#i usually don't like to be Like That on stuff but nah shut the fuck up

[bigmeansweatydyke]

non-lesbians shut the fuck up about butch/femme forever challenge

[nochepsicodelica]

Suggestive

"Tojiii," you squeal when he picks you up, before using his back to shut the car door. You lean forward and take a long whiff of the cologne he spritzed on the collar of his shirt. "Mmm... you smell so good. You trying to seduce me?"

He chuckles at the way you go back and sniff around his neck, like a dog. "Is it working?"

You inhale deeply once more, sighing exaggeratedly before responding. "Uh-huh. Want you to fuck me. Ugh, Toji, baby, i'm ready for you," you say, getting a head start by kissing his neck.

"Nah, pretty girl. Can't do that to you, tonight." He pins you to the door to keep you balanced as he fishes for the keys in his pocket.

"What?" You say, pausing the movement of your lips, your mood quickly deflated.

"What?" Toji repeats, looking at you as he turns the key in the lock. He lifts you off the door before opening it, keeping his eyes on yours.

"Am I not fuckable? You really don't wanna do me?"

"What are you even talking about, ma?" He shuts the door, locking it before carrying you to the bathroom to help you out like he usually does after a night out with plenty of drinks at your disposal.

"You..." your eyes start watering, enormous tears quickly forming and gliding down your cheeks. "You said you don't want me."

"That's not how I meant it, baby. Don't cry."

"What. Ever. I don't care anymore. Just... just put me down," you say, pushing at his chest.

"We gotta get you ready for bed," he says, setting you down on the edge of the sink. He grabs the pack of makeup wipes from the drawer you told him you keep them in and pulls a wipe out. "Close your eyes."

You do as he says, but only because you're stuck there until he moves out of the way. "I'm..." you sigh, heavily. "I'm s-sleeping on the couch, tonight."

"Mm... and why's that?" He asks, while focusing on wiping off the mascara from your eyelashes, and the trail that made its way down your cheeks. He's not concerned for what you said, because he knows for certain that that won't be the case at all.

"'Cause you don't love me. You've made it clear that you don't want to touch me. If we sleep in the same bed, my leg might graze yours." You laugh. "Who knows what'll happen if that happens. I'm surprised you even wanna be this close to me, now."

Toji sighs, throwing out the spent makeup wipe. He rests his hands on the counter, on each side of you, before leaning forward and placing a kiss on your lips. "Just got even closer, mama. What are you gonna do?" He laughs at your widened eyes, and when your expression contorts to one of sadness again, he can't help but maintain the amused grin on his face at how quickly your mood shifted.

"Be sad," you respond, softly. "You don't wanna make love to me? How can you kiss me and not want more?"

The sound of your voice breaking softened him up a little more. That and the insufferable look of hurt in your eyes. "Hey, look at me," he says, cupping your jaw to manually bring your gaze back to his. "It's not like that, at all. Don't cry over this, sweetheart." He runs his thumbs beneath your eyes, brushing away your returning tears. "You know I love you and I want you all the time, but I'm not gonna touch you like that when you're drunk." Your pretty eyes are killing him with how sad they look. Your cheeks are reddened and warm from the mix of the alcohol in your system and your emotions, and your lips are trembling. "Baby, you can't even walk straight. I'm not gonna take advantage of you. Stuff like that is only done by shitty people. You understand?"

"No," you choke out through a sob, breaking open the dam of your emotions.

"Of course you don't," Toji says, a soft smile taking over his features as he picks you up again and carries you to the room. He sets you down on the bed, propping you up against the pillows so you don't fall over. He can hear your sniffling subside as he rummages through your drawers, searching for something to change you into.

"You wanna wear shorts or just one of your really big shirts?" He asks, spotting your favorite oversized t-shirt. You don't answer, keeping your attention on your hands, letting him talk to himself like he's a crazy person. He calls for you, again, nothing more than a "ma", just incase you don't answer again. As he expected, more silence.

"Oh, so you're just not gonna talk to me, anymore?" He asks, turning to look at you, catching the way you shake your head slightly, still not looking at him. He grumbles to himself about your little attitude, before turning back to the dresser. He closes your drawers and opens one of his, fishing out one of the black shirts he always wears, before making his way back to you.

"Arms up," he instructs, grabbing onto the hem of your blouse. You sluggishly roll your eyes and lift your arms, allowing him to pull it off. He unfolds his shirt and scrunches it up so that he can facilitate the process of getting it on you. "Alright, put your arms in," he says, when you just sit there, unmoving. Again, your attitude shows as you follow his instructions, but the second your arms go in the holes and the material of the normally short sleeves extends to your forearms, you gasp.

"Your shirt?" You ask, enthusiastically. "It's your shirt?!" You ask, again, with the most lovestruck look on your face.

Toji snickers. "Yeah, baby. That's my shirt." Your eyes are filled with so much light, it's ridiculous how little it took to get this reaction out of you. You're literally giggling to yourself over a shirt, and he can't see it as anything short of adorable. "Alright, alright. Let's finish up so we can go to sleep."

You're a lot more willing to listen to him, now that your mood is boosted. You unbutton your shorts and lift your hips to slide them off, handing the article to Toji so he can put it in the dirty clothes hamper.

"Gonna go get some stuff from the kitchen. Be right back," he says, glancing at you before leaving the room. Not even two minutes later when he returned, you were already fast asleep, quiet breaths flowing past your lips. You laid on your back, your arms folded above your head. Toji shut the bedroom door before walking over to your nightstand to set a couple of ibuprofen tablets down beside a glass of water. He swiped his thumb over the corner of your lips, collecting the small patch of drool that glistened on your skin and wiping it off on his sweats. He went back to turn off the light, and quickly made his way to his side of the bed.

He turned you onto your side, earning a few irritated whines from you due to the disturbance. "I know, I know," he murmurs, pulling his shirt down to cover your exposed hip. He stayed up a little longer, to keep you from shifting onto your back when you stirred. His hand stayed firm on your waist, preventing you from moving much at all, and occasionally he got to laugh through his nose at your nonsensical sleep ridden mumblings.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Guilt. You can't deny it any longer. Your stomach is chaos. Everything you eat threatens to come back up or churns like cement. 

Something happened. Something you can't remember but you know what it was. Yet it isn't just that mistake that eats away at you. It's the one keeping you awake. The one draining you of energy and money alike. Your marriage. 

Stupid is an understatement. You didn't think any of this through. It's catching up to you. You didn't just fuck around because you’re angry. No, you're unhappy. 

But you did fuck around. For all you can say about Barrett, he didn't do that. It's over but you just don't know how to end it. He doesn't either. 

Tonight? You say that every day but you find an excuse not to do it. You're tired, you have to make dinner, you'll do it tomorrow when he isn't in a mood. 

That night you delay the inevitable with a trip to the pharmacy. You need something for your stomach. Once you get it under control, you'll be able to think. 

You grab the cheapest anti-nauseant on the shelf and read it over. May cause drowsiness. Well, what doesn't make you tired? 

"Got a bug?" The deep timbre scares you for more than its abruptness. It's familiar. Your vision flickers like a strobe light as you look over. 

It's him. Again. Captain America. What are the odds? 

"Ate something, I think," you murmur. 

He watches you. It's like he's waiting for something. You stare back. 

"Anyway..." you glance around him. "Sorry, if I'm in your way." 

You take a step back to clear the view of the shelf. 

"Nah, this stuff doesn't affect me. Can't remember the last time I had a stomach ache," he scoffs and turns. He grips the edge of a shelf as he faces you. "You never texted back." 

You flinch and flutter your lashes. "Texted?" 

He grins and puts his hand across his chest and drags it down. He laughs, "we had a good night, didn't we?" 

"Huh, I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Really, you don't? 'Cause I can hear your heart racing." 

You blink and look around, "really I don't--" 

"I'm sure that works with your husband. You two did look awfully happy at the grocery store. I could see the disgust crawling all over you," he snickers. 

"Excuse me, I don't know you. So please, go away." 

He clucks and stands straight. He drops his arms and frames his hips, "is that how you talk to your Captain? You're not how I remember you. You were a lot... nicer." 

"Shut up. That didn't happen." 

"Keep telling yourself that," he shrugs. 

"I-- I can't remember..." you whisper. Your voice cracks, "please, I don't remember." 

You look up at him with teary eyes. It was him? Of all people you had a drunken one-night stand with Steve Fucking Rogers. This can't be real. 

"I remember," he steps closer. "I can't forget." 

"No, please, I'm married. Alright? It was a mistake. Just a drunken night." 

"Not for me," he insists. His earnestness makes you shudder. 

"Look, I'm flattered but my life is complicated enough  alright? I'm sorry but I'm sure you can find someone else, Cap. Someone who isn't twenty shades of fucked." 

You shake the box of tablets and cringe. You turn and sweep away. You head to the checkout and go to one of the self-service machines. 

He surprises you as he puts his hand on the plastic divider and looms over you. You focus on scanning the pills and paying. 

"Look, Cap, I'm sorry I didn't reply." You slip your card out of your wallet.

"You ran out. I came back to an empty apartment." He juts a leg out as he leans on the divider. 

"Sure, but I woke up in a stranger's bed, all alone. I was a bit freaked out." 

"I went to get breakfast," he says. 

"Did you not notice the ring on my finger?" The machine blares in rejection of your card. You curse under your breath and try again. 

"You didn't seem to," he retorts. 

You swallow as your card is rejected again. You toss the pills on the little ledge next to the till and huff. "It happened and I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye but I got enough going on." 

He sucks in through his nose and lets it out slowly. You turn away and he snarls, "I can hear the other heartbeat too, you know?" 

You stop short. What the fuck is he talking about? You gather what pride you have left and set your chin high. You march out without looking back. 

Other heartbeat? 

The nausea, the exhaustion, the aversion to the candle in your bathroom. No. It makes sense but it can't be true. 

You can't handle anything else. You just can't. You can't afford a pregnancy test, let alone a baby. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole if I started slamming doors in the middle of the night?

I (24f) live in a 2 bedroom apartment with my 20f roommate, and we've lived together for 2 years now. For the most part we have pretty good understanding of things and things go really smoothly. The only gripe I have is that she slams doors all the time. In the past I've kind of just written it off as I was raised in a house with people who worked night shift so I'm used to moving a little more quietly than most people.

Recently though, it's started bothering me. For starters she slammed the door when she left so hard that it shook my things off the mantle where they all broke on the floor (all of her decorations and stuff were totally fine, which drove me insane.) So I asked her to stop slamming doors. She seemed really apologetic and said she'd work on it, but so far it hasn't gotten any better.

I also had a surgery recently and now my sleeping is really difficult. Because of the residual pain and some of the medication I'm on, I'm a much lighter sleeper than usual. I get woken up every single time she gets up at night because she slams her door and the bathroom door shut over and over it feels like. I talked to her about this also about a week ago, she said she'd work on it, it got better for maybe three days, and now she's back at it again.

I know I'm easily irritated in general, and I've hit a stage in my recovery where I'm Extra Angry a lot of the time, but it's getting so ridiculous; I struggle to even get to sleep in the first place then just as I drift off Bang! shes in the bathroom and Bang!! She's back in her bedroom and the whole world has to fucking know about it. I just want to start getting up after she's gone to bed and start slamming my door to wake her up so she sees how it feels. (RIP to my downstairs neighbors but at this point I don't think they'd notice bc its been 2 years of this.)

[shiftylinguini]

Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack:

@phoebe-delia asked in response to this fun lil ask game:

Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back? . (for the ask anything) Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back?

Now THIS. This is a good question, and something that is very much on my mind and has been for a while, as I am currently absolutely in the midst of this and trying to army crawl my way out. I don't have any magic bullets (is that the saying? idk) but I have been here before and i do have a small arsenal of tips or methods that I find can help me. 

Here is my Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack (In no particular order):

Write anything 

This is hardly groundbreaking advice, and it's also the hardest thing to actually do (imo) so do not beat yourself up if it takes a while to get to this. Basically, write ANYTHING―it can be aimless, it can be pointless, it can be crap (crap is subjective!! don't let the brain gremlins win!!). 

Don't think about posting it, don't worry about anyone else ever reading it, just fling a few words onto a page and feel the rusty faucet turn on, proving to yourself that it still works. 

Try and sus out what it is that's blocking you 

Again this one is hard and annoying but functional. Once you can put your finger on the particular reason you're staring at a flashing black line on a blank page it can help you kick that reason off your lawn and into the bin. 

And then, take it out of the bin and be kind to yourself about whatever that reason is. Maybe you feel shit because you're comparing yourself to others, your last fic felt like a lead balloon, you can't muster enthusiasm for what you once loved doing and fear that it's gone forever, you're projecting in a Tumblr post―whatever it is, it's something all the writers you admire and aspire to be like have felt, and been annoyed with themselves for, and so you can wrap it up in a blanket and put it on a shelf and be kind to it so it, (respectfully) shuts the fuck up. 

(and remember, everyone feels insecure about their stuff. Like literally everyone, at some stage, feels like their stuff is rubbish)

Cheat on your OTP 

Okay this one might not work for everyone, but it really does for me lol. Ruts (not the sexy kind) can often come with not wanting to engage in my usual ships, being annoyed by my lack of ability to fucking write them/anything/all my ideas taste like cardboard/bleh, and stepping out on them and reading something new can snap me out of it. Just, an injection of new ideas or scenarios or words or even just a little reprieve from being fed up with myself, which ideally, is why we're all here anyway. 

(And then I come crawling back, and am welcomed with open arms haha)

In a similar vein:

Engage in media 

This subtitle is genuinely terrible, i am sorry, LMAO, but essentially: find a piece of media that makes you go "oh, helLO sailor", unhinge your jaw like a snake, and consume it whole. 

Let it nourish you, inspire you, excite you, making you feel SOMETHING, and then take that and think "fuck, what if i wrote bleepbloopblarp" and even if you write nary a single word, you've thought about it and that fucking counts. 

It might be an album, a book, a song, a show, gifs of a hot person, the wikipedia summary of a movie, literally anything counts here if it makes you feel a twinge of creativity. 

Ask yourself, what would Astolat do? 

No for real. @candybarrnerd and I genuinely use this haha.  

Worried your idea is stupid? Astolat would say write it. 

Worried it's too weird? Nah, just write it. 

It's dumb and no one will read it? Just write it for you *waggles eyebrows* (and then find out that yeah, nah, someone else will absolutely read this and be real fucking happy about it haha.)

Worried you're a one trick pony and have already written this fic before, like, and not even once before, and also you're projecting again in Tumblr post? WRITE IT AGAIN! As Astolat once said, "it's a fic so nice, I wrote it thrice". 

It's good advice. 

Make a friend or lean hard on the ones you have here

Misery loves company because it knows they'll come out of this together :). I know, I know, that's fucking NAFF, but fandom is all about finding like-minded freaks and blowing up their DMs because you saw a gif and now feel a kind of ways about it. 

And lastly: 

FUCK STATS! 

I mean I love stats (yay validation!), but god can they make you feel like a worthless shit (hey where did my validation go :((( ). It can be really insidious, so piss that right off when it starts to fuck with your confidence or outlook on your own writing.

Hopefully there is something useful here, even if it's just looking at this advice and thinking "no that's shit, it's writing POISON" cos then you can maybe do the version you think is NOT shit, and that might work. 

Good luck, fellow travelers!!

[gothic-thoughts]

Second Chances

(yes i played clarinet in HS. no we not gon talk about it 😭🧍🏾‍♀️)

Part 1! Dio Brando x Black Fem Reader Fluff

College Football!Dio, Band Geek!Reader(me fr), ModernAU, Drabble(esque)

CW: reader is fed up😭

Word Count: 981

TW: bullying mention, not proofread

After the university won the game, the football team was swarmed by people to congratulate them. Especially Dio, the star wide receiver, who was surrounded by cheerleaders fawning over him and the win. (Y/n) wades through the commotion with her marching band hat under her arm and her clarinet case in her free hand as she pushes past the crowd. The Center walks over to Dio and playfully snatches his helmet away while the Running Back rests his arm on his shoulder.

"Whatchu looking at, Dee?" Center asked.

"That your girl?" the Running Back teased.

"Not yet," Dio replied with a smug grin. “That's (Y/n), we got like two classes together. She's in the marching band."

Center laughed thinking he was kidding, "Pretty nerdy, guessing you want her to help you study?"

The Running Back laughs along, "Yeah, you need more nerds to help you with your homework?"

"Nah, I tried bullying her cuz she's in marching band." Dio chuckles fondly at the memory of their first encounter, "But she shut me the hell down. She may be a short-ass band nerd but, goddamn, she's got one hell of a fuckin spine."

He sees her finally exit the sea of people who once filled the audience and adjust her marching band jacket before turning down a relatively empty corridor. Dio playfully chases after her and he catches up to her and grabs her shoulder lightly from behind.

"Hey, Short Stack."

“You again? What do you want now?”

"You." Dio winks.

“Ugh.”

She shrugs him off her shoulder and turns around, continuing down the hall only for him to casually follow her with his signature smirk.

"You know, I can't tell if you hate me or like me."

“I don't know enough about you but let's go with I dislike you.”

Dio moves closer, "I don't know, I feel like you do. Besides, if you don't even know me then you shouldn't make judgments about me, short stuff."

“Oh really? Our first encounter, you made me late trying to bully me.”

"Oh right. But I think we should let bygones be bygones. Besides, people change. And people can start over."

“Not when that first encounter happened 4 fuckin’ days ago. Mind you, I was late for practice for the halftime show at the game you just won.”

"Listen Short Stack; are ya gonna let something so minor keep you from doin' that? Like c’mon, that was Monday."

(Y/n) stops mid-step and looks up at him with a narrowed irritated glare.

“No, you listen, Number 33.” She poked his chest, “Not like you asked, but the band director is strict as fuck. If any of us is more than 5 minutes late, we usually have to stay an extra 10 after class to make up for it. But since the game was this week, your fuckin’ song and dance made me have to stay an extra 25 minutes and walk in the fuckin’ rain. That was my Monday."

(Y/n) turns away and storms off down the hall, turning the next corner. Dio's composure breaks for a moment before he sighs and puts his hands in his pockets. Despite the mask of playfulness on his face, he does feel bad for making her go through that.

He also feels slight shame since he’s not used to losing these kinds of encounters with girls. They were usually falling all over him, hesitant to argue, much less yell at him. Dio sighs and follows her around the corner, now getting into a more serious demeanor.

"I have a compromise for you," Dio says calmly. "Hear me out real quick."

She sucks her teeth, “Bruh!”

“I mean it, as a way to apologize.”

“Just apologize.”

“Not good at that, so I want to do something for you to prove it.”

“A deal?” 

“Just hear me out

She sighs deeply, “What is it?”

"Let me take you on a date to make up for those 25 minutes."

(Y/n) genuinely chuckles, “You want to take me on a 25-minute date, Dio?”

“Tch, no, I’ll take you on a date and I have 25 minutes to make you feel better about what I did Monday. If I don't, you can leave and I won't bother you again."

“Hmm...”

“I mean of course I’ll find you around school for more of this lovely attention you’re giving me right now, but I won’t bother you.”

Another deep sigh. “Can’t believe I’m doin’ this. Fine, but I pick the place and time.”

"Sounds fine to me, where and when?"

“How about another compromise; I'll give you my Insta and text you all the info if you go change out your uniform.”

"A compromise within a compromise. I like it." Dio said with a sly grin. “And what's wrong with the uniform, it's a chick magnet."

“Yeah, not with the smell.” She laughs, “ Like I know we’re both sweaty, but you smell like ass and grass so...”

"Hey, that's just cuz of the game. After I clean myself I smell like a bouquet of flowers."

“You gonna have to prove that cuz that’s not what I’m inhaling right now.”

Dio laughs as he takes out his phone, “Alright, alright; message received. I’ll go now.”

(Y/n) puts her clarinet case down and takes his phone to follow herself on Instagram before handing it back. Dio notices the smile on her face and his eyes follow her movements, even as she starts to walk away. He thinks for a moment; she had every chance to shoot him down and yet she agrees to let him take her to a date. 

Was she interested, or was this her just way of being spiteful? Either way, he was willing to find out. Dio stares at the screen of his phone, reading her Instagram handle over and over again. After reading it a second time, his smirk returns.

[satanicsanity]

…the person who requested the swap AU just gave me an idea, hehe

What if swap Wally gets a bit too cocky w listener and it actually makes them cry, so him having a secret crush on them just panics and tries everything to calm us down XD

You guys are getting more opposite-Wally because I SAID S- nah I'm just teasing! Haha! Honestly though.. Wally and opposite-Wally are just everything at the moment- haha! But of course as usual, before we get into the audio!

Credits & disclaimers/trigger warnings!!

First, the Art: The art used in this video for the audio, was done by the amazing @/imjade381 here on tumblr!! I want it CLEAR that this isn't my art, this is their art! And they do AMAZING stuff so if you can please go give them a follow!!

Second, The Au: This alternative universe was made and created by @henneysilly over on tiktok!! If you can, please go give them a follow and check out they're stuff!! They're a very neat lad!

This is NOT my original artwork or welcome home au!! <3

Trigger warnings: Hateful/hurtful comments! He's a little mean!

Subtitles, Opposite-Wally speaking: [laughter] Honestly neighbor, look at you! You are so pathetic! Honestly how does someone like you even exist? You can't really be that stupid. [Neighbor starts to tear up] Huh? Neighbor, what's wrong? Are y-.. Are you crying? Oh! Oh no! I- uh.. Damn it! I'm sorry, I-.. Fuck! I didn't mean t- I didn't mean to make you cry! I was just um... I'm- I'm sorry... I didn't- I didn't mean to.. Actually hurt you! Fuck, damn it! Do I have to fuck everything up? Uh.. No! I-I'm sorry! Ugh, this isn't about me! Neighbor. I am deeply.. Sorry. I do not think you are stupid. I don't, I really don't! I-... I don't know how to talk to you, okay? So I call you stupid, and pathetic, and.. A bitch, because i-I don't know how to talk to you! And I guess that's my way of telling you that I like you but i-... [pause] I didn't mean to say that.. Uhhm fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! Uhh! [stammering] just- just shut up! Just shut up for a minute! Uhh um.. I-I'll go get you some tissues! Damn it!

[mysticdoodlez]

interlude: MADE BREATH and SKIN

Watcher Noah Sebastian x oc (Taylor)

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/n: so up to around chapter six, I was up in the air over whether Taylor would a) start a relationship, and b) go with Nick or Noah. The interlude was bare bones until Taylor made up their mind, but I always had in my drafts a version where they went with Noah. Some talks on the discord happened and I just went "fuck it we ball" and I expanded the draft to a full-blown one-shot. Also: I KNOW ANTLERS AREN'T SENSITIVE LIKE THAT, BUT HE'S A DEER GOD. THE RULES DON'T APPLY TO HIM.

In other news, I tried to write without limitations like last time, cuz non-binary folk who are okay with their body parts and being called "good AGAB" exist out there too, people! So, if mentions of female body parts or female terminology shuts you down, then this won't be for you.

Cw: language, supernatural themes, sexy stuff: oral (oc receiving), slight monster fucking (monster, demi-deity, whatev), pet play if you squint, unwrapped p in v (be safe, kiddos), telepathic dirty-talk

“I don't need to be babysat. Like they're gonna try to break into my house and kidnap me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well, too bad. Like I have anything better to do than babysit you,” Noah said, shedding his leather jacket he had over his hoodie. I could hear the playful undertone in his voice, thankfully. And to be honest, I was kind of glad he was here.

“Need help?” I commented as he pulled his hoodie up.

“Nope,” he said, lifting it up above his head. I mainly watched just to see how he could manage to get it over the antlers that were sprouting from the sides of his head, but I would be lying if I said I didn't sneak a peek at the part of his stomach as his shirt rode up. “Jeez, do you have to keep this place like a sauna in here?”

“It's not even seventy degrees in here,” I said, trying to avoid staring too long after he managed to get the hoodie off, but I still couldn’t get over the fact that he was actually that… big under all that clothing. He was now down to just a cut-off tank, leaving all the binding sigils that ran up and down his arms and across his collarbones and shoulders on display. Honestly, combined with the muscles, it made me want to punch him.

But still, after a while, my eyes were drawn back up to the antlers. While not as wide and impressive as the last time I saw them, they still seemed to make him seem taller and bigger than he already was.

“My eyes are down here.”

His words snapped me out of my reverie before he flipped down onto the couch beside me. “What're we watching?” he asked. When I looked down into his eyes, with his face drawn up into a smirk, I was almost taken aback when I noticed the smattering of freckles under them. The Lost Boy Who Would Become King.

“Does it hurt?” I blurted out.

“Does what hurt?” Noah asked.

“The antlers… when they grow out. Do they hurt?” I clarified, curiosity getting the better of me.

He blinked. “N-no?” he replied awkwardly, like no one had bothered to ask that question of him before. “Mostly they’re just sensitive until they reach their full point. Kinda itchy, too.” His thigh bumped against mine.

“Has anyone touched them?” I asked.

“No, usually people are too busy screaming ‘Ah, don’t kill me’ if I get—“ I cut him off with a backhand to the chest. “What? It's true!”

“I meant like Nick and the others,” I huffed, leaning back.

“Nah, they're not stupid enough to–” Noah said, but then stopped dead when I pressed my thumb against one of the points.

“Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt—“ I stammered, pulling my hand away until I noticed his eyes. They seemed to pin me to where I was sitting.

“No, you’re fine, it's just…” Noah swallowed thickly, “I didn’t expect it to feel like… that.”

“Like wha…?” I trailed off as I realized what he meant. Oh.

My hand, which was still hovering near his head, fell back down to his antlers. Curiosity getting the better of me, I traced a light line from where they met his skull up to one of the first points. He shuddered under my touch, a small moan slipping out.

“Stop that,” he gritted out.

“Stop what?” I asked. I meant for it to be an honest question, but I didn't think he took it to be like that. Especially when his hand shot up and snatched my wrist away from his head.

“Stop teasing,” he said with a low rumble, dipping his head down to where he was eye level with me. My heart stopped when I saw how dark his eyes were.

I felt his other hand snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him. As ironic as the comparison was, I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. “Is that why you asked about them? So you could see me like this?” he asked. I was practically on his lap at this point, my knees straddling his thighs. He dipped his head lower to nuzzle his lips against my jaw.

The movement snapped me out of my paralysis, and I finally found my voice. “Aww, is Bambi sensitive?” I cooed, reaching my free hand up to run a finger up his antlers again. He shuddered against me, breath panting and ragged, and I froze up again when I felt his dick begin to harden underneath my core.

“I said watch it,“ he growled, grabbing that hand as well. “Do you like being a tease? Touching me like that?” He pushed me onto my back, pinning my wrists to the armrest above my head. He easily was able to hold both of them with one hand, those long fingers wrapping around them as he freed a hand to roughly grab my jaw. “Touch me again, and I’ll build you up to just leave you here wet and needy.”

My eyes widened a little bit as I took in what he said. “No—“ He cut me off with a small squeeze. The little puffs of breath he let out ghosted over my ear, making me shudder in his hands. When he finally let go of my jaw, it was to only run it over the hollow of my throat and stop. He leaned down, his lips leaving light but wet kisses along my neck.

A soft whimper escaped my throat, and my legs squirmed under his. He chuckled, my only warning before he bit down on the sensitive flesh between my neck and shoulder. A sharp gasp left me, which turned into a moan when his teeth retracted to let his tongue sweep over the mark.

“I want everyone to know what’s mine, little rabbit,” he whispered. “I want them to know that you belong to the Watcher of the Woods.”

The possessive tone he used slightly pissed me off, but as he alternated between biting and soothing at my tender skin, I could barely care. That's when I realized, despite my fogged-up brain, my mouth was close to the base of his antlers. So between keening, I let out a breathy moan that I knew would hit them.

His reaction was instantaneous. He let out a loud moan against my wet skin, hips involuntarily shunting forward against mine. The straining in his jeans pressed against my covered core, earning a sharp inhale from me. I didn't know how dizzier I could get.

Noah pulled away to look me in the eyes. “Seriously, Taylor, if you want–”

“Noah, I want you, monster or not,” I panted.

For once, Noah was stunned into silence. He hovered over me, jaw slightly dropped as he took in my words. He then brought his lips down to lock with mine in a messy, heated kiss.

There was no gentleness in this kiss, and I didn't expect any. This was a man starved. He finally let go of my wrists and trailed his hands down my chest, my waist, to my hips, then trailed them back up, under my shirt this time.

His thumbs ran small, feather-light circles around my nipples. “No bra?” he asked, smirking against my lips.

“Never wear one,” I admitted.

“Good. Off,” he commanded. “I wanna look at you.” He pulled away to give me space.

Somehow I knew what he was talking about through the sex-addled white noise, and I lifted my shirt up and over my head. I flushed under his gaze that slowly raked over my body.

“I could absolutely devour you,” he admitted, leaning back down, lower this time. He ran his tongue up my sternum, up the small slope of one breast, and closed his mouth around my nipple. I keened and squirmed as he flicked the tip of his tongue over the hard peak, feeling helpless as he teased the other between his thumb and fingers.

Eventually, after both tits were given enough attention, he pulled off with a soft pop, biting into what flesh there was. He left little nips as he trailed down my tummy until he finally reached the waistband of my jeans.

“N-Noah…” I whimpered, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah…?” His eyes flicked up to mine as I gazed down my body at him.

“Please… not here,” I pleaded.

He blinked, his dark brown eyes darkening further. “You don't want me to fuck you on the couch?” he asked.

“P-please n-no.”

Suddenly, with supernatural strength, he hitched my waist over his shoulder, pulling up and taking me with him. I let out a small yelp of surprise, but soon he was taking me back to my bedroom. My world was just an upside- down view of the back of his top and ass. If I could just manage to get my arm up, I could just–

Before I could smack anything, he roughly tossed me onto the bed. He crawled up between my legs, undoing the button and zipper of my jeans. I wriggled my hips as he pulled my jeans and underwear down in one fast motion. With a groan, and without tearing his gaze from between my legs, he carelessly tossed the garments somewhere on the floor. “Fucking hell, you've been wet this whole time, haven't you?” he asked, leaning down.

“Noah–”

“Are you okay with this?” Noah asked. I stared at him in surprise, and he rolled his eyes. “I might be a monster, but I'm not that kind of a monster.”

“Fuck, of course Noah. Just fucking–” My tirade was cut off as he dove down like it was his last meal. My hips lifted off the bed in surprise, and he lifted my legs over his shoulders, wrapping his hands around my thighs and pulling them down against him.

I couldn't think of anything past the feeling of his tongue flicking over and around my clit, spearing into my pussy and then flattening as he licked long stripes up and down my slit. All I could do was grab the top of his head, tangling my fingers in his long tresses as I tried to keep myself grounded.

“Oh, God, No… ah–” was all I could manage to get out as I shook like someone possessed. His fingers dug into my thighs, the pain of his nails pressing in only adding to the pleasure. It felt like the more I reacted to him like this, the harder he worked to make me feel good.

I looked down at him to see that he was already intently staring at me. Somehow his dark eyes seemed to be bright when they met mine. I felt him smirk against my lower lips and then I heard,

YOU TASTE SO FUCKING GOOD.

Speaking into my head, hearing that praise, sent a bolt of pleasure through me that had me arching, releasing onto his tongue as I swore up to the ceiling. He lapped it up, not relaxing his movements one bit, and the overstimulation carried me into my second orgasm, my scream tearing through my throat.

THERE IT IS. THAT’S IT, GIVE IT TO ME.

He slowed down, kitten-licking me through my aftershocks, and then finally pulled away, settling me back down onto my bed. “You good?” He asked, like he didn't just completely shatter me.

Through ragged breaths that hurt my throat and my swimming vision, I nodded. Dear God, that was–

“He's not here, and by the end of tonight, I'll have you screaming my name like you worship me.” His growl sent ripples throughout my body. Noah crawled up on top of me, caging my face between his hands, and kissed me roughly. I could smell and taste myself on his lips.

“Noah, please I need you,” I managed to say between fervent kisses.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“Noah.”

“Louder.”

“Noah–”

“Pray for me.”

“Please, Noah.”

When I opened my eyes, it was him shoving his jeans off, but what made me gasp was the sight of his antlers, now the crown of bone that I remembered. With his hair wild and tangled from my fingers, and the tattoos spread all across his now naked body, he truly looked like the forest god he was.

He perched over me, leaning down to kiss me hard enough to stoke the fire in my belly again, and trailed two fingers up and down my still-slick folds. He slowly pushed them into my hole, alternating between curling, scissoring, and pulling them out before repeating the cycle. I was a moaning, whimpering mess that could barely talk when I realized that he was lining himself up.

“N-Noah, f-fuck… please,” I near sobbed.

“Shhh, I've got you,” he said quietly, gently brushing some damp hairs off my forehead. He then slowly, tortuously, pushed in, making me cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Ohh god, Noah, a-ah!” I said. “'s n-not gonna f-fit.”

“Yes it will,” he rasped. I was so glad that he too was having a rough time handling me like I was handling him. “I know you can do it.” He then pulled my legs up and hitched them around his waist, nearly folding me in half. With a few more shallow thrusts, he finally bottomed out, hitting a spot in me that turned my moans to something primal.

“There we go, good job. I told you you could do it,” he muttered, kissing the bridge of my nose. The feeling of me clenching on his cock had him groan, a sound that seemed like it came from somewhere deep inside him. “You ready?”

“Y-yes, Noah.”

His pace was steady at first, torturously slow. I rolled my hips to meet his, and his hands flew down to them to encourage the movement. “Go on… Take what you need,” he said, voice hitching at the end. I reached up to wrap my arms around his wide back, feeling the muscles flexing underneath my hands. His forehead dropped to mine and our lips brushed together in unison.

FUCK, IT’S LIKE YOU WERE MADE FOR ME,

he said, a hand reaching up to cup my cheek, tilting my face so our lips could finally press against each others,

MY LITTLE RABBIT.

Noah, I’m gonna - I’m gonna… I was desperately close, and his pace just kept getting hastier. I knew I was about to topple over the edge, and Noah was going to push me over with no remorse.

LET GO,

he said,

I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU.

When I opened my eyes, I saw his big doe eyes focused on me. I couldn’t hold it anymore, and I screamed his name as my head rolled back against my pillow. I swore I nearly blacked out, or at least the edges of my vision turned black, as my vision blurred. I felt my sweat-slick skin press against his as my back arched completely off the bed.

Noah chased his own release a little bit later, thrusting into me while growling something that might’ve been words in the other tongue, or just gibberish. Soon after, his hips stilled, and his body sagged onto me, the weight and warmth being welcome.

We lied there, chests heaving as we tried to catch our breath, and I found myself gently scratching at his scalp. My fingers gently brushed against the base of his antlers, and I stilled.

“You’re fine, I can’t feel anything when they’re fully grown,” Noah muttered against the skin of my neck.

“You know that, but not when they’re forming?” I asked.

“Like I said earlier, it never came up.” He chuckled airily.

We stayed like that for a while, his body like an anxiety blanket, until my body decided I needed to get up. Noah thought otherwise, as he wrapped his arms around my midsection and pulled me back against him every time I tried to leave the bed.

“Lemme up, I have to go to the bathroom and take a shower.”

“Only if I get to join you,” he said with a sly grin.

“Those things aren’t gonna fit in the shower,” I said with a momentary glance up at the antlers.

“Oh, I’ll make them fit.”

“…Gross.”

[demonicnarwhale]

Ok so like Die, he's a pretty morbid or views death in a very "it is, what it is" and maybe even comedically. But it's only towards the death/misfortunes of others, but with his owns it's like he doesn't really want to die but at the hands of another person being the reason. If he's gonna die, he wants it to be at the hands of himself. Like he's the type to talk all big about wanting to die (in certain circumstances) but when it's time to, he resists and like realizes he doesn't want to go just yet??

HK is just squeamish with the thought of being the one to kill and death. But, like when it comes to dealing with bodies of strangers, she's managed to adjust to dealing and disposing of them. Years of The Felt just does that to one I guess lol. So of course there's more weight when it comes to the death of someone she knows (even if The Felt members will just come back later). But when death hits her then it's like, she accepts (nah she gives up fighting) and rolls with it.

OK OK OK SO THESE TWO OUAGhh a whole ass yapping session under the cut, and yes. If needed to. I will write a fucking essay on this.

Wow, Eel having a thing for opposites having/being able to learn from each other and building themselves up from that...aough

to start off, I like to view romance as a very "it depends on the people involved in it" sort. Like even troll romance not all quads are actual romantically based. SOooo maybe other relationships like moirails will have some romance while others won't. Why? Just so I can finagle different relationships teeheee.

Pots of Gold, basically, Business Partners. It can have some romance or platonic sprinkled in. Usually, it's for either everyone to get something out of it or can be one sided/only for one person's gain.

But between these two, just transactional like. As in, they both get something out of it through this "partnership". There's no sense of romance or even platonic feelings between them. Well, HK's like a hint of platonic as she tends to worry for the wellbeing of Die and genuinely can enjoy his presence for some reason.

Die, I like to think is fascinated with bodies and its inner workings. And carapacians, they're a whole new species for him! Like Snowman's there, but c'mon. It's Snowman. And I like to think that since HK's just there, then it's just so convenient for him! Like of course there's also other carapaces that The Felt come across that aren't The Midnight Crew and Die can get his grimy hands on some subjects. But again, for convenience's sake, and cuz members of The Felt can't really die-die (I headcanon Doc Scratch being able to reverse time enough to reset everyone, further explanation in a comic in the future) so Die has the ability to mess with her and can go "hey let's see if this sticks after you come back HK" sorta thing. That, and he knows HK craves being able to fulfil other's wants and needs to the best of her abilities, people pleaser ass.

HK wants to help be there for Die as she believes that as her being the house keeper for The Felt, not only is it that the manor needs to be kept in tip-top shape, but also the members. She doesn't have a desire to "fix" him, but instead to help set him on a path where he can fix himself on his own volition or something. Also, she just feels pretty bad for that fucking loser. She gets the gratification (and maybe even false pretense) that she's actually being helpful! Like, she genuinely doesn't want him to have to change everything about himself just for the sake of others (very funny coming from her) but she can't help but worry.

So in this case, you can say it's one sided as it's really HK the one showing some fondness towards Die, but Die doesn't really dabble in that sorta stuff. I like to think that he's just used to shutting people out/down as he's pretty much some sort of punching bag in The Felt. And it's not easy for him to open up and he simply just doesn't want to. I don't see Die as the type who'd actually want any semblance of a "relationship" with another, in either a romantic or platonic (? i can see with some specific members that he'd be comfortable with) sense, he's just there. So like, aromantic thing going on. But that doesn't mean he's strictly opposed to having some sort of friend/acquaintance??? It's hard to explain my thoughts on that guy. But he does manage to get along with some of the others. (I would explain but that's a whole 'nother thang) Also it could also just be him being paranoid that something will definitely go wrong??

So, with this Pots of Gold being strictly one-sided or "business partner" like where both Die and HK get (some sort) of thing out of this, it just kinda fits for them. That, and just the differences between these two make me giggle. Die being cynical and even enjoying dark humor and sometimes even jaded* while HK being a credulous or gullible, maybe even naive, because she's really fucking dumb guys come on. BUT BUT BUT switching that whole shit around??? like omg * note: Die isn't always jaded or unemotional. I like to think he can be just as petty, dramatic and animated when needed. Like overreacting and such. Hell, the guy can be quite expressive whether that be negative or on the rare occasion, positive.

HK slowly having to learn that things are different, she's no longer Historiographic Knitter or on Prospit, and having to deal with The Felt (and even Midnight Crew + others) kind of begins to open her eyes, aware of what's going on ya know? Like pretty much needing to grow a shell (hA) to deal with all this.

And with Die, oog being able to slowly be forced to adjust to someone who's got a different thing going on. AOugh how do I explain... he's slowly getting used to seeing someone who actually enjoys his presence. And like how he's not one to show some sort of "im getting fond of you" sort of reactions, he actually slowly does, in really small unnoticeable ways that probably is just like a "that's the bare minimum" sort but it's something!! Like giving HK a slight nod, like that! THAT oough. Oh HK would be entirely delighted!!! And them learning how to deal with others opposite of themselves, like HK needing to learn when she needs to stop and give others their space and not come off as overbearing when she means well. And Die to learn how to try to stop always assuming the worst will happen/out of others and their actions.

They're both in a sense stepping mats like they get walked all over and such in different ways. And are The Felt's clean up crew, Die gets to do with he wants with the bodies and HK will dispose of them (the garden/yard thing). Also, they get to rant and ramble to each other about anything really even if Die will end up telling HK to shut up, or will just shut himself up on his own and not speak to her for days hehe

Also also, oh goodness, Die being able to just be unapologetically (probably even brutally) honest with HK* when she's being stupid/too soft and her having to slowly learn or come to terms with reality through Die... and then, Die being able to be treated like another being on a daily enough basis and being listened to. Aughhh. Of course, some of the other members are concerned-ish for him, but his tendencies to disregard others make it hard for the other members of The Felt to befriend him, hell it annoys some of the others too. Being able to feel like he's just another guy, like everyone else, instead of this annoying freak. OAguh

*And to note: It's also the fact, that he knows that HK won't have to guts to tell him to shut up. But that she's going to actually listen. Whether she takes what he says to heart or not, it's him being able to just express his thoughts.

OH MY GOD AND NOT TO FORGET: Thanks to the (questionable) ways Die experiments or studies HK's innards and such, it also helps him further his fascination/satisfaction with being in control but also! it helps HK with not needing to be so squeamish and fearful of injuries and such. Like she's still gonna kick and sob but slowly, it'll be more of her dealing with it with eyes filled with tears and not trying to trash around!!! win moment

Also, I shall name this uh thing "Patchwork" because I know people like Die, and I wanna make sure that like even if this is far from a relationship between them, if people don't wanna see this sorta stuff, they can block the tag

(also Patchwork is just funny to me. Cuz like HK with her whole "used to be Historical Knitter and then Die dabbling with pins and such. And like they both need some serious work but also also also slowly patching each other up in their own wacky ways)

[kaicheri]

lights, camera, action…?

sub camboy!beomgyu x afab reader

warnings: streamer au, mommy kink, handjob, dirty talk, edging, ruined orgasm

wc: 2.2k

a/n: repost #???

>>>>

“ughh this is sooo boring just fuck alreadyyyy”

Oh, God. Beomgyu didn't see that comment too...right?

This isn't the first one that you've seen. In fact, it was one of the thousands pestering you two to fuck each other. The sexual tension that you and Beomgyu have been trying to sweep under the rug? Couldn't be worse than now.

Well, you can’t say for sure the feeling’s mutual, but on your side of the grass, things haven’t exactly been greener since he’s moved in with you two weeks ago.

Why?

Because…never mind, it’s nothing—he’s still your roommate, don’t think. Just don't.

“Oh, you stream?" he gasped hopefully and shook your hand fast, "Holy shit, me too!”

He might've come off a bit strong, but at least he was enthusiastic enough to introduce himself raw.

“Oh, really?” You asked, “What do you stream?”

You, for example, are an influencer who regularly reacts, and indulges in video games here and there—but apparently, your new friend decided to skip past the talking stage and fly right into it, feeling more than comfortable to admit that he was part of a much…ahem-

…naughtier community.

“You—you do porn?” you tried to hide the heat in your cheeks, and the surprise in your voice. or excitement, rather. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. or turned on.

You’d expected a gamer at the most… but a camboy? No way in hell.

It's just...he doesn’t really...look the part? Well, they’re usually always old, bald, or just plain unattractive (in which they’d opt for faceless camming). But maybe you were just exposed to the wrong ones.

“Uh, sorta?” scratching his head, Beomgyu frowned like he, too, was questioning himself—as if it was that hard to explain. “Not exactly, I…I haven’t actually fucked anyone on camera.”

…Or ever, actually, he wanted to confess. He's still a virgin dipping his feet fresh into the welcoming, warm waters of porn, and touching toes with his sexuality. Of course, he thought it’d be fun!

Plus, who doesn't like sex?

And as a young guy who claims to be “pretty on cameras and sexy on the main,” he’d decided, why not?

“Guys, it’s not what you think. We are not fucking,” you awkwardly chuckle, hands up matter-of-factly.

Well, you could…and it’s not like you haven’t ever thought about it—but still!

Point is, you still have a bit of respect for your roommate, so these intrusive thoughts gotta stay low.

…which is getting harder and harder to do, especially when there's always some extremely descriptive commenter fantasizing on the screen every five seconds.

You might as well just fuck him now in front of everybody so that they’d finally shut up about it. After all this isn’t even your audience—it’s his.

“never thought i’d see urdaddyy/n69 here lmfao”

“whats she doing with a camboy lol”

“nah they dating fs”

Sighing, you ignore the comments flooding onto the screen, continuing to interview the boy beside you—just about the system and how it works—in the event that your own streaming career does a one-eighty and flops all of a sudden.

“So...you just sit here and…touch yourself?”

“N-nah,” Beomgyu laughs, face bashful, “Well, I mean—yeah…but there’s more to it than that...”

“Like what?”

“Like, um, interacting with the fans!” He spreads his hands out towards the monitor to address said audience, “And asking how their day has been going, if they’ve eaten yet…you know, s-stuff like that.”

“Uh-huh…” you raise a brow, but he understands why you might question it.

“I-I know it seems like that’s the last thing they come on here for, but…they’re actually pretty nice,” he tries to explain softly.

“And you mentioned that you record…voice memos or something like that?”

“Oh, yeah. Sometimes, I record the audio only and post it onto Baetreon—which they also support! So I’m grateful for that,” he gives a thumbs up to the viewers and a precious smile.

“Y’know,” his voice softens, “as a pretty small streamer, I can't help but be thankful. The viewers…they mean the world to me.”

As you would’ve guessed, with his ability to be irresistible at all times, and the whole boyfriend-this-and-that image, it’s no surprise his marketing strat is so effective. The boy is smart, and knows exactly how to play the game.

That’s impressive, and you’ll admit kinda hot. Maybe you could, um…help him gain the recognition he deserves.

“Well, I have an idea. How about we give them a show?” you suddenly offer.

“What—what do you mean?”

“I’ll help you get off.”

“Wait, w-what??”

The chat goes wild.

“I said I’ll help you-“

But he has to hear that again to make sure, so he tugs on your sleeve and brings you into a whispering exchange behind his hand, hoping that the viewers can’t hear what’s next.

“Y-y/n, that’s,” he gulps, “that’s too risky!”

Well, yeah. A pretty well-rounded, medium-seized creator such as yourself would get into a load of shit because of this—but to be fair, what streamer hasn’t gotten into a scandal?

“Wouldn’t that ruin your career??” he whispers, obviously concerned.

“If it does, I’ll just quit streaming and join you instead.”

The last bit shocks him and he’s unsure of what it means.

“It means you won’t have to do solo shows anymore,” you chuckle, shrugging nonchalantly, “Plus, streaming sex does sound pretty fun. And… I get to fuck you as much as I want, right?”

Beomgyu’s jaw drops, surprised by how calm you are after so casually letting that slip.

“What?” you breathe out, almost laughing, “So…is that a no?”

“N-no, I mean—“

He takes a moment to calm himself, inhaling and then, exhaling sort of dramatically.

“W-what I meant to say was…I’m not opposed to the idea,” he admits quietly and lowers his gaze, scratching his neck. You didn’t think his blush could deepen.

“But are you sure you wanna…do this? Like, you’re being serious, serious right now?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, impatiently pulling his chair closer to yours, and Beomgyu completely freezes when he feels your arm snake around his precious, little waist.

“I mean, you’re always pleasuring yourself alone,” you whisper saccharinely, so dangerously close to his ear, “Why don’t I pleasure you this time?”

—————

“What do you think about when you touch yourself, pretty boy?”

He gulps, “I…I just read, a-ah, c-comments—“

“Pfft, the comments?” you scoff, “How pitiful.”

The poor boy hisses when you slightly tighten your grip on his cock, continuing to slowly—painfully—drag a mixture of his precum and your own sly spit all over him.

“Why read the comments when…I could be right here, next to you?” you lean in closer to his ear, “touching you just like this…”

Your hand swallows up his swollen, too-abnormally-fat-of-a-tip, and makes him whine out loud, all pathetic for everyone watching to hear.

“Aw, is it too much?” you pout and coo, clearly enjoying yourself as you put him through a different kind of torture.

“N-no-” Beomgyu shakes his head, brows knit and eyes shut tight like a stupid anime character.

“No, who?”

His whimpers and gasps are so, so fucking cute that you can’t help but grind a little on your chair, just watching him try to push words beyond his tight throat.

“N-no, mommy,” he swallows hard, “keep going, p-please…”

“Good boy.”

He deserves a little bit more, doesn’t he?

“God, you’re so…” you hiss in through your teeth as you loosen your grip to focus on increasing your speed, “so fucking good for me…”

Beomgyu’s mouth drops wide open and his back delicately arches against his gamer chair, giving you the perfect opportunity to pull his side up against your torso.

Face fucked out and parallel with the ceiling, he squeezes your thigh as to hold onto something—something close and comforting to level himself.

But at the rate of which you’re going on his pretty, little cock? There’s no way he can come down from the clouds now.

And especially when Beomgyu’s the master of edging himself, having the ability to control his pleasure levels and think about grandmas in time to prolong his pleasure is completely useless now that you have him in the palm of your sadistic hand.

“Too…too fast, mommy—“

You find him trying to hold back his moans and whimpers all silly. Oh, you’re gonna milk this boy until he’s gone.

“Aw, scared of cumming too soon?” you chuckle, “how embarrassing.”

You peek at the monitors, only to see all of them egging you on. Like yourself, the viewers want to see this poor boy become a cum-spurting mess—crying and squirting his children-carrying juice everywhere—all over your hand, keyboard, monitors, himself.

“No, you’re gonna hold it in for mommy, okay? No cumming until I say so.”

How could you put him through such…torture? It’s delicious—the way he looks, sounds, and smells like flowers. There’s nothing wrong with weeding out the bad in his cock.

But unfortunately, that would mean you’d have to pull at his precious, little petals, and tease up his leaves a bit. His lovely viewers deserve to see him suffer just as much as you do, facing his ultimate demise, the beginning of the beautiful end—an orgasm denial.

One that would leave him shaking and crying all pretty for the world to see.

The boy’s so stupid and desperate—so gullible and easily controlled—he has nothing else, but the various sensations of his cock driving him. He’ll do anything to cum at this point.

“I-I…I’ll hold it in, mommy, promise!” he blurts out, realizing that you slowing down might be worse for him, “Just…don’t s-stop, pleeease…”

He’s trying so hard to keep himself at bay with the kind of pace you’re using on him—and fuck, it’s so cute—obviously showing his efforts in the form of prominent neck veins, a deeply reddened face, and tears beginning to seep out from under tightly closed eyes.

“Baby, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” He knows you’re fucking with his mind, even more so by leaning in close to press soft kisses on his neck where the veins are out.

“Poor, poor baby…“

“M-mommy, I- nng, can’t!” he cries out, feeling a fever kick in and his cock becoming numb from it all, “Please, I can’t…h-hold it anymore—“

He grabs onto you and his armrest tight, chest heaving and breathing so dramatically. It’d be a miracle if he doesn’t end up fainting by the end of this.

“Not yet,” you breathe out, speeding your strokes up, “just a little more for mommy—“

“Oh, mommy, please- let me cum, p-please!!” he squirms frantically in his chair, throbbing heavily in your wet hand.

Without saying a word back, you quicken your pace, putting him to the test—

Fine. If he can’t take simple orders like a good boy…

Beomgyu gasps and cries out loudly, hips beginning to thrust off the chair and into helpless sobs.

It’s only a matter of time before he finds out he’s fucking nothing but air.

Because bad boys don’t get rewards.

“Mommy, n-no!”

It’s too late.

You had already loosened your fingers around his crying cock, and now, the poor thing is pathetically swinging around in the air along with his needy hips, dripping of the tinniest essences that have failed to be milked completely.

He could’ve used his own hands to finish it off, but both were quickly held back by yours.

You have yet to release his dainty wrists from your tight hold, letting him whine in absolute tears. It wasn’t easy, but you were able to pull his shaking body back down into his chair again before he could fuck something random—anything in sight—but considering his position, he desperately tried to rub his thighs against his cock.

But there wasn't any use. Now, he’s left with tears staining his cheeks and a pitiful gaze down at his own swollen cock. Nothing but a few droplets on his trembling thighs.

It’s obvious he’d never had a ruined orgasm in his life, even when his audience has paid thousands in request. Poor Beomgyu just needed a push. So admittedly, the satisfaction was at least shared among you and his loyal fans.

“that was so fucking hot holy shit”

“couldn’t even last five mins”

“can u be my mommy too”

The reactions are all too good to your ego. And you’re glad to see that for the most part, everyone seems to have enjoyed it. You should definitely do this more.

Was he that much of a brat that the donations popping up screen have now doubled—no, tripled in size?!

There’s one comment that really catches your eye, though:

“i’ve seen every one of his streams and holy fuck…glad u put him in his place lmfao”

And here, you thought he was a good boy. Tsk, tsk.

Beomgyu’s not exactly…happy about the situation, but he knows this was a very deserved humiliation. And on the bright side, from what you've seen from his streams (secretly), he loves being humiliated, regardless.

“I should join your streams more often,” you tease, face pulling a grin that could devour him. “Mommy’s gonna play with your pretty, little cock for a very long time..."

Just then, the door swings open and presents yet another tall, young male you’ve never seen before, frozen in place with Starbucks cup in his hand and his mouth covered with the other.

"O-oh, I’m sorry," You turn to the frightened boy next to you, "Uh, Gyu, who is this-"

“Yeon-yeonjunnie hyung?”

[hippiegoth97]

Last Christmas: An Eddie Munson x Reader Holiday Story Pt. 2

Description: You and the gang play White Elephant, opening and stealing one another's gifts. You end up with a present you least expect, and share a dance with friends. When you and Eddie take a turn on the dance floor, things get a little too close for comfort. Can you and Eddie salvage your relationship, or are you too far gone?

Warnings: swearing, female reader, drug use, alcohol use, angst, heartbreak, crying, light smut mention, fluff

Last Christmas Pt. 2

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes...

Eddie's POV

You watch silently as Y/N walks towards the rear of Harrington's humble home with Robin and Argyle to have a little smoke session. Usually you'd join them, since you're quite the stoner yourself. But you can see you're far from welcome, she wants absolutely nothing to do with you. Her words earlier, no feelings at all, ring in your head over and over. "You good, Munson?" Steve asks once the trio slide the glass door shut behind them.

"Not really. But that doesn't really matter, does it?" You say bitterly, taking a swig of your eggnog. Usually you hate the stuff, but you've been steadily consuming it to keep yourself in one piece. Seeing Y/N again feels just as awful as the day she left and never came back.

"Don't say that, man. Of course it does." Jonathan pipes up, flashing you an apologetic look. You just shrug in response, unsure of what else to say. You really wish you weren't having this conversation at all. Clearly you have no chance of getting Y/N back, so what's the point of rehashing the same old shit?

"Even so, do you guys really wanna hear about my extinct love life for the millionth time? It's Christmas, there's supposed to be music and presents and all that holly jolly crap. Maybe I should go, I don't wanna bring you guys down all night." You start getting up to leave, but everyone quickly protests. You sigh, plopping back down into your chair. You know for a fact they'd sooner tie you down than let you walk out that door. There's more of them than there are of you, and Steve is ridiculously strong. "Fine! I'll stay! But can we drop it? Please? I'm hangin' on by a thread as it is." You sniffle, exhaling sharply as tears prick your tired eyes.

"Eddie, we really think you need to have a talk with Y/N." Dustin says, looking away from the claymation elves singing about making toys to speak to you seriously.

You just shake your head, the thought of that alone makes you want to off yourself. "Nah, man. She wants nothin' to do with me. And I don't blame her." Your voice trembles slightly. Goddammit, here come the waterworks.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, dude. Robin told me Y/N still sleeps in your old t-shirt. She used to sniff it for the scent of you when she thought Robin wasn't looking. She cried for hours when it didn't smell like you anymore. And she hums your guys' song all the time without realizing it, "Beast of Burden", right?" Your eyes widen at Steve telling you this. The possibility that Y/N doesn't completely hate you blows your mind. Since the day she walked out the door, she's never contacted you again. She had Robin pick up any of her stuff still at your place, exchanging it for the things you left with her. The only thing missing was that beat-up Mötley Crüe t-shirt, you figured you'd lost it while you were drunk or something.

"Either way, I don't think she's in the mood to talk. I don't wanna hurt her again." You really don't get why everyone seems to have planned this ambush tonight. No doubt Robin and Argyle are working their mojo on Y/N to convince her to speak with you. You'd love it if she did, but you can see it now. She's letting them have an earful, telling them to mind their own fucking business. She's so damn stubborn, it's one of the million things you love about her. Loved, you mentally correct yourself.

"But you're both sitting here like goddamn ticking time bombs. Any minute, you're bound to explode. Unless you resolve this. We're not saying you'd necessarily get back together, but it would be good for both of you to work towards being able to tolerate sitting in the same room." Nancy takes her turn now, and you just roll your eyes.

"You guys really can't let this go, can you? Why do you care so much about mine and Y/N's relationship anyways?" You finish the rest of your drink, setting the empty glass on the floor. You cross your arms in frustration, waiting for this stupid talk to be over.

"No, we can't let it go. Because you and Y/N are our friends, and we love you. And we've had to sit and watch you both be in pain for months. And none of us can make that hurt go away, only you guys can do that." Mike says, hoping you understand how hard it's been for everyone to watch you and Y/N suffer.

You sigh, dragging your palms down your face. Partially in aggravation, and partially to wipe your tears away. "Fuck! Fine! But I'm not gonna force it. If she won't talk, I'm gonna let her be. Fair enough?"

The group nods in agreement, murmuring various 'yes's and 'okay's as they finally drop the subject. "I'm gonna go get the others from outside. I'd say now's as good a time as ever to start the game." Max says, standing up from her cozying up to Lucas. She walks to the door, sliding it open before shouting into the cold. "Hey, potheads! Hurry up, it's time for presents!"

Y/N POV

"Alright, who wants to pick the first gift?" Jonathan asks, taking on the task of supervising this little game. Nobody volunteers, when Robin speaks up.

"How about we have Y/N go first?" She smiles at you, trying to get you in the spirit of things. You roll your eyes, she's incorrigible sometimes.

"Uh, sure. Step on up, Y/N." Jonathan says awkwardly. You take a deep breath, standing up slowly as the weed has finally decided to kick in. You walk over to the tree, looking over the plentiful pile of presents wrapped in shiny paper. You pick up a smaller one, leaving the larger gifts for the others. You return to your seat to open it, tearing the paper to reveal a jar of soaking salts.

"Ooh! These'll make bathtime very relaxing!" You say cheerily, showing everyone what you got. You actually really like this present, long hot baths are one of your favorite ways to relieve stress. Everyone murmurs in agreement, and Robin goes next. She gets a matching hat and glove set, which looks very cozy. Next is Argyle, who opens up a box of fancy chocolates.

"Sweet! I've got major munchies, man!" Argyle says, opening the box and taking one of the sweets out of its wrapper before popping it into his mouth.

"Well, safe to say that gift is out of play now." Jonathan shakes his head, his poor friend clearly doesn't understand the rules. Nobody seems to mind though, it's just chocolate. Next to pick a present is Nancy, who decides to steal your bath salts. You stand up to open another present, which turns out to be a Magic 8 Ball. You're less enthused about this item, but you figure one of the kiddos will take it off your hands at some point.

"Okay, my turn!" Steve says while rubbing his hands together. He picks up a gift bag, pulling a pack of warm socks from under the tissue paper. "Wow, just what I wanted." He says sarcastically, wondering if his parents secretly put a gift of their own in the bunch before leaving town.

"I will happily take those off your hands, Stevie." Eddie says, holding out his hands for Steve to toss him the socks. He catches them with ease, placing them in his lap. Your eyes meet again, and he instinctively gives you a small smile. You return it out of reflex, before realizing who you're looking at. You quickly frown instead, turning away to see what Steve reveals this time. It's a D&D starter set.

"Dammit." Steve mutters, cursing his inability to pick one of the better presents. Next up is Will, taking a chance with a larger box. He tears the paper away, revealing a portable radio.

"Nice!" Will says, very pleased with this find. Jonathan and the rest of the kids take their turns, most opting to open a brand new gift as opposed to stealing someone else's. The next six gifts are a Stephen King novel, the Star Wars trilogy on VHS, a Santa Claus mug with hot cocoa mix, a sketchbook, a knitted blanket, and a Walkman. Max steals the D&D set from Steve, deciding to give the game a try since the boys love it so much. Steve gets to pick for a third time, and he ends up with a thick, cozy scarf.

"Now this I can live with." Steve says, smirking as he’s got something he actually wants. Erica is last, taking your 8 Ball for herself. She claims she'll use it to make any and all further decisions for the foreseeable future. This leaves you empty handed once again, and there's only one gift left beneath the tree. Jonathan hands it to you, and everyone watches in anticipation to see what's inside.

You tear open the paper, pulling the lid off the flimsy box beneath. And inside, is a Santa hat. With devil horns glued onto it. Just like Eddie's. Leave it to you to end up with the gift that your ex-boyfriend brought. The room goes completely silent, and you don't know what to say. Your eyes dart across the room to him again, and he tries his hardest to silently apologize. You can feel the others watching you two, waiting to see what happens next. You look away, inspecting the hat for a moment. You rub your fingers over the fuzzy material, smiling slightly at the hand-stitched letters that spell 'SATAN' on the white brim. "You can trade with me if you want, Y/N." Robin offers, extending her gift to you.

"No, it's fine! It's a cute hat, cheeky." You giggle genuinely, it really plays into the sense of humor you and Eddie used to share. You wanna be a good sport, and not hurt his feelings. You pick up the hat, settling it on top of your head with a big smile on your face. It's very warm, but comfortable. You imagine you look a little silly, but you don't mind it one bit.

"Alright then, looks like the game is over. Anyone need a refill?" Jonathan asks, and every adult's hand goes up into the air. You may have graciously accepted your present, but the tension in the room has only gotten worse. You and Eddie keep looking at each other curiously, but avert your gaze when either of you get caught staring. "Yeah, sounds about right." Jonathan sighs, gathering everyone's glasses to head into the kitchen.

"You really don't mind it?" Eddie asks as the others move on to other activities. The kiddos open Max's D&D box, showing her how to build a character and how the game works. Nancy gets up to put on some music, picking out a Rolling Stones album from Steve's extensive collection. Some Girls, to be exact.

"Not at all, Eds. You know I love shit like this." You reply, realizing you just used his nickname. Maybe you don't need that refill after all. His eyes widen when he realizes what you said, hoping this means you'll talk to him...and maybe take him back. "Don't get any ideas, Munson. I'll get back together with you when hell freezes over." You quip, not meaning it in a hurtful way whatsoever.

"Well, we are in Hawkins in the middle of winter. I'd say that's pretty close." He retorts, making you laugh. It's been so long since he's done that, and you can't help missing it. Jonathan returns with the drinks, and you decide to throw caution to the wind and keep drinking. You're feeling warm and fuzzy inside, despite the perfect storm brewing between you and Eddie. You put it aside for the time being, focusing on enjoying the night with your friends. All your friends.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the group as a whole is able to fall back into the familiar groove you used to share. There's no more worried glances, awkward silences, or talks about your past relationship. Everyone's joking, laughing, and having a great fuckin' time. You have a dance with a few members of your little band of misfits. Steve, Robin, even Dustin. You can't stop smiling, downing a steady stream of eggnog the whole way to keep yourself merry and bright.

You're having a rather uncoordinated turn with Argyle, when the record begins to play a tune you haven't heard in an eternity. "Beast of Burden", the song you and Eddie once claimed as yours. You stop moving, noticing him walking over to you. He's taking his shot, hoping this is enough. "Mind if I cut in?" You look at him, finding his impossibly large brown eyes gazing at you expectantly. He gives you a kind smile, holding out his ringed hand.

"Fuck it! I'm pretty wasted. And everyone else has had a turn. Why not?" You reply with a hiccuping giggle. You take his hand, letting him pull you into his space. He clasps your fingers together, his other hand going to the small of your back. You put yours on his shoulder, sharing an awkward look as Mick Jagger begins to sing.

I'll never be your beast of burden. My back is broad, but it's a-hurtin'. All I want is for you to make love to me. The opening lines remind you of the first time you heard this song with Eddie. It was late one night, in the fall if you recall it correctly. You'd gone on a long drive all over town, not caring about the final destination as there wasn't really one in mind. The radio played real low, and you smoked cigarette after cigarette while staring out the window at the full moon while Eddie drove. Conversation was light, the two of you in comfortable bliss. And then the opening riff spilled forth from the worn stereo speakers in his van, prompting him to turn the volume up. "Shit, this is one of my favorites." You remember him saying, smiling at you to see if you also recognized it. You hadn't heard it before, but you listened closely to the words.

I'll never be your beast of burden. I've walked for miles, my feet are hurtin'. All I want is for you to make love to me. Eddie sang along with Mick, in perfect key at that. It was far from the first time you'd heard his deep, sultry tone. He is in a metal band, after all. But nevertheless, he enchanted you time and time again. And this particular evening from the recesses of your memory was no different. You watched his lips open and close in various shapes to form the lyrics, his face dimly lit by every passing street lamp. This dashboard performance in particular felt different from the others. He was tenderly asking you for something. To love him forever, to have him as yours the same as he wanted to keep you for his own.

You gladly granted the request, your heart soaring across the universe at the thought of never letting Eddie go. When the song was reaching its end, you had ended up at the edge of Lover's Lake. The maddening man in the sky reflected upon the still, black waters. Stars twinkled overhead, it was the most beautiful night. Eddie killed the ignition, inviting you to the back of the van like he'd done so many times before. You followed him like a moth to a flame, letting him lay you down on the mismatched blankets splayed about the floor. You made the sweetest love you'd ever had, sealing your promise that you thought would never be broken.

The two of you sway to the music, slowly rotating in a cautious waltz. You do your best to loosen up, bringing yourself a bit closer. Eddie's had a considerable amount to drink too, playfully crooning the lyrics of the song to you. Just like the old days. "Am I hard enough? Am I rough enough? Am I rich enough? I'm not too blind to see." Your smile grows wider at him singing for you, you used to love it when he did this. His voice is gorgeous, and he made you feel like the most special person in the world when he'd serenade you with your favorite songs.

The others pretend not to stare as they make their own pairings to dance. You ignore their approving glances and nods. It's like everyone else disappears, leaving only you and Eddie in the room anymore. Your movements are more fluid now, facilitated by the weed and alcohol. You let Eddie lean down to softly sing the repeating 'pretty, pretty girl' part of the song in your ear. His chest is flush against yours, and it's almost as if you've never been apart. You want so badly to just smash the walls down, and let him back in. Nostalgia and longing wash over you, tempting you to take what you've been wanting since the day you walked away.

He pulls back a moment, meeting your hazy eyes. You can see loud and clear that he still loves you, and he can tell you're mirroring the sentiment back at him. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the pace staying in sync with yours. Your mouths are dangerously close together, and your breath fans in each other's faces. The sickly sweet scent of rum and sugar cookies wafts between you. He tries to make a move to kiss you, and you almost lean into it. But when you really look at him, you can't help remembering how you two ended in the first place.

You drop his hand and push him away, a single tear falling from your eye. "I-I can't." You choke out the words, frantically looking at everyone staring at you.

"Y/N-" Eddie takes a step forward, reaching for your arm.

"Don't!" You back up again while shaking your head, turning away to leave the room. You push past Nancy and Jonathan, and you begin to sob uncontrollably. You make a break for the stairs, your heels thumping as you bound up each step.

"Go after her, you idiot!" Steve yells to Eddie, and you try to find a place to hide. It's too much, you can't just pretend he didn't break your heart into a million pieces. You can't act like everything's okay now, because it isn't. You hear another set of shoes coming up from the ground floor, just as you run into Steve's parents' room. You slam the door and click the lock, leaning against the wood while your chest heaves.

"Y/N?" You hear Eddie's voice from the other side. Why can't he just leave you alone?

"Go away, Eddie. I can't do this." You say through your tears, pulling the Santa hat from your head. You don't want to wear it anymore. You toss it across the room, refusing to look at it again. You slide down to the floor, your knees tented in front of you. Your head falls in your hands, tears and saliva soaking through your dress.

"Y/N, please? I just wanna talk." You can hear the pain in his voice, and you fucking hate it. You hear him shuffling to sit on the other side of the door, his own stifled cries spilling out. His hand brushes the finished wood, wishing he could feel you through it. "Baby, please. I-" He begs.

"Don't call me that! You lost the right to use that name a long time ago." You shout, turning around to face the solid barrier between you.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Just...I don't wanna be like this anymore." His voice trembles, he's just as shaken to the core as you are.

"I don't either, Eddie. But what else is there? You ended us, when I thought you'd never do that."

"I know. And I'm a fucking idiot." Eddie replies through clenched teeth, he's so frustrated with himself for making such a dumb decision.

"Well, at least you admit it." You can't help cracking this small joke, making both of you laugh on either side of the door. Even though you can't see each other, you know exactly how the other's face and body language looks with every passing word.

"Steve said you still sleep in my shirt. Is that true?" He asks, unable to rein in his curiosity. You gasp at the question, Robin must've said something to him.

"Yes." You say softly, not wanting to admit it. "But only because it's comfortable." You try to make up an excuse, but you already know he doesn't believe you. "Robin said you were really messed up after I left. Is that true too?" You figure you might as well get some confirmation of your own while you're trapped in here.

"Shit, yeah. I don't think I had a sober moment for at least two weeks after you left. It was awful. But I couldn't stand to keep being reminded of you at every turn." Eddie recalls how those drunken, drug-addled days played out. He woke up late, head pounding from the night before. He'd crack open another beer, and smoke a blunt or two before breakfast. All he could manage to eat during that time was Honeycomb cereal and Poptarts. Not to say those stayed in his stomach long, far from it.

By lunchtime he'd be face-first in the porcelain throne, rejecting every last bit of sugary snacks and booze. And the cycle would continue. More alcohol, toss some cocaine in the mix, another joint, or a few. Reefer Rick even threatened to cut off his supply if he didn't stop consuming all the product. He had to work twice as hard to recoup the cost of the illicit substances. And all that did was further remind him of how he lost you.

"Jesus, Eddie. I'm sorry." You can't help feeling bad when you hear the words from his own lips. A secondhand story doesn't have nearly the same impact.

"Not your fault. I did this, remember?" This is absolutely killing you, you can't stand the sullen tone in his voice. It makes you want to unlock the door, to allow him back where he clearly belongs. But that's not enough. You can't put the past behind you and give it a second try so easily. Especially when he could just as easily break your heart again, deeming himself unworthy of you. Just like last time.

"Why did you? We had a good thing, didn't we?" You really want to understand why he made that decision all those months ago. He technically gave you a reason, but was that really enough to end a relationship?

"Of course we did, Y/N. It was the best thing I've ever had in my entire life." Eddie says, complete and total regret working its way through his body. It cuts like a knife, deep and jagged. More tears spring from his eyes, tapping wetly as they land on the hardwood floor below him. His heart aches for you more than he ever thought possible. You're so close, and yet you're a million miles away. If he wanted to act selfishly, he'd smash this damn door to pieces and scoop you into his arms. But he won't, because it's not what you want. And that's the only thing that has ever mattered to him.

"Then why?" You hoarsely croak out the words. You're fighting to swallow a wedge in your throat, it's grating and bitter. Like a lump of coal scraping your esophagus. You press your hand against the door, laying your head beside it. You want to be closer to him in this silly, small way.

"Well, it's like I said before. I didn't feel like I was enough for you. You were starting college soon, and I know you're gonna be something great." Eddie smiles slightly at that thought. You have big dreams of saving the world, changing it for the better. He'd listen to you talk for hours about cleaning up the oceans or regulating big corporations that over-pollute. Seeing your eyes light up when you cared about something made him even more helplessly in love with you. "Whereas, I'm gonna be stuck flipping burgers or fixing cars my whole life. Would you really wanna spend your days with someone like that?"

"I told you before, I didn't care about that. I just wanted to be with you. What you did for a job or how much money you had was always a non-factor for me. People do those things their whole lives, and there's nothing wrong with that." You reassure him, speaking sincerely. Just because others may look down upon those who work in 'unskilled' jobs, that doesn't make them worthless.

"But how could I provide for you when I make shit pay like that? You deserve someone who can take care of you, Y/N." You really have no idea why Eddie insists on this idea that he has to be the big spender in the relationship. It's oddly old-fashioned for someone like him.

"Eddie, did I ever say I wanted you to be the 'provider' in our relationship? You know better than anyone I don't subscribe to medieval ideals like that." You don't mean to come off so harsh, but it's a bit annoying that he seems to ignore this rather fundamental thing about you. "Plus, you provided plenty. You were kind, sweet, and loving. You comforted me in my weakest moments, and we made so many meaningful memories together."

"I know, you're right. The more I say it out loud, the stupider it sounds." He chuckles dryly, shaking his head. But there's something else, something he's kept close to the chest this whole time. You can sense the hesitation in his voice, the little hitch in his breath when he forces his tongue to hold back.

"What is it, Eddie? Please, tell me." You ask quietly, wanting to know what he's been hiding.

"I was afraid you'd outgrow me. You'd slowly earn your degree, make new friends. Then you'd no doubt go wherever the planet needs you, and where would that leave me? You'd see how big and beautiful the world is, and being with me would pale in comparison. And then you'd leave, finding a foxy marine biologist instead or something. Then you'd win some kinda Nobel Prize or some shit, and I'd still be here in Hawkins. With nothing to show for it." He realizes how silly he sounds now, how he's spent so long fantasizing about you leaving him behind.

"Thought about that a lot, did you?" You ask, unable to hide the smirk in your voice. You understand his fears, you'd probably have them too if the roles were reversed.

"Every goddamn day, Y/N." He chuckles again, but he sounds far from happy about it. Your face falls, there must be a way for him to see that his anxieties held no water.

"You do realize I would've taken you with me, right? If your hypotheticals ever came to be, I mean." You speak matter-of-factly.

"Really?" Eddie still doesn't understand, does he? Just as he claims to love you to the ends of the earth and back, you feel just as strongly. If not moreso.

"Yes, you big idiot!" You exclaim, grabbing his attention. "I would've had you by my side every step of the way. We would've moved in together while I went to school. Then after graduation you'd come with me to wherever I was interning at, until I’d eventually lead the charge in some world-saving research. And then you'd be right there in the audience while I accept my 'Nobel Prize or some shit', dressed in a cute tux and everything. And then we'd go home to our house, and our pets or plants or whatever." Eddie's eyes widen at your words, he never imagined that you would actually want to spend the rest of your life with him. Him, the metalhead, freak, loser, asshole that deals drugs.

"Thought about that a lot, did you?" He parrots your previous statement at you, drawing light laughs from both of your mouths.

"Every goddamn day, Eds." Another copied comment, and another slip of his nickname. You're headed for trouble if you don't knock it off.

"Fuck, I wish more than anything I could take it back, Y/N." Eddie says, desperately wanting this conversation to end in reconciliation. He wants you, no, needs you in his life. You're like the sun in the sky, the air in his lungs, the ground beneath his feet, the blood in his veins. You are everything to him.

"So do I." You reply simply, the tears have been steadily pouring from your eyes this whole time. As is the case with Eddie, you suspect.

"Would it be so terrible to try again? I miss you so much, it's killing me." There it is. That oh, so dangerous question. You've been simultaneously dreading it and wishing for it all night. How easy it would be to accept him back into your heart, to reignite the burning flame of love you used to share.

"I miss you too, more than you know. But I don't want to get hurt again. I can't go through the hell you put me in a second time." You sniffle, unable to stop yourself from remembering the endless sob-fest you had at Robin's for the first few days after your breakup.

"I promise, I will never let you go again. I'll never be so fucking stupid." He pleads, yanking at your heartstrings.

"But how do I know for sure, Eddie? I was under the impression that the first time would never come, and it did. Who's to say you won't break us to pieces again when things get tough?" As much as you'd love to be together again, you have valid reservations about the prospect.

He doesn't say anything else for a minute, carefully considering what you've said. He feels so fucking awful for hurting you, and he wants to prove himself worthy of a second chance. "What if we move in together?" He blurts out, as it's the first step in your little fantasy about the future.

You scoff, he can't be serious. "Eddie, you don't have to jump the gun like that."

"I'm serious. I wanna be with you, commit to a life with you. What better way to do that than to get a place together? We could look after New Year's if you want. I think there's a place by-" His tone is frantic now, eager to sell you on the idea.

"Eddie, slow down!" You shout, interrupting his babbling. He shuts his trap, his teeth clacking at the force. "Look, it's really sweet of you to offer. But I think we would need time to get reacquainted first, to see if this would even work again." He perks up at your words, hoping this means you're saying yes to him.

"I'm sorry, you're right. But, does that mean we can give this another shot?" He asks expectantly, crossing his fingers and praying to whatever God is up there that you'll take him back.

You sigh, shaking your head as you giggle at the thought. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this. But yes, we can try again, Eds." You say as you stand up, clicking the lock to open the door. Eddie falls forward into the room, almost smacking his head on the floor. You shriek in surprise, and he bounces back up in no time. He scrambles to his feet, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in what feels like hours. He laughs awkwardly, blushing hard as he rubs the back of his neck. You giggle in reply, rolling your eyes at his clumsiness.

You move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck while his go around your waist. You're standing in the threshold of the room, looking up to see some mistletoe hanging right above your heads. "Well, would ya look at that? Seems like the Harringtons have the right idea." Eddie says, returning his gaze to yours. The air between you is different now. It's no longer somber and heartbroken, but filled with unbridled joy and a dash of booze-fueled lust.

"That they do." You reply, just barely above a whisper. You can't stop staring at each other's lips, the familiar scent of Christmas treats dizzying your heads in your proximity. Eddie's just about to bring his lips to yours, when-

To be continued...

[lilith-little-world]

I Saw You Once In a Dream, Maybe|| Pt. 7

“We head to my place, make you dinner and watch something there. Sorry I couldn't think of anything better on the spot.”

“Nah it's fine, we can always go on exciting dates later. First, we need to talk about what happened there. You still haven't answered my question.”

“Ah right, well I have been having dreams, what I assumed to be a future event, maybe? I kind of thought it was some weird dream until you showed up out of nowhere.”

“What exactly happened in your dreams?”

“W-well, it was about,” You were hesitant, feeling embarrassed about this whole situation. “Does it really matter? You kind of ratted yourself out.”

“Not telling huh? I can see your face turning red too, don't tell me it was something dirty~”

“Absolutely not!” You punch his shoulder.

“Then why are you so embarrassed about it?”

“Cause it was in a…wedding setting.”

There was a pause between the two. Too busy staring at each other with wide eyes. Monkey King's tail soon started to swing as a wide smug smirk appeared on his face.

“Are you saying that we? No way! Now I'm never leaving your side, you're stuck with me for good.”

“You don't seem to be weirded out by this.”

“I meant what I said earlier, I like you and want to get to know you better. Even if I need to do a few… tricks.” He clears his throat.

“Oh I know, it seems to have worked since we got married. Actually, I'm curious, what were your genius plans?”

You and Monkey King continue on the walk. He was obviously nervous but tried to play it off.

“Oh the usual, nothing too important or unique.”

“Come on, I won't be too mad.”

“A few were just making a reason to chat with you. Create a few false scenarios like earlier. Then take you out and buy you stuff.”

“The classic, buying my love.”

“It's a little more than that, but in a way yeah. Then I would pressure you to give me a chance.”

“Whoa, red flag buddy. What else did you have planned, you got me hooked.”

“Now that I'm saying it out loud, it doesn't like a good idea.”

“Come on too late to back out.”

“Okay just don't freak out too much.”

“As long as you don't do it, I promise.”

“I won't since I realize I may have gone over the line. If all things failed, a love potion. Even if it doesn't exist, I would have found a way.”

“...”

“You're not mad right?”

“What the actual fuck-”

“You said, you wouldn't be mad!”

“I'm not, but did you just hear what you said!”

“It didn't sound like a bad plan when I thought about it!”

“How did you even get feelings for me to begin with?”

“Oh, that old story… Best if I don't say anything about it.”

“What dirty secret are you hiding?”

“A lot actually.”

“I can see why you felt like you had tricked me into marrying you.”

“It's not that bad-”

“Shut up it is.”

Monkey King let out a whine, before hanging his head down in shame. You continue walking, reaching the familiar house.

“Stay here, I'll be quick.”

“But I want to come too! I need to meet my in-laws.”

“Nope, we are not married yet.”

“Yet.”

“You know what, fine.”

Turning around, you grabbed the collar of his jacket. The kiss was quick and light.

“If you listen, and stay out here, I'll give you a longer kiss.”

He smirks, cupping your cheek. His thumb rubs your skin, it was oddly relaxing. In all your years, no one has ever made you feel this way.

“You always surprise me in the best way. Go, I'll stay out here but pretty sure your mother saw us.”

On cue, your mom called out for you.

“Of course, she did.”

You both enter the house, your giddy mom was thrilled to meet the demon next to you.

“I didn't know you were bringing someone special. You should have told me sooner, I would have made dinner and picked up around the house.”

“Mom please, it’s not what you think,” Monkey King steps forward, cutting you off.

“That’s right, luckily I’m not their lover,” He pulls out two strands of hair.

“Wait luckily?!”

“I’m their fiancé!”

The two hair strands became rings. One on your finger. Your mom squealed in delight on the news. While you stood there in shock.

You should have left him back at Pigsy’s.

“Honey, you never told me! I thought you said you weren’t dating anyone.”

“Oh, you know how they are. They wanted it to be a secret but then I proposed.”

Your mom guides him to the living room. Chatting away about the wedding and him wanting to get her and my father's blessings. You stayed glued to your spot.

Only one thought entered your head.

You're going to find a way to kill him.

[knights-unwelcommentary]

"Dirk Strider, Dave's bro."

"Karkat Vantas, your literal god."

"In that case, I've got questions."

"I bet you do. And, well. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You know, the usual. Doing things in a hurry to win and giving your universe cancer and stuff. I even got locked out of it after like a big slobbering chump."

"All right, I've got no more questions."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. God's a kid and he's neither omniscient nor omnipotent. That explains damn near everything."

"Okay, douchelord. You clearly got it all figured out except I'm not a kid."

"Aren't you like sixteen?"

"You're nine over the mark."

"What."

"I'm going to stop y'all there before this devolves into another match of intercultural trolling."

"Right, sweeps. Good one."

"Tell me, Dave. When did you become the life of the fucking party?"

"Not in the best mood right now, sorry."

"Did I do something or is it the…? It's totally that isn't it. I'm shutting up now."

"Tell you what, let's rap about it when plot critical shit stops going down. Kay?"

"My schedule's fucked six ways to sunday but I might be able to pencil you in somewhere."

"It's about to get worse, bro. The chess people are looking for you".

"Again?! I made it clear that John's the one in charge!"

"Yeah, I was there. Egbert totally just gave them the slip."

"You mean he's gone?"

"Fucking gone with the wind, maybe we shouldn't've put on the spot the kid that can do a cranked up disappearing act. "You're de facto pal honcho to them now, them's the breaks."

"Fuck. I'll go check if I can get Terezi to do it, or maybe the other human leader. We really don't want me to ruin yet another civilization. "Nice meeting you for real, Strider. We'll have to catch up later."

"… "Sup."

"Sup. I'm told our universe had cancer?"

"Don't put too much stock in his inane theories. Dude would twist a ruler if it'd let him take the blame for everything that goes wrong."

"He looked dead sure. Speaking as a newcomer that's got no business giving his opinion, there can be nuance."

"Nah, even if the cosmic cancer thing were true, then it was what had to happen for us to get this far. Trust the time professionals. "Karkat's just-- Let's just say that if you give him a mirror, he'll immediately lose his fucking marbles."

"Hm. A perfectly reasonable thing to do, I see."

"You know I can't tell if you're being serious or not, right?"

[burningfeathersx]

@tangledfate || Lucifer Morningstar (HH Lucifer) "So...whatcha doin~? Anything new? Maybe something I should KNOW ABOUT?"

He didn't JUMP nearly out of his skin too often, but he sure did. HAHA! Caught.

Well, couldn't blame Vox and himself from trying.

Lu and Michael were similar looking in that they might've been polar opposite mirrors to each other. Similar faces, similar androgyny. But where Lu was short, Mike had height. Lu was coppery, Mike was ebony. Lu's hair straight and dark, Mike was coiled blonde. Lu gold eyed, Mike electric blue. Only 'twins' by their making.

Michael and Lu were, up to that moment, huddled and talking to each other outside of the Vox's office vault door. Of which Lu had used Lake ice to seal shut.

Michael looked like he as caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He was very far out of place and kEENLY aware of that. Though he lifted a hand in silent greeting, he was sheepish despite being the one in the room garbed in armor.

Lu looked less startled once he recovered from the initial jump in his skin. Smoothing the front of his suit and suuubtly moving to stand a bit in front of Mike. Like he was the one that needed protecting, pfffft. Don't call him out on it. He'll scream.

"Oh, just a little clean-up!" Yeah, nothing serious. Nah. Not even worth Luci's time! "Decontamination..." Fuck. Usually he was more suave than this. He'd gotten a little too nailed down on the problem in front of him and not the possible side-line stuff.

Like drawing this hell's native Lucifer to investigate the very obvious full fledged angel behind him...............................

Well, at least he hadn't seemed to have noticed the Stanley visits.

[writernopal]

🔮 Iluso 🌌

A little AASOAF AU piece inspired by this post that I just couldn't let go. Tagging @outpost51 bc I remember you being excited about this idea! Also please accept this as my sole contribution to this years OC Kiss Week because my body is in open rebellion against me 💙 Anyway, enjoy or don't! Do whatever you want!

WC: 1009 CW: drug use, sexual content Characters: Fay, Wilkes

a/n: The title is the Spanish word, iluso, which roughly translates to 'dreamer/idealist' in English, to mean someone who daydreams/is easily led/prone to fantasies.

Nights on the marina always tasted of salt. Sometimes fish. On occasion, smoke, and rarer still, like rum and weed. Those were never sweet—

Tuk-tuk, tuk-tuk.

—usually biting—

Tuk-tuk, tuk-tuk.

—even angry.

Tuk-tuk, tuk-tuk.

Running parallel to the shore was a walkway and down it came the figure whose sound had interrupted Wilkes’ musings. She pushed herself along, leaning one way, then the other on her longboard to weave between obstacles. Her hair flowed like bundles of seaweed behind her and her baggy t-shirt flapped about her to outline her lithe frame. She, Fay, looked the epitome of a black flag raised to signal nefarious intention. 

“Did you bring the good shit this time?” He called out when she was just feet away.

“Course I did.” She replied as she came to a stop and popped her board into her hand. “Always do.”

“Nah. Whatever you had last time fucked me up.”

“That’s cuz you’re a lightweight. C’mon.”

He chuckled as she tucked the board under her arm and led the way down the narrow docks toward his yacht. She launched into some whirlwind explanation of the ‘good stuff’ to occupy that short stretch of time. What strain she’d brought, where she’d sourced it from, how she was the first to try it, and how the grower dedicated it to her. He supposed that was interesting, but not as interesting as the sway of her hips or the bareness of her legs in those tiny shorts…

They boarded, and she wasted no time making herself comfortable. She abandoned her longboard some place, kicked off her shoes, and found a spot on the bow. He was glad of her ease. It made him, this shitty little boat, and his little money laundering scheme feel grander. Real, even. He joined her as she fished a neatly rolled joint from her pocket and pinched it between her lips with a frown. Much as he enjoyed that look, and watching her struggle to find a lighter, he was eager for other things tonight. 

He flipped open his brass lighter and ignited its small flame. She gave him a look as he shielded the little light and beckoned her forward. Instead, she caught the joint in her finger and thumb, pulled it from her mouth, and neared its end to the fire. He chuckled. Never easy with her. Eyes locked to his, she rotated it in the flame for a short while and once satisfied, brought it to her lips and took the first hit. 

He snapped the lighter closed as she let out that difficult sigh, followed by a small hazy plume, then passed the joint to him. He took it, tasting her on its end, then inhaled and sighed. A breeze washed over them. She shut her eyes. He watched her. And like this, several quiet minutes passed as the joint changed from his hand and lips to hers. Their bodies slowly melted from their seated position, eventually easing them both onto their backs. 

All becalmed, she turned to him and smiled. “What do you have for me, quartermaster?”

He chuckled. “Well, you see, captain, I heard of a mercenary ship sailing these waters which just exchanged her cargo for payment. It’s ripe for the taking.”

“Colors?” she whispered. 

His breath hitched. That rasp, those features…her eyes especially. Golden and so, so deep. He fell. Through time, through space, through planes of existence, and beyond.

“Green and gold of the Pale Kingdom…”

They took up the tale between their animated hands, weaving it with careful fingers against that night robed sky. Stars twinkled in and out of view as they imagined great billowing sails, the strain of lines, and the shouts of men. Surrounding them, the baritone concert of broadsides and kraken roars, and echoing a response, splintering wood and the demise of their enemies.

It was on this stage that they beheld their true forms. 

A captain ravaged by dark magic, and her faithful quartermaster once lauded as a hero of old… 

Their story was as sordid as it was beautiful. It told of great struggle, of pain, of fear, of loss, and on occasion, joy. Destined were they to reach for more and cursed were they to obtain it, for it would never be enough. To drop a hand to the bottom of the sea or to stretch into the furthest corners of the sky and feel nothing. Such was their burden, such was their sorrow. So they lay there, story told, and settled to reach for that which lay closer than anything else—each other. Hands intertwined, his ring glinted in the moonlight, outlining the words pressed into it. A lazy chuckle escaped her.

“‘Stuck Up’…I like that.”

He turned his head and pressed a kiss onto her temple. “I like you.”

“Why? Because I give you free weed?” She asked with a sleepy smile.

“No…because I like you.”

She frowned. “Stop saying things like that. You’re gonna confuse me…”

“What’s confusing about it?” He asked, pulling his hand from hers to trace a claw along her jaw, coaxing her ever closer. 

“Nothing…I guess.”

“Then tell me you like me too.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t.” She uttered as she bunched his shirt into her fists and softly touched her lips to his. “I hate you, you stupid pirate…”

One kiss, then another, and another, each one taking a piece of clothing with it and replacing its cover with their greedy palms and the nipping night air. Flesh and scales curved and dipped until her hips pressed down onto his, trapping the heat of their frustration in the space she’d vacated for him. There it smoldered, stoked by his furious eyes and her parted lips, devouring them both into its selfish jaws and claiming their bodies for its own. Spellbound, they concocted a wicked possessiveness borne from the illusion of free will.

“I like you…”

“I hate you…”

“I need you…”

“Then damned we’ll be.”

“Whatever, it’s you and me.”

[zillyeh]

Sundowning

CW: violence, mentions of self harm, very brief bit of gore

“Can you just go over it one more time? Like I’m stupid?”

“I don’t know Zee, there’s only so much stupider I can go before I start making animal noises.”

The smaller troll threw a handful of water from the swamp shoreline at her purpleblooded friend. The taller of the two giggled, splashing her back. She pulled her twin braids over her shoulder, picking up a stick from the ground. As she spoke, she drew in the mushy mud between them.

“Okay, so. It’s basically astral projection-”

“Stupider than that, En.”

Endara let out a huff, drawing two circles with lines coming out of the top on top of two triangles.

“The stuff that keeps you awake,” she said slowly. “It’s like if that got up and left… it’s the same thing as when I teleport, except it’s not as hard. Y’know, cause my body doesn’t need to come with me.”

“So it doesn’t make you cough up blood?”

“Anyway-”

“En-”

“Anyway,” Endara insisted, “Other people can do it too. Subconsciously. Not on purpose. People with powers because of the brain stuff.”

You miss her. You don't know if it can fully register to you how much you miss her. Your mind is used and broken, and hardly your own anymore. It's these lucid hours in the daylight when all you do is miss her and hurt yourself and everything around you. The walls. The floor. Everything. You don't know who she is- you hardly know who you are- but you know you need her.

“Brain stuff,” the anon repeated with a scoff. It was a rare moment where her friend could see her face fully, uncovered by its wraps. It was hot in the swamps that night, both from sulfuric vents below and the season beating down on them from above. Her teardrop pupils were barely visible in her eyes, too dark for her age. It was a game to find where the line of her pupils started and the dark gray ended. She also eyed the hardness of her jaw, too skinny to hold too much of the roundness that was quickly leaving Endara’s face. Then the rest… She couldn’t keep her eyes there for too long, or she’d cover her mouth with her hands.

There was something tugging at Endara’s heart as she scratched more lines into the ground.

“Yes, brain stuff. I haven’t met her yet, but my ancestor up in the mountains uses her powers to get the big dragons used to her.”

The long horned anon bit her tongue to the disparaging remark she always made when En talked about her ancestor. She was too invested in her lesson.

"Is it hard to get into people's heads?" the anon asked earnestly. "Do they have to let you?"

"Sopor leaves people more unguarded than you'd think," she said with a sage nod. "Animals are harder, people who just like, deal with the nightmares are just as hard."

"Fucked up," the anon said, furrowing her brow. "You're the only one who can do that though?"

"Nah, plenty of people can mess with dreams if they try to. There's only one way to tell if someone's actually in there or not." Endara made a crude drawing of her friend's face, including the wraps she usually wore. "Most people's brains can't fully reconstruct a face no matter how much they look at it. There's always something off.”

“I dunno, En,” the anon said with a tch, “That thing in the dirt is shitty looking enough to match the real thing…”

Endara threw mud at her. She wondered if she could tell. Those occasional fleeting touches that gave her access to Endara’s nerves firing off. Nevermind her pulse. She wondered if she thought about her half as much. 

“Shut up, Zee,” Endara scoffed. “You’re so annoying. Basically if you're awake enough, you can tell when someone's in your dreams if you see them. Their face is too real.”

“If I show up in someone's dreams do you think I'd have my mask on? Or if someone came in mine?” It sounded like a genuine question. Genuine worry. Endara bit her lip.

“Hard to say. You wear that nasty thing enough that it's basically part of your face now…” 

A mass of ugly gray wraps, eyes that look so tired for her age. The scarring she’d given herself after you two did something, you two did something terrible. You did so many terrible things. The worst thing you did was convince her to die. The worst thing she did was want you to live. How long ago? The sun streaming through the cave mouth wants you to remember. The comforting darkness wants you to forget. You know you should, you know you want to, but something coherent rings through your head like the clear gonging of a bell.

If you survived, what if she had?

“Have you ever been in my dreams before?” she asks, her dark eyes searching her’s for something. A purple flush warms the other troll’s cheeks. She would notice her if she did again, wouldn’t she? Now that she knows?

“A couple times. Just to see.” 

I could probably do it half dead.

It’s daytime. If she’s alive then she should be asleep. Trolls sleep during the day. Your memories return enough in the daytime for you to know that. Your memories return enough to know that if she’s alive, you’re this thing for nothing. The part of your soul that is still a troll makes you sit. Makes you close your eyes. You can still see the sun through your eyelids, but it doesn’t hurt. Or maybe it does. You can’t remember if you feel pain or not.

A look like Endara hadn’t seen from her flashed across her friend’s face. The color she so desperately tried to hide dusted her own cheeks before she looked back down into the dirt.

“I always wondered why you looked like that in my dreams,” she grumbled, “Nobody else ever looked like that.”

Zippie’s insomnia always gave way to the worst nightmares she could possibly have. One of these nights she was worried she’d hurt Bess in her sleep, even despite the precautions she’d taken in her bedroom. Bed was more comfortable than cupe by a long shot. It was a rare night where she practically couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Were you that strong? That you could find her? Force her to sleep from this far away?

Of course you could. You have part of her. Stability that It thought you needed but she didn’t. Why would she? Treating her like a person and not a battery would have been more energy than either of those two monsters would expend to her.

A the crack of a branch sounds off like a gunshot not too far from the pair at the edge of the swamp. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone out there. Not at the edge of Zee’s property. She can’t help it. She looks up. Hoodless. Maskless. Her face on full display for the adult violet that had wandered too close. Her slow eyes kept her safe, but her lower face?

There was a reason she never took the wraps off.

Endara had always wondered what would happen when she got found out. How much of her fear was justified. How badly an adult troll would hurt what they understood to be a child at first glance.

The answer was very, very badly. 

She didn’t even hesitate before barrelling towards the two. Like a predator that knew this was it’s only chance to strike. Before Endara could move, she’d been shoved roughly aside and Zvejia hauled off the ground by the shoulders. She’d guarded her throat, but the adult was struggling for it. Zvejia bit anywhere she could find purchase, down her arms and on her face. The violet winced and swore whenever her bare skin made contact with her hands. Zee must have been using her powers on top of tearing as much skin as she could.

As much as this troll’s face was burned into Zippie’s memory, she’d never see it properly in her dreams again.

Endara coughed up blood even before she’d teleported behind the troll mere feet away. She hadn’t perfected the art of rematerializing while partially in an object, but this would do.

She wasn’t strong. She was weak. Sickly. Worsening by the day. But she didn’t need strength to do what she’d intended to do if this night ever came. The reason she’d stolen so many of Zvejia’s medical books. The reason she’d practiced to the point of bleeding eyes at all was for this.

The muscle and tissue being displaced made a more horrific noise than either of them had ever heard. It took the violet seconds too long to realize where the lanky purple’s hand was, too long for her to try to formulate a shriek, long enough for her heart to crush all too easily in the hand that had been delivered through her back. 

“Endara!” the anon cried as the violet released her, not dead but certainly not alive for long. When the soon to be body tumbled to the ground, she slid right off of Endara’s arm. Like a glove. Leaving her the gory prize she’d won, and a purple haze around her vision. 

“Why is it always this?” rasped a voice where Zvejia would have fallen under the violet. Where she did fall under the violet, when the two of you actually lived through this. The part of you that is the troll holding that adult’s heart understands immediately. She’s on her feet already. Hornless. Maskless. Lacking the black that once hid her from danger, and the fins she’d nearly killed herself cutting out of her face. The scars were just as ugly, covered in the other ones she’d given herself as well that handn’t healed. Her wounds never healed right. You two always thought it was part of the mutation. 

The rivets in her wrists match your own. Tattoos cover every inch of skin you could see exposed. On her upper arm you see a band of purple that makes you choke out a sob.

She glances towards you. Then she double takes. You can sense her fear here, standing on either side of the first body you two ever made.

Her breathing is shallow. All she says is:

“No.”

“Zvejia…” Your voice is not the voice of the young woman that just killed for the only friend she ever had, but of a monster. Guttural and too big to ever have come out of that girl before she was made into what you are now.

Her next “no” comes as a plead as she drops to her knees. She’s so much bigger and so much smaller than you remember her being. You approach and she stumbles back. That hurts the part of you that forgets what you look like now. The black claws of your toes dig into the soft swamp dirt to keep you from doing it again.

“You can’t,” she said, her razor soft voice begging as if this were a nightmare she could beg her way out of. “You c-c- that’s not- I’m so sorry, En. This has to not be real, this has to not be real.”

You tilt your head like the animal you are. She grips her head. She refuses to look at you. Not like you look at her.

“The… sun… is… going… down…” you murmur, the part of you connected to your body still feeling the cold of the night start to settle in. A shiver runs through the incorporeal dream, making it feel cold within. She looks at you again. She grew up so handsome. So tired. She got to live. It’s what you wanted.

It’s what the part of you that lives in the daylight wanted.

The part of you that lives in the darkness hunches you back over onto all fours, chitinous claws digging into the hardening dirt underneath you.

“What did he do to you…” is the last thing the troll in you hears. Whatever thing you’ve invaded the dreams of this time you are going to tear to shreds like all the rest of those who dare trespass your territory. Except this time something is different. 

This thing smells like you. 

Enough to stop you long enough for it to rip itself awake, leaving you too unstable to stay dreamwalking like this.

You wake with a wet face, howling in what could have been pain or could have been agony, if you were the sort of thing that could understand emotions that weren’t territorial or hungry. The new black of the sky outside helps you reorient yourself. 

With any luck, you won’t remember what you’ve seen come sunrise.

Neither of you will.