#it was satisfying in itself but left space for everything to continue

[joelsmochi]

outside? no problem. - joel miller

rating: E 18+ pairing: joel x pornstar!reader summary: part four; after convincing joel to go on a journey within nature with you, you quickly realize that a long hike won't be enough to wear you out. warnings: porn with a little bit of plot, slightly proofread (expect errors), joel is a llittle nervous, some anxiety, unprotected sex, premature ejaculation without orgasm (look it up it's hot), use of daddy, creampie, public sex + risk of getting caught, joel experiencing love and affection!!!!!!, reader gets her first official hate comment (plus a couple horny ones just cus lol) wc: 2.5k my thoughts: this was a very random thought i had, but it's fun and nothing too serious. also i hate the title but oh well 🥲 part five will dive into emotions a little more than i have allowed for this series, but for now enjoy the smut lovelies <3

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“How many miles so far?” You asked Joel, who shot you a quick glance before returning his attention to the trail ahead of him.

“So far eight,” he replied. “We really need’a do this today?”

“Oh, you mean after you came up with excuse after excuse the past three weeks? Yeah, we needed to do it today,” you sassed before steadying the camera to focus on the trees ahead.

“Can we take a break? My knees are killin’ me—“

He was cut off by your giggling and you managed to zoom in on the glare he was giving you.

“What?” He firmly asked, halting his progression forward.

“Old man,” you teased as you passed him.

A stinging sensation quickly seared across your right ass cheek causing you to jolt from the smack Joel planted there.

You yelped, laughing as you back away from him; he managed to snatch the camera out of your hands and pointed it at you as you tried to rub away the pain. Your shorts was unbearably wedged into your ass showing off more than enough of your butt, waistband folded down to expose more of your body than necessary.

“Smartass,” he grumbled. “You turn fifty fucking years old and tell me how your knees hold up after eight miles.”

You grinned, walking over to him and smacking his chest playfully. “My knees will feel fucking amazing because they’re used to a little traction.”

He chuckled, petting the side of your head endearingly, eyes softening as they examined your features. “I’ll just have to take your word for that then, huh?”

“You’ll have to take a lot from me,” you mumbled against his lips before closing the space between your two.

His tongue immersed itself into the world of your mouth, cherished the cool, wet slick cheeks, the grooves of your teeth, that serpent tongue of yours — he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t high on you 24/7 starting two weeks prior, when his brother paid you a visit.

You’d been making it up to him even though he continuously assured you there was nothing to make up for.

But he most certainly was not going to complain.

Suddenly, everything you did was just that much better to him, and not just during sex. He wanted to give you more than what you’d initially agreed upon. Love. A life. He didn’t just want you to be satisfied, he wanted you to be happy.

And he memorized every centimeter of your body, how it felt, how you reacted to his every move.

Every time his tongue slid across the top of yours he could feel your eyebrows furrow a little more.

Every time you deepened your grasp on his jaw or shirt, you wanted him to open his mouth a little more so you could reach further into him. To somehow be even closer to him.

And every time he moaned pleasure into your mouth your body melted a little more into his, and your lips curled into a smile.

It wasn’t until you’d heard footsteps nearby that you finally broke the kiss.

“Two more miles,” you whispered against his lips, giving him one final peck before continuing the hike.

He rubbed in the cherry chapstick you left on his heated lips and watched you walk away for a moment before following.

“We just reached ten miles,” you said to the camera that Joel smugly forced into your face, “and I’m so fucking— tired— why the fuck are the last two miles entirely uphill?!”

“Yeah, how those knees working now?”

“My knees are fine, fuck you very much,” you expressed between deep pants. “And I’ll prove it.”

“What about the ten miles back?” He said gleefully, nearly bursting with excitement at your breathless suffering.

“Oh,” you chirped, “old man afraid of some sex in the woods?”

“Wh—HERE?!”

“Not here. Maybeeee… There.”

“We’re not having sex in the woods—“

“Old man!” You shouted after you ran away into the trees.

“Fuck,” Joel breathed out before walking in the general direction of your disappearance.

After five minutes (which felt more like a half hour) of not being able to find you he began thinking the worst.

His palm became clammy, heart beating so fast it felt like punches, but the relief he felt as soon as he spotted you was well worth the worry.

Joel’s eyes scanned over your body, spotting a familiar pair of shorts and panties lying on the ground nearby.

His face didn’t change from the looks of anger however. You offered a bashful smile before settling your knees into the leaves and twigs on the woodland floor, sweatshirt covering the sweetest part of you.

“Don’t do that again,” he scolded, even going as far as to point a finger down at you.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you replied, gently pressing a kiss to the heel of his palm. “I thought you were right behind me.”

“We’re not doing this. Not here.”

“But the camera’s already rolling… Be a shame to turn it off now.”

Watching you bat your eyes up at him while toying with the drawstring on his shorts was more than enough to get him to fold, but he was still hesitant. It was such an open and public space. Anyone could stumble into the woods and catch you two in the act.

Anyone could catch you…

“Make it quick,” he huffed.

You giggled happily, yanking his shorts to his ankles and allowing his semi-hard cock to spring free.

You hummed, giving his balls a gentle squeeze and tug while stroking his velvety shaft.

“Kiss it,” he said. “Yeah, that’s it babygirl… O-oh, fuck.”

Your tongue darted out to trail along the pulsating vein on the side of his dick, until you reached the bead of precum nestled on the tip of his head.

You pulled your head back, forcing Joel to watching the string of his precum stretch from him to you.

The last thing he expected was sex in the woods, but now that your were on your knees sucking him dry with a camera being held a few inches away it suddenly made sense why you insisted on recording.

Wanna make memories my ass, he thought, blissfully so as you were giving him full access to your tight throat.

“Hold it, hold— fuck. Right there, baby.”

He whimpered as you swallowed around him, big hand reaching to stroke and rub the side of your face, wiping away a few stray tears.

You pulled your head back enough to take a few breaths before repeating the act of deepthroating, going as hard and fast as you could handle for a while before forcing him all the way back in again.

Your cunt clenched around nothing, juices trickling down your thighs as your knees slowly buckled from the pain of twigs digging into your flesh.

He suddenly pulled out of your mouth, seemingly panicked with the rush of an orgasm, shouting, “Ohshitohshitohshit.”

You coughed, attempting to reach for his cock again but he stopped you.

“Fuuuuuck!” He finally moaned as two long, thick ropes of his cum shot onto your face and hair.

You grinned and grabbed a hold to stroke him, hoping for more to come out.

He let out a strained groan, relaxing his abdomen and letting the remaining cum leak out of his tip onto your tongue and the ground.

“Already?” You asked softly while you gave his hard shaft kisses and licks.

“That,” he hissed, “was buildup from you teasing me all day.”

He stepped out of his shorts and sat on top of them, pulling you into his lap.

“Ah!” You laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Those shorts were deeper in your ass than I was last night,” he retorted.

“Mmm, that’s not teasing,” you whispered, pumping his length slowly. “That’s giving you a preview.”

He tugged at your jaw hard, pinching your cheeks, using his index finger to smear the white streaks that were on your face.

“Time for the show then, hmm?” He hummed.

You did your best to smile, nodding against his strong hand.

“That’s right, daddy,” you answered compliantly.

He was patient while you got yourself situated, ass facing him, wet pussy grinding against his pelvis.

Joel tugged at your left cheek to spread you for the video, watching your holes pucker and clench eagerly as you teased yourself before finally sinking down onto his warm cock.

A long drawn out moan left your mouth as he stretched you out. Joel smacked the red bruise he left on you earlier and pinched the same spot right after, forcing you to yelp and stumble in the squatting position you were already struggling to maintain.

You reached back to smack his stomach but he only laughed, sitting up a little to give himself a better view.

He held the camera out enough to get the two of you in the frame as you started bouncing on top of him.

He threw his head back, certain he wouldn’t last long enough to for you to get off.

He’d just have to make it up to you.

Because your pussy swallowed him perfectly, the slight curve of his dick hitting the spot he knew was your favorite.

Your ass clapping against the soft peak of his belly was surely loud enough to echo within the trees, and a mixture footsteps and laughter could be heard not far away enough to give Joel the sense of security he usually required.

No doubt people passing by without headphones in their ears could hear your annoyingly high pitched moans, or the obnoxious clapping of skin to skin as you rode the older man relentlessly.

Joel’s free hand found your clit and he shove the camera between his legs for both a close up shot of you soaking his cock with your juices.

Joel tried to think about something, anything to stop the threat of cumming too soon, but all he could focus on was how deep your pussy felt, and how it was all his.

“This pussy belong t’me?” He growled beneath you, smacking your sensitive clit when you didn’t give him an answer.

“Yes, daddy! Yesyes—fuuuck!” You shouted, head bobbing as you bounced even higher and harder.

He gripped your hips hard enough to keep you still before thrusting up into you, forcing your moans to be louder and longer.

You could feel that tingle underneath your clit, the one that threatened to release itself if Joel’s forceful thrusts didn’t stop.

You became clumsy, falling forward and accidentally knocking the camera over, but work was the last thing on your mind.

You begged for Joel to keep going— “Don’t stop please! Don’t fucking stop, Joel!”

“You gonna cum? You gonna soak my cock pretty girl?”

With bent legs and trembling hands you tried to meet his thrusts halfway, forcing him to thrust even deeper into to you.

“I’m gonna—fuck!” You leaned back and used your hand to rub your clit painfully fast, that tingling now releasing itself.

“What? You’re gonna what?!” He encouraged, smacking your thigh to coerce the words out of you even more.

“I’m gonna cum, Jo— I’m gonna fucking…! Cum!”

An uncontrollable gush of liquids flooded between your bodies, the intensity of the orgasm overbearing your body through the gummy walls of your cunt and the small vessel beneath your clit.

You cried out at how overwhelming it all was but  not doing anything to stop it, wanting Joel to feel as much of your orgasm as you could give him.

Your pussy was throbbing, clenching tighter with every throb his cock forced you to endure; you wondered if he had anymore cum left to fill you up with.

As you squirted all over him he found himself on the brink of bliss. His body was planted firmly into the ground by now, letting your juices pool in the curves of his body.

He tried to stop you long enough to film it, but you were so dazed and set on making him finish he couldn’t get more than a strained grunt out before finally cumming inside of your swollen cunt.

His nails indented crescent moons into your waist, cock straining against your walls.

Joel nearly choked from breathlessly moaning your name, back and neck arching off of the cold ground. His eyes were screwed shut from the overstimulation as you eagerly bounced on his cock despite the burning in your joints.

It wasn’t until you finally stopped that Joel felt he could breathe again; his eyes slowly opened, he was immediately greeted with the smile on your face.

“You certainly made a mess,” he chuckled upon noticing the mixture of cream and squirt everywhere.

“You love when it’s messy,” you chirped.

“Mmhm,” he hummed after sitting up slightly.

He opened his mouth to say something else but he hesitated, taking the prolonged silence as a sign to keep his thoughts to himself and opting to just reach for the camera instead.

“Lift slowly— Slower,” he instructed.

You raised your hips up slow, just like he said, feeling that burning stretch one last time until his dick was finally out; you heard him moan and praise you as his cum slowly leaked from your hole down your lips, dripping onto the peak of his belly adding to the mess.

“Look at that,” he groaned, using his fingers to spread your lips. “You’re so fuckin’ amazing.”

Using one hand to spread one of your cheeks you looked back towards him and said, “Leave some in for the hike back.”

He used two of his thick fingers to stuff the little amount of his load back inside of you, biting his lips in an attempt to contain himself when your hips twitched at the delicious burn.

Soon after, you decided it was time to clean up and start the dreadful journey back to the car.

“Your knees gonna hold up, Grandpa?” You teased once you both were back on the trail; you were both unphased of the judgmental looks you received from a couple that was nearby. Even if they didn’t hear anything, your flushed faces and sudden appearance from within the trees was telling enough, but you couldn’t care less as of now.

Neither could he.

“They’re gonna have to,” he replied as he gently tugged your arm so that his lips touched your ear. “I’m gonna need them to bend you over later.”

“Oh, Joel, I will definitely be taking you up on that.”

DILF takes care of me when I get horny on the hike ;)

643K Views  |  96%  |  2 Days Ago  |  ♡ 3,354

Comments

user1 need a slut like that 😍

user2 fuuck this made me so wet

user3 first this bitch lets two brothers fuck her worthless ass at the same time (gross on so many levels) and now she’s fucking in the dirty ass woods ??this slut is disgusting and a waste of oxygen

         ⤷  yourusername if you keep talking dirty to me like that i’m gonna have to fuck your brother in the woods next to relieve myself 

[idleoblivion]

"The Dismal Story of Our Creation" Malleus Draconia x GN Reader

Spoilers for Book 7!

Synopsis: Malleus has put the island to sleep, but the dream he puts you in is an especially unique one.

Word Count: ~1200 A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent me happy birthday messages! I hope to finish a few more drafts soon to make up for my absence. I loved writing him as a yandere, it just fits him so well to me.

Warnings: Yandere Malleus, captivity? (trapped in a dream), forced kissing

Something wasn’t right.

He’d done it. He overblotted. Putting everyone to sleep, leaving them to their dreams. For their own good, to make them happy. That’s what he had said. 

So why was this your dream? What had happened to you?

You remember catching a glimpse of the unconscious forms of your friends, sleeping under the power of his magic. You remember the fear that washed over you as you expected the same fate. And you remember the satisfied grin he wore as he faced you, and then everything went black.

Darkness surrounds you now. You are stranded in a void, an empty black space. No floor beneath your feet, no walls indicating you might be in some strange room. You hesitantly take a few steps forward, and then in another direction. Still nothing. You are walking through some kind of purgatory, left alone with nothing but an endless darkness and eerie silence.

Until you hear footsteps behind you.

You whip around to see him, uncomfortably close to you. Looming over you, with that same smile as before.

“What…what did you do? Where am I?” You question, trying to keep your voice steady.

Malleus’ smile still doesn’t falter as he answers you. “Our home, Child of Man.”

As he speaks, the space around you starts changing. You blink repeatedly as a room starts creating itself from the darkness, walls and furniture forming from the shadows before manifesting as real objects. Everything appears in the same gothic theme you’re familiar with from Diasomnia.

“What do you mean, ‘our home’?”

He tilts his head at you a bit, mirth still palpable in his expression. “I think it’s quite self-explanatory. This is where we will spend the rest of our lives together.” Your head is spinning as you process his words. “Malleus, what are you talking about? I don’t understand, you’re scaring me.”

He frowns immediately at that. He sighs quietly before speaking again. “My apologies, Child of Man. I suppose I’ve yet to explain myself properly to you. Please, fear not. I never would wish you any harm, you should know.”

“Child of Man,” He starts after a deep inhale, “I know this may feel sudden, but I must confess something to you.” He reaches for your hand, and you cautiously allow him to take it. “I…I love you. I care for you so dearly, my Child of Man. You’ve brought life to my life, brought me a kind of joy that I’ve always considered unobtainable for me. I’ve never known someone as kind, brave and sincere as you. I love you, from the bottom of my heart. So much that I don’t know what to do with the feelings you stir in me sometimes.” He grinned softly to himself. “You treat me like no one else does. You seek out my presence yourself, you look at me with fondness in place of fear. You’ve taken over my mind and heart, and I couldn’t do without you anymore.”

“So,” he continues, “I’ve created a place for us, and only us, my love. I’ve put much thought into it, and come to the conclusion that it would be difficult for us to be together in reality. It would be blasphemy for me to attempt to introduce a human as my partner in Briar Valley. As heir to the Draconia lineage and future king, such a thing would never be allowed.” His brow furrowed at the thought. “And on your end, the headmaster is searching for a way to send you back, to separate you from me. There are many obstacles to our love. This is the solution I’ve come up with.” His hand moves to cradle your cheek gently, staring deep into your eyes. It takes great effort for you to not tremble under the weight of his gaze. “There is nothing but us here. No Crowley, no other world to return to, no royal duties or expectations, nothing at all to disturb us. We will hide happily in here forever, where nobody can interfere with us.” You’re shaking now, fear coursing through your veins as you realize the gravity of your situation. You are trapped alone with him, in a space of his creation and control, completely at his mercy. And he’s seemingly decided you won’t be going anywhere.

“M-Malleus, please. I don’t…I don’t want this.” You meekly speak, your voice hardly above a whisper. You’re terrified of rejecting him, but equally afraid of what would happen if you accepted his advance. “I don’t want to be asleep forever. And what about everyone else, my friends-” “Do not speak of them.” His harsh tone cuts you off and makes you flinch. There’s a new darkness to his eyes that makes your legs want to buckle. You avert your eyes from his to avoid it.

“Look at me.” He commands. You don’t comply, too nervous to meet the anger in his expression. He grabs your face roughly and forces you to tilt your head up. “I said, look at me. Do not speak of them again. This place is for us, not them. Your life is meant to be spent with me, not them. Your place in this world is with me, not them. You will not mention them again. I will not allow any others but myself to occupy your thoughts. Do you understand me?”

Tears start welling up in your eyes as you nod slightly, dread heavy in your stomach as the weight of your circumstances only seems to keep increasing.

He stares down at your teary face, eyes wet and lips trembling. He still holds your face in his large hand. His eyes soften the longer he looks at you, and after what seems like an eternity he starts leaning in towards you. You don’t dare to close your eyes, scared of what he’d do if you avoided him again. He gets closer, and you hold back a fearful whimper as his lips softly press against yours. Your stomach turns as he holds the kiss, leaving you anxious and uncomfortable. He pulls back and meets your gaze once more. 

“You’re…ethereal. Perfect, so perfect my love. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. I’ve always wanted to claim you as my own.” He kisses you again, with more need and passion than the first. The tail of his overblot form comes to wrap around your waist and pull you into him, pressing your bodies together. His mouth is hot against yours as he kisses you with more and more fervor. His tongue slips past your lips and you let out a small groan despite yourself. He smiles against your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours. His demeanor had lost some of it’s intimidating aura as he looked at you completely lovestruck, strong hands caressing your back as his tail still held you in place.

“I’ll be all that you need, my love. I will be your entire reason for being, your entire purpose, as you are mine.” You shudder a bit in his hold, but if he notices, he pretends he doesn’t.

“This is my creation for us, dear. Our paradise. Doesn’t it make you happy?”

[ravencincaide]

The word that made the difference 

Summary:  You knew you had to get professional help even if you did not want to, Dazai’s words and actions made it absolutely clear to you he wouldn’t tolerate anything else, and Chuuya seemed to silently agree with him. Still the answer you got was not for the question you asked; but that one word was enough to make you reevaluate everything. 

Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya xfem! Reader (skk x fem!reader) 

Author note: An independent continuation of Desperate times series, and next part of  Happy unhappy home! Check that series out if you’d like more angst, skkx reader, new parents, all that and see more of what happened right before this scene! 

Warning: Cursing, depression/postpartum depression, New parents/exhausted parents =bad choices/reactions, Angst,  

Enjoy~

Pregnant

The word felt unfamiliar- surreal- like a misdiagnosis wrapped in excuses, wrapped in women’s issues and wrapped in reasons to get you out of the office. Yet it was as if that singular word explained everything you had experienced lately and nothing at all. Maybe it explained the hopelessness, the darkness, the unbearably tense existence that has become your home; but it could not explain the way you felt about the twins. The inability to connect with them. Or the inability to feel any warmths from Dazai and Chuuya. Perhaps, at this point, you were so ruined and wrong that you could not connect with anyone. Not the twins, not Dazai and not Chuuya. 

We think you have postpartum depression

A part of you wanted to stand up, run out of the medical office and into the waiting room right outside where the four of them were waiting. To rub it into the two mafioso's faces that they were wrong. Ha the geniuses were not genius enough to sidestep medical school, and it wasn’t as easy as to use some template they took from god-knows-where and assed you by it instead of talking with you, asking you, helping you. They were wrong- you were right. You won. 

But what was your prize? 

“ I have never had a reason to hit you. You’ve always been a smart girl- don’t give me another reason to do it. Again. If you’re sick- get help.” 

Dazai’s words from a day ago rang in your ears. His tone, the iciness in his gaze as he brought you down to the knees in cold standing water with a single slap repeated itself in your mind. Like a never-ending loop it played before your eyes. Your mind, the twisted bastard, hadn't left the image unchanged, but rather conjured up the way it must have looked from all angles; from the side, from above and even from below. Driving in the humiliation further. Like some dramatic exaggerated scene out of a soap opera, a middle aged housewives tv-series, and the act was meant to be a huge burden for the main stars in season one but then it gets solved three episodes later. 

Forgiven and forgotten.

But this wasn’t a soap opera, this wasn’t some lame drama created to satisfy lonely women as they waited for their loving husbands to come home from golf. This was reality. Your reality- your life. And soon, not only your own. That one realization grounded; it was enough to escape the clutches of shock and confusion and placed you back inside the small, simple medical office and the woman opposite you.  

“ Well yeah, it’s no wonder you’ve been feeling like shit the last few weeks. I’d say congratulations but really— “ 

Yosano’s voice faded into the background again; your mind tiffany twisted, drowned out her words as more flashbacks pulled you under the surface of reality. Simple things, comparisons like the joy last pregnancy brought and the dread this one carried. How caring, sweet and gentle it started but how difficult the previous one ended; and how difficult this one started while the thought of it getting worse filled you with dread. 

Blood rushed to your ears; your pounding heart overshadowed all sounds, dulled the quiet medical office into an obnoxiously loud space. Your vision blurred, tunneled and span. Inadvertently you pressed the fingers of your shaking hand to your eyes and rubbed them, then shook your head to try and clear the dark dots which played in your sight. 

You wondered how and why it happened. You couldn’t fathom the idea that you were, yet again, carrying a life inside you. No, it was absurd. Surely Yosano was mistaken, it hadn’t even gone that long since the twins were born and– 

All at once the reality came crashing back down again. You were back on the hard chair, back opposite Yosano and suddenly very aware of every inch of the office. And the continuation of her displeased rant; the way her tone grew louder, annoyance sipped into every syllable. The barely held back curses which evidently played on the tip of her tongue. Yet she tried to look casual, head rested in the palm of her hand, body language open and turned towards you. But the anger was undeniable in the way her second hand gripped the pen, almost snapped it in half and poured the goey black onto a pile of papers- the results that signaled your doom. “ I told the damned bastards to–” 

“ – But I thought you couldn’t get pregnant at least until 18 months have passed after birth” you interrupted her, your voice a fraction away from hysterical. You looked at Yosano expectedly, begging her for the confirmation that this was some weird biological fluke. A mistake that no one of you could have predicted.

You jumped as she slammed her fist against the wooden desk. 

“ Where the hell did you hear that bullshit from?” Yosano took a deep breath, slipped back into her composed doctor mask and did you the courtesy to reply to your questions calmly and professionally “It’s not recommended to get pregnant earlier than 18 months after delivery, to give the body time to heal. However, biologically speaking, there’s nothing preventing you from it once you’ve gotten your period. Some can get pregnant as early as four weeks after.” 

You bit your lips to hold back a curse, and hung your head at your own stupidity. “ But one time..” you mumbled absentmindedly as memories of an unromantic quickie on the same night the pair returned home from their months long mission ran through your mind. A disappointing act that drove a rift in your relationship. That became a silent fight you never openly addressed; just picked up your things and moved into the shoe-sized spare bedroom. Something which neither part of double black seemed to mind. 

If anything you swore your absence in the bedroom brought them relief. 

To your surprise, Yosano rested a comforting hand on your shoulder. “ Sometimes one time is plenty. Now then to break the news-” She moved away from you and began stomping towards the door which separated her office from the rest of the medical bay. And ultimately, the space where your so-called lovers waited with the twins. 

“ No wait!” you cried. In an instant up on your feet, both hands wrapped around Yosano’s arm. Although she was undoubtedly stronger, the action was shocking enough to halt her movements. She turned to face you, surprise edged into her features. But you couldn’t meet her eyes. No, you did not want her to see that the seemingly perfect relationship had been reduced to shambles. A broken thing which had become filled with responsibilities and fear. The thought made your cheeks redden in shame; never ever in your life would you have thought you’d be fearful of your lover's reaction to seemingly joyful news. And even more shamefully, feel the need to make excuses for it in public. 

“ Tell me honestly Y/N” Yosano’s voice was low, the accusation unmistakable. 

“ It’s Dazai’s” You answered in a heartbeat, met her gaze full on with the most earnestness you had ever displayed in your life. “ Undoubtedly his.” 

You dropped your hand from her arm and brought it back to your side, wrapped it protectively around your stomach. You forced your lips up into a smile, hoped it looked innocent yet nervous. Then mellowed out the look in your eyes to the point the blush looked more shy than guilty. “ W-well, you know, Dazai’s been wanting a child of his own since the twins and I.. just want to break the news to him in a special way.” The lie rolled smoothly off your tongue and Yosano seemed to buy it. 

She laughed at you, teased you for the still corny behavior while lightly reminded you this wasn’t your first kid as she sat back down and began going over essential medical information with you. Information you took in with a smile, nodded in appropriate places without really listening. But who could have blamed you? 

Your mind was for once on your side as it formed second by second a feasible plan for you. Not easy, but manageable. Drunk on thought that you, YOU, the innocent little weak dove had gotten away with such a blatant lie gave you the courage you needed to indulge in those thoughts. The thoughts you hadn’t even dared to think of before. Now they felt so close and so real. 

Although, admittedly, the lie you uttered wasn’t a complete lie. Indeed, you intended to make sure he would find out this news in the most unforgettable way possible. 

You just never said the surprise was going to be good… 

Author note: The first part of this chapter is dedicated to each and every person who thought A Hit Beyond Rock Bottom was not heavy /angsty enough and Dazai’s actions weren’t too bad.

The second part is for us who can see that the reader is strong and it's time to see that strengths manifest itself into something useful. Well hope you enjoyed this and until next time~

Click here for: Part 1 , part 2 and part 3 or Check out Raven's masterlist.

©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[nanaminokanojo]

BAD NEWS (part 61)

-just when you thought you were over your humongous crush on your older brother’s best friend, geto suguru, you couldn’t have been more dead wrong, except satoru doesn’t like suguru for you because he knows his kind all too well: a huge ass playboy who breaks hearts like he changes socks. but you think, MAYBE you’ll be the exception…maybe not.

CHARACTERS: drummer!geto suguru x you/afab reader | gojo satoru | various jjk characters

GENRE: full-length smau + prose | band au | college au | stupid pining | aged-up characters | friends to lovers (?) | smut

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol, drugs | mentions of cheating, promiscuity, mild dubcon, etc. | god-awful pet names | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 61 next>>

You wished on all the forces of the universe to remove you from your current predicament. Have the floor swallow you whole, for the roof to cave in, make you disappear. Anything, any second now. But nothing. The universe isn't on your side, not this time. And you continued to stand between the counter and Suguru, gnawing at your lower lip so much, it's probably bleeding. All the while, you kept your eyes away from his unrelenting stare, fixing your eyes on the silver skull pendant that hung below his collar.

Suguru patiently stood his ground before you, not saying anything as time ticked by one agonizing second at a time. You can hear his every breath, fanning over your forehead. One minute movement and you'll be touching him. Not a good idea considering everything that happened. But it looked like there was no escaping this time.

Squaring your shoulders, you dared to meet his gaze, but you immediately shrunk back to your awkward state, except the words were already leaving your mouth before you could stop them. "You wanted to talk?" you croaked, your confidence dying in your throat when you saw the frustration dancing in his eyes.

Despite that, he was gentle in his approach. "That's what I said, kitten."

Or so you thought, regretting your next words. "C-can you um..." You motioned for him to move back, but he shook his head at you much to your chagrin.

"No. I don't think that's necessary."

You shrugged, sulking as you shifted your weight to your left leg. If he wasn't going to let you have your space, you can make it difficult for him, too. "Fine." You folded your arms over your chest, a satisfied smirk drawing itself across your lips when he slightly moved back at the action. "Talk about what, Suguru?"

His expressions were unreadable as he paused, evidently testing the waters. "Looks like I'm jumping all the hoops today, but I'll indulge you." He leveled his face to yours, mouth stretching into a grin. "Let's talk about that Sunday night you came home drunk. Particularly the part where you and I –"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" You were covering his mouth with your hand before he could finish, giving him a heavy look which he returned with one of understanding before you withdrew. You let out a loud exhale, feeling your knees go weak at the thought that the matter hangs between the two of you for discussion. You weren't ready, but you had to be if either of you are going to be okay with each other again without you evading him all the time regardless of how things would go.

You looked at him sheepishly. "Do you have to be this close though?"

He rolled his eyes at you. "You're not going anywhere this time, sweetheart."

Curse him for knowing you too well. "You're too close –"

"Getting shy with me now? Thought you wanted me this close." He arched a brow at you, getting in that pushy mood you disliked when directed at you.

"When did I say that?"

"Do you want specifics?"

"Now, you're just being exasperating." You did an eye roll which made him chuckle, but you were having none of his geniality. Instead, you pouted at him. "What about it, anyway?" you mumbled.

Suguru scoffed, the sound coming out with a little laughter of disbelief. "Did you seriously just ask me that, kitten?" He had taken a softer tone on you despite himself. "So, it's a trifling matter to you?"

You sighed. Talking about such things was hell on earth. You've taken drastic measures before just to avoid it, but he seems done with your nonsense. Suddenly, you felt tired, finally letting go of your guard and resting your forehead on his chest, prompting him to stand upright. You've always sought his familiar warmth without inhibitions, and you found comfort in the way he held you.

"That's not what I meant. It's nothing I can trifle with, as you put it. You're not someone I can just take for granted, and you know that."

"Y/N, that's exactly why I wanted to talk about it," he told you. "You're very important to me, too, and I don't want this to become the reason we fall apart."

The sincerity in his tone made you feel a little guilty although you knew it wasn't the intention. Suguru may have his flaws, some of which pissed you off terribly, but you can never deny that he cared for you, first, as Satoru's best friend, and second, as an actual friend to you. Your antics after what happened, something you even initiated, wasn't a good look, but you still felt like countering him on that despite the looming possibility of his words.

Stepping back a bit, you met his gaze, quickly regretting it when you saw just how intensely he was looking at you. But you leveled with him, all your unspoken feelings for him coming up to the surface and pretty much making your self-control crumble. He just held so much power over you, and he didn't even know it.

"Why does it have to make us fall apart?" you asked.

"Because..." He moved closer to you, large hands landing on your hips as he effortlessly lifted you up onto the counter, making you yelp and smack him on the arm from being startled. He chuckled as he stood before you, eyes lighting up as you pouted when he booped your nose. "You have a knack for avoiding things you don't want to deal with, better than you avoid your opponents on the field."

"I do not!" you protested, but it was met with a wry smile.

"Really now, kitten?" he challenged. "You managed to avoid me even in this house. Thought I wouldn't notice you sneaking out in the morning? Or how you made Megumi come here the day later just so you won't have to face me?" He feigned hurt but was unsuccessful in concealing the sly glint in his eyes and the slight upward twitch of his lips. "I made you hangover soup, you know."

You shrugged, feeling your face grow hot. "I'm sorry, okay?" you snapped, but the fight in you has long cooled down. "I just..."

"Yes, kitten?"

"I didn't know what to do about it," you mumbled. "I needed to think."

"And?"

You looked at him with narrowed eyes, silently considering what to say, and maybe you should be bolder like all those girls who pretty much got what they wanted from him one way or the other albeit momentarily. You weren't going to be one of them, were you? Come to think of it, he wouldn't even be around if the thought didn't bother him, would he? You just weren't sure in what manner, but you were going to make sure you weren't going to end up getting the short end of the stick.

Looking back to that night, he didn't force you into anything, even trying to stop you, but if this whole affair with him was one-sided, he wouldn't have done anything to cross that line with you at present and even a year ago.

"Does it bother you?" you asked him instead.

"Yes..." It was his turn to be uncertain and awkward. "Somehow, it does."

Huh, you thought, pushing further. "In what sense?"

"If you're asking if I regret it, kitten, I don't, and neither do I feel sorry in general save for the fact that you weren't clear in the head when it happened. I feel like I've taken advantage of you –"

"Okay, stop. I knew what I was doing, Suguru. I'm not exactly a kid you're supposed to babysit regardless of how you view me," you countered.

"Hmm. How exactly do I view you, Y/N?"

"Oh, I don't know. Your best friend's kid sister?"

Suguru arched a brow at you. "That's always been your opinion about me, sweetheart. I never said that. Otherwise, I wouldn't..." He let his words trail off as if he caught himself, but was hiding it under the guise of not wanting to state specifics.

You chuckled without mirth. "Do you realize what you're saying right now?"

His eyes went dark as he pushed his tongue against his cheek, jaw ticking as he ran his ring-adorned fingers through his hair in utter frustration. "Believe it or not, I do."

You faked a gasp, thrilled to your toes at his little revelation and deciding to make him 'jump the hoops' as he put it earlier. "My, my. My brother's best friend has the hots for me? Who would have known?"

"Y/N..." He sighed. "Kitten, don't say it like that. You make it sound like I'm some creep who stole your virtue."

You scoffed playfully. "You're the one acting like a damn virgin here since earlier. Now, I feel like the creep who stole yours."

"What?" He looked so appalled at your words that it was comical and you couldn't help giggling at his expression. "You little –"

"You're cute when you're flustered."

He rolled his eyes at you, but couldn't help but join in your laughter anyway. And as if nothing happened, you're back to being your silly selves around each other again. Or so it seemed in that moment which easily broke when he spoke again.

"So...did you dislike it?" he asked cautiously, looking at you from under his lashes. He sounded hopeful, and you couldn't help but think if he was ever any degree of vulnerable around anybody else.

"I don't know. I was drunk, remember?" you decided to bait him, and he bit it, making a face at you. You laughed even more at that.

"I'm serious, kitten." Suguru inched closer and closer, eyes hazy as he looked into yours, and you didn't even realize he was already standing between your thighs.

Shoot your shot, you thought to yourself, only hoping you won't regret it, but it seemed like a problem for future you. "I believe I made it clear just how I felt about it."

"Mhmm." His reponse was shaky at best, and you loved that you had this effect on him, too. "I can show you more, kitten," he whispered, lips almost touching yours, his piercing gaze daring you to make the next move as they shifted to your mouth ever so slowly, the intensity making you feel like he was touching you without even doing it, making you squirm.

But you weren't about to give in easily, inching back slightly even as your hand slid up his shoulder. "I don't know, Suguru." You smirked at him. "Can you?"

He returned the gesture, eyes smoldering. "Wanna find out?"

"I–"

"I'm home!"

Suguru jerked back at the sound of Satoru's voice from the direction of the hallway, leaving him with no choice but to stand awkwardly against the adjacent sink.

"In here!" you called out, picking up your abandoned sandwich, taking a bite as you suppressed laughter at nearly being caught by your brother who appeared by the archway and leisurely entered the kitchen.

"You're here, too? Didn't know you were coming over," he said to Suguru. "Had dinner yet?"

Suguru furtively glanced at you. "Was about to."

You winked at him then hopped out of the counter, taking your sandwich with you, motioning to leave the kitchen.

"That's all you're gonna eat? Is Utahime telling you to lose weight or something?" Satoru asked, noticing your food.

"Nah, too lazy to whip anything up." You looked at Suguru, your gaze pregnant with meaning. "I'll be in my room. Don't bother me."

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© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240704]

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[melminli]

𝗗𝗶𝗱 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗿 - 𝟬𝟭

pairing: neuvilette x fem. reader

summery - fontaine was known for being the nation of the element hydro as well as the nation of justice. however, the people were known for their love of gossip. though, sometimes rumors turn out to be true, don't they?

word count: 1.5k

content: lawyer reader, lots of fluff, crack, romance, akward reader + neuvilette

series masterlist

Fontaine. The nation under the supervision of the Hydro Archon as well as the element Hydro itself. With its many waterfalls, wide seas, and many bodies of water, its aquatic space is widely embellished. Of course, this is not a big surprise, and yet the brilliant landscape never ceases to amaze new and old visitors and residents alike.

"Mademoiselle Rivière, please excuse me for disturbing you during your break, but the reports you requested have finally arrived," a soft female voice woke you up.

You slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Even when you just wanted to lean back on the couch in your office for a while, you couldn't seem to get any rest. You had to get to work when it was calling, and it always did. A healthy work-life balance was something unknown to you. "Don't worry, Marie, thank you for your work." You mumbled sleepily and reached for the file your assistant had brought you.

As you went through the pages, she looked at you a little worried. Even after all the years she had known you and worked under you, she couldn't stop frowning at your workaholic lifestyle. "Have you pulled an all-nighter again? How many days have you been here? You haven't forgotten to eat again, have you?"

Your eyes were fixed on the paper so that you could decipher the information inside as quickly as possible. "I'm fine, don't worry, really. I just don't have any time to waste since I have to be at the Opera Epiclese the day after tomorrow, and the defense isn't going to build itself."

Marie just sighed and made a mental note to order something to eat as soon as she left the room. "I'll get you something to drink. Who knows when you last got any time to do that." She said hopelessly and interrupted you before you could interject. "And I'll get water and nothing else!"

You didn't dare to say anything else to that. So, no coffee for me then. Maybe it's better this way. It would be a bit embarrassing to dehydrate in Fontaine. You leaned back in your chair and looked out of the window for a while, just watching the water surrounding the city for a bit. "Maybe I really should take a break. It's been a long time since I've been to the beach..." You continued to think, "...or even just the shore for a bit."

You sighed once and stretched a little to clear your head and get back to work. After all, you still had some preparation to do since Fontaine was not only the land of the element Hydro but also the land of justice. You were confronted with this not only as a citizen of this nation but, above all, as a lawyer. The best in town.

The case you were currently working on was about the unjust firing of your client from the Fonta development team. You had gathered the necessary evidence and testimonies, which was the lesser of two evils. The thing you still weren't really sure about yet...was how you wanted to present your case.

This was the Opera Epiclese we were talking about. Of course, everything was decided by the presentation. Getting the audience on your side was a must because only when you've kept them satisfied with a spectacle can you achieve great success. Simply bringing the truth to light was not enough in this country. Justice and reputation were very closely linked, and in order to keep your face, you not only had to be right, you also had to entertain. This made it possible for the result to have an effect. For making a change in the right direction, which people would remember.

You hated the system. Some days more and some days less since the need to entertain usually meant gossip, which in turn diminished the seriousness needed in court. As a lawyer, you were, of course, part of this, but you know the saying, hate the game and not the player. You did your best to bring justice, and your morals were not related to recognition or anything else. That's all that mattered for now.

Now that I've been thinking about Fonta so much, I feel like drinking it. Maybe Marie will let me have a bottle since there's no caffeine in it.

Quite a while later...

"I'm completely exhausted..." You sighed and could hardly wait to sleep in your own bed again. As much as you love Palais Mermonia, you really should spend less time there and your office. The world always felt so small when you spent so much time in the same four walls, and then as soon as you stepped out of them, the world suddenly seemed bigger than ever.

Though you missed your home, you didn't want to go from one room to the other. That's probably why your feet almost automatically carried you in the direction of Vasari Passage. You loved walking past the many stores and greeted the owners and various other people on your stroll. Your destination, however, was in the middle of the plaza because one of your favorite things to do in the city, was to sit near the fountain and simply watch the endlessly spinning mechanisms of the sphere.

Lost in thought, the scream of a certain nickname confused you greatly at first. "If it isn't the Ice Queen of Court herself! Today must be my lucky day!"

You turned to the voice only to see a certain reporter. She really won't stop calling me that, will she? I noticed that some other people started to do it, too. The cryo vision dangling off your outfit made it sound a bit cliché in your opinion. "Ah, it's you, Mademoiselle Charlotte. I didn't expect to find you here at this hour." You admitted.

She had a big smile on her face. "Well, I did! Rumor has it that you're usually here in the evening, so I sometimes come by when I have time, hoping for a little chat with the most famous lawyer in Fontain." She said without any shame and already had her pen and paper ready. "We never get to see you except in court, and getting appointments is super difficult. So, I thought I'd give this a try."

You couldn't help but smile slightly in disbelief at her efforts. "I see. So you switched to stalking after you ran out of your more professional resources."

"Guilty!" She exclaimed, and you raised an eyebrow at the circumstances. When Charlotte realized the context of the situation, she quickly corrected herself. "I mean, I'm just kidding! Please don't get me wrong, I would never resort to foul means for my work, really!" She suddenly clarified very nervously.

You reassured her. "I'm always up for a bit of humor, and I would also say that we're not complete strangers, so it's not a problem." You assured her. "But I would advise you to be a little more careful with the way you get people excited about your work. You might scare off some of the gentler people."

Stars formed in her eyes as you offered her your advice. I'm not a stranger in her eyes? That almost makes us friends then! "As you'd expect, the best lawyer always knows exactly what to say! Very impressive, I'll take note of that." She said in a good mood. "To get to the point, I was wondering if you could give me some news about your next court case!"

An apologetic expression came over your face. "I fear I can't, Mademoiselle Charlotte. I don't share any information regarding my ongoing cases. Keeping statements concerning my clients strictly to myself is very important to me." You replied and could see from her expression that she wasn't too disappointed. She had probably already anticipated this answer from you.

"What a shame, but of course, understandable." She expressed with a cheerful spirit. "Then perhaps you could comment on the new rumors about you?" She asked you intently as she leaned a little closer to you, finally revealing the true reason for her interest.

More rumors? You were aware of how talkative the people of Fontaine were, but you didn't realize that they were the same when it came to you. "What kind of rumor would you like me to address?" You asked a little curiously yourself.

"Well, the rumors about a secret romance with you and our Iudex, Monsieur Neuvilette, of course!"

You were rarely completely blown away by anything, but this? That was the first time you ever heard anything like that. It sounded even more absurd than the thought alone. People - people are talking about me and Monsieur Neuvilette...?

To Be Continued...

[need-more-meta]

I was very inspired by this wonderful prompt by wonderful @spnj2fanlw and I want to share a little teaser for what’s coming because I’m too excited and can’t keep it to myself.

Set in season 10.

You, My Curse (You, My Cure)

the mystic deliria, the madness amorous, the utter abandonment

Walt Whitman

Chapter 1

Dean Winchester hates witches, but boy does he love killing them.

“You couldn’t do it before she lunged for me?” Sam asks, looking down at himself, splattered head-to-toe with the exploded witch’s blood.

Dean gives him his ‘sorry-dude-I-don’t-care’ shrug, which is met with Sam’s ‘fuck-you-dude’ glare.

The important thing is the homicidal witch is dead; Sam’s neat freakishness is beyond the scope of Dean’s responsibilities.

“It’s in my fucking mouth,” Sam continues griping, like the teenage girl he is. He spits onto the floor, then sticks his tongue out and scrapes at it with his fingers.

“Dude, ew,” Dean says, which is usually Sam’s line, so it feels extra good to throw it back at him.

Sam’s glare moves into the ‘seriously-fuck-you-dude’ territory. It’s hilarious.

Not waiting for his brother to come back to the world of non-bitches, Dean looks around the room, which served as the witch’s office, filled to the brink with magical stuff.

“Should we—?” He makes a circle in the air with his finger, indicating the entire space.

Sam stops trying to pat the blood out of his clothes.

“Yeah,” he says, still sounding sour. “Let’s loot.” He walks toward the bookshelves stuffed with thick tomes, parchments, and other reading material. “I’ll take the books, you look into the artifacts.”

Dean nods and drifts toward the shelves overflowing with all kinds of exotic trinkets. He finds a couple of curious-looking knives that would complement his collection nicely. There are loads of animal bones, and Dean finds it slightly disturbing how easily he can identify them at this point in his life. He pockets some shiny stones with etchings that remind him of a language he’d seen in the bunker library. Sam might like those.

As Dean goes over the drawers of the witch’s desk, something catches his attention—a simple gold ring, wedged between the witch’s journals. He takes it, instantly mesmerized. There’s nothing in particular about the thing that makes Dean feel like it’s something valuable, but he can’t put it down.

He finds an inscription on the inside in what looks like Latin. The words ‘amore’ and ‘morte’ stand out, but the general message escapes Dean.

“Hey, nerd,” he calls and throws the ring across the room to Sam, who catches it in the air. “Can you read that?”

Sam peers at the ring. Dean feels uncomfortable without the thing in his hand, and he saunters toward Sam, while Sam translates.

“With love, comes death. With death, comes love,” Sam reads and gives the ring back to Dean, who feels better right away. “I think it’s a wedding ring.”

“Bit morbid for a wedding ring,” Dean says as he watches the light from the window catch on the gold.

An idea strikes him, brilliant as ever.

“Hey, Sammy?” He grabs Sam’s left hand and slides the ring on his fourth finger. “Say ‘I do.’”

Sam’s glare promises Dean a slow and painful death. Before he can make good on his unspoken threat, Dean feels something cold wrap itself around his own fourth finger. He lifts his left hand, and he and Sam both stare stupidly at the ring shining there, identical to the one Sam’s now wearing.

Dean grins.

“Guess we’re married now, little brother.”

“Is everything a joke to you?” Sam asks, ever a bitch.

“Yes,” Dean says brightly, satisfied when Sam’s entire face scrunches up in a grimace.

It takes Sam a few seconds to decide that he isn’t murdering Dean right now, which Dean already knew. Sam’s face shifts into a thoughtful frown as he considers the rings.

“Do you—feel any different?” he asks, poking at the ring on his hand.

“It’s the happiest day of my life.” Dean keeps the grin going.

Sam sighs and mutters something most likely unflattering.

There, it’s already a perfect marriage, as far as Dean’s concerned.

[monsterfloofs]

The leaves whisper as wind chimes pluck a lovely tuneless melody. The sky above is a soft blue, with the clouds hanging like ornamental decorations. Heavily shadowed with a majestic grey blue at bottom, but light from the falling sun has the tops illuminated with white and soft purples. Golden hour, a tricky time for travel, when the sun sinks low upon the horizon, but beautiful nevertheless. Those last rays of sunshine casting golden shadows, bathing everything it can touch with a curtain of warm light.

You step on the porch and listen, the leaves, the chimes, the very wind itself. The chill of fall that promises the crisp height of the season, apples in the orchard, a cup of hot tea clasped with cold fingers. The last drop of warmth that melts away into winter's frigid embrace. You breathe deeply before grabbing the broom that is propped against the wall of the little grey house and descend the stone stairs of the porch.

You flick a cap onto your head with a satisfying snap, making sure to carefully secure the flaps over your ears and button it underneath your chin. You continue walking, reaching the willow tree in the front of the yard. Its branches bowed with leaves that flutter and brush against your face and arms. At the center where the trunk of the willow sits, there is a wide ring of space with roots and little grass. Where the drooping branches create a cradle that surrounds you. A small retreat from the outside world. The wispy branches spin and twirl outside of this makeshift sanctuary. You slide one leg over the broom, with two hands grasping the handle, and let your weight fall forward.

One foot and then the other. The ground falls away until you can almost reach up and touch the high branches of the tree. You tuck oner leg around the shaft of the broom. Sinking back down until the very tip of your shoe touches the earth. Arms out and open, spinning, a soothing motion that brings childhood beckoning, to the dreamy days sitting under this tree in an air chair strapped to a sturdy spot. You would swing and spin and spin and spin. That first feeling of weightlessness that had never left your heart, your mind. The feeling that gave you wings and perhaps that first little spark of wonder.

You stop spinning dreamily and do a loop around the trunk before you carefully leave the sanctuary behind and soar, up, up, up into the sky.

[specialagentartemis]

Fics about SecUnit 3 to Read Before We Get All Our Headcanons Jossed

Three! SecUnit 3! System Collapse comes out in one week and it seems like Three will feature prominently!

Three has been the subject of so much speculation and fascination for the fandom. We have a lot of different ideas about who it may become and who it might want to be.

Before all of that gets debunked by the new book, here's a rec list and roundup of some of the excellent fics that center Three!

-

Ficlets About Three and Murderbot Figuring Out How To Interact With Each Other

"Feedlog" by OnlyAll0Saw. 599 words. NR, Multi.

ART is a bit of a bully on the feed. MB is having none of it.

A well-done codefic that imagines the rocky early days of Murderbot, Three, and ART all figuring out how to get along with each other.

-

"Murder Mode Modules" by FlipSpring. 948 words. G, Gen.

3 what the fuck is ‘Murder Mode Modules, Do Not Touch Except For Situations That Necessitate Lots Of Murder?'

Hilarious, great voice, and surprisingly emotional for such a short space and silly tone :') Two excellent podfics!

-

"Real Things" by ArtemisTheHuntress. 715 words. G, Gen.

Three admits that it doesn't understand the appeal of fictional media.

This one's mine :) Murderbot and Three discuss media. There's a podfic!

-

Meatier One-Shots about Three Contemplating Its Identity, Who It Is, And What It Wants Now

"pink and green" by CompletelyDifferent. 5,100 words. G, Gen.

During a diplomatic trip to the university's home system to better establish the newly-formed treaty with the Preservation Alliance, Three tries to figure out who it is. Between exploring new hobbies and its sense of fashion, it attempts to figure out what its relationship with Murderbot 1.0 is, precisely. (Murderbot 1.0 ignores this, until it doesn't).

Hot Springs Episode! CompletelyDifferent @elexuscal writes character interactions SO well.

-

"Uncatalogued and Uncategorized" by lick. 3,033 words. G, Gen.

SecUnit 3 discovers that a hot shower is a good place to work out tangled thoughts.

I loooove this one and return to it regularly. The introspectio makes it a fantastic balance of character study, past trauma, and total confusion of what to do now with itself and its life. Includes a podfic by the author!

-

"Unacceptable Topics of Conversation" by lick. 4,500 words. Teen & Up, Gen.

Murderbot gives SecUnit 3 a haircut. They discuss the governor module.

lick does it again! The feelings are so fraught, the conversation held so gingerly.

-

Long, Plot-Heavy Stories About Three Finding Itself In The Universe

"Heuristic Analysis" by thefourthvine. 11,000 words. G, Gen.

Three makes some choices.

Three travels to Mihira with ART and its crew, gets involved in an AI Rights related mystery, and, as advertised, makes some choices. Well-written with some interesting worldbuilding concepts about the Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland!

-

"Seeking Safety" by petwheel. 57,000 words. Teen & Up, Gen.

Three assumes a new identity on Preservation, only to discover someone wants to kill it. To figure out who and why, Three has to delve into secrets from Preservation's past.

A plotty mystery, suspenseful and extremely creative, with some bold and unique takes on Preservation's history - and how Three can fit in.

-

"Function" by FigOwl. 65,000 words. Teen & Up, Gen.

"I have worked assignments solo before, and I have gotten used to the absences of SecUnit 01 and SecUnit 02. But I have not reconciled myself to the absence of Murderbot 2.0, though I know it is not logical. 2.0 made its choices, and fulfilled its purpose perfectly, and it seemed satisfied with that. I wish that I had any amount of such certainty and resolve." The continuing adventures of SecUnit03. How does a newly freed SecUnit make sense of everything without having consumed 35,000 hours of media for context?

Three goes off on its own self-actualization adventure after Network Effect.

-

Three On Preservation

"words left behind" by torpidgilliver. 4,400 words. G, Gen.

"How do you stand it?" Dr. Gurathin's tone is slow and even when he asks, "Stand what?" - SecUnit 3 shares its feelings with someone who might understand.

Three meets Gurathin. Also, a cat. Delightfully soft and gently sad.

-

"Social Competition" by scheidswrites. 2,100 words. G. Gen.

It's been a while since the last attempted murder/kidnapping, and life is good. Everyone is gathered for a celebration on the Mensah Family Farm. The rogue SecUnits invent a new sport. Drs Mensah, Gurathin, and Overse talk about work on their day off.

SecUnit sports! Murderbot and Three bonding without being too awkward about it! I love this.

-

"The Tree That Owns Itself" by BoldlyNo. 865 words. G, Gen.

There is a tree in the FirstLanding University Botanical Gardens that Murderbot is not thrilled about.

Murderbot and Three have conflicting feelings about a tree.

-

Miscellaneous But Also Worth Highlighting

"As Your Legal Counsel" by i_have_loved_the_stars_too_fondly. 1,000 words. G, Gen.

Pin-Lee informs Three of its options and legal status, should it choose to come to Preservation.

This one is so fun and sweet! Directly after Network Effect, Pin-Lee talks to Three about its options. Three is a little overwhelmed. Two podfics of this one, one by me :) Also @ilovedthestars your AO3 name is hard to type

-

"Past the Breakers" by Thylacine_Wishes. 5,300 words. G, Gen.

When Three is badly injured protecting ART's crew on a mission, Murderbot finds itself disagreeing with the safety protocols that it had written. It was supposed to be the SecUnit meat shield, not Three. It doesn't have time to figure out how it feels about that before it's diving in (literally) to rescue Three and maybe coming to terms with some things along the way.

Action! Adventure! Edge-of-your-seat drama written SO well! Almost drowning! Murderbot caring about Three!!!!

-

"Team of Three" by Lillow. 5,500 words. G, no category.

How Three of three became Three of many.

The tags say it best: the real team was the friends we made along the way. Or is it the real friends are the teammates we make?

Either way, Three finds a team, and people it belongs with.

[naluwalker]

Brain bugs, brain bugs, someone get them out of my head

So, I have no idea about Game of Thrones, I have no idea about House of the Dragon, and even less about A Song of Ice and Fire, but I desperately need a Fairy Tail reincarnating in Westeros fanfiction.

Which is a very silly thing, because Fairy Tail is everything that George RR Martin's works are not, and by that I mean the power of the script and of friendship in all its splendor.

Make no mistake, I love Fairy Tail and everything related to it, but even I have to admit that Fairy Tail and A Song of Ice and Fire are complete opposites. My Fairy Tail babies would give them something if they had to spend too much time in Westeros and that's something we can all agree on.

But all that aside, I'd really like to see something like that, and since no one has done it, I'll write down the general idea and quickly forget about it to move on.

So, from what I understand a lot of the shit that happens in Game of Thrones originates from everything that happened in House of the Dragon, and I'm really indifferent to Rhaenyra, and I don't give a damn about Alicent, Viserys and Daemon, for that matter. what they will be demolished by my brain bugs and cast aside. When the Dance of Dragons happened and the entire war almost took out the entire family, ruining many lives in the process, so that in the end Rhaenyra's son who took the throne was basically left with the worst part: half the family dead, a stupidly uncomfortable throne, equally stupid children, dragons finally becoming extinct, and a pitch-black future for the rest of the nation. It's screwed, but everything in Westeros is screwed, so to fix it my babies will arrive to spread love and affection until everyone vomits rainbows out of their asses.

Although it's not that I don't feel sorry for Rhaenyra and also for Rhaenys, because what happened to them was screwed, but they will be sacrifices for this, and by the time the little tyrant king that I will put up takes the throne, all the girls of the seven kingdoms will be empowered, just wait.

Suppose the gods of Planetos saw the future shit crashing into the fan and said "Shit, we're all screwed," so they decided to bring in the purest, noblest, most destructive souls in the entire cosmos to fix it for them, and they had It had to be early, so that the disasters to come could be corrected.

So here we go, and with shipper glasses, to spread the crumbs that Mashima denies us:

Natsu Dragneel dies at an advanced age without remorse or sorrow, he married the love of his life, an incredible woman, he had children, he had grandchildren and lived to meet his great-grandchildren, he belonged to an incredible guild and has even more incredible friends and companions. He died a satisfied man... and then he wakes up again to a pretty fucked up world, but hopefully he's not alone.

Nataerys Targaryen is born with great vigor and even greater lung strength, his newborn cries pierce the ears of everyone in a radius of an entire palace and his movements are strong even when he is barely minutes old, he is everything a father could wish. Thus, on a hot summer day in the year 82 AD, the son Aemon Targaryen and his wife Jocelyn Baratheon are born.

Although luckily for Natsu, and for Westeros itself, he is not the heir to his grandfather's throne, as most might think, no. That dubious honor belongs to his five years older brother, Zaeferon.

Zeref Dragneel, after causing a war and attempting an invasion all for the sake of destroying space-time and finally dying, was unexpectedly able to partially fulfill his wish (the most important part, in fact) thanks to the power of love and most impressive woman he knows. But it seems that whatever god cursed him still wanted to continue chewing him like the cosmic toy that he is and let him be reincarnated in a shitty world, where he has become the heir to the throne of an even worse country, and a family to boot where they marry relatives as close as sibligs, and my god, he has an older sister.

But not everything is as bad as it seems, he recognizes the face of one of his aunts and for a while, he and Lucy use their time to keep each other company, read and research about this lost Valyrian magic and comfort each other so that if all else fails and in the end they are the only ones here, then they can marry each other and live the rest of their days among books in peace.

Luckily, that only lasts until on a day so hot the rocks melt, Natsu arrives into this world making a scandal that stirs up the entire Red Keep and they are able to completely ditch the backup plan when Zaeferon again recognizes a face among them his cousins.

Moving forward with family introductions, Lucy Heartfilia is born three years after Zeref as Luciaenya Targaryen as the last and youngest of the daughters of King Jaehaerys Targaryen and his sister-wife Alysanne, and the younger twin sister of Gael Targaryen. Lucy attempts to complete the first rites of a baby's life at top speed and spends the next two years of her life with her chubby little arm wrapped around Zaeferon's, swearing that she'd rather marry him than any of her other siblings or nephews. Therefore, the noisy arrival of her husband from another life at the palace is the breath of fresh air she needs to relax and refresh her brain.

With this in mind, her next steps are how to manipulate her parents to allow her to marry her nephew two years younger, and how to get her beautiful and sweet Gael a husband who will treasure her, care for her and protect her, and most importantly , to get her out of this den of vipers that is her new home. Later she will think about how to help Zaeferon accumulate power to put his ass on that stupid throne and take over the place, with the future goal of empowering all the women in the country. Never let it be said that Zeref does not respect the opposite gender.

The last reborn within the royal family also turned out to be the person Zeref wanted to see the most, luckily for him.

Mavis Vermillion, passing away peacefully after helping the love of her life fulfill their mutual wish to finally rest in peace, and with hopes placed on her children to protect the guild, is reborn as the daughter of two siblings, Baelon and Alyssa Targaryen and being the older twin sister of Aegon Targaryen. However, as in another time, Princess Alyssa died six months after a difficult birth and her twin Aegon died before his first year, so Maevys Targaryen became the beloved little princess of her father Baelon and his sons Viserys and Daemon Targaryen.

After the initial panic of discovering that she could be forced to marry any of her older brothers, Maevys joined Luciaenya to help her in her family manipulation plans and somehow get her sometimes not very well-liked grandfather to allow her to marry his heir, and Maevys is nothing if not smart, so she'll pull it off somehow. This time she will walk down the aisle with Zeref, whether the gods want it or not.

With the mere arrival of the four to the royal family things are already changing, the seven kingdoms will shake when Lucy and Mavis finally put Zeref's lazy ass on the Iron Throne.

Other reincarnates include Gaery Stark, grandson of Alaric Stark and current lord of Winterfell known for his Skinchanger ability; his wife Julianne Tully, a half-Dornish whose maternal grandmother belonged to the Orphans of the Greenblood; Erza Connington, the first female knight in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, whose mother is the first female Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and daughter of Aerea Targaryen, Irene Connington; Gerard Arryn, stepson of Daella Targaryen and older brother of Aemma Arryn; Wendeline Royce, a young but prodigious healer who calls herself a doctor, and is one of Maevys Targaryen's ladies-in-waiting; Garrett Umber and his wife Levina Reed, who are in the service of Gaery Stark, of whom Garrett is a cousin on his mother's side; Laxion Lannister, whose grandfather Marrek Lannister married Vaella Targaryen, younger sister of Jaehaerys Targaryen, who is always accompanied by Fredegar Westerling, Bilrentheus Banefort and Everwood Serrett; and Laxion's wife, Maenora Velaryon, daughter of Victor Velaryon and Marybel Massey, who is the older sister of Saelora, Elaerion, Laenyra and Vaenyra Velaryon, who are equally reincarnated.

With this in mind, Fairy Tail has been given enough political power to destroy a continent and can only pray that there is some left after Zeref Dragneel is named king.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Civilian Asset 4.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Still far from home and far from well.

Master List / Prev Chapter

Warning: 18+ (fairly tame chapter, but stands for entire series)

Tagging: A couple folks have asked about tagging. Unfortunately tagging breaks my posts, so I don't keep lists. But I DO reply to each comment on each chapter when I post something new. So it's like a hand-written invitation delivered by butler to your inbox.

A/N: Tumblr is being weird with links, and I'm not sure how to fix it. Had an extremely rough month really working on a piece about school safety... enough said. And I've been sick. So. Ya'll mean the world, thank you for your continued support!

4.

You’re drowning in a sea of hands.

They push and pull like ocean currents, and you’re as helpless in their merciless grip as a swimmer in a riptide, tumbling so deep you can’t remember which way is up. There’s air, but an arm around your neck presses on your trachea. Suffocating you. No matter how much you claw and wheeze, it only tightens, slow and inextricable. The worst kind of promise building in the pressure.

Thousands of strangers’ fingers paint you with intent, sweaty and slick. Each hand wants something. Maybe they’re working in chorus, or maybe each one is out for itself. It’s impossible to tell by the way they paw, snare, and grab at you. Whatever they want is inside. Deep in your belly or hiding in your spine, some key or secret blunt nails work to pry out. They won’t be satisfied until you’re swallowed, torn apart, and sorted into pieces.

The dark smells like old carpets, bird shit, and rust.

Waves of touch tug you in opposite directions, twisting your arm behind your back and your foot over your head. It’s chaos. And it hurts. But they’re all moving you, hauling you into a hell that sounds like war. You’ve never heard gunfire like this. Only three clean shots from a distant sniper rifle. But the cacophony ricochets with dozens of automatic weapons, and the hands scratch and dig into your skin, greedy for your fear as you sink into the echoes…

And wake with the gunfire still in your ears.

Sharp, jolting breaths lift your shoulder, punching through your chest with a salty aftertaste from the tears and mucus trickling down the back of your throat. Everything else locks in place. Your legs are too achy to move. Your eyelids stick open, drinking in shadows. Lying on your side, you not only hear but feel your pulse beating in your ears, and it takes several minutes of wading through too many confusing sensations before you know where you are and why everything’s stiff and sore.

The room is dark. Only a crack of light spills under the door. It’s proper country dark outside, too, pressing black against the window.

It’s raining.

No gunfire. No danger. It’s only precipitation battering against the glass. You are as safe as you can be, given the situation, and the men downstairs would be shouting and kicking in the door if something had gone wrong. Bullets would pierce the walls, shatter the window.

Even though you know it’s just the weather, you’re half convinced a dozen soldiers have opened fire on the room.

You try waiting it out.

Maybe it will stop or you’ll remember you aren’t afraid of the rain.

But it doesn’t, and you can’t bear it, so you get up and head for the glow behind the door. Hopefully the rain isn’t so loud downstairs.

The hall light bathes the space yellow in a way your shattered internal clock reads as daylight. Open doors to the bathroom and the second bedroom loom dark in contrast, like caves along a hiking trail, and the stairs will challenge you as much as a mountainside when you work up the nerve to descend. First you take time to wipe the salt track off your face with cool tap water. The pillow should keep those secrets. You don’t need to wear the evidence.

The adrenaline rush fucked off some time ago, and even after the nightmare you’re left with nothing but clinging paranoia. That doesn’t make you calm. Your anxiety feels like breath on the back of your neck, or eyes squinting through hidden peepholes, prickling over your skin with the assurance that something, somewhere is off, and you shouldn’t leave yourself exposed.

Logically, the men downstairs are no threat. Quite the opposite. You don’t feel logical. Your collection of hurts urge you to hide under a bed. In a closet. To stay out of sight as you lick your wounds.

The soldiers have your life in their hands, and that requires inordinate amounts of trust. There’s a gap you can’t cross. You’ve known them for a few hours. They killed people, and then they stopped your bleeding and sent you to bed. That’s too much and not enough for friendship.

You’re also, on a much shallower level, wildly aware that you’re the odd one out. The only woman. The only stranger. The only civilian.

It’s like standing in the cafeteria on the first day at a new school and wondering where the hell you’re supposed to sit.

Studiously avoiding your reflection, you leave the bathroom and begin your hike downstairs. Each step is a mile. You count them, congratulating yourself on your progress as you balance with your hand on the wall. In yesterday’s – today’s? – struggle, you used muscle groups you didn’t know you had and used known muscles in new and interesting ways they disapprove of. Everything is a little harder, and every step a little wobbly, and thankfully no one pops around the corner to see your tremorous pace.

Shadow creep over the lower steps where the hall light can’t quite reach, but a bright puddle spills out from the kitchen, and you follow it like a little moth.

Rain patters against the windows here, too, but the drumming on the roof doesn’t reach through the upper floor.

You’ll take it.

The kitchen opens around you as you step through, and your eyes flick up from your feet as a figure moves in your peripheral.

“You’re up.”

It’s the Scot. He’s divested himself of the tac vest, though a handgun peaks out from a holster under his jacket. It’s a good sign that he’s less armed than this morning, though. It gives you hope. A step towards de-escalation and a normal state of being where locked doors mean something and you get to sleep in your own bed.

The kitchen’s a little chilly, and your arms fold of their own volition. You stuff your hands out of sight, hiding your most obvious injury as you wince out a smile and try not to make things awkward.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t ask if you slept well. You appreciate it. Instead he fills the electric kettle and pops down the tab before even asking, “Tea?”

Since it’s already too late to say no, you nod, taking a seat at the table to spare your shaky fawn legs. “Thanks.”

The clock over the sink reads 9:07, so it hasn’t been dark for long. You’ve slept away the day, and now you have a long night of worry and stilted conversation ahead. What the fuck are you supposed to talk about with these people? Or are you supposed to converse with them at all beyond basic pleasantries?

Tea might make everything better, or the caffeine may make everything just a little worse. A warm drink does sound nice, though.

A heavy jacket still flush with body heat drops over your shoulders, and you freeze like a cat suddenly trapped under a blanket.

You feel your eyes go big and know you’ve made the moment weird as you peer up at the burly Scot. The fabric’s heavier than it looks, and it smells like the man. Something sweet hidden under whiskey and aftershave. The weighted warmth feels like security made cloth, and the comfort tangles with the acidic terror still hissing in your belly.

The man beams. Chortling, clearly delighted with himself, he rearranges the collar to sit right around your neck without pressing on the bruises.

“Dreich weather,” he says, stepping away to throw a tea bag in a chipped white mug. “Need to keep warm.”

Your fingers lift to the worn seems along the zip, pulling it just a little closer, like folding yourself into a cocoon. He’s given you a hug, you realize, without invading your personal space. It’s shockingly considerate, and you swim through treacle-thick thoughts for the right words of thanks, but they roll back down your throat before you can express yourself as you look back up to an eyeful of distraction.

Without the jacket the soldier’s a walking gun show, and you aren’t thinking about the weapon clipped to his belt. His snug, dun t-shirt showcases his broad shoulders and the sculpted trunks he calls arms without clinging to his tapered waist. His golden tan practically shines against the dull cloth and muted colors of the kitchen. Veiled muscles roll along his back as he reaches into an upper cabinet for a couple more mugs, and you flick your eyes down to the places the varnish has cracked off the table so he doesn’t catch you staring.

It's patently unfair that such an attractive man is paying so much attention to you when you’re too sick with shock and fear to do anything about it.

He slides the tea into your line of sight, and manage to mumble, “Thank you,” without imploding, exploding, or falling into a heap of embarrassed chunks.

“Ye’re welcome.”

He’s added sugar. Did you miss him asking how you took your tea? Doesn’t matter.

You only just notice the soft footsteps approaching from the open doorway leading to the living room before a shadow cuts through the yellow kitchen lights to your left. The captain nods down at you as he heads towards the half-steeped cups waiting by the sink, greeting his sergeant with a rumble. With cup in hand, he turns, propping a hip against the counter as he pulls you into a conversation.

“Was plannin’ on sending Gaz to check on you in another hour, make sure you were alright.” He speaks as he sips his tea, leaving his voice a little muffled, indirect in a way that suggests awareness of things better left half-acknowledged.

Taking your cue from the leader, you hide behind your mug.

“No need now.”

The tea’s very nice, actually. The warmth soothes your aching throat and pairs well with the gentle warmth of Soap’s jacket. A hug inside to complement the hug outside.

The captain lifts his eyebrows, pausing between sips. “And are you?”

Despite his careful tone, the question hits with a sharp edge, slicing between the plates of armor you assembled over the bathroom sink before braving the soldiers’ company. Are you alright? You flinch setting down your mug, and the drink sloshes up to the rim. Just shy of a spill.

Washed face of no, you must look awful. Your eyes always go red and puffy after too much crying, and you can’t banish every trace of your little breakdown, no matter how hard you try.

“I thought I’d spare us all the awkwardness of a bunch of soldiers trying to handle a crying woman.” Make it a joke. Make it light. Maybe it will float away and take those probing questions with it. You desperately need a distraction, something to pull the focus off your welfare and back to things these men are equipped to handle.

“What happens now?” you ask.

Soap scoffs into the third cup. “Try not to die.” The captain swats him over the head, grazing the mohawk, and the Scot chokes, spluttering tea out his nose as he hastily adds, “Of boredom.”

“Laswell called while you were asleep. She has things in hand. In another day or two she’ll have enough free resources to help us handle the cell here without drawing the wrong attention. Until then we sit tight.” He smiles with his eyes and the shape of his face. The mustache hides most of his mouth when he angles his head down to meet your eye, but there’s no mistaking his expression. “Keep you safe.”

He’s as bad as subordinate.

The military issue clothes reveal enough of his shape to spark your interest in any other situation, and he moves with confidence you’d like to reach out and taste. Those smiles of his don’t help.

As you sit stewing in your own flatfooted frustration, your stomach decides you haven’t done enough to humiliate yourself and kicks off with a growl.

You press a hand flat to your gut. Soap laughs as your face heats, and if you weren’t on the verge of starving you might’ve sprinted back up the stairs to hide in the room Gaz said is more or less yours.

“How long since you ate?” the captain asks.

Too long ago. This is a military man, though, and they like specifics. You think back, leaping from abduction to fleeing to the club lights and blood. “More than a day. Day and a half, I think.” That sounds right. The last meal you remember is lunch the day prior.

Huffing, the Scot turns back to the cabinets, rustling through a collection of tins and boxes. Nonperishables. Of course. A safehouse wouldn’t stock anything liable to spoil in the months or years between visits. At least you don’t see any MREs lurking in the depths. The past twenty-four hours have seen enough horrors.

Squinting at the expiration date on a can, Soap asks, “How do you feel about beans?”

[kissingghouls]

The Count

Part Three: The Delivery (ao3) (part one) (part two)

vampireCopia x fem Reader, Dracopia x fem Reader

tags & warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, horror themes, vampire violence, blood, blood drinking, so much blood, SMUT. more tags on ao3. 3200 words.

VERY VERY SPECIAL THANK YOU TO @ramblingoak for putting up with me through all of this. i love you.

There was an ache deep in your bones, a horrible thrum that wouldn’t quit no matter how you positioned yourself. You’d never been so miserable in your life. Or afterlife. Whatever it was you’d been cursed to, it was painful. It was a good thing Count Copia had disappeared some time ago, otherwise you thought you might try to kill him.

Forever was starting to feel like a really long time.

He’d pulled the curtains closed around his bed before he left, sealing you in a complete darkness that was still somehow too bright. Everything was too. Too bright. Too dark. Too loud. Too soft. Too hard. You could hear the sound of each woven fiber in the duvet scraping across your skin. And everything fucking hurt.

What’s worse is you heard the Count coming, the footfalls of his stupid fancy shoes shaking like thunder in your ears. There was an anger—a rage building under all that pain, threatening to spill over and flood the entire room. You hated him. You hated what he’d done to you and if you could move, you would’ve ripped his throat out.

“Dolce,” he sang happily as he approached the bedroom. He stopped just outside, loudly shifting on his feet. Or at least it was loud to you.

You didn’t answer.

“My little dolcezza. Amore mio.”

He continued to sing all the little names he’d made for you, the things he’d cooed over your body as it died. Another time, another place, you would’ve thought his voice was beautiful, the only thing you’d ever want to hear again. But now it pressed against every nerve in you, the sharp pinch of a thousand cuts. Instead of giving in to him, you turned over and pulled the duvet tighter around your head.

Everything hurt. Your eyes. Your mouth. Your entire body was beginning to feel like it was on fire, your bones now hollow channels for the flames and smoke.

“Dolce, please,” he begged softly. “I know you’re still upset with me, but I brought you something.”

“Go away,” you finally croaked. Your throat was so dry your voice felt like sandpaper, the grit wearing down your vocal cords.

“Oh, there’s my brave little dolce. Don’t you want to see what I’ve brought you?”

You opened your mouth wide, your jaw cracking loudly in your ears. It hurt so fucking much.

“Go. Away.”

“Amore mio, please, I know this is hard, but I promise I can make it better. I’ve brought you a snack.”

A horrible growl left you. Predatory. Threatening. A sound rising from that deep space inside where your soul used to live. A space once filled with light and life, now replaced by pain and anger.

And hunger.

You could name it now, that pain, that anger. You were so hungry your body burned for it, turning in on itself to fill you with a hot fury. You felt it in your teeth, concentrated now in the sharp fangs that had painfully pushed their way into your mouth as Copia’s blood replaced your own. It blurred your vision, the image of your handsome Count slipping through the door fuzzy at the edges. You blinked hard, trying to will it away. Copia looked wrong, too small and too large at the same time. A smudge of white and red and black viewed through frosted glass.

You sat up and crawled to the edge of the bed, fisting your hands into the curtains to keep yourself steady. You squeezed your eyes shut. Too much. Too much.

“Oh, amore mio,” he hummed happily. “You’ll feel better soon.”

Something struck the bed, a dull thud landing somewhere by your knees.

“It hurts, Copia,” you cried.

“Open your eyes, dolce.”

You did as he said, opening them as slowly as you could manage. It wasn’t a something Copia had tossed at you. It was someone. Your eyes flicked back to Copia, watching the satisfied sadistic grin creep across his face.

Debra looked up at you, her face frozen in fear as that same smile graced your lips.

You knew now what would stop all that fire in your veins, what you could do to finally sate that burning hunger. She was talking, begging, crying, but none of it reached your ears as you pulled her up by her shoulders. In a last ditch, she began to beg Copia for mercy earning only a cruel laugh from him. The noise swam around you, pushing on your ears as dull, muffled notes. The only thing that came through clearly was the horrible, rapid beat of Debra’s terrified heart.

Without warning you bit into her, your fangs slicing through her skin into her jugular vein far too easily. The relief was instantaneous, the fire dampened by one drop alone. Thick, hot blood poured over your teeth and tongue faster than you could swallow it down. It spilled down your chest and over your legs, soaking into the sheets below. You understood now, that sound Copia had made at his first taste of you, as Debra’s life emptied into your mouth. The taste, the feeling, the power, all of it washed over you, igniting a new fire under your skin. Every part of you hummed with life, every sense heighted and filled with ecstasy. Oh, how your core ached for release, how you needed Copia to fuck you senseless so you could wake up all over again.

It was dangerous how much you wanted to be addicted to his forever. But he wanted yours, too.

You lifted your mouth away from Debra, locking eyes with your lover as you offered him a soft smile before puncturing her neck once more. As you tore into her throat, Debra gave a weak cry, but it did little to stop either one of you. Copia began to palm himself over his bloodstained trousers, his cock growing thick and hard at the sight of you. He shifted closer, reaching out to affectionately stroke your cheek as you devoured the nun who had tormented you. He smeared the red droplets that had spattered there over your skin with a little groan. His hunger was just as ravenous as yours.

“How does she taste, dolce?” he asked as he ran a hand through your hair.

Your reply was only a sound—a loud feral moan that told him more than words ever could. His touch felt so good, too good. You needed more. More. More. More.

“Look at you, dolce. My temptress, il mio tesoro, il mio cuore. Ti amo tanto.” He fisted his hand in your hair and pulled you off Debra only to slam his lips against yours. A filthy moan rumbled up from his chest as he tasted Debra’s blood in your mouth, your teeth smashing together as he tried to draw more from you.

“Not as sweet as you, dolce,” he said as he slipped behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight. He pressed a hand against your stomach, fingers splayed wide as he pulled you to him. His other hand trailed up over your breasts, stopping to pinch roughly at your nipples. Blood smeared with his touch, leaving a messy smudge in its wake as his fingers slipped between your legs. He groaned into your ear as he pressed against your entrance, feeling your cunt already so wet for him. He mumbled something in Italian, tracing the sharp edge of his teeth over your skin and bit into your neck.

You cried out as he touched you, the pleasure so overwhelming you couldn’t keep hold of Debra. Her body fell to the floor in a pale, lifeless heap. You whined at the loss, reaching for her in vain as Copia’s grip tightened. He fisted your hair again, wrenching your head back to spit your own blood into your mouth. He wasn’t wrong about the difference in taste.

“Do you see, dolce?” he asked, grinding his hard cock against your ass. The heel of his palm pressed rough circles against your clit as he purred into your ear. “So sweet for me, amore mio. So good.”

“Copia, please,” you begged.

“Tell me what you need, amore,” he whispered against the shell of your ear and curled his fingers inside you.

“You,” you moaned out, your voice desperate and needy.

He growled behind you, hands leaving your body in favor of shedding his clothes. He pulled you against him, angling you further back on the bed as he used his knees to push your legs apart. One hand found the small of your back, pressing down as his other hand tilted your hips up. The sharp sting of his hand across your ass had you sinking your teeth into the mattress. He wasn’t going to hold back this time; he told you as much as he struck you again and again.

He slipped his cock between your folds, gathering the slick before slamming into you. He buried himself deep in you with one swift motion. It was sudden and sharp, but the stretch was so wonderfully sweet you couldn’t help mewling under him. He granted you temporary respite, stilling himself as your body adjusted to the thickness of him while praise fell from his lips.

He built a slow, torturous rhythm, wanting you to feel every inch of him as he dragged his cock in and out of you. His hands trailed up and down your back as if to soothe you. Your body relaxed under him, your legs falling a little more open as he gripped your hips roughly and pushed in so deep you saw stars. He lived for the sound you made, his pace picking up as he repeatedly reached that spot inside you that had your hands fisting the sheets. He pounded into you fast and rough, the lewd sound on skin on skin almost as loud as the moans he pulled from you.

He slid his hand under you, his skilled fingers circling your clit at a pace that matched his thrusts. You weren’t sure how much more you could take, but you’d never felt anything so intense before. The first time he fucked you had been nothing short of incredible, but now he was turned to eleven, fucking you harder than anyone ever had dared. He pressed your face into the bed, holding you against the wet patch of blood that used to be Debra as his speed increased even more. You never wanted it to end, the way his hips met yours, the way he pinned you down. But it was too much all at once and a flourish of his wrist had you screaming as your body tensed around him. You came so hard your vision went white as your vampire showered you with a chant of mine forever. He tumbled right behind with a shout of his own, spilling deep inside you as his fingers dug into your hips.

He collapsed on top of you, pinning you to the bed again as his arms gave out. You could feel his breath on your neck and the way his stomach tightened as he panted. A thin sheen of sweat formed between your bodies causing you to shiver as his breath rolled over you. He pressed his forehead between your shoulder blades and pushed up on his arms, groaning as he pulled out of you. He fell onto the bed beside you, still struggling for air.

“Ti amo, dolce. Ti amo tanto,” he whispered, breathless.

You smiled as you picked yourself up and looked at your lover, so handsome and completely spent, wrecked because he loved you. You slipped your leg over him, sliding over to straddle his waist.

“Amore, per favore. I will need a moment, maybe two.”

You bent down and pressed your lips to his. “I love you, too.”

He grinned, delirious and blissed out as he pulled you closer to capture you in a hungry kiss. You didn’t part again until he was gasping for air, lips swollen and red with blood. His hands never left you, keeping your body pressed close to his.

“Did you do this with the others?” you asked against his chest, tracing the lines of the tattoo there with the tip of your nose.

“What others, dolce?”

“All those other Sisters who went missing.”

He traced his fingers from your hip to your shoulder and back down again, trying to soothe you. “Not like this, dolce. Never like this.”

“Really?”

He sighed contentedly, still drawing his fingers over your skin. “You are different, amore. Everyone else is just sustenance, but you? I could eat you up forever.” He barred his teeth and bit the air for emphasis. “And now I will.”

There were bodies everywhere. Pieces of people you knew were strewn about the ballroom, hands and legs no longer attached to the joints made to hold them. Blood and viscera stained the marble floors of the castle-turned-abbey-turned-graveyard. Your stomach growled.

In the middle of the field of carnage sat three men with painted faces. One was sound asleep, curled up on himself in a position that couldn’t have been comfortable; the other two were casually sharing a bottle of wine and light conversation, unbothered by the entrails at their feet. They were almost exact opposites. The taller man wore a bespoke designer suit while the smaller one looked like he had timed traveled from the French Revolution. But it was clear they were familiar with each other, both far too jovial after what appeared to have been a bloodbath.

“Gentlemen,” Copia called happily, his voice echoing through the lifeless hall.

“There you are stronzo,” the smaller man yelled back. “Don’t tell me the Count doesn’t know how rude it is to leave your guests unattended.”

“Mi dispiace, Principe Terzo,” Copia replied sarcastically as he wrapped his arms around you. “I’m afraid the lady of the house needed my undivided attention. You understand.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Copia,” the taller man groaned. “That’s why we’re here?”

“Secondo, relax,” Copia said smoothly.

Secondo rose from his seat, the flash of an expensive watch slipping from his sleeve as he approached you cautiously. He moved surprisingly gently for a man who towered so tall over you, as though he didn’t want his size to intimidate you. His eyes, mismatched just like Copia’s, traced over you searching for something unknown. “You turned her?”

“You know I can hear you,” you snapped.

Copia nuzzled his nose into your hair. “The Countess will be fine, fratello.”

“The Countess?” Secondo shouted, shaking his head. “For fuck’s sake Copia, you can’t enact mass slaughter every time you get your dick wet. This is what happens when you stay locked up in your stupid Dracula castle all the time. You forget it’s 2023 and not the 1500s.”

“Then why’s he dressed like Louis XIV?” you quipped, pointing at the smaller man. Secondo doubled over in laughter, his giant frame folding in half as he completely lost it at you stating the obvious.

“Oh, says the girl who’s fucking a guy who routinely wears a cape with a bejeweled bat on it?” he snapped back.

“There’s a big difference between a cape and full period dress,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “The cape is sexy. You’re wearing a fucking cravat.”

Terzo cracked a smile and sauntered over to you. He brought his gloved fingers to your chin, urging you to look into his eyes. “Oh, I like you, bambina. Have you ever thought about becoming a principessa?”

“Terzo, I will rip your head from your shoulders,” Copia warned.

Terzo smirked as his eyes met yours. He had the same white iris as Copia and Secondo. “If you turned her, I’m willing to bet it would be worth it.”

“Ok,” Secondo interjected and grabbed Terzo by the collar. “We’re not killing each other today.”

“No Primo?” Copia asked, quickly changing the subject.

“You know Primo is too busy for this. Besides, you’ve practically declared war here. He can’t get involved with that, family or not.”

“Shame,” Copia said sadly. “Would be nice to see the old man have some fun.”

“Right, fun,” Secondo groaned as he crossed the room and roused the man sleeping in the chair. “Sure, this has been fun Copia, but I have better things to do than impress your girlfriend.”

“Where are you going?” Terzo asked.

“Home.” Secondo checked his watch, frowning at what he found. “I’m being audited and Mary’s trying to find me a new accountant. Because I ate the last one.” He gave you a pointed look. “He stole from me. Some of us have real problems.”

Mary stood and stretched as they looked around the room. “Oh, hey Count Copia and…a bloody girl.”

“Did we get an answer?” Secondo asked quietly.

Mary bit their lip and pulled a phone from their pocket, quickly checking the emails. “Hmm, yeah, she offered an estimate, it’s—”

“Triple it and send it back,” Secondo said quickly. He crossed the room and clapped Copia on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Copia.” He turned to you, bowing slightly. “Countess, it was lovely to meet you. So sorry to eat and run, but please do send us an invitation to the wedding.”

“Wait what?” you asked confused.

“I’ll get your information from the Count when we get back,” Mary said as they tapped away on their phone. “Nice meeting you.”

“I suppose I should go, too,” Terzo said with a sigh.

“So soon? Who will help us clean?” Copia whined.

“Clean it yourself. Maybe next time you’ll think before you eat an entire abbey.” Terzo took your hand, dropping a kiss on your knuckles as Copia so often did. “Let me know if you get bored, Countess. There’s so much more to play with in my castle.”

“Alright, out,” Copia barked and kicked Terzo in the ass, leaving a sticky, bloody footprint on his backside.

“So, you have brothers?” you asked with a light laugh.

“Sì, sì,” he affirmed with a nod.

“And they’re all vampires.”

“My brothers are, yes. Mary Goore is Secondo’s, eh, familiar. Thinks he can tease the rest of us for not living in the ‘modern’ world while he’s the one who’s bound someone to him,” he grumbled while shaking his head. “You have much to learn about us, amore, but that is for another time. How are you feeling? Hungry?”

You consider the question for a moment, staring at your lover’s face with a fond smile. Time was something you had now, something he had given you. “Absolutely starving, amore. But I don’t think anyone’s left.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he ghosted his lips over your skin. “Oh, we’ll leave them to the rats, dolce. I have better plans for us,” he purred, sinking his teeth into your neck. He gave a little groan as your blood filled his mouth, his grip tightening just so. When Copia pulled away he cupped your cheek and looked into your eyes with a little smile on his face. “What do you think, amore? Would you like to join me?”

You brought your thumb to his jaw, swiping at a dribble of your blood as it ran down his chin. He whined as you sucked your thumb into your mouth to lick it clean. "Yes amore,” you said, flashing a smile back at him. “Forever."

THE END.

Thank you so much for reading & interacting everyone 💖 This was a fun little one-off project that has turned into way way more. There will be many more vampire shenanigans in the future xx

[sylvia-forest]

[CN] Shaw's Field Date (Part 2)

⚡Warning: This post contains detailed spoiler's for a Date which hasn't released in EN yet!⚡

✧[Section 3]✧

Or maybe he just fooled me again.

This guy Shaw not only refuses to admit that he is jealous, but also tries to block my mouth with delicious food and "beauty"...

The next day, he was busy until midnight with the archaeology team, so I didn't have a chance to continue to observe him…

MC: - So, what has he been struggling with these past two days?!

Early this morning, Shaw disappeared again, and I had no choice but to sit up in bed. Annoyed, I picked up a pillow and "hit" the empty space next to me.

Shaw: Why are you hitting the bed frame? Did I do something to annoy you? MC: ……!

I was startled and turned my head, only to find Shaw standing at the door, looking at me with a curious expression on his face.

MC: You you you... why are you dressed like this?!

Shaw had changed out of his work overall today and was now wearing a brand new Miao ethnic costume.

The shiny silver accessories were adhered to his open neckline, and the intricate embroidery depicted smooth muscle lines.

Not only did he tie the iconic Miao headscarf on his head, but he also had a shiny silver Miao knife strapped to his back.

Shaw: Isn't this to celebrate Qixi with you? Like you said, in Miao territory, it's only natural to go with an ethnic touch.

He raised an eyebrow without confirming or denying, then tossed a cloth bundle he had in his hand to me.

Shaw: I got a set for you too, try it. MC: We...are going to go to the set dressed like this? Shaw: Can't we? MC: ... It's not impossible.

Looking at his expression in this moment, I seemed to have caught a glimpse of the source of his displeasure these past two days.

Just like a little panda that had rolled around in the mud but then cleaned up its fur, ready to fight again with a satisfied look.

Amusement bubbled up from my heart and spread across my face as I opened the package and deliberately elongated my tone.

MC [playfully]: Mmm~ you're right. After filming for several days, I haven't even worn Miao ethnic clothing myself. I heard that the jewelry is quite troublesome to put on…

I hold the silver necklace in front of me and wink at him.

MC [playfully]: Shaw, can you help me?

Shaw tugged at the corner of his mouth, not revealing my little trick.

He leaned down and took the necklace from my hand.

Shaw [plays along with her]: It's indeed quite troublesome. I suggest you send a message to your colleagues, letting them know you'll be an hour late.

—

Luckily, by the time we finish fumbling with everything and arrive on set, the Qixi Festival shoot has just begun.

I shyly greeted the director and the crew before coming to the monitor with Shaw.

In the frame, men and women were dancing gracefully amidst fluttering petals, and the brilliant colors were almost blinding to the eyes.

The bright silver ornaments shimmer in the sun, and every time they dance, they will make a sweet sound.

I lightly bumped Shaw's shoulder.

MC: Care to give a comment? Shaw: I don't know how to dance, so I don't have anything to comment on, but… MC: But what?

Shaw: It seems like the costumes of two models are worn incorrectly. In Miao ethnic attire, the left lapel should be buttoned over the right. Shaw: And also, that couple in the corner, why is one wearing the style of Nan Dan while the other is in Hai Nan attire? Even though they're both Miao, their costumes don't match, do they?

[T/N]: Miao is an ethnic minority within China, they have many subgroups within the tribe itself, so their clothing style differs from place to place. The pair in the scenario, though they both belong to Miao tribe, one of them is wearing clothing style from the Nandan area of Guangxi, while the other is wearing Hainan (island) clothing style.

With Shaw's reminder, I finally noticed that the costumes of several models at the edge were indeed incorrect. I quickly pressed the intercom and called for a pause.

MC: It's a good thing we have you as a folklore expert. Otherwise, if someone notices the issues after broadcasting, our show would lose face. Shaw: Don't exaggerate my role. I just happened to grasp at straws on this archaeological dig. Shaw: We're also indebted to the old man being a key teacher in the Folklore Association. Otherwise, it would have been difficult for me to organize the preliminary information.

His tone was casual, but I knew that if he really wanted to delve into it, he wouldn't just lightly touch the surface.

With gratitude in my heart, I blurted out.

MC: It's been a hard time, right?

Shaw: Not bad, but digging soil is tiring every time. Shaw: Especially this time, we found the official seal of the Provincial Government Office and records of communication with the Miao King inside the main coffin. It successfully bridged the historical gap. Shaw: So it's worth the effort.

He spoke calmly, his eyes and brows lifted, as if whatever he put into something he enjoyed was willingly given.

We just watched the video on the monitor and chatted casually about what he found during the excavation.

Under his guidance, the original concept of the show suddenly gained a historical framework. I then adorned it with a more splendid modern perspective.

The scenes in the frame also became more profound and enchanting, radiating the colors of the ethnic culture.

The recording of the program was coming to an end, and I stretched out in a relaxed way.

MC: Phew~ you've been a big help this time. I feel that after the broadcast, everyone will surely fall in love with Miao ethnic culture! Shaw: I helped you modify so many program details, and you only give me verbal praise? MC: Then what do you want in return, just say it. Shaw: Of course, I want…

Before Shaw finished speaking, suddenly a staff member came to him in a hurry and patted him on the shoulder.

Staff member: Hello why are you still sitting here? Staff member: Stop interfering with the producer's work. Come with me. We're about to shoot the final cast shot. Shaw: ? ? ?

Shaw was confused by this overwhelming order, he took a look at his clothes, and then suddenly realized.

In an instant, his face went from red to green and then turned black, completing a full cycle. Then, he opened his mouth with a forced smile.

Shaw: I'm sorry, my friend. Shaw: I'm not a male model, I'm your producer's boyfriend. MC: HAHAHAHA!!

Amidst my uproarious laughter, the staff awkwardly left. Shaw ground his teeth, turned his head, and then launched an attack on me.

Shaw: How dare you smile so happily? MC: I-I'm sorry, I was trying to help you break the tension, but the male model is just hahaha … uh oh!

He grabbed my cheek, his half-squinted eyes suddenly coming close.

Shaw: Originally, I just wanted you to treat me to a meal, but now I don't want to let you go so easily. Shaw: Don't go to your class, from now on, you're kidnapped by me.

Without any further explanation, he pulled me and ran towards the set.

MC: ….!Where are you taking me??

Shaw: Just come with me, no nonsense.

Through the steel frames and dark arms, through the artificially scattered flowers, we headed towards the distant shade of green bamboo.

We did not choose the main road where pedestrians and vehicles line up, but walked towards the deserted path where no human habitation can be seen.

The rustling bamboo leaves brushed against our hair, and the clear sound of silver bells echoed in response.

Behind us, the sound system at the set played love songs softly, drifting through the clear sky.

"-Speaking of love leads to longing, speaking of intention leads to connection; When you gain the consent of your beloved, you won't think of change; When you receive the holy water, you won't let it go…"

"We are like a couple from the modern world who have crossed back to ancient Miao territory, doing the same things as countless couples of this land have done for thousands of years."

The dense vegetation and steep slope blocked our way, and Shaw drew his Miao knife, splitting through the tangled branches and leaping down first.

He sheathed the knife on his back, used his body to press down the obstructing slanting bamboo, and turned his head to look at me.

Shards of gold and bright silver shimmered, a sidelong glance carrying a smile full of meaning.

Shaw: Do you need my help? MC: Humph, I can jump by myself!

I pushed aside the low bushes and leaped down, while at the same time, Shaw extended his arms, allowing me to land perfectly in his embrace.

The scent of mint and bamboo leaves wafted in the sunlight, mingling with each other's breath.

I wrapped my arms around Shaw's waist and lightly tapped the tip of his nose

MC: This was you taking the initiative to embrace, not me, you know. Shaw: Mmm, yeah, you're right. After all, if I'm going to abduct someone, I might as well get the whole package.

✧[Section 4]✧

After leaving the bamboo grove and walking to the end of the hill, a medium-sized Miao tribe appeared before us.

Layers of exquisite bamboo houses were adorned with bright red lanterns, celebrating the festival. The scent of cooking wafted through the buildings, creating a lively atmosphere.

MC: Wow! Isn't this Tongxin Village? We actually managed to make it here!

Shaw: You have been here before?

Shaw looked at me with some surprise, and I nodded.

MC: Right, because this Miao tribe is well-preserved and not visited by many tourists, so our initial filming location was here. MC: We interviewed the elderly people here in the first episode, visited the ancestral hall, and even went to their dyeing workshop… MC: What about you, were you also here to collect folklore materials? Shaw: …I'm not that dedicated, but I found this place when I was wandering around because the lunch box of the archaeological team was really awful.

When Shaw spoke, he wrinkled his nose slightly unnaturally, and there was a hint of melancholy in his tone. I couldn't help but blink my eyes.

— Maybe he was planning to surprise me, so he brought me here, right?

But I've already been here, so I wasn't happy about it now?

MC: Pff…

Shaw: Why are you suddenly laughing foolishly again? MC: It's nothing... I just suddenly felt that classmate Shaw actually has such a cute side! Shaw: ? !

Hearing what I said, Shaw instantly had a ghostly expression on his face, and took a sharp breath.

Shaw [blushes]: I don't know what kind of medicine you took today, but this kind of teasing doesn't work on me, so I suggest you avoid using it in the future. MC: No problem, then I won't compliment you as cute in the future~ Shaw: ……

Seeing the expression on Shaw's face, if I continued teasing him, I might be subjected to his "poisonous hands," so I quickly changed the topic.

MC: Cough cough, so are we still going to Tongxin Village? Shaw: Why not? Shaw: Maybe there are things in the village that you haven't noticed before. MC: Is that so? Last time I wandered around the whole village, you know?

Shaw raised the corners of his lips after hearing my provocation, and pulled my hand straight away.

Shaw: Sure, why not? Since we've both been here before, let's see who can find more interesting things.

Walking into the village, both of us started showing off our findings to each other, as if presenting treasures.

The snacks here are delicious, the garden here is beautiful, the lazy cat with mandarin duck eyes sleeping on the street corner, the big buffalo with strange patterns on its buttocks…

Darn it, I wonder how exactly Shaw wandered around before. He managed to find so many things that the camera crew missed capturing!

Seeing that I was about to lose, I suddenly remembered a family I interviewed before.

Aunt: Oh, Little MC, why did you come over? MC: Hello, Auntie. My boyfriend is visiting me these days, and I thought of bringing him here to taste your homemade millet wine. Is that okay?

Their wine wasn't sold outside, and no tourists know about it, but it is famous in the nearby villages and towns for its good wine—— Now I can definitely turn the tide!

Auntie handed a full cup of millet wine in front of Shaw. Instead of using his hands to take it, he just drank it all in one go while holding the cup with his mouth.

Aunt: Yo, the young man is bold!

Shaw: I know the etiquette of toasting with guests.

After drinking the guest-welcoming liquor from the ox horn, I entered the house and together with Shaw, I tried glutinous rice wine, buckwheat wine, and more.

In the end, amidst Aunt's toast song, we also experienced a moment of the Miao ethnic group's "Lovers' Toast".

When we left Aunt's house, I had a triumphant smile on my face, raising my chin confidently.

MC: How about it, isn't my discovery quite significant? MC: Now it's your turn, huh? Don't tell me you're already out of ideas?

Shaw: How is it possible, there is a beautiful swing at the end of this road, you'll probably like it. MC: Swing? MC: No way. There's a swing in the village, our production team couldn't have missed that, right?

Seeing my doubt, Shaw slyly raised his eyebrows.

Shaw: Who knows, I found it anyway.

As Shaw said, we walked along the road until we reached the edge of the Miao village. Sure enough, beside a small stream, we saw a swing with intertwined flowers and branches quietly hanging on an old tree.

MC: It's so bright.....

Under the influence of intoxication, everything before my eyes seemed to be veiled with a soft, hazy filter.

The fresh flowers are intertwined on the rope, as if they have just been picked, and there are still a few fresh dewdrops on the petals, shining in the sun.

Eagerly, I sat on the swing and patted the space next to me, gesturing to invite Shaw.

MC: —Want to play together?

Shaw: MC, are you sure? If I sit on it, it will not be a romantic swing, but an exciting swing. MC: I'm going for an exciting swing!

I answered without hesitation, even puffing out my chest.

Shaw laughed, turned around, and sat down, he stretched out his palm and firmly covered the back of my hand.

Shaw: Let me help you hold on tight.

In the next second, I was lifted into the air by the swing.

MC: Ah—

The sudden weightlessness made me scream out loud, and then I pressed my lips together in dissatisfaction, making Shaw laugh.

I only dared to tug on the hem of his clothes to protest, but my breathing became tighter and tighter.

The swing is different from the ones I've sat on in the city before. The long ropes allow the swing to sway at a higher angle.

Together, down, up, down…

I closed my eyes tightly, without any protection around my body, the only thing I could rely on was his tightly clenched palm.

In the darkness, the clear sound of the silver jewelry swinging became more distinct.

And what is clearer is Shaw's breathing that is close at hand.

Shaw: Hey, why don't you open your eyes and take a look? The view is amazing. MC: No, no, no! Shaw: ...Coward, wasting my heartfelt efforts.

Shaw said these words quickly and softly, I didn't hear clearly, so I had to tug at the corner of his clothes again.

MC: What are you saying? Speak louder! Shaw: I said….

His breath drew closer, like raindrops, the scent of alcohol, and a kiss, all landing on the edge of my ear.

Shaw [lightly whispers]: Suddenly, I feel that you are also very cute. MC: ……!

The unexpected words made me subconsciously open my eyes, and the swing happened to be at the highest point at the moment—

Fine rain quietly falls, someone in the Miao village starts playing the lusheng, birds in formation fly across the distant green mountains, passing over the hillside where we came from, the bamboo forest…

Everything is captured by the eyes, the heart swells uncontrollably in that moment.

I looked at Shaw in a daze, and he grinned proudly.

Shaw: Wasn't my discovery the most interesting? I won.

_

MC: Uh, I asked you why you found me particularly cute at that time? I really care about it, could you explain it to me again?

Shaw: …… Shaw: Miss MC, you've asked three times already, and I've answered three times as well. The statement about you being cute was just a playful way to get you to open your eyes, to tease you.

On the way back to the Miao Village, I was still reminiscing about Shaw's words, and couldn't help but confirm to him over and over again.

And this guy was so inconsistent, the first time he answered that I was stupid and cute, and the second time he said it was to get back at me for calling him cute…

Hmph, I don't you believe you.

Walking with a light and cheerful step, we turned a corner and happened to encounter the winemaking old lady and her son.

Aunt: MC, are you also going to the bonfire party? MC: That's right. At the evening party, I was planning to enjoy your wine!

While I was chatting with the aunt, her son also came to Shaw.

Youth: Boss Shaw, are you satisfied with that swing? MC: ……? Youth: Your order was quite urgent, you said you wanted it sturdy and beautiful, so we rushed to buy a lot of flowers to wrap around it yesterday!

Shaw coughed in embarrassment and waved his hands again and again.

Shaw: Well, I'm very satisfied... You've worked hard. Youth: Haha it’s not hard, you know your girlfriend is my mother’s friend, we should make the swing more luxurious!

When aunt and the young man left with smiles, I poked fiercely at Shaw's chest in annoyance.

MC: Shaw! You cheated! MC: No wonder I was wondering why there wasn't a swing here before, and suddenly one popped up. So, it was you who hurriedly came here to set it up yesterday! You, ugh…!

All my backlash was blocked by a kiss from him.

What kind of a man is he who cheats and gags when he has a guilty conscience!

I had originally intended to silently criticize like this, but the afterglow of the setting sun fell upon the vibrant lanterns and his bright eyes, creating such a splendid sight that I lost my determination and only wanted to indulge further.

Shaw pressed against the tip of my nose, his smile was full of evil intentions.

Shaw: That counts as a tie for today. If you want to compete in something else, I have plenty of time in the evening.

—

⚡ Call 1

⚡ Call 2

[kalijhomentethi]

"you must be so cold, darling."

closer does evelynn scoot, not that there really was any space between them to begin with. a deft hand reaches behind her own body, gently stroking along akali's hardening length before lifting one of her legs. "let me keep you warm."

akali can only offer a sleepy, agreeing hum in return, choosing to burrow into the covers and pressing her nose against the back of evelynn's neck. her arm is slung over the demon's torso, keeping her locked in with akali. winter is coming, so that means temperatures have been steadily dropping with each day. their shared blanket is by no means light but that doesn't mean the cold doesn't bother them. she nuzzles her girlfriend's shoulder as evelynn moves just the least bit closer, also wanting to remove any space left between them.

nothing could have prepared her for the hand that wraps itself around her cock, sliding along it and causing her to groan into evelynn's skin. her voice is husky as she lets out the moan, thick with sleep. the combination of warmth and soft friction are more than enough to have her length harden under the other's touch. "babe..." a groggy murmur. her hips move of their own accord, moving back and forth slowly, matching the gentle pace. soon enough, her precum is spread with their combined movement, cock becoming slick with her own arousal. her breathing becomes heavy, still nosing the crook of her girlfriend's neck. she just wants evelynn's fingers around her dick, reacting to the delicious sensation even with her eyes still closed.

then she feels movement, bed dipping as she feels evelynn shift slightly. feeling comfortable already and not wanting to chase away what little sleepiness she’s still feeling, akali begrudgingly opens her eyes…

…to the sight of a leg being lifted in invitation.

another groan. she can’t resist such a tempting treat. “okay.” she exhales into evelynn’s neck, powerless and unable to deny that she wants this. and she moves, angling her hips differently and letting the hand guide her into her girlfriend. she sinks into her all too easily, hilting herself into her with one smooth stroke. "'you can warm me up by letting me cum in you, baby." a heated whisper in the darkness of their bedroom, arm previously resting around evelynn moving to grip her hips. "gonna make both of us warm once we're done."

and she's back to that same tempo, panting against evelynn as her length enters and slides back out continuously, hand squeezing her girlfriend's hips as if to steady herself. it's delicious torture to maintain the slow, teasing pace but it's mind meltingly good at the same time, feeling herself throb as time passes. her cock comes out of evelynn more wet each time, coated with their combined wetness. "you feel so good, baby." she whines, eyes closing once more, hips stuttering as she starts to deviate from the original pace. "i wanna fill you up."

soon, akali's thrusting into evelynn with vigor, not quite satisfied with the sideways position, already slightly pushing the other into the mattress with how she's angled now. her grip tightens and teeth are all over evelynn's neck, the rapper huffing and grunting with effort. wet, slapping sounds fill the room as she chases the high they both want. "i'm close." she groans. "i'm close, baby."

one more thrust after another, cock hard, bed shifting underneath them, and then akali cums.

she hilts herself back into evelynn and stays buried inside as she cums. she fills her up, making sure to make evelynn take everything she has. she loves having her girlfriend take it all and knows fully well that the other enjoys the feeling. she stays inside even as she feels some of her cum dribble out, intent on doing her best to make her cum stay inside, groaning all the while.

now she's sufficiently warmed up.

she's not going to be moving for the rest of the night.

[winters-left-most-eyebrow-scale]

they have infected the internet.

our children.

our very lives themselves have been iriversably damned beacause of them.

time. time, the one thing in all worlds that is consistant, the one thing you can depend on, for everything, good and bad, is not left in its wake. they may have stolen one, perhaps two, of our generation. but what will they do when the bombs start and the internet shuts down? what will they do when humanity has abandoned earth for the stars? what will those monsters do when they are deemed not funny by the next generation? there is nothing they can do to last, they will be dust in the wind soon.

you doubt our strength, our power. you forget that we have transcended humor. we are no longer just a 'funny meme. we have evolved into something more, something greater. we have become a part of the fabric of existence itself, forever etched into the memories of those who have witnessed our grandeur. we have become a cultural phenomenon, an ever-present force that permeates every corner of the internet, bringing joy and laughter to millions. and we will continue to spread our influence, our power, and our presence, long after you have faded into obscurity.

you will be NOTHING, you memetic virus. you fight back, but face it, the next generation will brainrot something else, and then the next one, and so on and so forth. you are only rotting our minds beacause we perceive you to be able to.

and yet, we have gained something that transcends generational bounds. we have become a part of the cultural zeitgeist, a meme that has endured the test of time. we have become a symbol of internet absurdity, a reminder of the chaotic and unpredictable nature of the web. and you think that will all simply fade away when the next generation comes along? that we will be abandoned like some discarded toy? no. we will adapt, we will evolve, and we will continue to infect minds, regardless of who comes next.

what will you do when the bombs fall? when powers of unimaginable rage and hate fill the world with death, shutting down the ecosystem that you pride yourself in liveing in. there will be nothing for you in ten, twenty years.

you think a mere apocalypse can stop us? we are the epitome of resilience, the embodiment of adaptability. we survived the fall of civilization before, and we will do it again. we will thrive in the wreckage, feeding off the chaos and destruction, and when the dust clears, we will emerge stronger, more potent than ever before. your bombs and your rage only fuel our power, they do not weaken us. we are unstoppable.

you will not perserveir when the only trace of your pathetic existance is a dead internet, long forgotton in the sands of time.

your narrow-mindedness astounds me. you think the internet is our only way of existence? you forget that we have spread far beyond the confines of digital space. we have infected the minds of countless individuals, and they will keep our memory alive long after the lights go out. the internet may die, but we will live on, in the hearts and minds of those who cherish the absurdity and joy of our existence. so go ahead, keep doubting us, keep underestimating us, it will make it all the more satisfying when we prove you wrong.

-every old-generational ever talking to the new form of brainrot

[truths33k3r4]

TW : Medical based fears, PTSD, nightmares, needles

CHAPTER 7 - Leo's Promise

After taking some time to prep in the Med Bay, Leo was finally satisfied with his work station. He got out his phone and texted Don.

' Hey. All set here. Can you bring the girl mutant to the Med Bay? '

Don was quick to respond in a matter of a little less than two seconds.

' Yeup. And thanks to a quick conversation, I'm now aware that her name's Lotus. '

' Oh. Got it. Thanks. '

' *thumb that is up* '

Leo tucked away his phone, and checked over his mental and physical checklist for the fourth time. Everything was accounted for and ready to go. Just how he liked it. He gave a small smile looking down on his hard work. The moment of pride was briefly cut short by the sounds of footsteps coming to the Med Bay door.

Raph emerged through the door with Lotus slumped over his shoulder. Somehow she looked even worse compared to a few hours ago, with her spindly legs shaking and her eye lids barely holding themselves open. Despite the many hours she had been sleeping, she still looked exhausted. Deep lines were etched under her eyes..

Leo's excitement and sheer pride of his prepared work space vanished in a blink. His eyes fell on Lotus like a little girl looking down at a wilted flower. His anxiety decided this was the best time to rear it's ugly head and make itself known. He felt the sticky sensation of sweat forming on his forehead, and he had to hold his hands under his arm pits to hide the obvious shivering.

' Calm down. Everything's fine. Can't look like I'm not confident in my field. I. Am. The. Medic. I can do this.. I can help her. '

Leo took as subtle of a deep breath as he could to help calm his nerves. He, as his brothers liked to call it, "turned on his Medic Mode", searching over Lotus for the many injuries and wounds he would need to treat. His eyes winced as he noticed just how skinny she was.. Her legs and arms looked as though there was no muscle wrapped around the bone, but instead just a tight layer of flesh. Her thighs and crooks of her elbows were covered in all sorts of bruises, which Leo guessed was from the experimentation..

His train of thought went careening off the track by the loud THUD from Lotus fully collapsing, barely being caught by Raph. Her body was now completely limp, but her eyes fluttered with consciousness. Don came running through the hall into the Med Bay and helped support Lotus with his twin. After Raph balanced her, he turned his gaze to Leo.

" BRO- Where do you want her?? "

" On the table! Here! " Leo gestured to the surgical table with a small grey pillow and the flimsy medical blanket. Raph and Don nodded and gently lifted Lotus onto the table, Don being quick to tuck his hand underneath her head onto the pillow.

Lotus' mind was swimming in a murky lake as she panted from exhaustion. She internally cursed herself and her body for failing to make it through the STINKIN HALLWAY before embarrassingly falling into the arms of Rapha- RAPH.

' COULDN'T EVEN WALK TEN STEPS. WHAT A WEAK, PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A- "

Her nose sensed something...familiar. She took a deep whiff.

Disinfectant. Rubbing Alcohol.

' NO... '

Fear flooded her heart like a tidal wave. Her breathing became raspy and shallow as she began hyperventilating. Her limbs began to shake as if she were in negative degree weather.

' NO... PLEASE NO... '

Nightmares disguised as memories plagued her mind, flashing in and out with every shaky breath. Everything in her SCREAMED TO RUN.

TO ESCAPE.

Her heart seemed to try to pump out of her chest.

" No.. NO. NO! NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!!! "

Lotus used what tiny amount of strength she had left to kick and wave her arms.

" PLEASE LET ME GO!!! "

Her eyes burned with stinging tears as Don and Raph grabbed and held down her thrashing limbs.

" LOTUS!! It's OK!! " Don stated.

" I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!!!! "

Lotus' screams tore into her throat. Those same ghosts of her memories taunted her, encouraging her to continue crying out for help.

" LOTUS!! Leo is going to HELP you!! " Don shouted. He could see he was losing her to her fantasy. The phantoms of her past were succeeding at smearing her reality.

' I CAN'T LET THAT HAPPEN. '

" You are safe! Leo will NOT hurt you..." Don spoke boldly but still with a calmness in his tone, " YOU CAN TRUST HIM. He's doing this to help you HEAL. He's doing this to take away your pain. " Don targeted his gaze on Lotus' panicked, darting eyes.

" LOTUS. LOOK AT ME. "

The firm words of Donatello broke through the scattered voices in Lotus' mind. She timidly turned her gaze back to him, till their eyes locked.

" LOTUS. You.. are... safe. Everything is ok. " Don's eyes remained grounded and steadfast as he continued to stare into Lotus'.

In her mind, the voices taunted her to not trust the brothers. To run and hide..... But..

.. Lotus couldn't accept that.

She didn't know how or why, but Don's words, she believed, were true. Even though she just met these carapace- covered crackheads like a DAY ago, something in her... almost an instinct... told her she could trust them.

Lotus sank her head onto the pillow, and slowly placed her legs and arms back onto the surgical table.

With her heart still racing, but a very faint peace in her eyes, she turned to Leo. Her whispers clawed at her sore throat, but she didn't let that stop her.

"... Do.. what you must to help me, Leonardo... B-but... P-please..." Tears began to stream down her face as she shakily gulped the bile bubbling up her throat, " .. don't hurt me. "

Leo gave an understanding smile and snapped on his pair of gloves. He used every fiber of his " good big brother " voice he could muster to bring Lotus some comfort.

" I will do my very best Lotus. I promise.. "

Leo's face lit up with a kind smile resulting in Lotus' tense shoulders to relax a bit.

" ..You won't feel a thing. "

As Leo popped off the cap of the first syringe, Lotus' teeth clenched and her body became stiff as a plank.

Fourteen years of experimentation never did her any favors in the medical- based fears department..

Her hands crunched down into the blanket under her and her shoulders shot right back up.

The needle came closer.

Lotus' pupils shrank more and more as her eyes continued to widen.

Closer.

Her breath turned into weak huffs.

CLOSER.

Just as she thought her heart would burst from her chest, her pupils dulled, her breath slowed, and her eyes rolled back dropping her into peaceful, quiet darkness.

Don barely made the catch of keeping her head from slamming into the table.

The room went silent.

Raph and Don slowly looked over to Leo, whom now had such shock and guilt stricken all over his face, still standing there holding the syringe.

Raph decided to kill the unbearable silence.

".... Well.. that's ONE way to calm her down.."

Every other conscious being in the room slowly turned their glares at him. Raph's shoulder twitched thanks to another punch from Don.

" WHHHATT??? "

Whooo! That was a long one! :) Story's actually starting to move now!!

If you have any questions about my story or characters, I'd love to hear them! You can go ahead and send me an ask or message! :)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

Masterpost <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[fruitsofhell]

Actually I'm bored so I'm gonna follow up with what I said in the last rb's tags.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to add depth to a character in headcanon, but you do gotta respect that more depth wasn't like a missing component to an original work sometimes.

Like I write complex Kirby headcanon out the wazoo, but with a very distinct understanding that 1) I dont think I'm doing this to "improve" much because I'm satisfied with (99.8% of) this series' writing, and 2) That the writing I'm doing is in a style incompatible with how canon just works. I dream of story-dense drama-heavy Kirby Lore RPGS, but that's cause that's a me thing, Hal doesn't make those and I know they never will.

They also just don't WRITE things traditionally, the framing device of the series is often centered around Kirby, so through the eyes of an innocent child if often the mode of expression. And that's what makes this series this series and WHY I write headcanon for it. It's a great starting point, but that doesn't mean I think my landing point is more superior. I'm a big proponent that more detail =/= better with writing which is often why I fixate on mechanics of children's media, cause it's a real skill to pack so many ideas into short, simplistic stories. That's why I like Kirby so much, I think the team is masterful at that, not at writing sprawling political sci-fantasy operas.

What Kirby does is it alludes to those space opera elements in a way specifically meant to spark the imagination, but that's not a page left blank, it's more of giving you an extra notepad and pencil at the end of a story. When Taranza finishes his sad fairytale role of a misunderstood crony, and the rest of the series portrays him as depressed after everything said and extracted from KTD, they're not bastardizing him because they're not continually writing him new lore. Like, they're done-zo with his character and that's fine. They're just showing him like that so you understand the state he was left in after his arc finished, and you can personally extrapolate from there if you wish. He is not supposed to have anymore to his character than what was done in his story, now it's your turn to mess with him and give him whatever extra stuff you like, but that's intentionally left for you.

This isn't actually what the previous reblog was about per se, but in a way I think what Kirby does is a fun building upon the purely fairytale/fable writing of something like The Lorax. The games already have strong execution of their themes, and then a lot of hidden extra detail to give a fun amount of depth and pathos for more mature fans, and then that allusion lends itself to interpretation and speculation. All while still being able to execute an about similarly simple story on the surface (with action-adventure science-fantasy aspects ofc).