#it is canon if you play the true ending of the game

[3igbootyl0ver]

who hurt you? [ii]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: Tara mistakenly puts herself in a relationship she thought would be full of love.

word count: 1822

warnings: (Tara's POV), mentions of abuse, violence, angst, swearing

a/n: ok hi guys this is mostly Tara's POV and won't really be focusing btwn her and r's relationship. the next part would probably be the last one too but im always up on doing head canons for this pic. anyways apologies for any inaccuracy for this part, if ya'll have any feedback or suggestions feel free to dm me or send anonymously.

part [i] |

Tara never meant for any of this to happen.

She first met Amber a year ago, at a party that invited everyone from both Blackmore and Woodsboro High. Tara went with you at first, but you quickly got caught up in the chaos of the event, drinking with friends to drown your frustrations over the rivalry, leaving Tara to wander through the crowd alone.

Tara glanced around the room, feeling a bit out of place without you. It was her first real taste of a high school party, but somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. You were missing. Some were celebrating—laughing, dancing, and basking in the glory of their win over Blackmore—while others attended this party just for an excuse to get drunk, but Tara wasn’t feeling the same rush. That was when she noticed Amber standing off to the side, holding a drink and watching the crowd with a knowing smile.

Amber had been a wild card that night. No one expected her to show up, least of all Tara. But Amber’s reputation preceded her—everyone knew she was sharp, calculated, and, most importantly, she knew how to play the game. She wasn’t just there to celebrate; she was there to get ahead.

Tara’s initial impression of Amber was a mix of admiration and curiosity. Amber seemed to hold herself in a way that suggested she knew something no one else did. And that intrigued Tara, even if she couldn’t quite explain why.

As Tara wandered away from the chaotic center of the party, she ended up near Amber. The two of them started talking, mostly small talk at first—what they were doing after high school, the thrill of their victory, and the peculiar tension between Woodsboro and Blackmore. Tara found herself drawn to Amber’s cool confidence, the way she seemed to have everything under control.

But what started as a simple conversation slowly shifted into something deeper. Amber had a way of making Tara feel like she was the only one in the room, even when there were dozens of people around. Tara’s mind kept drifting back to the feeling Amber gave her: like maybe she could be something more, something beyond the quiet girl who never quite fit in.

And so, things began to unravel.

Tara never meant for it to go this far. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, just a casual connection. But somewhere along the way, Amber made it clear that she wasn’t just interested in Tara’s company—she had a plan, and Tara was a part of it. Tara hadn’t realized how deep Amber’s intentions went until it was already too late. Now, Tara was left to figure out how she’d let herself be pulled into something so complicated—something that, in hindsight, was far more than just a meeting between two people at a party.

Everything was bliss when Tara and Amber started dating. She was kind, gentle, and attentive—the kind of person who made Tara feel understood and like the most important person in the world. It felt like a dream. Amber would send her thoughtful texts, surprise her with little gifts, and always knew how to make her laugh. Tara felt safe, seen, and loved in a way she hadn’t before.

But as time went on, Amber’s true colors started to surface—slowly, almost imperceptibly at first.

It started with small criticisms. At first, they were disguised as concern, little comments about Tara’s appearance or habits that Amber claimed were meant to help her. "You know, if you ate healthier, maybe you wouldn't feel so tired all the time." Or, "I don’t think that outfit is really doing you any favors." Tara tried to brush it off, telling herself it was just Amber wanting her to be her best. But the comments grew sharper, more frequent.

"You always mess things up," Amber would say when Tara made a mistake, like forgetting to pick up groceries or missing a text. "Why can’t you ever get anything right?" Her tone wasn’t playful anymore. It was condescending, even cruel. Tara began to feel like she couldn’t do anything without Amber pointing out what she’d done wrong.

The verbal jabs escalated when Amber started to get possessive. At first, Tara thought it was just a sign of how much Amber cared. But Amber's jealousy started to feel suffocating. She'd ask Tara where she was going, who she was with, and why she didn’t tell her first. "You don't really need to hang out with them, do you?" Amber would ask, her voice dripping with insinuation. It would have been even worse if she had hung out with you. It was as if you were Amber's breaking point. "They don’t even care about you like I do." "I’m better than them; why are you still hanging out with them?"

Tara found herself apologizing constantly—for things she didn’t even understand; she would say sorry just to voice the tension. 

It was always the same cycle: Amber would get irritated for no reason, her voice would grow cold and sharp just to insult Tara. "You always do this; you always make everything more difficult than it has to be. Why can’t you just do things right?". The next day, Amber would be apologetic, trying to console Tara, making her forget everything that happened the day before. She said all the right things, but Tara couldn’t ignore the knot of anxiety that lingered in her chest. She had a way of twisting everything, making Tara feel like she was always in the wrong, walking on eggshells.

And soon, the emotional abuse turned into physical fights. One day, Tara had dinner plans with Mindy when Amber confronted her again, "You always do this," she snapped. "You always choose them over me." Her voice was cold, venomous.

Tara tried to explain, but Amber wasn’t hearing it. "You think you can just leave whenever you want? No, you’re not going anywhere." Before Tara could react, Amber grabbed her by the arm—tightly, her fingers digging into Tara’s skin. "You’re hurting me, Amber; let me go!" Tara shouted, trying to pull away, but her grip tightened. She twisted Tara’s arm painfully, forcing her to sit down.

Tara’s heart was racing. She didn’t recognize this version of Amber—this wasn’t the woman she had fallen in love with. The love they once shared felt like a distant memory, replaced with anger, control, and fear. Tara was terrified, but she didn’t know how to escape. Before the day ended, Tara made up an excuse to Mindy that she couldn’t make it. She thought about her friends. Chad, Mindy, You. How will she be able to explain herself? She’s embarrassed and ashamed of herself if she were to ever face either of you. 

There was once when Amber picked up Tara from school when she saw her talking to you, both of you giggling like lovestruck teenagers, like you were in love with each other. And Amber simply couldn’t have that. Once both of them got back to Amber’s house, she gripped Tara’s arm, demanding an explanation. "So you’re just whoring around your school with someone else? Especially them? You’re just a slut, aren’t you?" Amber seethed, her nails digging into Tara’s skin, leaving another mark on her skin. Tara stood there, tears streaming down her face, knowing no matter what she said, it would be dismissed, twisted, or ignored. "You’re mine, Tara. I’m not letting you go anywhere," were the last words she heard before being shoved down the stairs, undoubtedly leaving bruises all over her body. She knew the next day Amber would whisper apologies, giving her kisses and hugging her in an attempt to make her forget.

Tara began pulling away, distancing herself from you, from Chad, from Mindy, from Anika—everyone. It wasn’t that she didn’t care anymore, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Amber’s wrath falling on them, especially you. She couldn’t risk you getting hurt because of her, couldn’t risk Amber turning her anger on the people she loved. The more Tara tried to protect her friends, the more she isolated herself.

Every moment felt like a calculation; every text, every phone call, every plan made without Amber’s approval felt like a risk. Tara started to feel like a prisoner in her own life, like Amber was always there—watching, waiting for her to slip up, to make a mistake.

Amber had a way of making her feel like she was constantly under surveillance, always one misstep away from an explosion. Tara couldn’t shake the feeling that Amber was breathing down her neck, that every time she laughed too loudly with a friend or spent too much time away from her, Amber would find out. And when Amber found out, the consequences would be brutal. Tara had learned that the hard way.

It was like living in a constant state of fear. Tara’s heart would race whenever she saw a message from you or heard from one of her friends. She hated that it had come to this—that Amber’s control over her had stretched so far that she couldn’t even speak freely without worrying about the fallout.

But more than anything, she hated that the woman she loved, the woman she had trusted, had become someone she feared. Every day, she woke up wondering how much longer she could live like this. How much longer until Amber's control over her—and over everyone she cared about—was too much to bear?

Amber’s behavior spiraled even further. The emotional abuse had crossed into physical violence, and Tara was left unsure of where it would go next. Amber would apologize, beg for forgiveness, and then turn around and hurt her again. Tara began to feel like she was losing herself. She was afraid of what might happen if she tried to leave, afraid of what Amber might do. 

Though she would still post pictures of them together, of them being in a happy relationship for people to see online, the reality was far different. Behind the carefully staged photos, the smiles seemed forced, the laughter hollow. She knew the posts didn’t reflect the late-night arguments or the hidden marks on Tara’s body. Yet, there was comfort in the illusion, in maintaining a facade that everyone else admired. It was easier to keep up the pretense than to confront the discomfort of what was really happening—of the slow unraveling that no one could see. The attention, the validation from likes and comments, provided a temporary sense of relief, a distraction from the gnawing uncertainty she felt every time she looked at Amber when the camera was off. It became a blurred line for Tara to interpret what was the reality and the sick image she created of her and Amber online. 

But one thing was clear: this wasn’t love anymore. And Tara didn’t know how much longer she could stay in a relationship that was slowly suffocating her.

-----------------------------

a/n: next update might be awhile bc exam season is coming up and im a chill girl that needs to rest so you'll probably hear from me in like 2-3 weeks :p

[littledeathh]

Quick rant but I'm honestly super mad when people say "Elden Ring is dead", "DLC proved there's no coherent plot", "Game has no depth" etc. I understand your complaint, but at the same time, this is a JRPG. You're supposed to roleplay, not just sit back and be entertained by the visuals. I know it's a dumbass opinion, but I think it's absolutely legit to make your own headcanons the canon, and if two theories contradict, they are both true. Make them AUs. I've also felt frustrated by how vague the setting and characters can be, but just make it yourself. You've been playing it for minimum 100 hours thinking it'll never end and now you're like "What now?" If you love the game enough that you wish you had more to experience from it, fill in the gaps. Want to believe there were other areas in the Lands Between we didn't get to explore? Eochaid is real. There had to be monsters in the oceans, right? Imagination is the basis of a fandom and no one can take that away from you. Not even Sony.

Stardew Valley has the exact same issue. Grinding slowly, you become more and more efficient and more greedy, until you become the capitalist you hated. Eric Barone created the Beach Farm specifically to remove sprinklers and inhibit min maxing, because it defeats the point of playing a game. What do I do after 1000 hours of Stardew Valley? Gardening in real life, listening to the OST. Roleplay!

[jcollinswrites]

Along the line of the main questline of the game how much player input do you see being introduced. I'm wondering about how linear you think the end point of the story to be. Comparing perhaps Mass Effect 3, red, blue and green choices to the generally same same ending or more in line with Baldurs Gate 3 where you have a little more freedom to impact the resolution.

Loving the game so far and looking forward to reading on!

Are you trying to insult me with the ME3 ending? 😂 We all know that in our heart, the only true ending to ME3 is the one that some modders made to replace the shitty in-game ending which I refuse to play to this day.

Since Weeping Gods is only going to be 1 book, I plan to make several different endings for lots of different scenarios, since I won't have to worry about a "canon" ending that I will have to continue later.

Without giving away spoilers, I currently have in the plan 12 wildly different endings, based on how many crystals MC & co manages to recover, how the final confrontation goes, which characters survive, etc. On top of that, MC's epilogue life (if MC survives) will also have smaller variations, based on who you romance (if any), at which stage your relationships are in by the end, your plans for the future (if MC wants a family or not f. ex), and other things like that.

I would very much prefer not to leave any story threads hanging. I want this game to feel whole and the end to have a weight and a sense of finality.

Thanks for the ask and glad you like the game! ❤️

[hwbmsource]

Yes, you’re missing the true ending - mod Neptune

Canon Polycule Showdown

(vote for your favorite! check the description if you don't know them)

[ID: 1. Logo for the Love and Luck podcast. 2. Screencap of Neptune, Venus, Jupiter from We Know the Devil. /end ID]

Meet the contestants!

Storm/Helen/Mira

Status: Canon

Description: Lot's of in-canon communication & negotiation, plus Love & Luck is just a gorgeously realistic queer narrative with a dash of casual magic, highly recommend it in general. Plus there's a song that Storm writes for Helen and Mira in the feed.

Neptune/Venus/Jupiter

Status: Canon 

Description: They're from a game about three girls in a christian summer camp coming to terms with their sexuality/gender. Venus is a canon trans woman as well! It’s a really incredible game and they're all amazing complex characters.

[bright-cloud]

✨The Absolute✨

My cleric Basil dominating the Absolute! (Not canon, my sweet lad could never)

The evilness was just a treat ✨

[lord-squiggletits]

Man, it doesn't matter what the medium or fandom is, truly the debate that ruins fandom discussions the fastest is when people try to decide which characters "deserve" what. Especially when it comes to them deciding which characters are evil, how evil they are, and how severe their punishment should be for their evil deeds.

It's really annoying/harmful on multiple levels. For one, morally speaking, the line between "evil, but can repent/compensate for their deeds" and "evil, cannot be redeemed, suffer and die forever" is harder to define than you think, and who has the authority to define it anyways?

But also, fictional stories (especially the better, more nuanced, more mature ones) are rarely ever about "deserving" and don't divide their characters neatly between the "good" and the "evil." Every time I see fans debate about "how evil" a Problematic Fave is, or if Fave 1 is better/worse than Fave 2, all I see is people ruining their own fun and stirring up bad blood between other fans. Why would you add this dichotomy of "deserving" to a FICTIONAL story and start real life beef with people over it? At that point you're getting more invested in your discourse over imagined good/evil binaries than you are invested in watching/reading/consuming the actual story itself.

[j-esbian]

i keep finding Lore Discrepancies and i’m like. boy i hope they explain this one, but judging from the number of mistakes the game has already made, idk if they’re ever going to address it!

[lovebugism]

Kissing eddie just as you’re both about to get out of the car and now he’s got a problem cause he’s hard, and all your friends are waiting for you and you’re both a little late and Eddie we really gotta hurry up! what’s the issue? and the poor boy is bright red to his neck over how gone he is on you

ty for requesting :D ps: i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure over this prompt –– when eddie's about to leave for a show, you make sure he knows exactly what he's missing out on (established relationship, st4 canon divergence, allusions to smut 18+ | 1k)

“How do I look?” Eddie wonders aloud as you trail down the creaking porch steps behind him. He plants his feet on the gravel driveway and spins on the heel of his sneaker to face you –– already bare-faced and clad in your pretty PJs for the night, a striking contrast to the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin standing before you.

You pause on the second-to-last step and reach for his face. Eddie leans instinctively into your warm touch as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, gently smudging his dark liner a bit more. 

“Like a rockstar,” you answer with a proud smile.

Eddie scrunches his nose sheepishly in response, ‘cause he has nowhere to hide with you cradling his blushing face like this. He’s still not immune to the way you look at him, even after all this time. “You’re just sayin’ that,” he mumbles, kicking a lone rock with the toe of his show.

You hum in agreement as your hands fall from his face. “Yeah. ‘Cause it’s true.”

“To you, maybe,” Eddie scoffs, trying hard to ignore the pang of anxiety in his chest. “No one else seems to think so.”

He never used to be nervous performing before Vecna tried to kill him. It was the world that was scared of Eddie Munson, not the other way around –– until it nearly ended, anyway. Now, just leaving the house is enough to induce a panic attack. A part of him is always distantly fearful that a stranger’s face will turn out to be the dark wizard’s, back to life and hiding in plain sight again.

“Hey,” you scold, only partially playful. “I think the crowd of five drunks who watch you perform every Tuesday would agree with me.”

Despite the ice-cold apprehension making his limbs feel numb, Eddie manages a breathy chuckle. “You’re right. We could bomb, and they’d still act like we were playing Madison Square Garden or something.”

You soften then, as though sensing his worry. “You’re not gonna bomb, Eds. You guys are gonna do great. Just like always.”

“Sure you can’t come?” Eddie wonders quietly, blinking up at you with a pair of chocolate button eyes that are hard to say no to.

“You know I can’t… I have an early morning tomorrow,” you coo sympathetically, fighting back a smile when the boy’s rosy bottom lip juts in a pout. “But I’ll be right here when you get back, okay? And I’ll make sure to heat up dinner when you’re on your way. So you have something to soak up the alcohol and adrenaline with.”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder, squinting suspiciously when Eddie’s frown curls into a cheeky grin. He reaches for you with a pair of ringed hangs and squeezes at your clothed hips. “Just like a good little housewife, huh?” he croons mischievously.

You roll your eyes at him ‘cause you’re not a housewife by any means. 

You live in a trailer with his uncle, for one. And you work five days a week, for another. Besides, you’re not even his wife, which you think is usually the first step. (You have no idea Eddie’s already picked a ring out for you. Or that he plans on keeping that a secret until he plays enough shows to afford a house). 

You decide to humor him, anyway. 

“Sure,” you monotone with a slow nod.

Eddie’s grin widens.

“C’mon on, Munson! We’re gonna be late!” Jeff lisps from the passenger side window of the van. The rusted tin can is parked a ways down the drive, packed to the brim with all their band equipment like a perfect game of Tetris.

You lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Wear that dress I like when I get back?” Eddie murmurs lowly.

You hum with your lips pursed to the side of your mouth, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm… I was kinda thinkin’ about wearing nothing, actually,” you answer, shrugging innocently. “You know, for easy access and whatnot.”

Eddie warms all over. His wild head starts to swim at the visual –– one he’s seen a hundred times before that he’s not quiet sure he’ll ever get over. “Have mercy…” the boy mumbles under his breath.

“Just try not to think about it too much while you’re gone…” you lilt knowingly, smoothing both your hands up and over the lapels of his leather jacket. “All alone… Naked in our bed… Trying to get myself off while I wait for you…”

Eddie stares at you with heavy, lidded eyes. He can’t take the chocolates of them off your lips as they curl into a mischievous, tightlipped smile. “How ‘bout I just stay home?” he offers lowly.

A resounding honk blares from the van in a wordless answer. 

Gareth leans out the driver’s side window, face screwed and sandy curls wild. “C’mon, Eddie!” the boy yells like an impatient younger brother. “Put your dick in your pants already so we can go!” 

Eddie’s head swivels back to face you again, chest deflating with a grieving sigh. 

“You have to go,” you tell him, soft and sympathetic, as you press another kiss to his pout. “Have fun, honey,” you croon and step back from him –– knowing exactly what you’re doing as you trek back up the wobbly wooden porch steps.

Before you shut the front door behind you, you flash the boy a curt wave and a pretty smile. It takes a world of strength to keep from following behind you. 

In a perfect world, Eddie would already have the door bolted shut with you pressed against it by now. He’d have your oversized shirt balled up at your ribs and your shorts pulled down to your ankles and his mouth licking over your pretty cotton panties.

He shakes his head in a physical attempt to remove the sinful thoughts from his brain as he stalks back to the van. He keeps his head bowed as he goes, trying to hide his reddened cheeks behind his wild curls. Gareth watches from the window as Eddie tugs at the crotch of his jeans, trying to un-strangle his hard cock like a teenager.

The boy leans between the front seats as Eddie climbs into the driver’s side, slamming the screeching door shut behind him. “You’re pathetic,” Gareth teases through a fit of boyish laughter.

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles.

[corollaservant]

Night in the Net // Shigaraki x f! reader (18+)

Synopsis: You find yourself stranded in one hell of a sexist environment: the small town's internet café. Shigaraki's on the night shift. (3.6k)

Warnings: sex with Shiggy basically, mild degradation and misogyny from our fav incel, dom!Shiggy with a twist (no quirk obviously), use of “dollface” (i like it)

A/N: No dark themes here, peace n luv. Also.. yeah he is always linked to some gaming/electronic business ik!! but I like the trope/hc/almost canon.

You'd never imagine this was how your night would end.

Why are you there again? Right, your friends wanted to go to that after party, as if the club wasn't enough. What was supposed to be a night out ended up with you in the local internet café (the only after hours spot) while your friends decided to go to a house party with loud techno music, which definitely wasn’t your vibe. You and your friends lived close and would often call a taxi on your way home, money wasn’t enough for you to ride solo today though—you prayed in times like these that you at least had a job; you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone then. 

You knew pretty much everyone there, it’s not like the town had more than ten thousand residents and considering the age group and schools you’d all gone to, the internet café only had a few unknown members. On today’s shift was none other than Tomura of course, that guy was taking up as many shifts as his body would allow him to, apparently there was this rumor a family member was in crucial condition and they were in need. Tomura Shigaraki was one of these people you had branded as incel. Though hardworking (he kept a house of his own, cleaning and doing all chores by himself while providing for whomever he had), you still considered the guy as one. Now—you know the term is heavy, matter of fact, quite offending and serious as an allegation but it’s not like there weren’t rumors. Rumors he’d bash women and call them prostitutes, try to sleep with girls and trash them to his friends a day later, hating them for anything they did and claiming true love didn’t exist nowadays because “all women are sluts, who need money and validation.” Plus, he worked at the local internet café (should be enough reason), engaging in heated conversations with his friends and fellow streamers. God, one look in their chats and you'd get as violent as possible— (not much, you'd discovered it the hard way). Thus, it was no surprise that when you enter the place, you hear whispers and scoffs.

‘’The hell are you doing here?’’ A voice was heard from within, the café had the computer screens up front, a bar and a couch with TV in the back. Tomura was occupied in the designated bar the place had (you often wondered what kind of needs these people had—all they ever consumed was energy drinks and pre-packaged meals, takeouts were for reasons of competitive market prohibited).

‘’Just dropping by for a couple of hours, will leave soon.’’ You sigh as you take a seat on the couch, not bothering to talk to anyone, it wasn’t like they cared anyway. Loud noise and laughter can be heard all around, a couple of guys swearing and some younger boys excitedly standing above their screens. The store had a 16+ policy, but of course, no one ever checked so kids could practically stare unattended. Tomura also encouraged younger boys to play, such a piece of shit, you think, getting them to learn young. 

‘’Oh my fucking God, a slut just joined!’’ You hear some guy swear, presumably because a girl joined their online server. These guys were so disgusting, you cringe, it was no wonder they were celibate without wanting it. You stand up, you need to kill some time and you're feeling bored, you think about starting a fight with Tomura, how else could you have a little bit of fun?

You weren’t ever necessarily afraid of the guy, even though you had to admit, he looked intimidating. Quite tall with a pale complexion, ashy, dull hair and scars across his face; no one actually knew much about him and whether he was troubled, it’s not like he ever showed to work beaten up or high and usually kept a low profile. The only frightening thing this man had was his smile, it terrified you sometimes as it looked downright evil. 

‘’Getting them to learn young, huh?’’ You ask him, he’s washing up some cups from the previous round of gross gaming guys, who have now left.

‘’What?’’ He responds, not bothering to look up. 

‘’How to not get women, I mean.’’ You sigh as he huffs in annoyance.

‘’You should be grateful I let a female in my store in the first place.’’ He retorts, but doesn’t seem very angry, just ironic. Usual.

My store (you decide to skip over 'female') sounds funny but you choose not to comment on it. 

‘’So how long until you guys close?’’ You don't bother with the vocabulary—it’s routine at this point. It also never ends well and you had a great night so far, why ruin it now?

‘’Two hours.’’ 

‘’Mind if I sit on the couch? I’ll be quiet I promise’’ You ask—technically beg, as you see no other options.

‘’Ugh.. yeah I mind. There’s some guys wanting to use it, I have a group for GTA on the PS5.’’

‘’Seriously? People still play that?’’ You whine but force yourself to continue.

 ‘’Can I sit with you then?’’ It takes strength—but you say it regardless. You came to terms with the fact he was your last resort minutes ago.

‘’Sure. But you need to make yourself useful. Here, take this.’’ He hands you a wet sponge, ‘’Wash these up... carefully, while I go clean the floors.’’ He orders, as if you’re part of the staff (and new on the job apparently.)

‘’Do you actually want me to wash freaking dishes? I just came here to chill, I don’t even bother anyone!’’ You start feeling annoyed with the chores, you aren’t 16 and he isn’t your mom.

‘’You can always leave.’’ The running tap stops and he turns to you, practically shoving the wet gloves on your chest. 

‘’Or...you can stop being a brat and be of use during your stay, I have two hours left.’’ He smiles, that same smile that makes your skin crawl and blood boil as he moves away.

‘’Fuck! My dress, you asshole!’’ A wet patch now covers the too short dress as you glance at the time on your phone. 

Two hours. Two hours until your friends leave and he closes up anyway.

-

Tomura was at least true to his words. Within two insufferable hours of having to listen to appalling conversations between men (hardly to be considered as such), plate washing and the toilet being constantly occupied, the last customers get up to leave. 

You dry your hands and plop down the couch exhausted.

‘’Finally.’’ You exhale checking your phone, your friends hadn’t given you any life signs in the meantime, so you decide to patiently wait, they’d message eventually. Tomura is done sweeping the nasty floors from crumbs and dried Monster remnants, which he still has to mop (for the fourth time, you note and you've only been there some hours). You notice how restless he seems—the guy has been running the whole night after ignorant customers, who had not once shown basic respect for the order of the place yet never complained. Truly a shame he has such a misogynistic mindset, you think. He could get women, if he wanted to. 

It’s around 6:30 AM, when he presses a button to close the store's roll-up shutters halfway. Small light outside makes its way in but the place is still relatively dark, as he places the mop near the wall and takes a seat next to you.

‘’Fuuck, I’m so tired.’’ He sighs, making sure to spread his legs on the couch as much as he can, not caring (of course) about you also sitting on it. 

You always branded Tomura as an incel, that you knew about. But despite that, you now can’t help but feel for him, not knowing much about him at the same time. Sure, he technically isn’t the nicest guy but a look around would show you that he tries enough for a job kicking his ass. You find yourself sympathizing with a man, whose ideals you hate and try to brush these thoughts off.

‘’And why the fuck am I an incel anyway?’’ He asks, his head rests on the couch and his eyes are closed, he is scrunching severely—almost threatening to fall down. And he manspreads. A lot.

‘’W-well– I..’’ You never thought he’d caught on to that, stammering to stand your ground as you continue. ‘’Well, there have been rumors about you.’’ You say, but it doesn’t come off as confident as you’d hoped for. You also realize, it sounds kind of stupid.

‘’Reaaally? And you made sure to believe them, right?’’ His tone’s laced with irony but the way he talks like he whispers in a raspy voice doesn't annoy you anymore. It makes you more... uncomfortable? On the edge? Excited?...what?

‘’It’s not like you don’t claim it yourself.’’ You retort, finally finding some courage. You notice him looking at you as you awkwardly shuffle in your seat.

‘’All I’ve ever said was that I think women are good for nothing. And I still believe that, but I wouldn’t waste more of my time on that.’’ The statement makes you roll your eyes.

‘’How can you generalize a whole group of people, who are literally in no way inferior to you, you can’t tell me you’ve tried—’’ 

‘’Listen dollface, unless you want to change my mind there’s no reason to fuss that much, my opinion won’t change.’’

Unless you want to change my mind?

‘’I-I don’t.’’ You stammer, because the answer and pet name (dollface??) takes you by surprise and he laughs.

‘’Relax, you branded me an incel.’’ He jokes, ‘’don’t want the rape allegations on me too.’’ 

The more he talks, the more your mind races and you curse yourself. He seems..funny? He has a mole under his lips—fuck, it looks cute...He also looks good so (stupid as it is, yes!) you silently want his attention. Why can’t he just look you in the eyes more?

This is so wrong. He must've noticed your lost gaze as he speaks up.

‘’Wanna watch a movie?’’ He proposes and you nod, anything is better than the silence hanging in the air. Silence you caused. For thinking... things about him. 

Of course Tomura ends up choosing the most depressing film anyone can possibly watch in an internet café at 6 AM, Fallen Angels, and the dramatic cuts make it hard for you to concentrate. He at a certain point leans closer to you but you justify it, how else would he be able to see?

During this one scene, the woman pleasured herself with her legs closed, rubbing together and that’s when you feel a soft hand touch on your thigh. The dress you wore rode up, because your legs rested on the table ahead so it gave him the space he needed. The movement made you tingle and your core involuntarily contracted. The smooth fingers teasingly trailed up and down your leg, from your knees to your inner thighs. You didn’t want to look at him—he was too close and the scene seemed endless. But…he went on about it as if nothing was happening. 

Without saying a word, he carried on. A pad of his finger tip dangerously close to your now heated entrance, the images flashing before your eyes lewd, his hand tempting and threatening to reach your already soaked cunt—all this while the two of you hadn’t even shared a kiss. But he doesn't stop, looking ahead and acting like everything’s fine, until he touches your lower lips and you hiss, his finger traces the wet spot over your underwear while you try to move and speak up. 

‘’W–what are y—’’

‘’Shh..’’ is all he says. 

You want to tell him no. But no to what? You like the feeling of his two fingers against your folds. His palm moves your panties to the side and he stuffs them inside—they dampen from the fluids. How is he that quick? You can’t form a response but you’re about to ask him why—

‘’All that and I haven’t even kissed you.’’ He murmurs, gaze still fixated on the television ahead as you moan, when he slowly pumps them within your walls. Fuck, are you turned on by this?

‘’P-please..’’ You whisper, turning to look at him and for the first time, his eyes are removed from the stupid TV, a sly smile on his features as he tears away his hand.

‘’What is it? Want the incel to kiss you? Maybe even fuck you to prove a point?’’ He says and you frown.

‘’I—no, I have to go.’’ You get up, fixing (lowering) your dress—you have nowhere to go but you’ll figure it out eventually. You think staying longer only plays into his cruel intentions and whilst you can’t deny the pleasure he could give you, your pride’s in the way.

‘’You’re not going anywhere.’’ A wet hand clasps around your wrist and brings you on his lap, as he grins; you seem confused at the sensation. You are hiding the TV screen but he couldn't care less, he never paid attention to the movie.

‘’Feel the stain you left, too?’’ He says as he brings your face closer with the sticky palm grabbing you by the hair. You softly moan, noticing the small mole up close and feeling a bulge poke where your bodies meet. You sway your hips in a silent effort to have him initiate a kiss, you feel desperate and curse yourself again internally. He can only smile.

(You were so clueless, walking around in that slutty dress earlier—making him hard like that, did you even know it?)

He’s quick to kiss you, eager for more already, as mouths clash, teeth collide, the need you both have exceeds proper manners. You sloppily grind against him, the friction from a long outline beneath you makes it hard to think.

‘’I’m guessing, you’re really fucking the incel then.’’ He half smirks as he grabs you and repositions you to sit on his now fully hard cock that throbs in his pants; he lifts your dress above your ass and guides your hips sluggishly back and forth—he’s tormenting you and he enjoys it to the fullest.

‘’T-tomura..p-please.’’ You whine, the urge to have him inside you makes you blabber.

‘’Please what?’’ He slides a hand behind your waist, lowering it to find your slit from behind, his fingers pet your cunt and you moan. Loudly. He is tugging at your panties, the fabric annoys him and he wants full access and the words. The words to prove his point.

‘’P–please...fuck me already!’’ You breathe out and he groans to the sound of your voice. 

The ironic remark he prepared evaporates as he quickly pushes you back, just enough to not fall off his lap and quickly unzips his pants, thanking god for not wearing a belt. 

His pants and underwear are sloppily moved down his knees, as his cock jumps with a pop on his lower abdomen, stiff with a weeping tip. Pretty veins throb around it as your eyes widen.

Shit, he’s big, can you take him?

‘’I’d ask for a nice blowjob, dollface, but wouldn’t want the feminists after me.’’ He says as he brings you close, kissing you yet again, a string of spit runs down your jaw, as your hands roam his tangled, uncombed hair. 

He positions you on his cock, one hand snakes around your waist while the other one clings to the back of your scalp and you’re swiftly lifted by the head and pushed down on him, as you let out a scream.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ He hisses, quickly looking around, the sensation from almost his whole length makes you tremble, he feels too full, too painful...too good.

‘’Shit, c’mon now you got this.’’ He encourages as you hesitantly move up and down his cock, gripping his shoulders and looking at him; he seems more concentrated on the sensation than your body, staring at you while you wrap around his length.

‘’Fuck...dollface, this too much for ya?’’ He tries not to grunt and you give your best not to cry, each moment that goes by turning the initial pain to pleasure—your cunt adjusts slowly and bit by bit to his girth. 

‘’T-tomura... y-yes..it’s too much!’’ You whine, sweat forms in your forehead as his hand finds your swollen clit and circles it while your nails dig deeper in his shirt.

‘’You can take it.’’ He says, he feels you squeezing him in, you bounce with dedication on his legs, making the couch squeak as if on some sex tape—you want to bring yourself even closer. So nasty, aren't you? Acting righteous, only to fuck yourself on his cock like a desperate whore.

‘’I-ugh-p-please..’’ You try to speak but he secures his hand around your torso and sinks (lower than before) down the couch. Two strong hands force you to stay still in the air while he drills himself into you at a steady pace, kind of sloppily too. Both of you moan, the position gives equal pleasure, your clit bumps on his groin and his cock reaches your g-spot with ease.

‘’S–Shit, you’re squeezing way too much, haven’t you been fucked like this before?’’ He sounds annoyed but the stammer in his voice betrays him.

Not like this, you want to say but can’t really speak the words. Your weight falls entirely on him, he doesn’t mind one bit—he loves it actually, this skin on skin contact as he guides you on his cock, it feels surreal. He hits soft and spongy spots inside while you slowly fall apart. 

‘’T-Tomura right there..I ugh—I'm close!’’ The sensation overwhelms you, his eyes are still fixated on your face, yeah I can tell, he thinks. He gets off on your desperation, mouth parted all for him? Your eyes threaten to spill by the way he tears apart your cunt and morals bit by bit.. it’s–

‘’Tomura, aren't you closing yet?’’ Someone asks from outside, interrupting the moment. The shutters only reveal a pair of shoes. 

‘’Yeah, I’m on it.’’ Shigaraki stops composed, cockwarming you in a funny way, while a hand, his hand covers your mouth. Your eyes widen as slick trickles down his thighs in silence.

‘’Alright, see you then.’’ The man leaves and he cusses him out. (''Cunt.'')

‘’We’re not done.’’ He turns his attention back to you and seizes your face, bringing your mouth closer.

‘’Open up.’’ He orders and you do, clenching around him in anticipation.

He spits in it and closes the gap with his index finger. 

‘’Swallow or I won’t continue.’’ You quickly gulp down.

‘’So obedient all of a sudden, aren't you?’’ Sarcasm evident as he gives your ass a solid hit, before starting to get back on his pace, only more rough this time, he longs for your release on him. You’re moving up and down his length, trying to grab anything accessible really, his hair, the back of the couch, under his shirt and you feel your orgasm resurface stronger; the delay highlighted all of your senses.

‘’T-Tomura—’’ You shudder, as his cock hits your g-spot expertly–fuck, this guy wasn't some incel–and your swollen clit has to brush one last time past his groin before you feel an overwhelming orgasm take over. You clamp down his length and moan embarrassingly (Fuck Tomura! I–I'm...too good!) This time he lets you, he needs to hear this.

‘’Fuuck—agh, look at you dollface.’’ He hums, a feminist creaming herself on my cock, he wants to add but it’s too many words and you just came so he wastes no time. He brings your neck close to his mouth and bites on it, teeth sink into your flesh and hands force you all the way down. His cum spills inside and he groans, trying to stifle his moans by biting down the sensitive skin even harder. 

And fuck if that isn’t hot.

He keeps you on him, arms fasten around your waist with cum dripping onto his lowered pants but neither of you bother to care; ragged breaths and the sounds of the film still playing are audible as more light enters through the rolled shutters.

God must’ve been on your side that day because a message appears on your screen moments after you both wordlessly got up and cleaned yourselves in the bathroom. Tomura would have to clean again, you think, as the message on your phone signals your time to leave.

You turn to look at him, he has removed his shirt and small nail scratches decorate his pale back and you..smile. What the hell? Was this..? Oh no—You try to find an appropriate goodbye.

See you soon? Thanks for the mind blowing dick? You aren’t the incel I thought you were? Everything seems embarrassing at present time. 

‘’I-I’ll be seeing you soon.’’ You opt for that, stupid as it is, you still look at him in anticipation. He turns to you, hands on the mop cleaning near the couch and nods. 

Great, you think, that was a disaster. You defeatedly walk (actually stoop to get past the almost closed door) feeling like a hooker after a client, miserable and kind of used. This is always the worst part. 

You feel an arm touch your shoulder, you’ve only taken a few steps in the daylight.

‘’Take this in case you revoke your incel statement.’’

Tomura hands you a piece of paper and quickly disappears behind the store’s shadows.

[dimepdf]

★  𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that Miguel is the bane of your existence, the way you react during training proves otherwise.

─── ☆ notes. i need fics of miguel being an absolute dick, like a petty bitch just for the hell of it i need more attitude yk? Like if that man isn't calling me a slut it ain't canon! | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 4.3k (33 min read).

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | no spoilers | smut, enemies to lovers, maybe mutual pining, fighting and violence, semi public sex, gym sex, mentions of abuse, size difference, pain kink, strength kink, degradation kink, manhandling, power play(?), begging, rough sex, cervix kissing, choking, fangs, biting, marking, cunnilingus, eye contact, hair pulling, creampie, open ended, not an taiyo fic without a few typos.

IF YOU ASKED any of the other Spider-men what they loved so much about being Spider-Man, their answers would all be the same, ranging from "the suit" to "the enhanced abilities." It was a no-brainer that being a superhero came with a few awesome perks.

Which was why your answer was just a bit confusing, "the combat." You would always smile, despite the many eyebrows raises and looks that convinced you you had to be some type of overcover masochist, especially since you would never really go into true detail about why.

Your reasoning behind putting on the mask was similar to all the others: another traumatized kid being thrown into a whole new reality that you never would have dreamed of being possible.

Sadly, you had been raised with the loss of most of your loved ones, and your family was in shambles from the abuse you would go through from them. It was the reason why it was difficult for you to grow up and make many friends, let alone navigate your abilities on your own accord, which was why it was a whole different ball game when you first joined the spider society.

When you first met Miguel O'Hara, you thought he was an overly intimidating man with an even more scary personality. Your aesthetics and morals would clash in the first few run-ins you would have with him.

In all honesty, you first thought him to be a massive dick who surprisingly needed more therapy than you did. From his bored expression to his unnerving glare, it was clear upon the first introduction that you two just would not get along.

Which was why the universe made him the only spider person willing and with enough free time to train you. It came as a surprise to you both, who are usually butting heads. Miguel was adamant about not wanting to waste his time training some little girl who didn't even know how to throw a punch.

With much shit-talking on your part and a lot of teasing claims of him being afraid that you were going to kick your ass, training had quite literally started in full swing.

It was probably a bad move on your part to push the buttons of the guy who was teaching you how to fight. Miguel was clear with his fight-style techniques. He was nimble with his limbs and swift on his feet. It was hard for anyone to get a hit on him, especially since he wasn't the type to hold back his punches. 

His teaching style was the same: your sessions included throwing you around as if you were some ragdoll and picking you up as if you weighed nothing, just to slam you into the ground with full bruising force.

There would be some very rare occasions when you would manage to get the upper hand on him. Miguel was about a foot taller than you, not to mention how pathetically compressed you looked standing next to him. You learned that the only way you could manage to get the upper hand was by using your size difference to your advantage.

All the sessions you won were hosted by you managing to tangle yourself from his claws and climb his towering figure into a headlock, praying that you had enough strength in your legs to make him tap out.

"How is she not dead yet?" Miles would mutter, looking concerned, as he stood from the sidelines of the training room, watching one of your sessions, as the blonde by his side didn't even wince at the sound of Miguel untangling you from the headlock you had him in.

His arms moved faster than you could process as he managed to loosen your hold enough to slam the air from your lungs as you fell back facing against the mat so hard that even Miles was convinced he could feel the blow in the lower spine.

"I mean, at this point, I'm kind of convinced she’s turned into his personal punching bag." Miles strains to watch Miguel not even wipe a sweat as he sprung back on his feet. He stretched out his full body, towering over you, curled flat against the mat, trying to collect your breathing as well as your broken ego.

Gwen nodded in agreement. "I don't even know how someone could hit someone so...squishy? She’s just so cute." She muttered, watching with her arms crossed. 

"This punching bag needs to learn that in the real world, people aren't going to go as easy on her just because she’s cute." Miguel, despite glaring at the two bystanders, leaned down and yanked you back onto your stumbling feet. 

Your fingers combed through the matted curls now drenched in sweat away from your forehead, using your water break as the perfect excuse to help cover up the reaction to the sudden compliment that came from his lips and the way he had made you feel.

"And her being my personal punching bag is completely at her fault, if you want to learn how to fight, you have to learn how to take a few punches." You couldn't help but roll your eyes and wave your hand out in annoyance at another one of Miguel O’Hara’s famous lectures.

"I’m not a punching bag, did you not see the hold I had on him early?" You huffed, almost choking on your water, trying to protest. Gwen humored your claim, the blonde reaching out and rubbing your shoulder out of support as you continued with your defense. "Any tighter, and I would have easily snapped his neck."

Of course, Miguel only smirked as you continued grasping at straws at the point of trying to prove to your friends your improvement, his eyes flitting back and forth at the exchange, expressionless at the sight of you managing to still joke around as if you weren't about to pass out from fatigue at any second.

"And was that before or after the part where I kicked your ass, little girl?" He shot out, chipping away at the final lock that held back your annoyance, you hadn't even had time to process the insult before he bumped his shoulder into you on his way out of the training room.

His rude exit enticed a round of reactions from Miles and Gwen trying their awkward best to comfort the boiling pot of anger they saw written all over your face, rolling your eyes, you pushed past the two, not without grumbling a string of insults in Miguel’s name to the washrooms.

You blessed the spider lords for somehow having the ability to shower under running water, let alone the unexplainable strange amount of amenities that the spider society dimensions had. 

Like a web shooter's wonderland, you quickly shed the sweating clothes you trained in and stepped foot into the cold cubicle shower booth, letting the water run for a bit until enough steam fogged clouded stepping under the stream. Even with the hot water splashing pressure against your aching muscles, no amount of water could manage to wash away the annoying feeling in your legs. 

It was enough of a jab at your pride to even find Miguel attractive in the first place, and here your body was betraying you once more, begging, throbbing desperately for his every touch in its every form, and having the nerve to grow more intense during your training.

The feeling had yet to fully disappear the next day, even with your session starting off with you fueled from yesterday's comments. You tried pushing the feeling as you were just ready to have Miguel mutter another word insult with the ass kick you were ready to give him. It was the only possible explanation for why you were so jittery about getting to training on time.

"It took you long enough." Was the first thing you heard Miguel announce throughout the empty room.

He wasn’t wearing his suit—neither of you did while training—instead, he was wearing dark gray sweatpants paired with some random dark red graphic shirt that fit him a bit too snuggly to leave room for imagination around his arms.

"Almost thought you were gonna skip out."

You were aware enough to spot this quick observation of your outfit as well. Keeping it casual and opting for better mobility, you shimmied yourself into plain Nike shorts that stopped higher up than you had expected them to on your thighs with a loose tank top that peeked out the straps of your sports bra.

Nothing about your clothes screamed attention grabbing—at least that's what you thought before you caught Miguel’s red-tinted stare on the way your shorts hugged your thighs.

He glanced away, muttering something in Spanish you couldn't quite translate the moment your fingers fidgeted with the bottom hems of the shorts, tugging them slightly more down while deciding to break the tense silence that had managed to sneak up on you. "So what are we doing today?"

"Huh, I’ve been thinking." He answered, followed by the clearing of his throat, "We try something a little different." You could never get used to the roughness of his voice or the way he spoke with so much arrogance that it reminded just about everyone that he thought he was better than just about everyone.

Even now that you stepped towards the middle of the mat, standing rigidly just a few paces away from him, you could tell from that stupid, cocky expression as he stood looking down at you that there was no possible way that he would ever see you as a real threat. "I want you to try to hit me." 

Your brows creased together in confusion. 

"What?" was all you asked, which seemed to be the wrong question to ask as Miguel stretched out a sigh from his mouth, his hands coming close to his to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"I said hit me." He speaks more slowly, making sure to mockingly over pronounce every symbol in every word as if you were a child. "Preferably soon and as hard as you can." A grimace finds itself twisting on your lips before you can even process your bubbling annoyance. Your body moved on autopilot because of your keen senses, jumping over the swing of his left leg with ease.

You couldn't say that swift grace stuck with your attempt at a counterattack. Bending your knee just enough to reach out and kick, you were only met with the bottom of your foot stomping flat against the floor mat and Miguel dodging your kick, standing just a few paces away. "Too predictable," he scolded in that annoyingly deep voice you hated oh so much and totally did not turn on you at all. You sprung yourself up by the heels of your feet and charged at him with full determination to land at least one punch on his stupidly chiseled, handsome face.

It had been your second mistake, giving him too much time to brace himself. Already regretting your emotionally impulsive start, resulting in the punch you swung being easily deflected by Miguel.

His hand wrapped entirely around your wrist, bending your arm almost out of your socket and kicking the back of your knee to the mat with his heel. You feel down to a kneel with a hissing pain in your arm threatening to get worse at any wrong twist.

"Lose that fucking attitude, or you’ll get sloppy." As if your body could radiate any more anger, you knew he was just trying to push your buttons, trying to throw you off your game with smack talk that was not working on you or anything.

"Again," he prompted, letting your arm go and stepping back, egging on another attack from you.

"Give me a damn minute." No matter how much you wanted to snap back at him with something snarky, you knew it would only prove his point entirely—not only that but also the fact that he was mentally hitting you in all the places that he knew counted the most to throw you off your game. 

Biting back the insult you already had threatened to slip from your tongue instead of making a point by rolling your eyes as you stumbled back to your feet. Rolling your sore shoulder back as your eyes scan over his stance, trying to find the best opening for a better attack, you steady your breath and cloud your mind in thought. "You aren't going to get anywhere but dead standing around like that, you know."

So much for wanting to consider your options. Miguel took the first swing at you and was on the verge of kicking you on your ass if it weren't for your shoddy dodge.

"Didn't you just say I had to be less fucking predictable?" You snarled, lifting your foot with most of your weight pointed in the direction of his jaw. Surprisingly, the kick landed just not in the place you wanted it to; instead, Miguel’s arm blocked the blow, much to your annoyance.

"I also said—" All he was doing was using dodging moves on you, swiping your other foot from under you as he held the other one that you kicked up in his arm, resulting in you landing once again flat on your ass. "to lose that fucking attitude."

You had not gone down without a fight, twisting and kicking, trying to wrestle your limbs free by any means. Miguel had almost embarrassingly quickly ceased your squirming, his palm cuffing your arms and pressing hard against your chest as his other hand pressed tightly into your thighs, folding your legs in place under his hips.

The position was interesting, to say the least, but you still had some fight in you, wiggling against his grip with any strength you had left to break free. It was a useless battle, but the man had his grip around you tight as well as an overpowering size difference that blanketed your entire figure like one big rock.

And that's how you caught yourself in another web of misfortune. Your nerves are surging at the feeling of something—him brushing against your calf. Maybe it was all the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the fact that you were practically being manhandled so easily that did another thing to your body, or maybe it was just pure horny instability that your brain couldn't even process the lewd whine that tugged from your throat after the fact that it had happened.

Watching in pure horror as Miguel loomed on top of you, his mouth slightly agape as his chest heaved and his brows pulled together, the embarrassment from his confused, almost offended looking expression hit you fast. Here your body was betraying you once more, this time going absolutely haywire and melting like a stupid pile of putty at the fact that you were being body pressed against some mat with some guy's hard junk pressed into your leg.

You couldn't bear to even look him in the eye anymore, your head tilting to the side, pressing your cheek into the mat, and squeezing your eyes closed, not suddenly envying the spidermen with teleportation powers. "Fucking Christ, can you get off now?"

A beat of silence hovered between the small distance between you two, neither moving nor talking. It was starting to become unbearable how tightly Miguel had folded your legs against him, in the sense that you could already feel his body heat radiating. The close proximity did not help with how unbearably your heart was beating against your chest. "How do you manage after all of that to still have that shameless fucking attitude?"

You stilled at how his voice had managed to cut through your own thick cloud of betraying thoughts as well as the ringing in your eardrums. "Shameless? As if you don't have your dick pressed against me right now."

"By the sounds of it, you don't seem that bothered at all." Miguel taunted, You thought you were bound to die of embarrassment.

Yeah, this is how you went out—by dying from the sheer effect of your own extremely horny though—not some overpowered supervillain with a vendetta against you but Miguel O'Hara and his dick print.

You could already hear the new taunts that he would use against you, "Not even in your fucking dreams." being the only comeback that you could muster, your limbs tingling with slight pins and needles, threatening to go stiff under his unbound grasp. 

"Oh, like you wouldn't love to," he sneered, shifting the weight from his hips flat against your thighs. "Probably thinking about me taking off these tight fucking shorts and having my way with you?" Your body reacted first to the accusation, cursing under your breath as you felt your second heartbeat flutter in between your legs.

His lingering stare hadn't helped one bit, and you watched from the sidelines as his eyes raked over your body with interest.

"I bet this was your plan the entire fucking time, huh?" He asked, leaning in as the distance dwindled until you could feel the brush of his breath against your face. "Put on some sweet naive act in front of everyone, knowing that you're getting yourself off on me throwing you around, touching yourself like some bitch in heat."

You hadn't bothered covering the whine that parted from your lips at the feeling of his erection slowly rutting against your thigh, the cocky smirk on his lips wanting you to melt away against the mat.

Miguel practically growled at the pathetic sounds that parted from your lips, tugging your legs apart to rut his hips down against your core. You shivered at the intrusion of his bulge pressed against your eagerness, the foreign feeling of him grinding against you left your thoughts in a dizzy fog.

"What? Can’t fucking speak now," he said as if he were dangling your most prized possession in front of your face, his fingers creeping into dangerous territory, making it a point for his fingertips to drag down your lower torso only to halt right above the elastic waistband of your shorts. "Go on, use your words."

"...fuck you."

The small amount of distance made the space between you two fall tensely thick, and the words spoken from your lips were different from the feelings that made your heart thud against your ribs. You weren't stupid, you knew Miguel could sense it, he could sense just about everything about your body from how close he kneeled on top of you.

Maybe that was why he had closed the distance so quickly after, letting the tight grip around your wrists give way to his hand finding a new objective, wrapping his fingers around your neck, not bothering to be gentle as he guided your lips towards his. The kiss was as rough as you had dreamed it to be. Eager for each other's kiss, you couldn't even process the noise that vibrated sharply from your throat before Miguel could pull away first, leaving you panting for more of his touch.

"First time I've ever seen you so quiet," his deep taunts were starting to grow unbearable, shifting your hips at the brush of his fangs against the jugular of your neck with every word, "who knew all you needed was some dick?" The harsh kisses he left trailing down to your collarbone made you feel like a hot, needy mess of putty. If it weren't for the tight grasp he had on your body, you were convinced that you would feel like you'd melt into some type of puddle. The growing frustration had only started to build up more as Miguel let go of your thighs, his hand trailing between your legs ruthlessly as the bud of his fingers rubbed against your clothed pussy. 

As for why you shifted your hips up and let him impatiently tug and yank at the bow knotted around the waist of your shorts, breaking away from the red splotching light bruises already forming against your brown skin and wiggling you out of your shorts, Miguel thought it was quite the image, his eyes were fixated on the drooling sight of you under him, so vulnerable with your thighs hugging to your chest, spread open, revealing yourself in your pants.

All sanity was thrown out the window the moment he tugged you closer by your knees, your lower half lifted in his arms just enough for him to sit face to face with your cunt. His eyes darkened, his pupils blown as his tongue lapped over his lips, leaving you feeling restless. It was a slow and almost painful battle of trying to reach down and shove his face closer or buck your hips as his fingers sheathed and explored themselves against the fabric of your underwear.

As if Miguel could read your mind, his fingers hooked the fabric under the bend of his finger, followed by a quick tearing sound. "I’ll get you new ones," the comfort emitting a whine from your throat as you couldn't even scowl at him for ruining your underwear because you were too busy admiring the work his fingers were doing. Without warning, Miguel leans in closer, the warmth of his mouth almost sending you into a frenzy as his fingers spread open your lips, his lips sucking at your clitoral area, prompting you to let out a very lewd moan.

"Too loud," Miguel mumbled against your pussy, too busy webbed up in your own pleasure to even notice how every embarrassedly sloppy wet noise had seemed to perfectly echo throughout the empty room. You couldn't even explain the number of emotions that were flowing through you, from shame from being tongue fucked and fingered against the floor about the one man you hated so much to bashfulness from holding eye contact with him as he lay between your legs and ate your pussy like he was starving for you.

"I can't help it," you whined, shivering at the string of spit that contacted Miguel as he lifted his head in an idea. It took a second to process Miguel picking you up and turning you on your stomach, his hands guiding your hips up and stripping your torn panties down your legs to stuff them in your mouth.

Without a word, Miguel grabbed your ass with another hand, guiding your lower back into an arch as the other made small indents from his nail bearing into your cheeks as he spread them apart.

Before you could even feel embarrassed at the new position, he shoved his face between them, your moan being muffled by your makeshift cloth gag that worked a bit too well in lowering your whines as Miguel’s mouth sought his tongue out for your pussy once more.

"You're close I can smell it," you almost missed Miguel's groan over your building ecstasy, "just let it go, baby, let me take care of you. That's what you want, right?" His voice is drastically different from his usual rough, rude tone, softened to something of a coo that has managed to unknot your pleasure with his tongue. Your body tensed against his mouth for a moment as he had the nerve to suck his fingers clean. No grace period was given before he could lift you once more with a grunt, laying you flat on your back.

Slotting himself back between his legs, Miguel chuckled at the dazed look on your face. "It's alright, baby, I can take it from here." taking the balled up drool covered panties from your mouth and instead replaced them with his lips. The sensual change of pace wasn't enough to stop the shiver that rid your nerves of the feeling of his bare cock rutting against your slit, using his thumb to spread your lips apart to sink his tip inside of you with a low hiss against your mouth.

A gasp left yours as his girthy length intruded deeper inside of you, the burying stretch of his dick having your nails roughly grasping at the nape neck of his hair tugging a handful as his pace hadn't bothered to even get familiar already. Miguel’s hips weren't letting out as he fucked you almost animalistic against the floor. You were convinced he was trying to fuck you into the mat, to be one with the floor, which would perfectly explain the rough pace that left you breathless with each piston of his hips. 

The graphically lewd sounds of your weak groans were nothing compared to the pornographic sound of your skin meeting his, your brain empty with nothing but greed, wanting to take everything and more of what Miguel was giving you. His fingers reach to unwrap your fingers tangled in his hair to intertwine them in his. "That's it, mama, that's it," he whispers against the shell of your ear, earning a whimpering reply from you, almost close to spilling the tears clouding your waterline.

Your mind couldn't process anything other than how good Miguel’s dick felt being shoved inside of you, his cock dragging against your tight, flustering walls with each shaky breath brushed against your ear. Your cunt seemed to react to Miguel’s lashes tickling against your neck as his eyes screwed tightly shut, muttering a string of compliments in his mother tongue.

You weren't lucky enough to be more stable, surprised that your throat hasn't gone horse with how ruined your vocal cords sounded in the pace of his pistoning hips. Only going up an octave higher as one of Miguel’s hands reaches down to pay attention to your clit, he doesn't stop even when your limbs start to tremble from your climax. 

With one last hard thrust, he finally stills, your name being the only thing you could make out through his mumbling as his unfamiliar warm sensation welcomed itself inside of you. 

Groaning right in your ear, he cums inside of you with his entire dead weight pressed against you, caging you against the floor. "Alright," Miguel sighs, settling on top of you once more with his arms holding himself just a few inches away from your face. "Again."

🔖 @adonis-is-dead-lmaoo @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @inumakiiz @iheartlinds @creamyarishi @marzipaanz

tap here to be added to taglist.

[crushedsweets]

Can we get more BEN content? Please?

Something super quick!! I’m just tryna get a feel for his character again cuz I just realized how long it’s been since I’ve worked with him in my AU?! I’ll ramble a bit under the cut

Mandatory reminder that my AU is filled with rewrites largely inspired by my childhood understanding/memories of the stories … it’s not canon in the slightest

Tw for kidnapping(?sorta) and murder under the cut

Ok imma do a better finished pre/post death comparison later. But for now.

Ben in my AU went to a garage sale, found majoras mask, got really excited, and the one selling it to him was like “I have the console come over and we can beat the game together” so Ben started going to this 40 yr old guys house every week.

Once they beat the game, the guy ended up drowning Ben in his bathtub. It’s cuz he had this huge grand plan to create a true virtual reality where you can really put your soul into a video game, cuz he himself was addicted to video games and escapism and whatnot … specifically inserting himself into a Zelda game. and he had killed several young blonde boys who he thought resembled link, cuz he was doing all these different methods and rituals he read online that he believed would transport a persons soul inside. After he drowned Ben, he put the green tunic over bens zelda shirt + put boots and that damn hat on him + cut his hair to try and resemble link. He waited and waited and reopened the game and played it and tried tweaking it and did everything he could to find evidence that bens soul was in the game. EVIDENTLY THAT SHIT DIDNT WORK.

Well it sorta worked. Bens soul DID get trapped in that game cartridge. But it was more in the way a ghost possesses a doll, not transporting him into the game….

Eventually the man was caught for murder, charged, and the video game cartridge (with Bens soul) went into evidence. And it just sat there for a long while.

Eventually it broke, I haven’t exactly fleshed out how… maybe a dumb detective.. OH MY GOD MAYBE A DETECTIVE WORKING ON JEFFS CASE ??!?! LOL we’ll see

And when the cartridge broke, Bens Soul sorta got. Released ?! And obviously he was mad ..

So he just spent a while haunting people, driving people to suicide, being a massive menace on the internet and in people’s homes till slendy got involved and was like Benjamin. Do not do this.

Ok obviously this is super messy and I did it on a school bench on my phone cuz my class got cancelled today 😞 but. I’ll try to get more solid Ben content out cuz he’s just a guy

[m-musings]

Crawl Out Through the Fallout with Me: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard X Fem! Reader

A/N: never played an official fallout game in my life but i still love this man so it's time to bullshit some stuff, let's gooooooo

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: After a fight with raiders, a argument between lovers ensues when one of them gets hurt.

Warnings: typical fallout vibes, mentions of fighting, blood and wounds, pre-established relationship, Cooper being Cooper but also being a bit ooc, this is cheesy as hell and def not canon compliant lmao

"Damnit, (Y/n), just what the hell were you thinkin'?!"

An upset voice rang out into the evening air of the Wasteland as a pair of figures rested up inside the crumbling walls of an abandoned building.

Lit by the fading light of the sun, (Y/n) hissed in pain as her irradiated companion tried to sew a sizable gunshot wound on her arm shut.

As he passed the needle back and forth through the gash, the girl rolled her eyes with an exasperated groan as a few rivulets of blood rolled down her arm.

"Gimme a break, Coop! Did you wanna be the one to be shot?! I don't- ow!- think so!"

During a journey to find their next cash-out, the partners were ambushed by a large group of raiders & fiends. After managing to get rid of most of them, one had managed to sneak up and send a bullet flying straight for Cooper.

Noticing the weapon before Cooper could even turn to see the shooter, (Y/n) dashed over and shoved the ghoul out of the path of the shot, causing her arm to be hit instead.

Now- a few hours after killing the remaining enemies- they took shelter in a decrepit shack in order to patch themselves up in peace and rest for the night.

"I'd still be better off than you are right now. I mean, for fucks sake, darlin', I'm a ghoul. I've been through worse than just being shot at."

"Well then, that's the last time I try to be helpful. Next time, I'll sit back and relax while you get absolutely slaughtered by raiders, how about that?!"

"Go right on ahead, see if I care! Now, hold still. Can't close this cut if you keep on squirmin' around." Cooper huffed as he gave the suture one final tug before snipping the end off with a pocket knife and tying it into a knot.

After he was finished, (Y/n) rolled the pain out of her bicep before reaching into her bag to grab a somewhat clean cloth to wipe up any remaining blood.

With a sputter of her lips, she got up from her spot next to Cooper to sit upon the old mattress in the other corner of the room in order to apply a stimpak to herself. It wouldn't be enough to heal the wound completely but it would be enough for her to be able to use her arm properly.

Satisfied with the sight of her flesh knitting back together, Cooper finally relaxed in his chair as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Now don't go doin' anything that stupid again, y' hear me? Don't wanna have to use any more stims than we have to."

"I just... don't understand why you're so worked up about this. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, it's literally a warzone out here. A scar or two isn't unusual." (Y/n) griped as she fell back onto the bed while crossing her arms.

"Yeah, for someone like me it isn't. But it shouldn't ever happen someone like you. You shouldn't have to get hurt like that..." Grumbled Cooper as he leaned back against the wall.

"I'm not made of glass, Coop, I can handle a few hits."

"Don't care. You're way too valuable for me to lose."

(Y/n)'s glare softened at that, realizing the true intention behind the cowboy's scolding was worry. As Cooper sets up a small lantern on the floor to combat the growing darkness, (Y/n) watches the man with a fondness gleaming in her eyes.

"Is that what this is all about? You didn't wanna see me get hurt?" Whispers the girl as she turns onto her side.

Although the action is rather subtle, the ghoul's body visibly tenses up as he fixes his gaze away from the woman across from him.

"I never said that."

"It's clear that you thought it, though." (Y/n) chuckled as she softly grinned at the cowboy.

Heaving out an irritated sigh, Cooper hunches over to look at her as he readjusts his hat.

"What do ya wanna hear from me, sweetheart? That I care about you? That I love ya? Well, if you don't know that by now, then you might be much dumber than I thought you were."

"Hey, I resent that! You'd be lost with me and you know it!"

"Sure I would. Just like how you'd do great out there if you were all alone."

(Y/n) shakes her head with a scoff before she gets up from the mattress to walk over plop herself onto Cooper's lap after he sits back down on the beat-up dinner chair.

As she shuffles into place, Cooper places his hand on the small of her back to ensure she doesn't topple over. He silently glances at her face, analyzing her now troubled expression as she fiddles with the lapel on his duster.

Mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words to say, she presses her lips together before finally speaking her thoughts.

"Y'know, I worry about you too... I'm always so worried that there's gonna be a day where that one gunner you miss is gonna be the one that gets you." (Y/n) admits sadly as she rests her head on Cooper's shoulder.

Cooper's eyes widen slightly and peer down at her as he begins to rub a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Hey now, look at me. That'll never happen. Not on my watch."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I got too much to fight for. I already lost one family to this nonsense and I'll be damned if you get taken away from me too. I'll fight tooth and nail before I let anything touch me or you again, understand?"

"But why? What's so special about me?"

"If I allow you to get hurt anymore, I will never be able to live with myself again. I love you, so...so much, darlin'." Cooper states with a resolute nod.

(Y/n) eyes water and crinkle with a gentle smile before she leans up to place a couple light kisses upon his charred lips, which he returns immediately upon receiving.

"I love you too, Cooper..." Mutters (Y/n) as she closes her arm around his shoulders.

With a laugh rumbling in his chest, Cooper wraps both of his hands around her waist as he holds her as close as he can.

"Your sweetness is what's gonna be the death of me one of these days, doll... Not some dumbass bullet." Cooper jokes quietly, placing a kiss atop her hair & resting his head on hers as he rocks back and forth to lull her to sleep.

Listening to the calming sound of her breathing as she slumbers, Cooper thinks about how lucky a man like him is to have found a love like (Y/n) in such a desolate situation.

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Rio Vidal Yandere Letter.

Author’s Note: So it seems like people like the idea of a Yandere Rio Vidal, which honestly, Rio’s kind of a canon yandere and also I’m not surprised that y’all would want it. I mean, you’ve seen her, haven’t you?

(CW: Typical yandere stuff)

Hello, my love.

I’ve missed you. I suppose you’re curious about how this letter’s reached you. Let’s just say that I have my ways. You’ve been fluttering in and out of my mind like a curious little butterfly, highlighting some of the best things you hold; that laugh full of sincerity and joy, that smile of yours that brightens the room without even trying, that hair I could run my fingers through for hours, those eyes I get so easily lost in, those perfect lips of yours just begging for me to kiss them. Even simply writing about it all makes my black heart beat even more for you.

There’s an unbreakable connection between us, a bond that simply cannot be ignored. You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you know it’s true. You know that you’re meant to be mine and mine alone. Running will do you no good, hiding is impossible, fighting is fruitless. And yet, if you wish to, I don’t mind; the thrill of the chase is quite alluring, after all. Playing the long game will make my victory all the sweeter. That victory is all but assured; it’s simply a matter of when you’ll truly accept that you belong at my side for all of eternity, our souls bound together in ways mortal couples can only dream of. Because in the end, all roads lead to me, my love.

Te veo,

Rio Vidal.

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜 DA:TV spoilers under cut.

Carly: Lucanis is "pretty average [height] everyone else is ridiculously tall" [source]

John: "getting absolutely dummied by an encounter in the game you work on as your day job is a uniquely humbling experience" [source] Trick: "Me desperately doing side quests to bulk up before the next big critpath beat because I KNOW I am not currently good enough at Rogue to beat that meat grinder at my current level and gear without dropping the difficulty back down." [source]

John: "hands up if you’re in game dev and have ever caught yourself searching Google for a guide to the game you’re working on that’s not even out yet" [source]

Flaming greatswords? ^^ [source]

Jay: "God, I remember the concept art for this scene" [source] (the scene in the gameplay reveal when Solas sheds a tear when it fails)

Kala: "Thinking back to playing Dragon Age Veilguard with the Council and all the fun we had, the crying (mostly me) and the shock at some of the surprises (especially Caitie) and I can't believe that's gonna be the entire fanbase soon. I can't wait to experience it with everyone" [source]. "I genuinely cannot wait for everyone to see Veilguard. I *know* for a fact there is going to be things people will freak out about, just like we did. There's A LOT people will love. Everyone will have stuff they don't like, which is inevitable, but there's so much to love" [source] Caitie: "Holding hands and sharing headphones because i unlocked the [redacted] scene first ❤️ Fond memories 😭😭" [source]

Trick on some of the chairs in the Lighthouse library group screenshot: "As much as I ADORE the idea of Solas sneaking out of Skyhold with a U-Haul packed to the brim with furniture and all the good mage gear you gave him, I expect it's likely just a common Fereldan style." [source]

Caitie: "If it helps- ive also seen silly ‘head canons’ and jokes thats will end up true haha" [source]

Caitie: "I'm not sure if we can say where we ended up in the story- but we got farther than the GI guy did it seems! By quite a bit. Did not get close to finishing it, however." [source]

Kala: "Pssst… we saw the companion rooms and the Lighthouse and it was really something amazing 👀👀" [source]

edit/update:

here are some more snippets which were posted by the Dragon Age official YouTube account in the livechat on one of the videos last month:

"There are lots of hairstyle options, we’ll have much more to share on the character creator in the coming weeks!"

"It wouldn’t be a Dragon Age game without a visit to the Deep Roads!"

"Our team spent a lot of timing refining combat and making it feel fluid and fun whether you play as a Warrior, a Mage, or a Rogue"

"It wouldn’t be a Dragon Age game without consequences! Your choices will influence the world of Thedas, as well as relationships with your companions"

A user asked "Are you a Fen’Harel spy?" Dragon Age replied "👀"

[amber-jinx]

Just played Love is Strange

Bawling. Amberfield* really is an electric combo like I believed

It gave me the closure I needed. Start living for yourself, Rachel. In my mind this is canon.

Got the date ending. This game characterises Rach so on point, more on this later.

Truer words have never been said

Rach like you said, you & Chloe should quit smoking :)

But this shot I got I really love. She's let go & she's assured. You are free, RA.

Bawling 2.0/true ending

[calmariah]

Using Canto VII to Predict Dante's Identity

This theory now has a second part! Please read it HERE!

(major spoilers for the games 'Library of Ruina' and 'Limbus Company' up to Canto VII Part 2 under the cut! you have been warned!)

(EXTREMELY long post ahead!)

SECTION 0: PROLOGUE

Dante. The tenth sinner of LCB. Our Executive Manager Esquire.

Despite being our story's protagonist, Dante's identity and past is a gaping void.

It's very interesting when a story has a character with amnesia, because we all get to make wild guesses at their true secret identity.

I've seen a few predictions. Ayin, Roland, that one random Seven Association Fixer from Library of Ruina of the same name.

The Vermillion Cross, even. The colours line up, as does the Cross carrying their weapon on their back. Biblical imagery makes a lot of sense here.

The character I'm about to accuse of being Clockhead however, is a candidate I have seen no person put forth.

Indulge me for a moment and assume that Dante's identity is possible to reasonably guess at all. That they are a character we have become acquainted with in prior Project Moon works, or indeed the content of Limbus Company itself.

As of writing, the most recent update to Limbus Company is Canto VII Part 2. This theory will assume that you have played or otherwise experienced its story content to completion.

This is because I believe VII-2 has finally delivered us the information we need to make that reasonable guess.

For now though, let's cast our minds much, much further back.

SECTION 1: LIBRARIAN OF DEATH

Curtain call for the Reception of the Black Silence.

Roland lies defeated, and the player is given a choice.

Choosing forgiveness leads to the true, canonical ending of the game. According to Steam achievement statistics, only 10.1% of the player base chose to take Roland's head instead.

If Roland is slain, Angela uses the light of the Library to complete her dream of becoming human.

The Patron Librarians are killed, turned back into books. Angela stands alone atop her ivory nest.

No longer an Impurity, the Library is free to violently expand as a Star of the City.

It would remain that way for thirteen years.

After a fade to black, we meet a new character. One who, at the time, had no name.

???: That was one grand job you did with all these dangerous monsters you've gathered, Miss Librarian of Death.

ANGELA: …Good work.

???: “A monster should behave as one…”

???: I trusted and followed you, knowing nothing.

ANGELA: How many colleagues of yours… the so-called ‘Bookhunters’ have you killed?

???: I’ve lost count.

ANGELA: And countless more people will die in the future.

ANGELA: I know humans. I learned the secrets of mankind that the City had been hiding from them.

???: I’m sure you do… And I know you.

???: Thank you for all your hard work. Please die once and for all.

ANGELA: Thank you for putting me to rest, o child who had no name.

???: Even the brightest star fades someday.

???: It will eventually be felled by man, just like any other star.

???: As tonight, again, the stars

are brushed by the wind.

"The Bookhunter" was the only name we had for this character for a very long time. But you may know them by another name.

Perhaps that name is Bari, the Knight of the White Moon.

Or perhaps that name is Dante.

SECTION 2: PRINCESS BARI

It's extremely common for important characters in Project Moon's universe to share their names with figures in stories, mythology or religion.

Roland of the 12 Paladins of Charlemagne. Emil Sinclair from Demian. Moses, after a prophet in Judaism, Christianity, and a smattering of Abrahamic religions.

I have reason to believe Bari is no exception. I'm not particularly well read on the following subject, so I encourage you to do your own research. Apologies if I make any mistakes, and please correct them if you can.

However, I will lay out the basics here that support my theory.

Princess Bari is an incredibly important figure in Korean mythology and spirituality. Born as the seventh daughter to royals who wanted a son, Bari is banished to fend for herself outside of the walls of her family's kingdom.

There are many different versions and tellings of the story, but most share the central story structure. When Bari's parents fall ill, they learn (through dream, premonition, or any number of reasons) that the cure to what ails them is a water or elixir in a far away divine or spiritual realm.

Learning of her parents' illness, Bari sets off on a journey to cross the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead to find the cure.

When she reaches this divine realm, Bari collects water of life and flowers of resurrection, and returns home.

She learns that she is much too late however, as her parents have passed away and their bodies will soon be buried.

Bari attempts to heal them anyway-- and the flowers she found restore her parents back to their mortal coil, and the water of life cures their ails.

In some versions of the myth, Bari ascends and becomes a goddess after her death. Typically, she is a goddess of the divine realm, and/or a goddess who leads the deceased to the afterlife.

Back to Limbus Company for a moment, Bari tells Sancho the following when they finally introduce themself at the bank of the River of Oblivion.

(I understand that this is Sansón's telling of events. Since he seems to be attempting to accurately restore Sancho's memories, we can assume at least this much is accurate.)

Searching for a flower grown in water.

I believe there is enough evidence to believe that Bari is based on the mythological princess.

SECTION 3: INTRO WRAP UP

There are four figures to consider from here on out; two versions of each character.

Dante Limbus Company, bumbling executive manager.

Dante Alighieri, legendary Italian poet who features in his Divine Comedy.

Bari Project Moon, Knight of the White Moon and in another time, Bookhunter.

Princess Bari, mythological shaman who crossed between the worlds of life and death to save her family from death.

It's important to keep the distinction between these figures in mind. Adaptation does not need to be 100% faithful. Just because something happened to Princess Bari does not mean it happened or will happen to our Bari.

That said, looking to the original stories can be helpful to understand themes that appear in Bari and Dante's stories, and the ways they might overlap.

Following so far? I really hope so.

That should be all the setup we need now.

We have our two characters, Dante and Bari. Let us now consider the themes they share, to see if they may be the same character.

Each of these examples, considered alone, may appear unconvincing or coincidental. But I think the sheer amount of common links you can draw between Dante and Bari make it impossible to say them being the same character is baseless.

So, allow me. I believe the primary themes we must look at are:

KATABASIS

TIME

RESURRECTION

LITERATURE

THE SAPLING OF LIGHT

Let's tackle these one at a time.

SECTION 4: KATABASIS

Katabasis is a word referring to a journey into the underworld, a reoccurring motif seen in countless mythologies or works of literature.

Katabasis is a very interesting theme here, because it can actually be seen in ALL FOUR versions of the characters we have.

Dante (Divine Comedy) is obvious and simple. Dante and Virgil's descent into Inferno is one of the most famous examples of a katabasis.

Dante (Limbus Company) is similar. They are aboard a hell bus driven by someone named Charon, and the chapter of their story we're currently in is called Inferno.

While not a literal journey into the underworld, it is undeniably, thematically, a quest into Hell. Counts!

Princess Bari journeys across the boundaries of life and death to get the water and flowers of resurrection. Entering the divine realm of death? That's a katabasis!

And the knight Bari is the one that maybe seems the most out of place. But I think this line from Sansón's play might help us understand where they fit in.

Bari's search for the river that grows the flower they seek is leading them deep into the abyss under the Ruins.

They're already a wanderer, someone who travels far across the City and the Ruins. It could be said that they were already on a journey very similar to Dante's.

It's another case where the journey is symbolic-- looking for an object far beneath the crust of the earth, travelling across a hellscape to find it.

Oh dear, that reminds me of someone already.

SECTION 5: TIME

Dante's associations with time are obvious. They have a clock for a head, slowed down time in Canto 6, and are somehow able to 'rewind' the sinners back to life.

They have also been having strange visions where they glimpse the past of the sinners.

That last part is what interests me. Because these quick, unclear glimpses through time remind me of a certain river.

The Mirae-mirae River, which Bari encourages their companion to look into.

And Sancho does.

For Bari to understand how the Mirae-mirae River works, they would need to have looked into it themself.

Potentially, they even sipped from it, though I have no evidence. I simply find it strange that Bari would know the risks of drinking the river water, yet not the river's name.

If they had some other source of information to learn this, wouldn't it have included a name? Who can say? It doesn't actually matter.

What matters is the fact that Bari could see the future. If not by drinking, by looking into the water surface.

This goes a long way to explain this bizarre part of Sansón's stageplay earlier.

Bari arrives to entertain the lonely king with stories, and seemingly two of the stories they tell are the events of Canto V and Canto VI.

Assuming that the Mirae-mirae River shows you visions in YOUR future, not just any random person's, then for this vision to make sense, Bari needs to witness Canto V and Canto VI in the future.

It's my understanding that they might've seen their own participation in those stories as Dante.

"A hero's perilous encounter with an unyielding monster" could potentially be describing Canto III, with Sinclair vs. Peccatula Kromer, but that one's a bit too vague to be helpful.

It's not hard and fast evidence, and might just be an innocent bit of narrative rhyming. "Golly gee, isn't it fun that the stories Bari told were coincidentally similar to the adventure we are on?" Maybe.

Regardless, we have a character who is seeing glimpses of the past in Dante, and a character who can see glimpses of the future in Bari. I find that an interesting thematic connection.

SECTION 6: RESURRECTION

Now this one's a bit more promising. Being able to bring the sinners back from death and mortal injury is arguably the most notable of Dante's abilities.

Princess Bari's katabasis led her to claiming the flowers that allowed her to perform a miracle of resurrection, and she herself became a goddess of life after death following her own passing.

Both are figures capable of resurrection.

Though, that's the obvious part. I'd like to instead speak of Dante's personal death and resurrection. Because it could be said that Dante has died before.

Standing over the bank of the Lethe, Bari shared their concerns with their confidant.

To lose your memories of the life you have lived is much like death.

When the clock replaced Dante's head, their memories quickly washed away into oblivion.

Assume for me they were Bari. Bari died here, and "Dante" woke up in their place.

As Executive Manager, Dante leads the sinners through Inferno, as seen below.

(Thank you Limbus Company .gg wiki for sourcing the text here! I did not want to have to refight GasHarpoon just for a tiny part of this post...)

ISHMAEL: Before I saw that recruitment post... after I boarded the Pequod… even after I joined Limbus Company… I've never taken the helm of my own ship.

ISHMAEL: But… I think I've finally found my compass.

AHAB: Does a mere deckhand dare speak of her own compass now?

ISHMAEL: Yeah. An incredibly annoying compass that keeps getting in my way. But… they're also a compass that, even as they waver, points to where I want to go…

ISHMAEL: So I want to go on an adventure with that compass. A real adventure. To explore and learn this world we live in.

And it's not just Ishmael, either. After Heathcliff's distortion ended, he said the following.

HEATHCLIFF: Oi, Clockhead.

HEATHCLIFF: You wouldn't know this, but... Well, everyone but you would know.

HEATHCLIFF: When I'm starting to lose my mind, when I'm completely blinded and deafened…

HEATHCLIFF: When I feel my sense of self, my very being, slowly fading away into the dark…

HEATHCLIFF: … I hear that faint noise.

HEATHCLIFF: That damned noise of a clock.

HEATHCLIFF: It opens my eyes. Drags me back to reality.

DANTE: Well, that's…

DANTE: Because I'm your manager. Bringing you back to your paths is what I do.

Despite being lost in oblivion-- again, akin to death-- Dante guides their sinners along their correct paths.

Please recall what became of Princess Bari after her death.

A goddess of the divine realm who guided wayward souls through the afterlife.

From Inferno to Paradiso, perhaps.

(Huh. Maybe 'guidance' would've been a better name for this section. By this logic, maybe Bari is Vergilius.....!!.)

SECTION 7: LITERATURE

This one's quite interesting to me.

Other than being named for a poet, Dante has very little association with actual literature. They write notes on their little PDA device, but that's about it as far as I understand.

Bari however has incredible association with literature!

Most obviously with how they regaled (a person who I am comfortable assuming is) the original Don Quixote with tales of adventure and excitement.

Assuming I'm correct about some of their stories coming from the Mirae-mirae River, they would've had to pen some of those tales themself, drawing from what they saw.

In another time they were a person known as a Bookhunter, and personally responsible for executing a library's director.

When they do so, Bari says the following to the dead air.

BARI: As tonight, again, the stars

are brushed by the wind.

The line break is unusual for how Library of Ruina formats narration or dialogue, and it brings to mind poetry. One last short stanza for a dead woman, perhaps.

Literature is a motif associated with extremely important or powerful characters in Project Moon media, such as Angela. The second game took place in a god damn library!

Dante is named after a poet. Bari was a storyteller. I think this can't NOT be important.

Bari = Vergilius theory gains merit...

SECTION 8: THE SAPLING OF LIGHT

As part of Sansón's stageplay, Bari says the following.

BARI (SINCLAIR): It is said that when an efflorescent tree comes to blossom, steeped and nurtured in the waters of many rivers since its saplinghood, it becomes imbued with a special power.

BARI (SINCLAIR): I can't even begin to imagine what powers a tree born from that particular river may hold.

I think it's possible that the river Bari seeks is the river of human consciousness that Lobotomy Corporation Facility X-394 was built over-- and thus the river that the Library was built over as well.

Dante's Sapling of Light abilities correspond with the Sephirot of the Seed of Light project, meaning it's extremely likely they share an origin.

This is hardly breaking news, but the arrangement of the Sephirot and their departments in Lobotomy Corporation form the inverted version of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, forming instead the Tree of Death.

Dante's Sapling of Light ability menu shows Hokma at the top of the diagram, where as Malkuth was at the top in Lobotomy Corporation.

As Dante unlocks more abilities, we should see the Tree of Life form from each of these connections, this time healthy and upright.

It's possible that Bari's goal was to create that Tree of Life. Find the river that the Tree of Death-- the Library-- grew from, and nurture a healthy sapling in its waters again. One untainted by Angela's ambition.

(It's possible that Bari seeking the river predates the Seed of Light project. I don't think this changes much-- Bari would still be seeking to create what would end up being Dante's Sapling of Light.)

At the very least, this would establish a connection between Bari and the sapling inside of Dante's clock. I don't think it should be ignored.

SECTION 9: LIGHTNING ROUND

Phew. That's a lot of talking! I've established the main points that I feel tie a deep thematic link between Bari and our esteemed manager, even if I haven't proven necessarily that they are the same character.

However, I believe that if we're intended to guess Dante's identity before the reveal, Bari is pretty much the only coherent option.

It wouldn't be much of a twist if I could figure out all the who what when wheres and whys before it happens, I suppose!

One last section for the road. Here's a bunch of stuff that I noticed that probably doesn't matter, but might serve as tertiary evidence for this theory.

STARS:

Stars are a motif that came up a lot for Dante towards the start of the game, in the prologue and Canto 1. Here's some examples.

PANTHER: It's a shame-- I wanted to have a look at your face. I reckon you won't tell us where your star is, right?

DANTE: Like hell I am. I'm taking ■■■'s location to the grave with...

FAUST: You've lost your way in a dark forest.

DANTE: I'm... sorry, what?

FAUST: Yet you were not overcome with fear. Why was that?

DANTE: That's...

DANTE: I could simply... lift my head to find the star.

FAUST: That's right.

FAUST: Now, repeat with the heart what I tell you aloud as you remind yourself of that image.

FAUST: Follow your star.

DANTE: Follow... your star.

It's currently unclear what Dante's star is, and I will make no attempt to figure out what it could be here. Stars are undeniably a motif of theirs, is my point here.

Bari is the one to behead the Library as it exists as a Star of the City in the Librarian of Death ending, and muses on the nature of stars going out in that vaguely poetic nature as the game fades to black.

JUST KIND OF THE WAY THEY HOLD THEMSELVES:

That title's pretty flippant, but this is, in my opinion, one of the BETTER pieces of evidence!

Take a look at these two sprites for me.

The Knight of the White Moon! Hardly raring for battle. Their left hand tucked into their coat pocket, their right arm resting lazily on the scabbard of their sword.

Let's look at Dante's conversation sprite from some of the earlier cantos...

Oh my.

Well, that's not the only position we see Bari standing in. Let's look at that blurry CG from the end of Part 2. Unblurred, of course.

You have to admit, it feels at least a LITTLE bit deliberate!

They also both wear long, coloured coats with full black clothing underneath-- but I will readily admit that "long coat/suit with monocoloured shirt under it" describes 90% of the characters in this game.

PRONOUNS:

Both Dante and Bari have been consistently referred to with they/them pronouns, contrary to what some select few Limbus fans on Reddit would rather you believe.

I personally don't subscribe to the whole "the reason why Dante uses they/them pronouns is because they're intended to be a self-insert character for you, the player!"

I think Dante is a HELPFUL player insert-- for those who have not played Lobotomy Corporation or Library of Ruina. Their unfamiliarity with the City, its people and its customs is an excellent way to ease a new player into the world of Project Moon.

That does NOT mean that Dante IS the player, however. Dante has many characteristics of their own and is no more a reflection of the player than any other character.

It is entirely possible that Dante and Bari both using neutral pronouns is currently just an obfuscation to hide Dante's identity and Bari's general entire thing from the player for the time being.

If that is the case, and we find out they're both men or something... Egg on my face, I suppose.

Either way, it's a characteristic both of them share. Add it to the pile.

(Though if they both turn out to be non-binary or women, I will derive a little bit of O-05-76 from all the he/him Dante defaulters...)

(Thank you the-spoonicorn for the correction! In 7-35, Sancho says the following to Don Quixote.)

SANCHO: Will she be coming today? Again?

(Bari, at the very least, is confirmed to be a woman. This does not disprove that she could be Dante, though it does kneecap the shared motif of having a neutral or obscured gender identity.)

(Thank you again!)

BARI-DEGI:

It's my understanding that the mythological Princess Bari's name derives from Bari-degi, which can mean 'abandoned child' or 'thrown away thing' in Korean.

This is because she was abandoned by her family for being the seventh daughter born to them.

With Bari cautioning Sancho about drinking from the River of Oblivion, it feels strange to suggest they would've willingly cooperated with a plan that would've resulted in the erasure of their own self and memories. It disquieted them enough before.

This isn't me saying it hurts the theory-- I actually think it IMPROVES it.

It would be dramatic and also fulfils part of the original myth regarding Princess Bari, and makes Bari's name a fun self-fulfilling prophecy.

If they craved the power of resurrection so much that they would take their own memories, despite cautioning Sancho against it. That they would throw their old name away, as Princess Bari was thrown away by her family.

It symbolizes both Princess Bari dying after a natural life, and her crossing into the realm of the dead in the first place.

In that dark forest, Bari would've taken a katabasis-- died and crossed into the realm of the dead. And they immediately began an adventure through that Inferno as Dante.

(Side note, perhaps if the Sapling inside of Dante's head was also watered by the River of Oblivion... could that be why Dante's memories are missing?)

Well, I'm not here to prove that.

I'm also not here to prove Bari is Dante. I just want you to think about it!

SECTION 10: IN CONCLUSION, IT WOULD BE PRETTY COOL:

And wouldn't it!? Dante's true identity is a mystery that's been hanging over us for such a long time. If we find out that we've had canonical pre-amnesia Dante dialogue since Canto 7-- hell, since LIBRARY OF RUINA, that'd be incredible!

I think it makes perfect sense that if Bari is pre-amnesia Dante, they appeared in one of Library of Ruina's bad endings. It's an obscure ending to a long and difficult game, and we know that Project Moon plan these projects far in advance.

Why not tease the protagonist of your third game, but hide it under everyone's noses!?

Why not make the protagonist of your universe where everyone's named after stories or folklore a poet and storyteller!?

And why not base that character in an important spiritual Korean myth!?

Gaaagh. At the end of the day, we can't know for sure, and I haven't proven anything. But thank you for coming on this journey with me.

It's a shame that the most we can see of Bari's capabilities and attitude is in the paper fight where they're wearing a helmet and they're so stylised.

If only we could just take that helmet off and

holy SHIT