(Ok I do need to TBC it as I can’t leave him like that… I’ll fix it I promise)

update: Part 2 “Absence” is here

[oldschoolfrp]

The premiere issue of Arcane "The Roleplaying Magazine" (December 1995) included this preview of FRUP - an "almost-ready" RPG by Hogshead Publishing's founder James Wallis "due in February '96." The game was set in a satirical fantasy world that somehow received copies of the AD&D rulebooks (or a legally distinct equivalent), revered them as holy texts, and built a society around them governed by "rules lawyers" with a culture of murdering monsters for their experience points. "FRUP" is their attempt to pronounce FRP, the old term for fantasy roleplaying games that preceded RPG.

The cover art shown is by Les Edwards, with interior art by Lee Brimmicombe-Wood and Ralph Horsley. I can't find any additional information about FRUP online. It seems it never was released in any form, a casualty of Hogshead's financial troubles around this time.

[rotting-ink]

For the sake of my high school AU fantasies to be as accurate and in character as possible, what would the ROs be as a generic American high school stereotype.

Keep in mind that you cannot take popular mean girl Quincy and religious nerd D from my hands.

heeheehee :}

L Rawlins: I'm so sorry, but L is a teacher. Probably Maths or Woodworking stuff and is just quietly working away, while also trying to make sure E doesn't fuck up in school.

S Della Rovere- VERY popular exchange student from Italy. Life of the party, THROWS those parties. Is the person that is somehow popular and yet everyone likes them because of how nice they are. Very sweet.

Z Chambers- Quiet kid, in all black, and hoodies. Gets bullied, or at least got bullied, before high school. Very artistically talented, very withdrawn and then when you get closer, they're very sweet.

V De Winters- Former popular kid. Was a preppy popular kid, dating Quincy and being the It couple for absolutely ages, until some nasty rumors spread about V. They were painted as a slut and their popularity crumbled. In their last year, they befriend people like E and Saleos over everyone else, instead hanging out with the more outcasts of the schools.

Seir- Apart of the Emo's, who would obviously want to dress far more Goth if the school didn't jump down their throat about it. Quite mean, but a very good friend if you get closer to. It's obvious Seir and Saleos have some sort of history but had a falling out and now harass each other.

Saleos- Jock popular kid. Popular because they're rich and cool, either apart of the sports team or a cheerleader. However, not like S, they're renowned for being mean, and an absolute bully. Fuckin ruthless and the type to shove people into lockers and spread nasty rumours. Very rude to Seir too.

Starling Knight- Teaching Assistant. Graduated and wants to get a few years of extra money before paying their own way through medical school. Dry, not fully engaging, but very good at when they themselves start teaching, they know they're stuff and they know "how to dumb it down" for kids. But shuts down after class and fucks off. You will never found them around the school unless they're teaching.

A Lancaster- Revered rich kid who stays out of drama. Just focuses on their sports and their studies, and is known to be dry as fuck. Not interested in going to your party, fuck off. No one can believe that they're actual best friends with D Woolf, but ever since they arrived late in the school year as the new kid, that's the main person they hang out with.

E Rawlins- Easy going, likeable kid whose mental health crashes out at their last year and withdraws into themselves. Goes from the fun guy whose kinda loud in class but never intends any harm and goes to visit their sibling's class room, to someone who willingly sticks to themselves, snaps at people to leave them alone and hangs out behind the school. In fact, seems kinda weird around someone, following them around and breaking into their locker.

Quincy Beaumont- On par with Saleos. Catty mean popular kid, but, most annoyingly, they're deeply talented. It would be one thing if they weren't, but they're amazing at theater and drama and music, its obvious that they're going to go far. Nice to people they're in productions with, as well as any music classes. Other than that, catty and mean. Except to V, even after their reputation tanked. Hangs out with them, even if pushed away.

D Woolf- Quiet religious kid who was bullied HARD by Saleos especially, right up until A starts at their school. Used to pray over their food, and be excited in Philosophy and Science classes, but these days they're quiet, subdued. Hangs onto A's sleeve everywhere they go. Slowly perks up through the year with A, but absolutely terrified of Saleos.