#christ on the cross did not suffer as i have

[dreamcrow]

τετέλεσται... orz

[archersgoon]

when i moved back to the city i went the local public school for a year, but in the months beforehand my dickhead father convinced himself that if i was living in the city i should be living with him (a situation in which i would've died badly post-haste) and part of the argument was that he wanted me to go to the (obscenely expensive) private school near where he lived, because the public school in question apparently had a nasty reputation (it didn't. i did an exceedingly boring year there). and also because it was public i guess (big talk from a man who went [REDACTED]. anyway i thought this was absurd and i was telling my oldest sister, who'd gone the local catholic school back in the day about this and she was like no yeah. they used to throw frozen peas at me. ???????

[vamptastic]

cannot exaggerate how truly horribly my stummy is hurting me i may have suffering more than anybody else on earth ever. only time it's ever been this bad is when i was on an international flight after drinking coffee didn't get an ounce of sleep for ~36 hours and then landed in berlin and spent the next 12ish hours walking around in the sun without water. truly horrible levels of stomach pain and i am literally just sitting in bed sipping water and occasionally eating a saltine. wghats wrong with me

[hampterguts]

kinda funny seeing that last queued tf post with me gushing in the tags abt the comic bc i havent felt joy or even an emotional connection reading mtmte for a while

[ghouljams]

The Church of the Broken God (chapter 2)

Words: 5k Tags: Eventual John Price x reader, public masturbation, brainwashing, doublespeak, indoctrination, f!reader, passively suicidal ideation, self destructive habits, horrible bosses, depressed!reader, Cult Leader!Price Summary: Your life has been on a downward spiral for months. It's hard to find a real reason to keep going when everything you do seems to backfire. That is, until you get a flier for a meditation seminar that promises to fix all your problems.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

These women are… super nice. You don’t know why it puts you on edge. They’re not doing anything wrong. They buy each other drinks, compliment each other, they’re attentive listeners and laugh at every joke you make. You offer to buy a round, the same as they’ve been doing for you, and you’re not met with a rush to stop you. They look pleased, shoot off thanks and smile the same as they did for the other women. You feel like you’re doing the right thing, you don’t know why it makes your stomach squirm. Maybe you’re just not used to people doing nice things for you.

“You ok?” Nina asks, leaning over the table to frown at you, “you’ve gone all quiet.”

“Yeah, uh, I guess I’m just not used to crowds anymore.” You attempt to cover.

“It’s the compliments isn’t it?” Cassie jumps in, Nina waves her off.

“No, no!” You hold up your hands to defend yourself, “Those are really nice, you’re all really nice! I’m just not-”

“Used to it?” Nina finishes with a wince, “I wasn’t either, it was super awkward the first time I came out for drinks, you remember?”

“Oh my God so awkward, you were like a robot.” Cassie laughs, it takes some of the weight off your shoulders.

“But you get what you put out into the world, y’know? You give kindness, you get it in return, that’s what John says.” Nina nods, she crosses her arms and leans back against the booth. She feels serious, her jaw set and her brows drawn. “I was in a really dark place when I first took John’s class, it felt like I was living a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. My friends were drifting away, my fiance was cheating on me-” She shakes her head, you wince at how closely your situation matches, “-I was so bitter and it made me mean, I get why no one wanted to be around me.”

“Nina-” Cassie sighs, her sympathy obvious. Nina waves her off again, sitting forward to grab her drink.

“Whatever, it’s in the past now.” Nina mutters, your heart aches for her. You set a hand on her shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. She smiles at you. It feels… good. You can see yourself in her, your pain and suffering. It’s a weight that she carries the same as you. “Kyle really helped me a lot, Christ I owe him a whole bakery.”

“Nina!” Cassie squeals, shoving at her. Nina’s shoulder bumps against you, warm. Camaraderie. Did you forget what it was like to have friends? When was the last time you saw your own? The last time they laughed with each other, with you? “You’re so bad,” Cassie laughs.

“What? He’s hot!” Nina laughs back. You feel a little left out. Your stomach clenches.

“Sorry, who’s Kyle?” You ask, “Your boyfriend?”

“She wishes,” Cassie snorts into her drink. Nina shoves at her.

“He’s a counselor, life coach sort of guy.” Nina explains, “He has a class at the rec center on Wednesdays-” Claire’s phone pings “-honestly it’s worth going just to see him, God I wanna make a sandwich out of that man.”

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” Claire announces. You glance at the other women at the table. None of them move. Weird, you would have thought women this close would be biting at the bit to accompany her. You always used the buddy system with your friends. Especially at bars. In fact the other women at the table seem to ignore her, only acknowledging her enough to move out of the way. 

You guess there’s a black sheep in every friend group. You know the feeling. You tap your fingers against the table watching her retreat to the bathroom. You don’t have a good feeling about letting her go alone. Nina’s insistence on “putting kindness into the world” or whatever is running through your head and you just… you can’t let her be on the outskirts of the friend group alone. You’re not even really part of it, but everyone is being so nice- you won’t be the reason this girl is left out.

“Oh um, I’m gonna ask the bartender something,” You tell the girl on your left, shit what was her name “can you-?

“Sure!” She pushes herself out of the booth to let you out, quickly cozying up next to Nina when you vacate the spot. You glance at the table over your shoulder as you make your way towards the bar, then make a hard turn towards the bathrooms. No one’s paying attention to you, that’s good.

You push the bathroom door open, trying to be quiet in case Claire’s shy. You’ll just, uh, wash your hands and pretend you’re fixing your outfit when she comes out. Nothing weird about that. Totally normal thing that people do, and not like you’re waiting for her to come out of the stall so you can- What? Commiserate about being left out? Ugh, you don’t know why you even-

There’s a distinct, wet, noise coming from one of the stalls. A ‘shlick, shlick’ sound that you recognize all too easily. You catch the bathroom door to keep it from slamming and cover your mouth. Fingers sliding against a wet slit, a soft huff of a stifled moan, and the quiet low rumble of a man’s voice. Deep and throaty, she’s on the phone with someone, or listening to something. You can’t tell which, what you can tell is that Claire --the girl who had seemed almost too shy to ask you to join them--  is masturbating in a public bathroom. And you’re standing there listening. You’re not sure which is worse. It squirms like bile in your stomach, you’re intruding, you’re being a creep. Your own cunt clenches. 

A quiet whimper leaves Claire’s mouth and you rush back out of the bathroom. You catch the door a second time to make sure she doesn’t hear it slam, then you press yourself against it. You fan your face, try to get your breathing right, fix your face. Fix your damn face! You press your hands to your cheeks, and squeeze your eyes shut. Oh my God.

You make your way back to the table, doing your best to avoid looking at anyone. The girl who moved for you initially lights up when she sees you, hopping out of the booth and ushering you in. You feel a little awkward sliding into the middle with Nina, but you don’t want to cause a fuss with so many people watching you. Good lord do they all have to look at you? 

“Did the bartender have what you were looking for?” Nina asks. Your eyes dart to her.

“The- oh, uh, no. I was wondering if he had a phone charger.” You cover quickly.

“I have a power bank you can use,” Cassie offers. You open your mouth to turn her down before remembering that would blow your story out of the water.

“Sure.” You relent, forcing a smile onto your face. 

“No problem,” Cassie chirps, digging through her purse to tug a power bank and two different chargers free, “it feels good to do nice things for people, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you agree absentmindedly, fussing with the charger and plugging your phone in. An alert for a non-branded charger pops up and you quickly dismiss it. 

The conversation moves on to other topics, but you hardly pay attention. Your eyes are glued to the bathroom door, waiting for Claire. When she does finally exit she looks the same as when she left. No ruddy cheeks, no guilty glances around, no rumpled shirt or anything that would give away what she was doing in the bathroom. You try not to narrow your eyes as they flick over her body. You don’t want to look like you’re checking her out, you just want proof that you heard what you heard.

“Welcome back,” Someone says, and Claire beams at them.

“Who’s buying the next round?” Claire asks.

You drift in and out of conversation. Someone offers to split an uber with you, apparently they live in the same building. You wonder how you never noticed them before, but they hug you before you get off the elevator.

“It was nice to connect with you,” She hums, “it feels nice being part of something, doesn’t it?”

You don’t get a chance to answer before the doors close.

-

Wednesday, you think, flipping through your phone while you brush your teeth. Nina said her life coach guy was on wednesdays right? Curious, you check the rec center’s website.

“For the Whole You!” The site banner reads in friendly font. You scroll down to their calendar. There’s a lot of pictures of people smiling, a pie chart of something, testimonials, blah blah blah. The calendar is easy to read at least. And packed. It looks like meditations happen every three days, you spot John’s name easily. Price, huh, that’s a cool last name. Wednesdays… 

You click on the only Kyle you see, and a page pops up with- Christ- one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. Kyle Garrick, life coach with a masters in psychology. That doesn’t sound too bad. You thought life coaches were just con men in ripped jeans, but this guy seems like he might actually know what he’s talking about. John’s name pops up again, a short anecdote from Kyle about serving with him. Huh. That’s kind of interesting you guess. 

You think back on the meditation lesson you’d attended, the power that John seemed to carry in simple actions, the musculature, the way he’d pinned you in place with a single tilt of his head. Military fits you guess. You click on his class and tap your fingers against the side of your phone as you think. The class has a helpful registration counter at the side, letting you know there’s one spot left for the wednesday evening class. It’s not like you have anything else going on, and it’ll fill your usual therapy slot. It’s twenty for a single class. That’s not too bad, less than therapy co-pays. You make an account on the site, begrudgingly signing up for their email list, and send twenty dollars into the void. 

You get an email from Kyle about an hour later as you’re scrolling through instagram, avoiding looking at the time. It feels pretty standard, welcoming a new person, attaching a survey on what you want to work on. You type out a few quick words promising you’ll get to it in the morning. Your email pings a few minutes later.

“You must be an insomniac, just tackle it now.” You narrow your eyes at the screen, “Might help you sleep to accomplish a task before bed.” 

What sort of weird logic- fine. You squint at the questionnaire, typing out your answers as best you can. Honest enough to get some advice but not honest enough to get sent to the hospital has always been your MO with these things. This one is sort of weird, but you’re exhausted, too sleep-addled to pay proper attention.

Are you lonely? Do you ever feel out of place? Do you have dreams where you act as someone else? Have you heard of the law of attraction? When someone says they feel “connected” to you, how does that make you feel?

Do you ever feel talked over?

Do you ever feel pushed out of conversations? Do you find it hard to accept yourself?

Are you on the path you want to be?

You rub your eyes, typing as best you can. 

Where do you see improvement for yourself?

Describe yourself in one negative word.

You type, and type. It feels never ending. Worse than the insomnia that keeps you up. It’s nearly two hours later when you finish. You send it off to Kyle without another thought, and snuggle down into your blankets. You’re so tired.

Your phone buzzes. You roll over to check it. Another email from Kyle.

“Thanks, this looks great! :)” You sigh. At least your work checks out. That’s good, you’re sure it’s just an auto-response, but you appreciate it nonetheless. Another message pops up. Your email alerting you to a new response in the chain.

“How long have you had trouble sleeping? I know a few good remedies.” You sigh, the screen hurts your eyes. You don’t know what inspires you to reply, why you don’t simply roll over to sleep. The attention is nice, you suppose.

“A few months. What’s your miracle cure?” You stare at your phone, let the blue light laser its way over your eyes. The screen dims, you tap it to keep your phone awake. To keep you awake. 

“Have you heard of sleep restriction therapy?”

-

Your morning has never felt more miserable. You barely slept and you had to upgrade your usual tea to an instant coffee. You’re nursing the brown sludge that you managed to scrape together from the break room’s limited stores when your least favorite manager swings by your cubicle.

“Did you finish the reports I asked for?” Kevin asks. You do your best to keep your face neutral as you sip your scalding caffeine.

“I told you they’d take me until the end of the day.” You remind him, “It’s nine in the morning.” Nevermind that he’s swinging into the office a full hour late, but you know for a fact that you promised the updated numbers by five today. You have the email to prove it.

“Oh,” Kevin makes a face, his teeth grit as he exhales through them, “I was really hoping you’d work on them last night.”

“Outside of work hours.” You confirm, trying not to sound too much like you’re questioning his less than sound judgement.

Kevin sighs your name with a shake of his head, “You know you’re not going to get very far in this company if you don’t care about your work.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, inhaling as much coffee vapor as you can stomach. It does nothing to calm you down. You can’t be expected to deal with this level of bullshit on practically zero sleep. Maybe you should look into that sleep therapy Kyle sent you, you really can’t keep living like this.

“I care about my work Kevin,” You tell him with as much of a smile as you can manage, “I’ll have the reports to you as soon as possible.”

“Atta-girl,” Kevin praises, snapping his finger to hit you with a nauseating pair of finger guns before moseying back to his office.

If you thought reporting him to HR would do anything you might consider it. As it stands you’ve already tried that twice and gotten nowhere. It just made him more dedicated to making your work life hell. Crazy how they always talk about retaliation in the “Hostile work environment” training videos, but no one seems to give a shit about it when it’s happening to you.

You spend the next two hours swearing at the mess of spreadsheets that Kevin emailed you yesterday. If he’d bothered to clean any of the sheets up it would’ve made your life a hell of a lot easier. You don’t even want to think about how many cells could’ve been saved if he knew how to use just one function. You can feel the start of a migraine pressing against the back of your eyes by the time your stomach is starting to growl at you about lunch.

You glance away from your monitor to rub your eyes, try to get some of the blurry tilt out of them. Your bag sits on the desk next to you, deliriously empty. Fuck.

Fuck that’s right, you’d decided to skip packing a lunch this morning because you were running late for your train. 

With a heavy sigh you check your lunch options just as your phone pings.

It’s an unknown number, weird.

You swipe the message open to delete it and pause.

“Hey, it’s Nina! I saw you work near me and was wondering if you’d want to grab lunch?”

You blink at your phone screen. How the hell would she know where you work?

Your sluggish brain clicks away as your stomach churns nervously. You guess Cassie works at the rec center, she’d see applications that come through, membership stuff. Maybe Cassie gave it to her? Nina was the one who suggested you sign up for Kyle’s class, maybe Cassie wanted to, you don’t know, spread the good news of your signing up?

Your head throbs.

You’re not really operating at 100% right now, you’re not sure you want to interact with someone who seems to have their life together.

“My treat?” Nina double texts you.

Alright, you can pretend to be a human being for free lunch.

You’re almost relieved to see Nina has a little darkness under her eyes, purple sleeplessness that she’s tried to hide with concealer. It makes you feel a little better for your own sluggish brain to think that she might be tired too. 

“I know this is probably totally weird,” She laughs when you greet her with a raised hand, “You’re probably like, oh my god this bitch is a stalker, how does she know where I work?”

“I figure Cassie gave it to you, because I signed up for your favorite class.” You yawn, as she nods.

“That’s smart,” She says nothing about your second yawn, “wouldn’t have been my first thought.” You hum, before deciding a verbal answer is friendlier.

“Yeah, I mean it seemed sort of weird, but you don’t strike me as the stalker type.”

“Tell my ex-fiance that,” Nina says with an eye roll, “ask to share your location one time- of course I was right to be a stalker but…”

You snort and she positively beams at you. You have to squint to avoid blinding yourself in the sunshine of it. She links her arm with yours and tugs you along to walk with her. You do your best not to tug your arm out from her hold, not used to being touched so casually.

“So what are you in the mood for?” She asks, leading you down the street.

“I’m not picky,” You tell her, trying to be easy. You could really go for something warm right now, you think you might be coming down with something.

“You look exhausted,” Nina coos sympathetically, “Maybe you should go home instead. Rest.”

You rub your eye with the heel of your hand and shake your head. “I’ve got a lot to get done today.”

“Surely your boss won’t mind you taking some sick time?” She sounds so sincere, you feel bad when you bark out a laugh. Nina frowns, “One of those, huh?” You sigh, letting yourself feel the heaviness in your limbs like a sick indulgence.

“Just a few more hours,” You assure her, “Then I can go home and sleep.”

“Let’s get something good in you before then.” Nina nods to herself.

Nina orders for you and sets a steaming bowl of rice and saucy vegetables in front of you. It smells heavenly, like ginger and coconut, and there’s little crispy bits of something sprinkled on top. She has a salad, and shakes it vigorously in front of her while you mix up the yellow curry and rice. Even just the thought of the food’s warm steam settling in your stomach energizes you. You glance at Nina and she’s got her head bowed. 

You-

Pause. 

A little awkward in the face of what must be prayer. You’re not quite sure if you’re supposed to start without her, or if that’s rude. You don’t know the protocol for this. After a moment she raises her head and blinks at you.

“Oh my gosh, were you waiting for me?” She asks, scandalized. You nod, unsure what to do with your hands. You settle on spooning a heap of curry and rice into your mouth. You figure that’s fine since she’s done. “That’s really sweet of you,” She smiles. She doesn’t give you any indication if this was the right thing to do. You stare at your bowl and chew.

“I was going to invite you to hang at the rec center after work,” Nina starts, waving her fork with a sigh, “but I don’t want you to push yourself if you’re exhausted.”

“Do people hang out at the rec center?” You question, trying to remember if you saw other people there when you went yesterday. It had seemed fairly empty, almost abandoned, but maybe you’d been too focused on getting to your class to notice anything else. The class was full, so there must have been other people hanging around.

“Of course,” Nina gives you a look like you’re crazy for asking, “like all the time. It’s a nice spot just to chill and see people. John doesn’t mind us hanging around.”

John. That was the meditation instructor’s name, wasn’t it? It’s pretty common, you doubt it’s the same guy. Why would an instructor mind if people hung around anyway? Cassie had pointed you towards a lounge area last night so there must be more of those to steal for chatting.

“The meditation instructor?” You ask dumbly. It’s not the question you want to ask, but it’s the only thing that sticks on your tongue. Nina hums her assent.

“He runs the place.” She explains, “he’s super nice, really cares about bringing people together, building community, connections.”

She says the word like it means something: connections. It sticks in your sluggish mind, but doesn’t raise any red flags.

“Sounds like a good guy.” You shove another bite into your mouth.

“He is.” Nina tells you. Tells you, like she’s demanding you try and disagree with her.

You blink. There’s a coldness to her face, there and gone. She smiles, and tucks into her salad.

Maybe she’s got a thing for him. You make a note not to say anything bad about him to her.

He seemed nice, good looking, she could do worse.

You suppress a shiver at the memory of his hands on you, pushing you forward and pulling you back like it was the most natural thing in the world. His touch is the first you’ve had in a long time that didn’t make you cringe and want to squirm away. Actually his class was the most relaxed you’ve been in, well, ever and the short nap you’d taken was probably the best sleep you’d had in months. You’d almost be willing to give up on going straight home after work if you knew John was going to be at the rec center, maybe you could slip in another meditation workshop?

You want to ask Nina about it, but you also don’t want to give her the wrong idea. If she does have a crush on the guy, it’s probably not great to ask too many questions about John if you want to stay in her good graces. 

“Right,” You try, “yeah his class was great, and I’m, uh, looking forward to Kyle’s class too.” Not your best subject change, but Kyle’s name makes Nina light up.

“Oh yeah, you’re going to love it!” She assures you.

“Yeah, I- yeah,” The attitude shift has you a little stunned, your molasses thoughts stick to your tongue as you try to collect them, “He sent me this huge questionnaire last night, it was really, um, in depth?” You try to remember one of the questions but wading through your mind is difficult with so little sleep.

“Well,” Nina stabs her fork into her salad, you flinch at each punctuating crunch of lettuce, “he has to get to know you, silly, so he can help you.” You stir your curry in jerking motions, for something to occupy your hands. “You can’t pull yourself out of a hole,” Nina tells you with a blank smile, “someone has to throw you a rope.”

-

You were almost happy to get back to work. Kevin chewed you out about taking too long a lunch, and you were probably going to get an ulcer from all the tylenol you took, but you were happy getting away from Nina. She’d chatted your ear off about Kyle and somehow didn’t answer a single one of your questions about him. Not that you had any chance to get a word in edgewise. You couldn’t handle the perky tone in her voice by the time your lunch ended. At least you didn’t have to pay for your own food.

You manage to get Kevin his spreadsheets before five. You still leave the office late and thankless.

You doze on the train home, your head tugging at your neck each time the doors opened, and you barely make it into your house before you’re collapsing on the couch. 

Yeah, you couldn’t have made it to the rec center like this.

You startle awake when your ass starts vibrating. You blearily fumble for your phone  and swipe at the screen, turning off your “call Baby” alarm. You should really delete that.

You toss your phone on the coffee table with a sigh and turn onto your back to stare at the ceiling fan. Ten. You slept for a good couple hours. You’re starving.

And you’re not going to be able to sleep tonight because of this nap.

Great.

-

You consider canceling your registration for Kyle’s class as you sit on the train heading to the rec center. You could just go home. You sort of want to go home, but Cassie had called you this afternoon to confirm your registration and she’d sounded so sad when you’d asked about canceling that you just couldn’t. Also you were pretty sure it was too late to get your money back. So here you were.

At least the rec center is busier than Monday. Cassie had told you the Wednesday meditation was full, maybe this is their busy day. You see people coming in and out, and look for a familiar face in the crowd. You’re hoping to see one of the women you met Monday, but instead your eyes lock on slightly less familiar icy blues.

John smiles at you across the street, and glances both ways before jogging across. You paint on a smile for him, and try not to look like you were avoiding going inside.

“Waiting for someone?” He asks in lieu of greeting. You keep your eyes on his, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepen a little as you stare. 

“No, just-” You search for a normal time killing activity, “-people watching.” John hums and steps to stand beside you. The space he takes up feels enormous, like a black hole sucking up your attention, despite the way he crosses his arms over his chest. You peek at the bulge of his bicep against the dark shirt he’s wearing, the stiff fabric stretching to accommodate more man that it was made for. You would’ve expected him in the same comfortable yoga clothes as he was wearing Monday, but this feels more formal. He’s wearing slacks. And oxfords. 

“It’s intimidating,” He tells you out of the blue after a moment of silence. Your eyes dart to his face, and your confusion must be all too clear because he chuckles. The deep throaty noise of it makes your stomach clench. “Letting people help,” He fills in, “choosing peace.”

You make a face.

And John touches you.

His hand slides, big and warm, over your back. His fingers spread wide and he leans into your space like he might pull you closer, except you suddenly feel rooted in place. Fear shoots through you, anxiety punctuating your breaths unnecessarily. You fix your face quickly, tamp down the surge of adrenaline that makes you want to run. John isn’t doing anything but looking at you, his smile the same placid thing even as his brows twitch in concern.

“Sorry,” You find yourself apologizing, trying to unlock some of the stiffness in your shoulders, “I’m not used to people touching me.”

“It’s a natural response,” John doesn’t move his hand, his thumb rubs against your back and you feel the unnatural drag of your shirt against your skin like sandpaper, “You’re trying to protect yourself. Silly little thing that people have gotten into their heads these days, that everyone’s out to get them.” He tips his head, and you’re hit with a wave of claustrophobia, the open air seems to sink into you until you’re a single focus point in a tiny void. “Doesn’t that feel awful?” 

His words feel like they’re sinking into you, echoing every thought that bounces through your tensed musculature. It feels awful, you feel like a cornered gazelle, like a lame wildebeest, like a fly trapped in a spider’s net. 

You feel almost pleading the way you must be looking at him. Humiliated to react like this to something so simple.

He smiles brighter and his hand leaves you, you suck in a breath and feel your lungs ache, “That’s why it’s so important to pick apart that distrust, humans are social creatures, made to be connected to each other. All from the same warm pool, yeah?”

You nod. John nods his head towards the rec center.

“Let me walk you in, you’re here for Gaz’s class right?”

“No, um, Kyle’s.” You correct.

“Ah,” John laughs, his hand reappears on the small of your back, pushing you forward, “old habit, that’s what we called him in the SAS. You’ll like him, not as touchy as me.” He pulls his hand away with a small apologetic smile, “force of habit.”

“It’s fine,” it’s not, “Everyone around here is so friendly, I just have to get used to it.”

John hums, “Already untangling the web, good girl.”

Your stomach clenches pleasantly. You can see why Nina likes him.

[revehae]

Could you do something from dream 00line + mark bullying, dub con and non con? 🥺

well… this is basically what you asked! i changed it up just a little bit tw // noncon, forced oral (m receiving), gangbang

“come on,” jeno groaned playfully, grip on your hair tightening. “that’s not how you used to do it.”

you whimpered weakly, the muffled sound sending a tiny tremble through jeno’s cock as he kept your warm mouth around him in spite of your protests. not that you could expect anything less from him. he was never afraid of forcing you into something you never wanted. 

jeno had never seemed afraid of anything, now that you thought about it. you still remembered the risky exploits they made you tag along on. how could you not? it was only some years ago, back when they would force you to please them in the boys’ locker room. 

haechan laughed, both at jeno’s encouragement and the miserable look on your face. he always did like seeing you suffer. “you want her to gag on your dick like a virgin?”

jeno shrugged. “call it nostalgia.”

“guys, come on,” mark said, as if he was trying to put a stop to this. but you knew better. time after time of being disappointed, getting your hopes up thinking he would make them leave you alone, you learned years ago that mark was hardly any different. “aren’t we a little too old for this now?”

haechan rolled his eyes in annoyance. “jesus christ,” he sighed. “will you ever get off your moral high horse?”

“he can do whatever he wants. he can leave, if that’s what makes him happier,” jeno said, in spite of knowing mark wouldn’t go, the same way you did. he yanked your hair harder, forcing your mouth further down onto his cock until you were damn near suffocating. “i’m not stopping until she gags.”

jaemin laughed out of nowhere, having been quietly watching the entire situation unfold. “maybe she’s had practice since then, jeno.”

“you mean, our little slut has been whoring herself out to other guys?” haechan chimed in, snickering. the thought amused him. no guys used to ever come near you, like you were the most unfuckable thing in the world. you were obscure and unnoticed. 

jeno felt you pushing at his thighs like you used to do when you desperately needed to come up for air. “in that case, what’s the fucking problem? why are you being so difficult?”

your eyes winced closed when jeno slapped your cheek, the burn of his palm sizzling on the side of your face as you jolted back. your eyes watered, and before you could bother to recover, jeno was forcing his cock back inside your throat, thrusting his hips. 

that was when you finally and inadvertently gave him what he wanted, gagging around his cock and scraping at his thighs for mercy that he wouldn’t give you, keeping your mouth on him by your hair. 

“that’s it, babe,” jeno told you, looking down at you with a blend of scorn and amusement. “choke on it just like that.”

mark shook his head in disapproval, arms crossed. “jeno, dude. you’re gonna hurt the poor girl.”

jaemin crouched down beside you when jeno pulled out of your sore throat, having finally gotten what he wanted. “don’t be such a prude, mark. she can take it,” jaemin replied, looking at you almost dotingly. he pressed two of his fingers into the corners of your lips and forced them into a smile. “isn’t that right, baby?”

you shook your head, backing away from them until you crashed backwards into the side of the hotel mattress. when you started to crawl towards the door, haechan kicked your ass with his shoe, making you slump onto the floor for all of two seconds before you scurried onto your feet.

and nearly tripping over them, you made a beeline for the door. the same door mark was near, as if he was toying with the idea of turning around and heading out too. but rather than let you go, he gripped your arm. 

your eyes were stinging. you glanced up at him desperately, hoping that maybe he would show some remorse. “please. you said you were sorry. you promised.”

it’s not right, mark told himself, swallowing as he looked at the fear in your stare. after graduating, he told himself that he would be a better man and not a stupid boy.

and that was why on the last day of school, he took it upon himself to apologize for everything the four of them had done to you that senior year. he promised that he never meant for things to go so far, that he meant every word of what he told you, that he regretted everything he had done to hurt you. 

and even now mark wanted to make them stop, he really did. but that desire was outweighed by the one to feel you again, to lose himself in the heat of you as his thrusts became more and more restless. 

and a moment or three later, that was exactly what he was doing, all the while holding your smaller body down as his eyes fluttered closed, hypnotized by the sweet squeeze of your vice-like cunt. he became increasingly feverish with every passing second, unable to hear the thoughts that told him to be gentle. 

jaemin nudged haechan playfully. “you know, this is exactly how i remember it.”

“ah,” haechan replied with a pleasant sigh, a little smile on his lips as he watched mark fuck you mindlessly. “some things never change.”

[pirate-poet]

updated with more poems and all (two) songs!

salt & honey masterpost

JANUARY – 1888

salt & honey is a crossover fic that puts characters from the Master and Commander media into the Sunless Sea/Fallen London universe. The Surprise is a steamship, the sea is the zee, Stephen is imprisoned at the Isle of Cats instead of Mahon...well. Please heed the warnings on this one, it's angst-heavy!

LINK and the fic is COMPLETE!

bonus content below the cut(currently the map, twenty title poems, mentioned music, more to be added including full poem list and calendar)

(edited sunless sea map)

A note on the poetry: some of these are very topically relevant to the fic to the point that I was yelling to my alpha readers about how perfect they were! Some are very not topically relevant but still good poems. I highly recommend them all! I took great pains to make sure that each poem was written before the time of the fic so the characters could, theoretically, have read them. Also I'm going by Ao3 chapter numbers, not how they would be numbered without the introduction and interlude.

Ch 2 title: Edward Lear's "The Jumblies Ch 3 title: Emily Dickinson's "A little bread - A crust - A crumb" Ch 4 title: Dante Gabriel Rossetti's "Jenny" Ch 5 title: Alfred, Lord Tennyson's "In Memoriam A. H. H. Canto 11" Ch 6 title: Samuel Taylor Coleridge's "The Pains of Sleep" Ch 7 title: William Blake's "The Garden of Love" Ch 8 title: Adam Lindsay Gordon's "The Swimmer" Ch 9 title: William Butler Yeats' "Byzantium" Ch 10 title: Robert Browning's "Prospice" Ch 11 title: Dante Gabriel Rossetti's "Insomnia" Ch 12 title: Alfred, Lord Tennyson's "In Memoriam A. H. H. Canto 24" Ch 13 title: Gerard Manley Hopkins' "I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day" Ch 14 title: Christina Rosetti's "Promises like Pie-crust" Ch 15 title: George Barlow's "The Immortal and The Mortal" Ch 16 title: John Keats' "Ode on Indolence" Ch 17 title: Dante Gabriel Rossetti's "Jenny" Ch 18 title: Alfred, Lord Tennyson's "In Memoriam A. H. H. Canto 3" Ch 19 title: William Blake's "Holy Thursday" Ch 20 title: Alfred, Lord Tennyson's "In Memoriam A. H. H. Canto 4" (for some reason this one is hard to find just as a poem so have a shmoop link) Ch 21 title: John Clare's "A Vision"

Music I mentioned: Surprisingly I didn't mention a lot, which is strange because I am a classical musician(hobbyist). The issue I have with mentioning music, though, is I have NO idea what was popular at the time and finding out is harder than finding out when a poem was published. Oh well, maybe I should be more chill about historical accuracy in the alternate history fiction universe.

Ch 26: Dvorak's Humoresque (i stand by Jack's pun. it's fiddly) Ch 29: Paganini's duet

[yaeggravate]

Is Capitano Anfortas Alberich?

Hiii, I have been losing my mind over this for months, and I needed to share my findings all in one place.

This might get debunked in a few weeks but until then there is actually a very high chance Capitano is Anfortas. …And not just because his constellation is a giant arrow pointing straight at him.

WARNING: This contains spoilers for the World Quest Shadows of the Mountains.

UPDATE (5.1): WE WON 🎉🥳

UPDATE (5.3): welp turns out i was wrong. well, i'll leave the ghost of a more interesting timeline here

As a refresher, Anfortas was the Knight Marshal of the Schwanenritter (German for Swan Knights), a Khaenri'ahn warrior band who went on to protect Sumeru from the onslaught of the "Dark Beasts" during the Cataclysm. The giant Ruin Golems scattered in the forest and desert of Sumeru were piloted by them.

Barely-Legible Bulletin In view of King Irmin's present indisposed state and the current unknown threats facing the Kingdom……Knight Marshal Anfortas has proclaimed that he will temporarily take up the post of Regent and lead the Regnum Concilium Ultimum until the Kingdom returns to a state of normalcy…

At some point, King Irmin became indisposed (unable to rule), which made Anfortas step in as a temporary regent until the Kingdom returned to a state of normalcy. (Didn't age well.)

Mysterious Box in a Secret Compartment: The writings are as follows: "Remember always that it was the Alberich Clan, who did not have royal blood, who stepped in as regents when the strength of the one-eyed king Irmin failed."

This is further confirmed in Kaeya's secret notes from the Hidden Strife event which implies Anfortas is part of the Alberich clan.

Later, Anfortas was betrayed by his comrade Hadura. He fought and executed them, losing his left eye in the process. With Hadura, the last of his comrades, gone, the Schwanenritter are no more.

The ultimate fate of Anfortas is currently unknown as is his exact relation to Kaeya and Chlothar. Whether or not Anfortas is Kaeya's father/uncle/grandfather/secret older brother is not the point of this post.

This is specifically about the connection between Capitano and Anfortas.

I will start by listing the reasons why he could be Capitano and then consider the reasons why he's not.

THE THREE NAILS

Capitano's constellation is likely the three nails which is a reference to the crucifixion of Jesus.

Triclavianism is the belief that three nails were used to crucify Jesus Christ.

I do believe it belongs to Capitano, since he said he would pick up the mantle of "salvation" and is in the nation where people can be resurrected. …Needless to say, we can assume there's not going to be 50 plot twists behind this.

The three nails symbolize salvation and redemption, as well as the suffering of Jesus. You can also think of it as a symbol of martyrdom.

Anfortas is named after the Fisher King from Arthurian legends, who guarded the Holy Grail. The Fisher King was cursed by an incurable wound, stuck between life and death, doomed to suffer for eternity. There are several versions of the legend, with differing names for the Fisher King, "Anfortas" being one of them.

As it happens, the Fisher King is likened to Jesus on the cross quite prominently, both in art and on stage.

Carman explores the use of Christian symbolism in Perlesvaus. He connects the Fisher King with Christ himself, noting his name, Messios, his function as a sufferer, and his death symbolizing the Crucifixion.

In the version of Wagner, he even gets stabbed by the Holy Spear in the same side as Jesus while he was crucified!

Parzival became the primary source for Richard Wagner's 1882 opera Parsifal, in which the Fisher King is wounded by the spear that pierced Jesus's side.

As if that wasn't enough, one of Anfortas' knights left a note inside a Ruin Golem. They state they don't know whether they will be seen as sinners or heroes but believe Anfortas will find a way to save them.

An Abandoned Letter ...I often think lately about how future generations will tell my story. Will I be a sinner? Or a hero......The situation here is dire, but I believe that our Marshal will find a way. I believe... We once fought bravely here, doing our best to prevent this inglorious war. I believe that when it is all over... we shall recover our past splendor...Glory evermore... to Khaenri'ah...

This thematically fits the three nails. Unfortunately for this knight, Anfortas was unable to save Khaenri'ah and their people were condemned as "sinners" throughout history.

At the time of writing, Capitano says something curious in the trailer for 5.1:

Humanity's survival is worth any price If I could go back I would do whatever it took to ensure their survival. You've experienced something similar, Mavuika. You should know exactly what I mean.

Though we don't know the full context yet, this is not a surprising revelation if Capitano is Anfortas; he lost his homeland Khaenri'ah, "the pride of humankind," after all. Furthermore, he compares his suffering to that of the Pyro Archon, the ruler of Natlan. Anfortas was also briefly responsible for the survival of a nation, acting as the KING regent of Khaenri'ah.

Another incredible parallel to the Three Nails can be found in the influential poem The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot which is about the Fisher King.

The Man with Three Staves (an authentic member of the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily, with the Fisher King himself.

In the poem Eliot associates the Fisher King with the tarot card the Three Staves.

(The Three of Wands/Staves in Thoth and Rider Waite decks.)

The poem is actually important enough to be referenced in the game a bunch of times. If you recall, in the Veluriyam Mirage event, we ran into three brothers, two of which argued in front of Kaeya and Klee. Turns out the names of these two brothers are in the poem, with the game possibly using them as stand-ins for Anfortas and Chlothar. You can read more about it here in a separate post.

My point is, since the poem is a source of inspiration, it can be assumed the writers are aware of the association of the Three Staves with the Fisher King, aka Anfortas.

If true, I think they did something really clever here by combining the Three Staves with the Three Nails.

THE BLACK SERPENT

I think most people have noticed the draconic/serpent imagery on Capitano's outfit. He has black scales, makeshift claws and a bunch of infinity symbols.

It is curious then that Capitano is essentially dressed as a black serpent/dragon.

Dainsleif: Black Serpent Knights. They once belonged to the Royal Guard of Khaenri'ah.

(...Yet unlike Capitano, the Black Serpent Knights don't look anything like black serpents.)

Little known fact is that even though Anfortas was the leader of the Schwanenritter, his knights still wore the Black Serpent armour. Ynghildr, one of the Swan Knights, turned into a Shadowy Husk that used the Windcutter model.

Mysterious Chronicles: "…Ynghildr, Schwanenritter, 'Damsel of the Dale' …Went missing in the battle against the Onslaught of Dark Beasts. Only her … and signet ring were recovered. A proper knight's funeral was arranged for her…"

(We even end up fighting her during the WQ Vimana Agama 💔.)

In the Shadows of the Mountains WQ, we find out two Khaenri'ahn knights, also using Black Serpent armour, went forth to Natlan to stop the Abyss; their sacrifice turned them into statues for 500 years. I think it's highly likely they were sent there on Anfortas' orders.

This is because one of the knights has interesting lines before and after you bring him peace:

"Irizar": "Leave! Go… I don't want him to see me— like this—" (The voice seems to come from the very depths of the unmoving statue. There is a hint of respect toward someone remaining within…)

Irizar: Did you see? Your orders have been carried out… You… won't be disappointed…

The thing is one of Anfortas' Ruin Golems is right next to Natlan.

This is also where you find the note written by the knight who worries if they'll be seen as sinners or heroes. I do not think they were ordered by Dainsleif, as his last order before he returned to the palace was "to protect the people of Khaenri'ah" while the last will of the Schwanenritter was to destroy the Cataclysm, which is an interesting contrast in itself…

Dainsleif: To this day, I still remember the final orders I, the Twilight Sword, gave to Halfdan on the day of disaster in Khaenri'ah, before I made haste back to the palace... "Inform all Black Serpent Knights to protect the people of Khaenri'ah at all costs." Zurvan: They said that those heroes (Schwanenritter) had walked their path despite the ill repute they had garnered… And that it was to carry the will those heroes had borne, and to completely destroy the disaster from the dark depths that they had followed the heroes' path to this place.

My personal speculation is that the Schwanenritter was a special division from the Black Serpent Knights. From the book Perinheri, we know there was an Alberich who was "commander of half the knights". As stated by old man Pierro himself, the reliability of this book is a bit dodgy, but this might give us a clearer vision on who was in charge.

Anyway, if those knights were sent by Anfortas, there's a chance he might have ended up in Natlan himself as they were heavily affected by the Abyss. Perhaps something funky happened to him there amidst all the chaos… who knows? If we consider the three nails and what it represents, perhaps Anfortas died; but since he's a Khaenri'ahn likely cursed with immortality and Natlan's leylines are weak, death won't come to him that easy.

One other thing: on either side of the door to Khaenri'ah, there are two reliefs that show a guardian holding a sword. As it happens, their helmets are flat and have a huge 8-pointed star in the middle... just like Capitano.

OTHER SIMILARITIES AND SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR 🤨

–Both Anfortas and Capitano are commanders of an army. To paraphrase @kaeyacollection, if I was Pierro, I would want someone with experience to lead my army and not some random bloodstained guy from Mondstadt, right? Pierro and Anfortas would have undoubtedly known each other as Pierro was a Royal Mage and Anfortas was part of the Royal Guard, so it wouldn't be strange for Pierro to recruit someone who he's already familiar with and can depend on.

Mocking Mask (Pierro): Since my level of learning could not compare with the sages, I failed to earn the favor of the previous ruler.

Furthermore, Pierro refers to King Irmin as the "previous ruler" which is an odd choice of words as it could either imply there is still a current ruler out there or Pierro simply acknowledged Anfortas as the last one, which has some interesting implications seeing as he only took up the position temporarily.

–Anfortas is highly respected, as shown by the note written by the knight who believed in him until the end. Someone even tried to write a letter to him begging him to petition the king. And if that knight who was sent to Natlan was referring to the Marshal, it means his main concern was that he would fail Anfortas.

Furthermore, there's a message left scattered across Ruin Guards with the encryption key being Anfortas' name…

Decoded message: We Schwanenritters have fought to the last one

We don't know who left it there, and hell it might be Anfortas himself, but whoever it was certainly valued the name. Fun fact: the achievement you get when you interact with all the Ruin Guards is called In the Name of Anfortas. This is similar to the achievement In the Name of Favonius, which you can get after completing a daily commission that indirectly involves Kaeya!

As far as we can tell, Capitano is also highly admired. Viktor would rather work for him, Varka wrote an entire love letter about him and the voicelines of the Harbingers confirm he's respectable man. (Although Wanderer and those of us who have run into Cap's animal lava farm may have some questions 🤨)

About The Captain "The ever-righteous Captain," "the brave and fearless Captain," "the nigh-invincible Captain"... Even my mechanical ears demand maintenance after listening to so many compliments from the members of the Fatui. Don't you think that possessing absolute righteousness is actually a latent danger? And that's without taking his great personal strength into account.

According to Wanderer, Capitano is seen as extremely righteous. We don't know enough about Anfortas to compare his morals with Capitano's but we do know that he executed his own comrade after a betrayal yet still gave them a proper knight's funeral since they were the last one left. This could allign with Cap's extreme righteousness and honor.

–Capitano proclaimed to the Pyro Archon that someone needs to pick up the mantle of salvation during a crisis…. which is exactly what Anfortas did. He stepped in when Irmin was busy poking holes in the veilussy of sin. Who knows? Perhaps Capitano doesn't want history to repeat itself.

–There could be another reason, though. You see, The Schwanenritter is named after the legend of the Swan Knight. These were an order of Grail Knights who would be sent out in secret to provide a ruler to a kingdom if there was none.

Members of this order are sent out in secret to provide lords to kingdoms that have lost their protectors

Furthermore, the Swan Knight had to hide his origins and name; same thing Capitano is doing.

The story of the Knight of the Swan, or Swan Knight, is a medieval tale about a mysterious rescuer who comes in a swan-drawn boat to defend a damsel, his only condition being that he must never be asked his name.

Varka: The man hides everything under the mask he wears, so no one can know his past or his origins.

–Speaking of which, when Capitano was first mentioned in Varka's letter, guess who was there to witness it?

What's funny is he doesn't even speak during this entire scene. They just forced him to stand there for seemingly no reason.

–Capitano is in Natlan. In Kaeya's hidden letters, there is a lot of fire imagery. Kaeya's father takes this even further by practically quoting Natlan's rule of resurrection. They even use the same term for ashes/embers in the original CN.

Mysterious Box in a Secret Compartment: A piece of it has been burned away, and the remaining parts show signs of having been rescued from that same flame.

Mysterious Box in a Secret Compartment: (Kaeya's father): "Though we could not restore Khaenri'ah to life, we of the Alberich Clan should lead lives as those who blaze like fire, rather than those who wallow in the embers." Dainsleif (Travail trailer, Natlan): The rules of war are woven in the womb: the victors shall burn bright, while the losers must turn to ash.

Mysterious Box in a Secret Compartment: (Kaeya): "Now that I look at it, his handwriting was as grieving as a smoking ash pile."

I don't know what to make of it and perhaps there's no deeper connection, but you have to admit, it is a little odd…

–The name Anfortas is speculated to be derived from french "enfertez" which means infirmity or weakness/illness. This is a very interesting contrast to Capitano's strong man persona. Not to mention, Capitano's commedia dell'arte counterpart is a braggart who only boasted about his strength. Who knows, perhaps Anfortano is suffering from an ailment/curse and is using whatever means he can to make himself stronger. (Such as the "presence" inside him.)

That being said, in the book Perinheri, the Alberich who was commander of half the knights was part of the "mightiest figures in Khaenri'ah".

–For some reason, Kaeya has what looks like snakeheads with a split tongue on his pants. You can also find a version of this on Capitano's outfit. …Yeah, I don't know either.

Jokes aside, Kaeya is wearing the top half of Capitano's modified Fatui coat complete with weird double flaps and fur boa. (There was a Hoyofair fananimation a year ago where the artist portrayed Anfortas with black fur which is pretty funny in hindsight.)

If Capitano isn't related to Kaeya, I'm going to need a very good explanation for why they share the same terrible fashion sense.

–Both Chlothar and Caribert have black hair and blue eyes... just like our buddy Capitano. While that's not enough to claim they're related, it is certainly a point in our favor.

–Since Pierro was original enough to give the title of "the Doctor" to a doctor, it wouldn't be too out of place for him to dub a marshal "the Captain".

–Kaeya was adopted by Crepus, who owned a Delusion. Is it really a coincidence that Kaeya was taken in by a man with ties to the Fatui? If any of the Harbingers are connected to Kaeya, Pierro (Khaenri'ahn) and Capitano (identity unknown) would be the two biggest suspects, right?

WHY CAPITANO CAN'T BE ANFORTAS…HAHA UNLESS?

–As mentioned before, Anfortas lost his left eye. From Mika's character story, we know Capitano has glowing dark blue eyes plural. However, it's unclear whether he lost his eye in the literal sense or was only blinded. It's possible Anfortas simply grew the eye back but if that's the case I don't see the point in mentioning the loss in the first place, other than to draw a parallel to Kaeya (who didn't even lose his eye either…)

–Capitano uses a strange power that looks related to Nightsoul… …Whatever it is, it could point at him being from Natlan. However, the Traveler can use Phlogiston despite not being from Natlan. We don't have Pyro Traveler yet but I suspect they will be able to use Nightsoul as well.

Mavuika also says she sensed an "unsual presence" inside Capitano. This "presence" could explain his ability to use Walmart Nightsoul and why he has knowledge on a secret oath made 500 years ago (and why he has two eyes again).

–I think it's possible Anfortas is either Kaeya's "pirate" grandpa or his father and if that's the case the chances of Capitano being playable are abyssmal 💀. However, Arthurian Anfortas was famously saved by his nephew Parzival. If they go by the legend and Parzival is the equivalent of Kaeya, Anfortas could be his uncle instead.

In any case, we'll have to wait and see where the story goes from here. Even if Anfortas isn't Capitano, he still has major relevance that has yet to be revealed. Until then, much like Anfortas and Capitano, all we can do is suffer on the cross 👍🏽

*UPDATE 5.1: CAPITANO'S LINES FROM THE AQ

"The Captain": Why...? Because I am a survivor of Khaenri'ah. I've witnessed the devastation and terror of the Abyss with my own eyes. "The Captain": That's right. My family, my comrades, my homeland... were all lost to the Abyss. It is an unforgettable pain, one that no amount of time could ever dull... not even five hundred years. "The Captain": If I could go back, I would reject all false hope. I would do whatever it took to ensure their survival.

"The Captain": That story begins with the cataclysm five hundred years ago.... I failed to save Khaenri'ah from the rampage of the Abyss. When the situation became unsalvageable, I fled to Natlan with the remainder of my platoon. "The Captain": Only to find that Natlan had fallen victim to the same tragedy. I defended this land for quite some time and, in the process, met the chief of the Masters of the Night-Wind, Ayizu. I'm sure many people viewed Khaenri'ah as the cause of the tragedy, but Ayizu was kind to me all the same, and even helped me in my time of need. "The Captain": From that moment, I made it my mission to aid Natlan. In battle, a warrior fights to win. Even though my homeland was lost, I was already committed to this fight.

"The Captain": Heh, even without the mask, my past appearance is long gone. Even with the curse of immortality, the flesh still rots. Paimon: Wait, do you know someone named Dainsleif? That problem doesn't seem quite so... extreme for him. "The Captain": You've met him already? Paimon: Yeah, a bunch of times. Sounds like you know him, too. "The Captain": During the age of Khaenri'ah, all I knew was his name. The last time I saw him in person, he was traveling with the Prince. He carries a degree of pain and hatred that far surpasses my own.⁸

[princessbrunette]

reader x sarah x jb where sarah and reader are making out in front of johnbee- he’s in trouble so he doesn’t get to touch 🥺

𐙚🦢🩰⋆.˚❆

“okay, i get it — i’m reckless, alright? i suck, how long is this gonna go on for? you know what this is? it’s cruel. the agreement was that we both get to have her, sarah.” john b scolds, sat with his hands tied by the blue bandana, his blonde girlfriends handiwork. she smirks, pulling away from your mouth, looking at him over your shoulder where you lay panting and nude against her — legs split embarrassingly wide, hole twitching around nothing as she circles at your clit. his mouth practically waters at the sight of your glossy folds, all open and needy — a hole he knows he can stuff well.

“the agreement was that you stop putting your life at risk for this bullshit treasure hunt. suffer the consequences, john b.” sarah hums with a smile, dragging her lips down your ear. “you really could’ve been in my place right now. touching her tits, grabbing her ass, fingering her pussy. but no…” she shrugs and it’s just to rile him up.

“jesus christ.” he pants. “what do you want me to do huh? get down on my knees? sarah i’ll do it.” he shakes his head, brow creased in desperation. seeing a man that was usually so in charge and calm get all urgent just for a taste of your pussy made your legs quake, squeezing more drool from your swollen, puffy pussy lips. “she needs me.” he states.

“do you… need him, babe?” sarah tilts her head with a jokey smile, craning round to look at you. you didn’t know what to say, you did want him — but you didn’t want to let her down so you simply shrug, avoiding all eyes. sarah sighs, rolling her eyes before sliding out from behind you and wandering over to john b, releasing him from the constraint carelessly. “fine. have at it.” she quirks an eyebrow and he marches over, looming over your spread open body.

“do you need me?” he pants, eyes doing all the touching for him. you drag your eyes from sarah and nod pitifully, lip wobbling as you force your legs even wider. he huffs out a smirk, swivelling his head to look at sarah where she stands with her arms crossed in just her seamless bra and panties. “ouch. all that being cruel for nothing, sarah cameron.”

“eat me.” she smirks, coming back over to join the two of you.

“uh-uh, not after that stunt. our pretty girl right here however,” he marvels at you, hands on the insides of your trembling knees holding you open sliding inward to reach your folds where he spreads them, inspecting your holes and pulsing clit. “oh i’m eating it all night.”

𐙚🦢🩰⋆.˚❆

[slamminslamminmcgill]

all im saying is ✨Logan with a knot✨ and Wade overstimulating you bc you cant get away -🦐

shrimp anon more like shrimp COLORS bro your vision is INSANE!!!!!!

soooo idk conventional a/b/o rules and i kinda don't care so im picturing a heat cycle as once a month endeavour. and bc you're on T you're a HORNY motherfucker and you're angry and violent so it's basically whoever can get their hands on you or knot in you first will take care of you. then as long as you get bred at least once you're fine. then you calm down and it's big aftercare hours bc your post-heat clarity endorphins are going CRAZY

now since your heat only comes once a month, wade treats it as a special occasion. and it wouldn't be fair of him to do the honors EVERY month, now would it?

so even though he's home with you, and logan's not, and won't be for a while, wade wilson will refuse to fuck you. it's not his turn. he did it last month.

and your heat is MISERABLE. imagine the worst period cramp you ever had, combined with hot flashes, searing rage, and it gives your cunt the sensitivity of a fucking bear trap. you'll clamp down on anything that touches you.

so no matter how much you suffer. no matter if you scream, cry, beg, grovel, bite, or commit acts of gratuitous violence against him.

he will hold out.

he will hold out until logan gets home and finds you naked, cuffed to the bed by your hands and ankles, a chewy ball-gag in your mouth getting crushed by your gritting teeth, and wade's holding a wand vibrator to your cunt.

he waves gayly at logan, "hey pinkie pie, merry christmas! wanna come open your gift?"

"jesus christ, are you fucking torturing him?! the hell is wrong with you?!"

"with ME?! where's your holiday spirit?"

logan just stares at him blankly, puzzled by what this psychotic dipshit could possibly be talking about. in response, and in the spirit of the season, wade sings him a song.

"🎼it's the mooost wonderful tiiiiime, of the mooonth~!🎵"

now he gets it.

"oh... okay. so then why did you tie him down like that?"

"well, we had a little INCIDENT earlier..."

--

you had managed to grab one of wade's guns and shot him in the chest

"OW!!! you RESOURCEFUL little shit!!! GRRR, oh~ mysweetboybabydarling i'msoproudofyou, butnoi'mnot, BAD BOY!!!"

--

"no, i mean why didn't you take care of him your-fucking-self, wilson? you really gotta make this my problem as soon as i walk in the fuckin' door?"

"your PROBLEM?! i hand you some prime-time, limited-edition, hot and bothered, ripe for the breeding, tranny boy BUSSY on a silver platter, and that's somehow NOT where your dick wants to spend its evening? am i hearing that right? please tell me i'm not. please tell me you're not this stupid, pookie bear."

instead of arguing back, logan goes quiet. he's thinking. and then, he laughs. that low, husky laugh that you have when you're marveling at the nerve of whatever dumb motherfucker is talking to you. or maybe, when that dumb motherfucker is making a point.

"heh... y'know what? fine." logan angrily strips his clothes off, one by one. his tanktop, "you want me to be the one to knot him? huh?" his belt, his jeans "can't do anything yourself, can ya?" and lastly, his boxers. then he grabs his cock and shakes it at wade.

"so then get me hard, you faggot." he clicks his tongue twice. "c'mon."

wade throws himself at logan's knees and gives him that gawkgawk4000turbotyphoon treatment to get him up. logan sighs in relaxation, grateful that wade was putting his mouth to such better use. once his eyes flutter open, he nods at you, finally giving you even a modicum of attention while you're under intense distress, and he merely waves at you nonchalantly, like how a pedestrian does to a car that lets him cross.

"hang tight, bub. be with ya in a second."

wade works him over until his knot is just barely starting to swell. he then takes his fattened cock and slaps wade across the face with it.

"take his chains off."

"hm... are you sure you want me to do that, princess? he's feisty, y'know. might get yourself bit, if you're not careful."

logan slaps wade again, but this time it's a bitchslap, using the back of his hand. and his claws.

"take. his fucking. chains off."

"mmm, right AWAY, your majesty~!"

[rhiannonsknife]

could i maybe request a blurb where everyone finds out what shauna was doing with jackie in the meatshed, and you’re the only one that sides with/ doesn’t turn against her? like sure she’s a little freak but look at her! she’s so sad! who could possibly be mean to her???

- 🦔

shaunaaaaaa!! :( why do you guys love to see her suffer on this blog? (also, mind you, i just wrote this on my phone while watching a movie and i didn’t beta read…)

the freezing cold bites at your cheeks as you stand outside the cabin. the tension hangs heavier than it ever did before, a new low you didn’t think was possible. shauna stands before you in the snow, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her face pale and blanker than you’ve seen it so far.

“she’s been in there talking to jackie!” tai’s voice is sharp, almost disgusted but mostly confused. “holding her hand, doing her make up! do you realize how insane that is?” she gestures wildly toward the meat shed. “she’s been braid-“ tai chokes on the word. “braiding her hair. jesus, shauna”

shauna flinches, just barely, but you catch it. her lip trembles for half a second before she tightens her jaw, locking down any vulnerability.

“she’s gone, shauna,” tai presses, stepping closer, the anger in her voice rising. “jackie’s dead. and whatever you’re doing in that shed? it’s it’s not normal!”

the others linger nearby, silent but visibly uneasy: nat leans against the side of the cabin with her arms crossed over her chest, lottie stands a little further back, watching the scene unfold, whereas van fidgets awkwardly, her gaze darting between tai and shauna as if she’s unsure whether to intervene or stay out of it.

in the end, it’s you who steps up. “that’s enough!”

tai turns on you instantly, her eyes narrowing. “what?”

“i said, that’s enough,” you repeat firmly, stepping closer to shauna. you purposefully place yourself between her and tai, shielding shauna from her angry glare.

“oh, so you’re fine with this?” tai snaps, her arms flying up in disbelief. “with her acting like jackie’s still alive? do you even get how screwed up that is?”

“she’s grieving” you reason, refusing to back down. “i get that this…whatever she’s doing, probably isn’t healthy, but yelling at her isn’t going to help!”

tai lets out a sharp laugh, though it lacks any humor. “unbelievable. you’re actually defending this? her?”

“yes, tai. i am” thankfully, your voice doesn’t waver. you glance back at shauna, who’s staring at you with wide, tear-filled eyes. “she’s sad. she lost her best friend. yeah, maybe she’s handling it in a way we don’t understand, but that doesn’t mean we get to tear her down for it!”

tai’s mouth opens like she’s about to argue, but for the first time, she seems at a loss for words.

“jesus fucking christ,” nat mutters, breaking the silence. she rubs her temples, breath puffing in the cold air. “this is such a shitshow”

you ignore her, focusing on shauna instead, whose shoulders are beginning to shake. gently, you reach out and take her arm, tugging her away from the center of the group. “come on,” you tell her softly. “you don’t need to deal with this right now”

shauna lets you guide her back towards the warmth of the cabin, her steps slow and hesitant at first.

behind you, tai lets out an exasperated noise, but she doesn’t follow yet. you hear van mutter something under her breath, but it’s muffled by the wind, and you don’t care enough to turn back and ask.

you lead shauna back and inside, the noise of the others fading into the background. “i-” she starts, her voice barely above a whisper. then she shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“you don’t have to explain, not to me”

her lip trembles again, and this time, the tears finally come. they roll silently down her cheeks as she stands there, shoulders hunched, her entire body shaking with the effort to hold herself together. you step closer, pulling her into a hug without hesitation. for a moment, shauna stiffens, but then she crumples against you, burying her face in your shoulder as the sobs finally break free.

“i’ve got you,” you murmur, your hand gently running up and down her back. “It’s okay, shauna. i’ve got you”

[harryslittlefreakk]

little angel

the pact extra but can be read on its own 🫶🏼

summary: a little drabble of needy y/n and dad!rry goodness

warnings: pregnancy talk, mostly fluff, slight smut

a/n: i’m dead at this couple 🥹 that’s all i can say

you can join my taglist here and find the rest of my writing here! enjoy xxx

“I want a baby,” Harry sighed, pulling you close to his chest. “Harry-” you started, wriggling in his grip as you tried to face him. “No I know, s’not much more we can do. Just wanted to say it in case the universe is listening.”

“Yeah, but-”

“The universe doesn’t listen, I know what you’re gonna say.”

You finally broke free of his grasp, turning around to look at him. “Shut up for one minute and listen. I’m late.”

“Where you going?” he asked, brows furrowed as he tried to remember any plans you’d told him about. “Christ,” you rolled your eyes, laughing at his response. “Late for my period,” you explained, watching the gears turn in his head.

“Really?” he gasped, fingers trailing up your back. “Yeah, like a week. I don’t know though, I don’t feel like this is our time.”

“You wanna find out?” he asked, padding towards the bathroom. You’d kept a stash of tests since the beginning of your relationship, preferring to be able to test for your peace of mind rather than have to rush out to the store in a frenzy if you were ever late. You’d never actually had to use one, getting your period right on time every month until now. Though you knew Harry was desperate to be a dad, you’d never really been properly trying. You hadn’t tracked your ovulation or waited for the little blue cross every month. You’d seen the toll that it had taken on your friends relationships and didn’t want your sex life with Harry to turn into a means to an end.

You cuddled into him as you set the little stick down, the end of the three minute wait feeling a lifetime away. “You okay?” he murmured against your hair, rubbing a hand over your lower back. “I’m a bit scared, H,” you whispered. You were scared. Your relationship had been a whirlwind, only two years now since you reconnected, and you weren’t sure you were ready to sacrifice your time alone with Harry just yet. But if you were to ever have a baby, now was the right time. Your workload was looking light for the next year or so, and Harry wasn’t planning a tour any time soon. And most of all, you were worried you’d let him down. He’d been waiting so long for a baby, taking everything at your pace and waiting for you to want it as much as he did. Which you did, but you also knew that it was your life that would have to totally change, your body that would suffer through the strain of growing a new life. Harry would give parenting his all, and you’d always known he’d be an incredible dad, it just wasn’t the same as what being a mum would entail.

“S’a big thing, darling.”

“Don’t want to disappoint you if I’m not, Harry,” you told him, your fear turning to tears in your eyes. “Never, baby. You’ll never disappoint me.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you sighed against him, anxiously checking your phone to see how long had passed. It had almost been three minutes, so you slipped your phone back in your pocket and looked up at him, urging him wordlessly to look at the test. “If it doesn’t show it by now then…” your voice trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“Y’ready?” he asked, stepping towards the windowsill as you sat down on the edge of the bath. You nodded, heart caught in your throat. He turned it over, and even from where you were sitting you could see it. The brightest blue cross, an unmistakable answer. Harry was frozen in place, hands shaking as he stared down at the test. You’d thought about this moment so many times, imagining how you’d feel and react. But seeing the positive result in front of you, knowing there were the tiny beginnings of a life inside of you, everything you’d imagined went out the window. All you could feel was the rush of nervous excitement, your previous fears disappeared in place of those tiny blue lines.

Harry turned to you with tears in his eyes, a great big grin spread across his face. “A baby,” he whispered, pulling you up into his arms. “A baby,” you replied, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

—

“Please, Harry,” you begged, shuffling behind him. You’d been practically rabid for a few months now, the tables turning on which one of you was totally insatiable. Your pregnancy hadn’t come with many symptoms, except the exhaustion and the constant ache in your core. You needed more of your husband, needed him in a way that would only be cured if he could climb inside of your skin. “You really want me to cancel this interview for you?”

“You would if you loved me,” you whined. “I can’t, kitten. Just give me half an hour and I’ll show you how much I love you.”

“I don’t have half an hour, H,” you pleaded, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt.

“Come on then, I can give you five minutes.”

Harry lead you over to the sofa in the corner of his office, pulling your t-shirt up as you laid down, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He ran a hand over the gentle curve of your growing belly, pressing delicate kisses to your skin before slipping a hand inside your panties, pleased to find your folds already soaked for him. “Needed me so bad, huh?” he smirked, slipping a finger straight into you. You whimpered at his touch, pleasure so built up inside of you that you could have came right there. With only five minutes to get you where you needed, Harry went right into tickling at your sweet spot. He’d been so good at accommodating your every need, dropping whatever he was doing to give you whatever you wanted, whether that be his touch or simply his closeness.

His thumb brushed against your clit, sending your back arching off the soft velvet as you gasped for breath. You could feel the knot in your core tightening, thighs clamping together around his hand. “Come, sweet girl,” he urged, rubbing circles against your button as his fingers fucked in and out of you. You cried out as a buzzing spread through your body, your orgasm ripping through you.

His hand slowed down as he rode you through your high, satisfied in giving you exactly what you craved. Harry pulled the knitted throw over you as your eyes fluttered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He pulled his desk chair over to stay next to you, tangling one hand in yours while he set up his laptop on his knees.

—

“What do you want to be called, huh?” you wondered aloud, fingers dancing across your bump.

“Stevie,” Harry replied, looking up from his spot on the floor. He was surrounded by pieces of wood and tools, desperate to get the crib built by the end of the day. “Not Stevie,” you laughed. “Stevie Styles is a ridiculous name.”

“It’s a great name.”

“It’s a pornstar name, do you want your daughter to have a pornstar name?”

“It’s a strong name.”

“What if she has a lisp? Thtevie Thtyleth.”

“Then you come up with something better.”

“What about something Italian?” you asked, pulling up a list of names on your phone. It was something you’d thought about a lot since your summer in Italy, loving the delicate nature of the names. “Alessia, Lucia, Emilia,” you listed off, imagining each name attached to your little girl. “I like Alessia,” Harry mused, standing up to pad over to where you were perched on the bed. “Show your mama what you like, little angel,” he spoke softly to your bump, one hand splayed across its curve. She kicked lightly against his palm, her tiny feet always dancing to the hum of her dad’s voice. “I think she likes Alessia,” you laughed, the sensation of her moving not one you think you’d ever get used to. “It needs something else though, Alessia Styles isn’t quite there.”

“Noelle,” Harry murmured against your neck. “She will be a little Christmas baby after all,” he added, glancing over at the foliage garland on your mantle. “Alessia Noelle,” you repeated, placing a hand over his. “I like that, H,” you smiled. He hummed against your skin, peppering delicate kisses on every part of skin his mouth could reach.

—

“I can’t do it, H,” you whined, pacing the length of the room. “You can, baby. It’s so close now,” he told you, fluffing up the pillows on your bed. He held his hands out to you, helping you to lay back down. “You can’t pace her out of you, no matter how hard you try. I’m gonna call the doctor back in, okay? Then we can meet our little girl.” Harry smoothed his hand over your hair, waiting for your nod before he pulled away.

You were physically prepared to meet your little angel, but the mental preparedness was something else altogether. You’d been patiently waiting for your new arrival for nine long months, but now that you were faced with the final hurdle you suddenly felt totally incapable of having a new life in your hands. Someone to shape and raise, to grow with as much love and care as you had over the last months.

You’d been fully dilated for a while now, ready to push before you’d had a little freak out. Now you were back in the bed, back flush against the cold sheet. Harry had your hands in his, eyes locked on yours to keep you calm. “Jus’ have to focus on me, okay kitten?” You nodded, bracing for the next contraction.

Pushing was one of the hardest things you think you’d ever do. You’d read the books, seen the movies, spoken to your mum and Anne so many times and yet you still weren’t prepared for how hard it would be on your body. It was a full body exercise, every single muscle tensed as you got closer to meeting your baby girl. Until finally you heard that strangled cry, the tiny gasp falling from Harry’s lips, the blur of movement before she was placed on your chest. Your body finally relaxed, content as you wrapped her in your arms. It felt like hours had passed since you laid back in the bed, though looking at the clock you knew it had been just shy of fifty minutes.

Harry took her in his arms as you sunk into the pillows, exhaustion taking over you. Fatherhood looked good on him. A muslin draped over his shoulder, sweatshirt damp with your sweat and tears. He looked totally frazzled, in the best way. Cheeks flushed from his heart exploding within him, love-drunk as he stared down at your little angel, her tiny fingers clenched around his ring.

“I want another one,” Harry cooed, totally smitten with the tiny girl laying in his arms.

taglist: @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @sturnioloenthousiast @hannah9921 @harryshotpocket @daphnesutton @poojasdesk @averytermaat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @kkr102 @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @mema10 @annageeeezzzz

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Headcanon with TF141 & König with Fem! Reader who had amnesia after loss blood from battlefield and how would the mens react. Pls!

Oof ouchie owie my heart 😭 this is so mean I love it 😭😭😭😭 (I’m not crying YOU’RE crying)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

When the nurse told him you suffered amnesia due to the severity of your injuries, he didn’t want to believe it. He refused. Even though they told him it could last a few minutes to several weeks or months, he didn’t want to believe it.

So he went to visit you, sat beside your bed, balaclava twisting nervously in his hands as he watched you sleep. He eventually dozed off, arms crossed over his chest, head resting back against the wall. He woke up to a soft prodding at his shoulder,

“Excuse me, are you the nurse?” You’d asked, throat hoarse and exhaustion evident.

“Who do you think I am?” He asked, his heart beat so hard in his throat, his stomach churning and heavy, he felt violently ill

“I… don’t know to be honest. I’m not sure why or how I got here.” Your voice was small and uncertain and fuck he wanted to cry. His eyes burned and his throat threatened to shut.

What should he do? Tell you what happened and risk further trauma? He’s the reason you were out here in the first place. What’s the right thing to do? What would you do in his position?

“Sir? I’m sorry, I’m just really thirsty. I’m sorry to bug you.”

“Don’t sweat it, here, have my water.” He uncapped his water bottle and got up to bring it to your lips, you took it from his hands before he could tip it back,

“I’ve got it, thank you.” You said with a weak chuckle. At least that’s still the same. He watched you drink your water, weighing his options in his head. If the roles were reversed, you’d be honest with him. Gentle, but firm. Even if it pained you, you’d tell him the truth.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

He was a both a coward and glutton for pain.

“You can call me Ghost, for now.”

He still wasn’t sure if he’d tell you about all the nights spent together, all the mornings you had breakfast in the mess hall together, your apartment that you shared, the tattoo he has under his collarbone of your callsign or the matching one you got of a skull on your hip. This could be his chance to spare you the pain of sticking around him any longer.

But he’s selfish, in that sense. He’s had you, he can’t lose you now.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He’s devastated. He’s absolutely heartbroken, there’s no way this is happening. He’s convinced it’s not real. It’s a bad dream and he’ll wake up in your arms and it’ll be gone. How he wishes that was true.

He comes into your room, the nurses words echoing in his head, triggering his tinnitus, making him nauseous. His legs are horribly unsteady and his hands have never shook this hard. He feels like such a fool for being so fucking weak in front of you like this.

This isn’t about him, it’s about you. It’s all about you, it’s about setting things right with you, it’s about bringing you back to him. It’s all about you.

He sat beside your bed and waited for you to wake up, and when you did you smiled so wide when you looked at him, that he honestly believed the nurses were wrong

“This might be wildly inappropriate, but you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

God how he wished the nurses were wrong.

“Could say the same for you, love.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and stamped out the ache in his chest

“Love?” You blinked in confusion, “are you my- oh god, I’m sorry, I… I don’t remember.”

“It’s alright, the nurses said it could happen. You’ve been through a lot.”

“If I’m here then, yeah, seems like.” You chuckled dryly,

“I’m Johnny.” He held his hand out to yours, you took it and couldn’t help how soothing his palm felt against yours as you introduced yourself shyly.

He could be strong. For you. He’d do anything for you, whether you wound up remembering or not, it didn’t matter. He’d do anything.

John Price:

He’s shell shocked. Please god no. Not you. Please sweet fucking Christ, not you. He doesn’t go to see you right away, he sits in his office quietly. He’s sitting in the dark, replaying the events that led up to this over and over in his head like a fucked movie on loop.

He snaps. He’s flinging everything off his desk, it’s all flying to the floor, he’s screaming, crying, raging. The team hears it and they all run to his office, Ghost is the only one to successfully hold him back. He eventually gives up and starts sobbing. Perception be damned.

He’s clutching onto Simon like his life depends on it, Soap and Gaz quietly start picking stuff up off the floor,

“Come on, mate, she needs you. Clean up and go.” He’s not stupid. He’s seen you two, seen the way you are with one another. It’s the best kept secret of the 141.

“I know. Fuck, I know.”

He hesitantly walks to your room, his heart pounding a mile a minute, he hears you talking to the nurse and you sound a little hoarse but it also sounds like you’re drinking water. He waits until you’re done talking and walks in, he steps aside to let the nurse walk out and sits beside you,

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Not great but the pain meds help.” You laughed weakly, “and you must be?”

“John.”

“John…?”

“Just John.” He sighed, slowly taking one of your small hands in his, giving you every opportunity to withdraw, “Your John.”

He’s a patient man. He can wait.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

He’s in tears before the nurse even has a chance to walk away, Price has a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in an attempt to keep him grounded

“None of that, Gaz, just go see her. Somewhere in her heart, she’ll be happy to see you.” His words were reassuring and it helped give him the boost he needed to go and see you.

So he did, with an arm full of flowers, your favorite snack and candies, and fruits of course. He came in and set them down at the table quietly, watching you watch him as he did so. He took a deep shaky breath and pulled the chair up to the bed.

“Is that all for me?” You asked with a shy smile, even under the unflattering glow of the fluorescent lights above you, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen,

“Yup. I thought if I’d brought you the things you like, it might help you recover your memory.” He swallowed his tears, swallowed the lump in the throat, he’d set it all aside because there’s work to be done.

“I take it you and I are quite close then?”

“As close as two people can get, without being related.”

“Hm. That makes me happy, you seem really sweet…?”

“Kyle. Or Gaz. But you’ve always called me by my name.”

His heart skipped a beat when you tried his name out, getting a feel for it on your tongue, and then you smiled softly at him.

It’ll be hard work but fuck you’re so worth it.

König:

He feels violently ill. He’s nauseous through and through, he’s in shock, he’s grieving, he’s mourning, he’s furious, he’s appalled, he’s miserable

It’s all playing over and over and over and over again, the exact moments that led up to this. You trusted him and let you down. He fucking let you down. He ruined it. He ruined the one good thing he had going for him in this shithole. It’s gone it’s all fucking gone. And it’s all his fault.

All of that was repeating in his head as he punched a hole in the tile in the bathrooms, it repeated when he’d try to sleep until you woke up, it repeated while he’d wait for you, it repeated until there was nothing but self-inflicted venom pumping in his system, circulating mercilessly

And then you woke up. He’d at least had the presence of mind to take his veil off so he wouldn’t startle you, but in his vitriol he forgot something,

“You’ve got a little something on your uh… all of that.” You sleepily laughed, pointing at your eyes,

“Ah yes, that’s intentional.”

“Why?” You blinked in confusion, weakly trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes,

“Helps keep me concealed when I wear this.” He lifted the veil in his hands for you to see,

“I imagine it’s hard to do with your size.”

“It can be but I’m quite determined.”

“You seem upset, I take it you and I are close and the nurses told you?”

He gently took your small hand in his, his eyes watering, lower lip starting to quiver,

“Oh schatz, you have no idea.” His voice shook and your heart broke for him, his accent brought you peace even if you couldn’t exactly remember why, you could still put the pieces together. You don’t know why, but you wanted to be strong for him,

“Then give me an idea.”

[cuubism]

Can I pressure you to work on the 'having a job sucks ass' math AU fic?

yeah 😂 i started working on it when i was annoyed with my job. which is always

here's a snippet from earlier in the fic, because i think the later part i'm working on won't make a ton of sense out of context

[ make me work on one of my fics if you want ]

-

Dream shuts his laptop as Hob approaches. Oh, yeah. He was definitely waiting for Hob, specifically. Hob is getting the sense that he’s in trouble. And he’s not stupid. It’s not hard to guess what has Dream upset.

“Look,” he starts, “don’t even—”

“Hob Gadling,” Dream interrupts. Yep, that’s the trouble tone, the one Hob used to get when he did shit like giving himself a concussion playing pick up football on the quad. “It is ten p.m.”

“I own a watch too, Dream,” Hob says tiredly. Does Dream think he wants to be working this late? He’s just trying to stay employed.

Dream’s lips press into a thin line. And Hob knows him well enough, can read him well enough to recognize that what’s underneath the annoyance is concern. But what exactly does Dream expect him to do about it?

Hob sits down—more like collapses—into the armchair diagonal to where Dream is on the couch. God, what he really wants is to just fucking face plant into bed, not deal with this.

Christ. When did he start thinking about talking to Dream as dealing with?

Then again, this is less talking to Dream and more arguing with Dream, and he fucking hates doing that.

He scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s far away, alright?” he argues, though it sounds more like a whine. “It’s not like I can teleport.”

“It is not acceptable that they keep you so late,” Dream says. Then his tone softens. “I worry over your level of exhaustion. That is not even mentioning the commute.”

“Honestly, the commute’s not the worst part,” Hob says. “Gives me more time to get stuff done. Or fall asleep.”

Dream gives him a flat look. “Precisely.”

“I don’t want to hear judgment about work ethic from you of all people,” Hob snaps. God, he hates arguing with Dream, he hates it. It’s not like when they bicker. And it’s not like arguing with anyone else. The thought that Dream is upset with him is genuinely distressing.

“I think I of all people am uniquely qualified to give it,” Dream says.

He’s not wrong. Dream is a workaholic if ever there was one. It’s something Hob’s had to talk to him about in the past. Frequently, in the past, Hob was the one who was better about it.

It’s just that having this job is a level of relentless he couldn’t possibly have anticipated.

Hob can’t just quit though, even if he is overworked. It’s a good job, career-wise, and it pays really well, and he wants Dream to be able to keep his post-doc position without worrying about the salary because Dream is just quite frankly not cut out for anything where he isn’t able to work independently at least ninety percent of the time and Hob doesn’t want to see him suffer, and he wants them to be able to buy a house someday—

“Look,” he says, before Dream can suggest that he actually quit or something, “Dream, we’re making fucking bank, okay?”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “We are?”

“Yeah, we’re married, or did you forget?”

“It’s your money.”

“The joint bank account says otherwise. Half of it is yours.”

Dream frowns, then gets a wicked look in his eye. Oh no. “Does that entitle me to half of your suffering as well? Do I get half a say in whether it continues?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Are you going to watch me suffer half your exhaustion and do nothing about it?” Dream challenges, steamrolling right over him. He’s impossible to argue with when he really gets going. And great, now he’s employing that look. That pleading look that he knows Hob can’t say no to, eyes wide and helpless. “Will you leave me to my agonies?”

“Alright,” Hob says, pressing his hands to his eyes. “Enough. Stop joking around.”

“I’m quite serious. I don’t wish to see you suffer.” He crosses the room, kneels in front of Hob’s chair, and takes Hob’s hands, bringing them down from his face. “Your unintended comparison was more apt than you realize. When you prosper, I prosper. When you suffer, so equally do I.”

“Should have been a fucking poet instead of a mathematician, Dream,” Hob says. It shouldn’t come out as bitter as it does.

Except— “Maths is poetry,” he says, echoing it just as Dream says it, too. Hob had known he would.

It makes him smile, that he can predict Dream like that.

[promotionaldisk]

well, i did it again when I said I wasn't gonna. I tell you, it's more for curiosity than anything else (I'm not an addicted freak! Right?) though the pleasure is intense if I can manage to break through the skeeve factor and get a proper hardon. Again, said I was over it and this one was just *too weird*, right? I wouldn't try it, would I? Well, I did. Was driving down a wooded two-lane, minding my business. A squirrel with a death wish flew out of the woods and directly in front of a lorry- he would have made it had he just continued crossing, but to my alarm he second-guessed himself, made an acrobatic 180 and went right under a tyre, killing him instantly. I wasn't going to stop. It was just a squirrel. But then I thought how interesting it is to put roadkill in front of my game camera at the edge of the forest, and see what scavengers come. I stopped. I picked him up. He was still warm and pliable, but was clearly wrecked inside, glad he didn't suffer anyway. Some of his innards had exited through what used to be his anus, he was ripped open there and I'm pretty sure all his ribs and spine were smashed too, he was less stout than a ragdoll. I took him out to the country place where my camera is. Actually forgot about him for a bit while I did chores. Wasn't important. But then I had to walk out to the camera and remembered the squirrel. I got him and looked more closely, then my fingers got curious. He was warm, wet, and squishy inside, and surprisingly not terribly bloody. Then I guess what would be called the evil inside me spoke up, "You could fuck that, it feels good in there, he's like a natural fleshlight." Oh, no, shut up will you? Christ. Well, never one to back from a challenge, I laid down on my picnic blanket under a big oak tree, just me and this poor squirrel, and I stroked myself to hardness thinking about something else (trickery is necessary, I never found a squirrel to be sexy!) and then achieving the proper hardness I introduced my boner to his wound. It was a strange disconnect visually, seeing a squirrel impaled and wholly supported by my dick, enveloping me entirely- but the sensation was surprisingly familiar, it was warm, wet, squishy, and had some texture, very not unlike a good pussy. I was going to cum in this poor bastard. I gently gripped him and stroked him up and down on my now very rigid cock. I turned him around and found that felt even better. I pushed hard and stroked faster, then quite quickly came very hard in him, unloading all I had. I couldn't believe what I'd done, but, just another weird thing to add to all the other weird things I've done I guess. I cleaned myself up thoroughly and took his broken corpse to the camera. I laid him down gently in front of it. I apologized for fucking him, and said I was sorry he had gotten killed by one of humanity's infernal machines. Weirder maybe, but I gathered some nearby wildflowers and laid them in a circle around him to honor his poor little wild soul. At least the local foxes will get a good meal, and also enjoy a little bit of me as well.

i’m so glad you shared this with me!! it’s so amazing to see people give into their animalistic urges, doing such depraved stuff just to get off <333

[ardenzia777]

give us the bible art oooooo

I've drawn these that i can show atm. the last 2 aren't done ngl but that's ok, they're still at least presentable Explanation of each piece below owo

first one was an idea of like a really peaceful Jesus holding a lamb and just a heavenly setting around, very old school, very renaissance, but wanted to be unique and make his halo a white hole that cascaded out stained glass light. Pearls to represent purity and Sapphire in his crown to signify the sapphire throne

second one was a sketch i put some more detail on, i just wanted it to show the somberness of a well aware sacrifice. unironically wanted it to feel demure. feel both dark and light. the dampness in the air before and after the rain. wanted to add black stars as well to show a hidden/veiled divinity. King of kings but is veiled in mortal flesh, appearing more grounded in our world than he really is. also was making connotations with wine and his blood as well.

third one i wanted to really pull inspo from Elden ring and take its symbolism into different context but the same context, which was inspired by how Elden ring does the same thing with Christianity. The symbolism of Marika crucified was for sure meant to be a reference to Christ, so i wanted to depict him crucified but with Marika's rune. Both crucified by their authority, and technically both done for the sake of saving the world. difference is one did it willingly to save those unaware of their burden, the other went unwillingly, likely kicking and glaring. I wanted to switch the crown of thorns for a crown of shattered runes. both still make you bleed, but i loved how runes represent power and strength, and how that could tie in to the symbolism of the crown of thorns, still being a crown. a sign of power. added some other crucifixes of the Elden ring style to represent the many others who have died before, though his is above them all, for he was the greatest sacrifice. Lastly wanted the view to shift from a broken battleground of the world, covered in the shattered runes of so many hurt people's suffering, to the boundless skies of the awaiting paradise. symbolism of Jesus sitting on his cross in anguish, but keeping his eyes on the future he was doing this all for. Bonus: made his cloth covering also swirl like Marika's, but for the effect of giving him a halo. This piece still isn't done, i'm excited to work more on it later.

PS: i know he was impaled through his wrists, i'm considering changing it to be more proper, but i also liked the hands look, but idk, we'll see Anywho ahhh, hope you like em owo