#rc whats the truth

[romance-club-daily]

What's the truth? HS2 Edition~

July/2023

VK

[k-hotchoisan]

backseat serenade

<mingi x fem!reader>

Getting stuck in the backseat of your friend’s car after a night out with your drunk friends wasn’t how you thought of ending the night, especially not on Mingi’s lap.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, forced proximity, technically exhibitionism but not because no one ends up noticing, fingering, light choking and wrist pining, riding, cream pies, orgasms, something is going on in the backseat…, furcoat mingi

word count: 3.3K (what the fucK)

a/n: y'all be eating fucking good fr. Also shout out to my loml @bro-atz for helping out with the plot a little <3 shout out to mingi brain rot!

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @woojirang @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn  @voicesinmyhead-rc @woojirang @wlv-asteria @jjoongstar @comicnerd557 or @kpopwrites @vic0921

networks: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

“Who else is here?” You ask. 

She shrugs. “My boyfriend and a couple of his friends. You know them.” Well, you’ve definitely met a couple of your friend’s boyfriend’s friends before. Your eyes scan the crowd and sure enough, you spot familiar faces. 

And then your eyes rest on a particular male—his hair dyed platinum and slicked back, already drawing attention because of his height alongside his fur coat that hung over his shoulders. You never thought someone could pull off a fur coat that well actually. A pair of glasses sits on his nose bridge, which seems to somehow accentuate how sharp his eyes are. He’s been on your radar since he appeared on a mutual friend’s Instagram. 

“He’s pretty cute isn’t he?”, your friend’s date pushes, lightly bumping his arm against yours. 

You cast him a glance. “Just surprised that there are people who still wear fur coats in this economy.”

“That’s-“

“Song Mingi”, you reply, not taking notice of your friend’s boyfriend’s surprised expression. 

“You know him?”

“Came across him”, you reply a little too quickly. You sure as hell were not about to spill the truth. 

He definitely looks and is intimidating for sure, especially when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice so low that it tickles your ears. You could hear him talk forever, you think. You could imagine how he moans in your ears.

You blink. The fuck?

And so, for the past hour or so, you’ve been stealing glances at the blond male, but unfortunately, there was only so much staring could do, and it was not helping you get the male’s attention. Sure, the both of you actually followed each other (you were surprised when he followed you back), and the way he liked your stories sometimes made your stomach grow butterflies, but you never actually interacted with him in real life. 

It wasn’t until the party was slowing down, when you came back from being distracted by another friend, was when you realise Mingi was gone. A ping of disappointment fills you up, but it’s not as horrendous as the feeling of regret—for not just going up to talk to him. You wonder when you’ll see him again.

You decide to find your friend and call it a night.

“Do you wanna hitch a ride with us?”, your friend asks, uselessly trying to balance herself, her partner holding onto her waist. 

“The driver didn’t drink, I promise”, your friend’s partner assures. 

You open the car door and your eyes widen when you spot Mingi. 

You whip your head to your friend to ask her sincewhen Mingi came with the friend group but you realise you wouldn’t be getting any concrete answers from a tipsy person. 

You glance back at the male donned in the maroon fur coat, who seems rather surprised when he sees that you were the one who opened the car door. 

But Mingi’s expression remains indifferent—god knows what he’s thinking about but you swore you saw a tint of something in his eyes when your friends told you to just sit on his lap because “the car had no space”. 

“Hi, y/n”, Mingi’s deep voice calling your name is kept in a bottle and stored at the back of your head. 

“Hey Mingi”, you greet back, cautiously approaching him. 

“Are you okay with this?” You ask, testing the waters by putting your weight on his left thigh. 

“It’s fine. I’m just worried that it’s gonna be uncomfortable for you since it’s gonna take a while to reach your place right?”

Right. You nod in defeat. 

Your body jolts slightly when you feel Mingi’s touch burn against your skin—especially your thighs. 

His friend on the passenger seat has the aux cord and he’s picked out a song to blast in the speakers. You feel goosebumps bloom across the nape of your neck when Mingi’s voice hits your ear from behind. 

“Sorry, you might need to move in a little more, Princess. We have three more squeezing with us at the back.”

You blink, processing the information before internally thanking the universe that the car is dark so the red flushing against your cheeks gets hidden. 

Soon you find yourself fully on Mingi’s lap, and although you try not to lean too much against him, you realise the position feels awkward, and when Mingi personally shifts you with his hands instead, you decide to stay put. 

The energy in the car is high, even after all that partying, which you easily deduce to be due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, you couldn’t be singing along at the top of your lungs, not when you’re subconsciously aware that Mingi is just behind you. 

Sitting on someone’s lap was definitely not as comfortable as sitting on a car seat, and that was a given, so you find yourself shifting constantly, not realising Mingi closing his fists every time your ass shifts against him, particularly his crotch. 

Suddenly you feel the weight below you shift. Mingi’s arm wraps around your waist, his weight pressing against you. You stay put the moment you feel his lips barely inches away from the shell of your ear. 

“I strongly suggest you try to stay still, y/n, or it’ll become a problem for the both of us.” 

You turn your head slightly, barely enough to capture him within your peripherals. At first, you wonder if you’re starting to annoy him, but when you feel his hands slide down to your thighs and something hard pressing against your ass, you get your answer. 

And you wonder how far you should take this. 

Your face is heating up, at the idea you’re just sitting on Mingi’s thick erection, separated by the fabric of his pants and the ridiculously thin fabric of your body con dress. You wonder about his size, which only gets more vivid since you’re literally sitting right on his fucking cock—how thick he would be, how much he would stretch you open, and it’s making you slowly drench your panties. 

The more his erection is blatantly pressing against you, the more you can’t help but fidget on his lap. You’re wondering why Mingi hasn’t said anything, you wonder if he even felt it at all. The moment that thought forms in your brain, you pick out what sounded like low groans from behind you. Then you feel Mingi’s fingers press against your bare thighs, just this fucking close to lifting your dress. 

Mingi shifts against you, his hard cock now even more prominent against your ass—directly below your pussy if it wasn’t for the fact that there were layers of annoying fabric keeping them apart. 

His deep voice is like a melody in your ear,  “I’m closing an eye if you’re just doing this on accident, but there’s only so much more grinding I can take princess.”

You glance over to the company seated just right beside you—they are still singing their hearts out thanks to the self-assigned DJ of the car. The music was still blasting, and you realise you and Mingi are slowly forming another world—one growing of hot and heavy air. 

You’re trying to weigh your options and risks, but the constant friction of Mingi’s cock just poking you through his pants mixed with the light buzz from the alcohol earlier is keeping you less than logical. 

You lean back, the back of your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the thick coat tickle your cheeks, taking in the scent of his cologne that you swear only he could pull off, the boldness rushing into your veins like adrenaline.

“And if I said it wasn’t an accident?”

You don’t know what he might do next, but it’s making your legs tremble by the second. Your clit is fucking throbbing from the sheer anticipation. 

Mingi’s eyes dart to glance at you while his head remains positioned straight, before he presses himself onto you with a smirk against your ears, “Right. Glad we cleared that up, princess.” 

His hands press on the sides of your throat, two fingers tipping your jaw to turn your head to face him as he clashes his lips against yours, and you’re ready for him to just take whatever the fuck you have left. You’re doing your best to muffle your moans through the kisses, but as every second passes, you’re ready to give into it—mostly scream his fucking name into the night at this point. 

Your eyes are so glazed out, your pussy throbbing and drenched, your mind so sexually frustrated the more Mingi keeps you waiting. Mingi’s fingers trail along your bare thighs, his legs forcing yours to stay open, easily letting the gather of your dress push upwards, while his fingers push your panties to the side. You hear him mutter fuck when your wet cunt drenches his fingers. He barely drags his fingers over your clit, yet you already feel like you’re about to burst. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” Mingi asks, sinking his gaze into yours. You swallow hard and nod, so fucking entranced by his sharp eyes behind the glasses, and alongside the fact that his fingers are rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Fuck me. You’re so fucking wet for me”, he hisses, eating up your moans as he fits his thick fingers into your pussy, filling you up instantly. Oh god. You feel your mind completely blank out at the sensation of Song Mingi stretching you out. 

You swear that the wet sounds of Mingi’s fingers fucking your sopping cunt were louder than the music, but for some reason, and thank fuck, no one else seemed to notice. Yet. 

His other hand clasps over your mouth as he watches your eyes roll back, your desperate and satisfied moans muffled every time his thumb presses against your clit while his fingers fill you up again and again. 

You shouldn’t have agreed to stay quiet. 

Mingi’s legs are strong as fuck because his knees keep your legs from snapping shut as you let the feeling build in your stomach. Your hips are involuntarily bucking against his fingers, craving for him to fuck his fingers deeper. Shit. You can’t seem to get enough. He releases his hand off your mouth for a while, letting it wander to your tits, rolling your nipples over your dress with his fingers, listening to you pant and whimper.  

“Can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt once we get off”, he mutters into your ear, increasing his pressure on your clit. 

“Please… fuck! Mingi…” you trail, not even sure what you’re begging for at this point. But the knot tightens hard and taut. You’re about to snap anytime soon. 

“Cum on my fingers for me, y/n. Show me how your cunt is gonna feel like when my cock is gonna stuff you full.”

His hand goes back to clamping over your mouth to muffle your cries while your orgasm rips through your body. Your eyes roll back, and your back arched against his abdomen, the pleasure spreading through every nerve while he’s still fucking you with his fingers, enjoying the way you’re completely undone because of him. Your cunt can’t seem to stop spasming and it’s only from his fucking fingers. 

But it slowly wears off, and he releases his hand from your mouth, letting you catch your breath. 

His fingers slowly leave your spent and creamy cunt, and for a split second, you’re almost disappointed. You turn your head, watching Mingi slide his stained fingers past his lips, licking them clean, and his eyes locked onto you. 

“You taste so fucking good, Princess”, he whispers, before his hands are on your throat again, pulling you in for a wet kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue, your face heating up at his words once more. 

The split second you pull away from him is when the music stops, and you hear your name being called.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes widen, and Mingi lowers his knees, letting you quickly shut your legs, letting his arm rest close to your legs, blocked by his fur coat. Thank fuck you’re in the dark. 

“This is your stop right?” Your friend asks before she turns on the interior car lights. You glance at the apartment building and sure enough, it is your apartment building. 

“Right”, you manage to answer with a forced smile. 

And as you are about to leave the car, Mingi suddenly announces, “I’ll send her up. Don’t wait for me.” He takes off his fur coat, draping it over your shoulders, quickly turning away as he pushes the car door open, ignoring the suggestive looks his group of friends were giving him before curtly saying his goodbyes and shutting the car door. 

Mingi is pretty much gentle with you as the both of you head up to your apartment, asking if you’re feeling cold, even though he’s only in a black tank top. You can’t help but gawk at how he looks even under shitty elevator lights—still so fucking hot. His fingers haven’t let go of yours yet since the both of you left the car, and he sure isn’t letting you go when the both of you reach to the door of your apartment. 

You feel so ridiculous in this oversized fur coat, but the fact that Mingi’s smell is just all over it makes you turn a blind eye to it. 

You unlock the door, pushing it open, the post nut clarity hitting, but the realisation of Mingi in a private space with you sending you mind into the gutter. 

And suddenly you feel your cunt throb again. Fuckin hell. 

“Cute place you have there”, he comments, slipping his shoes off. 

“I try to make the most out of it”, you return, taking off the fur coat, handing it back to him. 

Mingi pauses, staying near the door.

“I got no clue why I left the car like that, y/n. If you want me to leave, I can just call a cab and-“ 

His mouth runs, watching the way you’re walking towards him, and his lips snap shut when you pull him in for an open mouth kiss, his thoughts completely disappearing like they never existed. 

“Finish what you started, Minki”, you whisper when you pull away. 

For once, you like the way red looks on his pretty face, the red that disappears when he catches on, eye fucking you while thinking how fucking hot you look under normal apartment lights than the dim lights. 

His hands cup the back of your neck before his fingers are on your scalp, tugging your hair to face him, letting his lips collide with yours. You taste him so much more intensely now, and fuck does he taste like heaven. 

You feel his hands leave your head, going for your wrists instead, and he backs you up against the wall, deciding to pin your fucking wrists against the wall while stealing all of the oxygen you have left in between pants. 

His fingers trail down so lightly across your skin, you feel like you’re about to combust. 

“Is the couch fine for you?” He asks. You nod, just internally begging him to do anything to you. 

His hands slip down to your thighs, carrying you up in his arms, kissing and sucking against the skin of your neck while he navigates through your apartment. When he does find the couch (rather quickly), he lets you fall onto it, watching the way your dress rides up higher to your hips, your soaked panties coming into view, and his cock growing hard once more. 

“You know, you’re honestly killing me with that dress”, Mingi comments, his fingers tugging off your drenched panties, almost salivating over your glistening cunt. “Had to hold back from just pulling you out and fucking you.”

Oh, fucking gods. 

“That’s why we’re here now, aren’t we?” You tease, watching his satisfied grin grow bigger. 

You can’t wait for him to fuck your brains out. 

Mingi squats, letting his face press against your bare cunt, giving licks up, his tongue pressing against your clit while holding your legs apart. He thinks your whimpers and begs are like a fucking symphony—and he could listen to them over and over again while he breaks you, over and over again. 

It doesn’t last long, unfortunately, because he feels like he’s about to burst the longer he waits, his cock bulging against the fabric of his pants. 

So Mingi unbuckles his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, his thick and long cock springs from his apparel, wet and decorated in thick precum. He gives himself quick strokes, amused by the way your face is turning a soft shade of pink. 

His thick fingers once again hold your wrists above you, lining his cock up to your pretty hole and pushing himself in, his girth taking up all space instantly. You see stars splatter beneath your eyelids as his cock stretches you out—thick and heavy. 

“Fuck. Song Mingi-“ you cry out, struggling against his grasp. 

“So fuckin tight, princess. Fuck, you feel so fucking good”, he sighs, letting himself bottom out in you, relishing in the way your face completely contorts into pleasure when he’s fully seated in you. 

And when he starts fucking you, your eyes roll back—the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you switching off most of your senses. 

You sense his arms pining your wrists are growing tired, so you do your best to tap his arm, and Mingi lets go, watching you slide his wrist down to your throat. 

You sure know how to push his buttons. 

He applies pressure and it hits all the perfect spots. A choked moan escapes you while he fucks you dumb. 

“I’d love to choke you more, princess, but I really need you to ride me right now”, Mingi whispers, his fingers leaving your throat, and he pulls his cock out. 

You climb onto his lap, lining his cock before you push yourself down, his fullness knocking the wind out of you once more. 

“Are you gonna take all of my cum like a good girl?” He hums, wiping away the tears from your eyes. You nod weakly, biting your lip. 

“That’s my good girl”, he compliments, and it makes your heart fucking soar. Mingi bounces you on his cock, groaning at the way you’re squeezing around him. “Fuck, squeeze me just like that. God, your pussy feels so fucking amazing, princess.”

“Mingi, I’m so close. Oh fuck I’m gonna-“

Mingi only holds your thighs down, watching you shake, feeling your cunt just clenching down and flutter on his cock, cream seeping down his shaft, and he groans in your ear, keeping himself deep in your pussy, his thick cum flooding into your tight cunt, listening to you curse while he forces you to ride out your high. 

“So fucking good. Mingi…” you mutter through tears and hiccup, letting Mingi kiss your tears before he slowly pulls his wet cock out of you, satisfied at the way his cum slowly trickles out of you while you catch your breath. 

Mingi waits for your mind to slowly clear, and you climb off him, but your fingers stay interlocked with his. 

“We can wash up and order food if you want”, you say, trying to avoid the fact that you’re still flushing slightly considering Song Mingi made a wreck out of you. 

But he pulls you along with him. 

“An invitation to shower together? I’ll gladly fuckin take it, princess.”

[protobrieile]

maybe i should make a masterdoc. we used to have a ff nilex masterdoc and that was fun

[mo0nfairy]

I gotta see a part of yandere Leon where reader remembers him as they get through los Iluminados maybe some yandere in action lol (at least only if you want to!)

part 1. part 3. part 4.

tw :: obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, mention of drugs, framing, handcuffs, stalking, trauma, guns, wounds, heights, being locked up.

⸺ ooooooo !!! i've been meaning to make a part 2 of my last ask, but had zero idea where to go from where i ended. i also had played a bit of RE2 before the remake came out recently, so a piece of my brain has been kept up in raccoon city for a little while. i would love to express my thoughts and mesh these two games together !!

let's start with where we left off in los iluminados.

upon having your handcuffs taken off by the stranger who is far too close for comfort, you pace backwards, far away as you can get from this insanity of a man. his attitude abruptly shifts into something softer, a major contrast to the emotional breakdown he had just seconds prior. he realizes you're afraid — afraid of him. and as much as the mere thought destroys him to the point of breaking down again, he shoves a sob back down his throat and keeps his distance, despite how desperately he wishes to close it.

6 years. 6 years. he has been waiting over 2,190 miserable days for this single moment. all the sleepless nights spent searching the world for you; all the hopeless nights spent clinging to pillows, praying by some miracle it will somehow become you. every second of these past 6 years has been spent dreaming of this single moment. and even though your reunion wasn't the teary-eyed, passionate kiss in the rain he had hoped for, you are still here with him nonetheless.

and like hell will he let you slip from his grasp again.

with as much time as his needy self would grant him being physically away from you, he is soon at your side. leon then wraps you in his jacket and you swear you hear a harsh gasp escape from him when his finger accidentally makes contact with the skin of your neck. despite your negligence and more-than-obvious discomfort, you do appreciate the new warm embrace after a week of cold rain and damp clothes. it smells exactly like him, as well.

and with that, he's got a gentle hand hovering over your lower back as he guides you through the depths of this hellhole. and piece by piece, memories that had been buried in your brain begin to disinter themselves.

for example, you got a staring problem bro?? for the entirety of the time you spend with leon in los iluminados, there is literally never a single moment where this mans eyes are not on you. half of the time it is to ensure you are unharmed, but the other half consists of him staring in complete and utter awe. it's kind of hard to focus on surviving when leon is constantly staring into your soul. but it has just been so fucking long since he has been able to see you in all of your glory, so please excuse him for any inappropriate behavior on his end.

also, you knew you have lived in raccoon city for a short period of time before the events of RE2 happened, but like everything else that relates to that damned place, you couldn't remember a thing.

except now. leon's gaze uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held in one of the RPD holding cells. the atrocious scent, the uncomfortable bench, the paint peeling from the walls. you try and scrutinize what on earth you could have been arrested for, but your attempts are merely futile. but unbeknownst to you, your arrest was nothing but bullshit. and to say leon has had a crush on you from the second you moved into RC would be nothing short of the truth. so, by pulling some strings, the rookie had managed to lock you up for what he calls 'bonding time'. he'll place a chair backwards in front of your cell, prop his arms on the backrest and admire you with your full attention finally on him (instead of just stalking you around town).

two things you now remember about this man: he was so adorably baby-faced back then and my god, was he awkward. he still cannot talk for shit and i mean this with my whole heart. his sweet, innocent eyes gaze at you while he tries to play it cool, pulling cards like "yeah, i workout" and "you come here often?". all as if he hadn't personally arrested you for possession of illegal substances he planted himself. (nothing will happen to you, obvi. he just desperately needed a second alone with you to show off how charismatic he can be. or try to be, at least).

and for the short second of seeing him after 6 years, his eyes were just devoid of any life. you had assumed the trauma inflicted from that night had caused such a contrast in his physical appearance, and you would be right to assume that. but the soulless eyes, monotone voice, and lackluster personality was entirely due to your disappearance. days upon days of the lonely, eternal torment destroyed his sanity. however, that illustrious boy you can barely remember seems to have returned with your presence.

another thing you can't believe you had forgotten was how intense his stare is. the way he stares is illegible and sometimes overwhelming. he shivers in his stance, whimpers at your every move, and his mind runs rampant with all sorts of obsessive declarations of love. although it may seem creepy to others and especially yourself, do not fret. he has no ill intent towards you, god he could never! this puppy-dog of a man is simply marveling at your sheer existence.

you are able to retrieve another lost memory when you have to jump from a window and into his arms (for those who say he won't be able to catch you, stfu. have ya'll seen how beefy his arms are??? anyways....). the secret agent you have grown to like during your stay in los iluminados jumps down marvelously (most def showing off his james-bond-esque agilities to you). he now watches from below as you stare at the distance beneath you in trepidation. this distrust you have — he is going to travel to the ends of the universe to fix it. no matter what.

you begin to ponder, he has savagely brutalized all threats in your path and held your hand as if he were holding the world all in the same breath. you should trust him, especially after witnessing the pure display of loyalty he has for you.

"don't be afraid, y/n. i'll catch you, i promise!" there is 10000% a way to walk through the house and down the stairs to get to him, but ofc he's not gonna tell you. why would he willingly throw away the opportunity to be your knight in shining armor?

"you will?" your voice is full of apprehension. his stare on you feels like the same bullets he's forced upon your attackers.

"always."

with that, you rip the bandaid off and jump from the ledge. and leon was most certainly not lying. you land safely in his embrace and he wraps his arms tightly around your form. and to finally have you so close, after so, so long of devastatingly praying he could feel you once more.......... if he had a tail, it would for sure be wagging so fast it would morph into a blur. and the way he holds you is different, as if his gentle nature is reserved for you and you only (which it is. this is literally him in a nutshell).

and when you had instinctively buried your face into his neck upon landing, clinging to him out of fear of hitting the ground, he literally melts. i'm serious, he literally just 🫠🫠🫠🫠. the faint hum of laughter and adoration that escapes his throat breaks you out of your state of shock. you made it safely to the ground without breaking every bone in your body, hooray! (as if there is a single reality in existence where leon would ever allow that to happen, but i digress).

you meet his gaze and there is that all-too familiar stare he gives you. leon's arms holding onto you like a lifeline uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held like this all those years ago. you can't recall exactly where in raccoon city you were, but you can remember how humiliated you were when you tripped over a crack in the pavement and ate shit. there was the fairest of scrapes against your shin, but the mortification hurt far more than any wound. while you dust yourself off and attempt to ignore the burning stares of pedestrians, a shout of your name sparks your attention.

the RPD gear and besotted eyes you're met with could be no other than that baby-faced rookie. you ponder of what he was doing on this side of town. was it a simple coincidence you had run into each other? or perhaps, had he followed you? just when you think you can't feel more embarrassed, leon gets down on one knee and dramatically inspects your wound. and my god, he acts like you were shot or something. he visibly shudders from the sight of your leg; people begin to gather around the commotion. with pure ease, he then scoops you into his arms to bring you to safety. you can feel his heart pound like a machine gun beneath the palm of your hand.

despite the humiliation deprived from this event, you fortunately are free from anything mortifying in los iluminados. however, leon doesn't seem to understand when to take a hint.

"uh... you can put me down now." you come out of your memory to thrash in his grasp and avoid his intense gaze, but your prince charming seems to still be caught in his y/n-filled daze.

after a few long seconds, your comment seems to finally reach his brain. "huh?" his response is faint and you almost don't hear it.

you repeat yourself and begrudgingly, leon then slowly puts you back onto your feet, savoring the last few seconds spent with you in his arms. exactly where you belong. you can only fear how much more suffocating affection you'll have to endure before you can finally remember what happened that night.

i think someone legit needs to slap me across the face and bring me back into reality cause holy shit...... i went WAYY too far with this. my brain is a mess thank u for reading.

i have more thoughts about this........ just incase u were curious........ ;)

[strangespinapple]

RC ~ When It Hurts

Rafe Cameron x FemReader

Blurb: you and rafe are together. and lately he's been acting differently so you confront him. but what happens when you find out he's been lying to you?

Warnings: angst, making out, cheating accusations, dark rafe (coming soon)

Word Count: 723

A/N: hey so I was planning on posting an entire fic with smut and everything when the poll was done, but I had to put my cat down. i've had her for 10 years and she was literally my best friend, so I've been taking some time to grieve. but I figured that I should post a blurb so that y'all can have something to read while I continue to work on the rest of the fic, and maybe just maybe a part 2 and 3 🤷🏽‍♀️. Enjoy!

P2 Here

Song Inspo: Hurts So Good by Astrid S

You and Rafe are the outer banks it couple. The minute you became his, you became the kook princess. There was nothing you could ever want for, and nothing anyone would ever deny you. The entire island knew you were Rafe's and he was yours. When you and rafe first began dating it was everything you could ever dream of and so much more. But it didn’t take you long to see the dark, ruthless, and impulsive side of him. Rafe Cameron is a lot of things, a complex puzzle you are still trying to figure out.

For the past few weeks Rafe has been acting really weird. Normally he would be glued to your side and be at your beck and call 24/7. But lately he has been out all hours of the night and barely saying two words to you. He’s even been hiding his phone from you. Whenever you would enter a room or sit next to him, he would put his phone face down or tilt his phone to the side so you couldn't fully see the screen. You know your intuition is trying to tell you something, but you didn’t want to invade his privacy by going through his phone. So you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and ask him about his behavior. 

You were laying against the headboard reading your book, when rafe walked out of the bathroom heading toward y'all's shared bed. 

“We need to talk” you sighed as you put your bookmark in your book and placed it on your nightstand table. 

“About what?” He plopped down next to you. 

“I need to ask you a serious question and you better be honest with me.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Okay.” 

“Are you cheating on me?”

Rafe’s face drops a little, then he quickly regains his composure. But not without you noticing it first. 

“No, are you kidding me? How could you accuse me of something like that?” 

His face scrunched up with a look of hurt and shock on it. You kept your same expression, not fully believing him. 

“I’m not accusing you, I'm just asking you a question. You don’t spend time with me anymore. You act like you’re too busy to speak to me. You hide your phone from me, when you never did that before. You’ve been out all hours of the night and I just feel like you’re hiding something from me.” 

“Baby it’s because I am hiding something from you.” 

You turned your body towards him while raising your eyebrow. He places his hands up in defense and innocence. 

“I’m planning a surprise for you. I know I’ve been working so much and I wanted to do something special for you.” 

You could tell by the emotion in his voice and the look of hurt on his face that he was telling you the truth. You felt your heart sink into your ass, instantly feeling guilty. Overall Rafe is a really great boyfriend, way better than your ex, and you just accused him of committing a serious offense against your relationship. 

“Rafey I am so sorry. Please forget I said anything please. I’m so stupid.” 

You placed your hand on top of his, gently squeezing it. Rafe takes both of your hands in his, and holds them up to his lips and kisses them. 

“You are anything but stupid. I know how suspicious it seems, but I need you to believe me when I say I am not cheating on you.” 

He let go of your hands and brought his hands to both sides of your face. He caressed your jaw, while his thumb rubbed back and forth on your cheeks, staring deeply into your eyes. 

“I would never hurt you like that. I love you too much to lose you.” 

“I'm sorry baby.” You stared at his lips as he did the same to you. 

“I know. I’m sorry too, but we’ll be okay. I promise.” 

He pulled your face closer to his and captured your lips in a cultivating kiss. It started off slowly and passionately, filled with love and raw emotions. 

If only you knew it was all a lie. Rafe Cameron is a lot of things and unfortunately for you, a liar is definitely one of them.

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

P2 Here

A/N: thank you guys so much for reading my very first fic!! let me know if you guys would like a part 2 or if you would like me to make this into a series.

I have so many ideas for this fic and for many others. I'm still learning how to navigate Tumblr as a writer but soon I will be taking request for blurbs or full fics and have a fully functioning masterlist.

please leave a like and/or a comment I will respond back. Any feedback is appreciated BUT BE NICE cuz I will bite back 😉

[nepthys-merenset]

Pretenses

It's time for Dmitry x Lane #4! Part 1 is here, Part 2 here, and Part 3 here.

Title: "Pretenses"

Summary: Called into the General's office to bandage the wounds she gave him the night before, Lane wonders—has the madness that gripped them last night passed, or will it take new form in the light of a new day?

Pairing: Lane x Dmitry [Heaven’s Secret: Requiem]

Word Count: 2,036

Rating: T

TW: None

Taglist: @rc-catalog

Pretenses

The walk from the training field to the building that housed Dmitry’s office was quick, but it could have taken an eternity. Lane spent the entire time carefully schooling her features into what she hoped was an impassive façade as an unpleasant fear of being exposed gnawed at the edges of her mind.

She wanted, needed, this to appear to be nothing but two colleagues, a squad member and her superior officer, walking together.

Every time she stole a glance at Dmitry, it appeared that that was what he wanted, too—he walked slowly, matching her pace, but he didn’t look at her. The calm, detached look she had gotten used to never left his face, every inch the untouchable General leading his subordinate through ordinary operations.

To an outside observer, nothing would seem amiss. A veteran of a childhood spent hiding her true feelings and play-acting at perfection while the truth rotted in the lonely corners of her family home, Lane considered herself an expert at revealing only what she wanted to. But she couldn’t stop herself from wondering—if he were to look at her, would he see something she didn’t know how to hide?

She suspected that he, the only one in the squad who had managed to pull genuine reactions, genuine feelings, from recesses of her soul she thought she’d lost, just might. But what she couldn’t grasp, the question driving her mad, was what that something might be.

As they drew near the building, he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him into the lobby and up the stairs. She had climbed these stairs many times before, but never like this—every other time she had been called to the General’s office, there had been a professional pretense. She had entered his office as a squad member delivering progress reports or, as was the case last night, as a suspect in Noah’s disappearance. There had always been defensible reasons for her presence.

Today was different. Today, she was entering his office as a woman who had attacked him last night. A woman who had thrown herself at him and kissed him. And now, she had been explicitly invited to his office to bandage the wound she’d given him.

The door of his office closed behind them, and, steeling herself, she turned to face him.

Remember why you’re here.

Answers. The Book. Not for him.

*****

The training session hadn’t gone how he’d planned. He’d had every intention of treating this like any other training session he would have planned with any other new recruit, and those certainly didn’t involve orchestrating situations where he would have to touch them. Fall into the snow with them. Hold them against his body.

Reveal personal information about himself.

There was something about the way she looked at him with a carefully impassive face, but a question always lurking in her eyes. She needed something from him. What that was, he wasn’t sure, but a nagging desire to find out hadn’t left his thoughts in days.

Dmitry was no stranger to people needing things from him—as the squad’s leader, people needed things from him all day, every day. Orders, information, assurance. He gave it all, as easy as breathing. It was one of few things that made sense in his life nowadays.

With Lane, it was different. The only thing she had asked him for was information he didn’t have, and the only thing she had given him were more questions. She left him wanting, wondering, in ways he hadn’t experienced since before the apocalypse had begun to chip away at his humanity.

None of his painstakingly honed coping mechanisms worked with her—it was impossible to respond to her with the rote discipline that was enough for every other member of the squad. Even now, trying and failing not to watch her as he followed her up the stairs, he was reminded of that fact.

I should have gone first.

But he hadn’t, and so he watched her. The way her long hair swayed gently against her back, the way her hands brushed against her thighs, the way her muscles tensed and released as she climbed. And as the door shut behind them and she turned to face him, he realized, in a fatalistic sort of way, this isn’t going to go according to plan, either.

*****

Lane held her breath, feeling her heart skip a beat as her eyes met his. He was watching her—looked like he had already been watching her—with an odd expression on his face. Still alert, still cautious, but almost...curious. Like he had accepted something, and wanted to know what would happen next.

She wanted to know, too.

“There’s gauze and medical scissors in my desk,” he said, crossing the office to sit down tiredly on the old green couch. “Top left. Don’t go rummaging around, and don’t think of trying anything. They’re not sharp enough.”

She shot him a quick, searching look—did he really let me in here thinking I might attack him again?—but he looked relaxed, one corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. So she nodded, returning the smile, and went to his desk, where she quickly found what she needed. Unspooling the gauze, she cut off a length, then made a show of returning the scissors to the desk, loudly closing the drawer, and displaying her hands to him.

The playfulness of the moment quickly vanished, swallowed up by a strange, swooping sensation that flowed through her entire body, when she was rewarded with an indulgent look that almost thawed the ice in his eyes.

What is this feeling?

 Taking a deep, steadying breath, she approached him. She would have to get close to him, very close, to do this, and touch him in ways she hadn’t before. Softly, gently. Trying not to consider the implications of what she was about to do, the professional barriers she was about to consciously cross, she reached for him and tentatively touched the bandages.

Her fingers were icy against his neck, and he flinched, small tremors racing across his skin. She drew back slightly, watching his reaction to her, before whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” he said quietly, shifting back to where he was before.

Whatever it is, I’m not the only one feeling it.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them, before reaching out again and gently unwinding the bandage from his neck. There it was—the wound she had left last night. Her resolve crumbled as she stared at it, remembering—

Moving as one, lips crashing together—

Her back, pressed against the cool window—

A sharp bite, a jolt of life running through her—

Warmth, connection, understanding—

She bit her lip, searching for a distraction, then cursed herself as she realized that she couldn’t have possibly found a worse thing to take her mind off of last night. “I—” she fumbled, looking for something, anything. “Does it hurt?”

With an effort that looked almost palpable, he looked away from her lips and sighed. “No,” he said, a hand stealing towards the jagged scar on his left elbow. “I’ve had worse.”

She nodded mutely, wondering if she already knew the story behind that scar and who had given it to him, as she carefully wrapped a length of fresh gauze around his neck. Her fingers brushed against his skin often, and he didn’t lean away, didn’t stop her. He was just still, breathing evenly, allowing her to touch him.

Her task finished, she stepped back and cautiously met his eyes again. Almost immediately, another small jolt ran through her body—he was watching her again, his gaze calculating, as if he were trying to figure something out. Something about her. And as she returned his gaze, she realized, I don’t want to leave. I want answers, too.

Last night had brought nothing but more questions, questions she had turned over and over in her mind all day. Why had she kissed him? Why had warmth spread through her entire body every time he touched her? Why had he, so cold and detached, kissed her back, as if the distraction of the shattered lamp had been the only thing stopping him from ripping her clothes off right then and there?

Would I have let him?

Her eyes trained on him, waiting for a response, she moved slowly, carefully. First from his side to in front of him, then bolder—forward, in between his legs. He didn’t stop her, just tracked her movements with his intent gaze. She needed to know—will it be the same today? Or has this strange madness passed in the light of a new day?

He still wasn’t stopping her. Instead, his hands found her waist, touching her lightly. There was no strength in his grip, just a gentle touch that would have allowed her to step back at any moment if she wanted. But I don’t want that, she realized with sudden clarity. I want to know.

With her heart in her throat and vitality racing through her veins, she reached out tentative hands, one to his face and the other to his neck as she leaned down. There would be no going back after this—there would be no adrenaline, no pretense, to blame this on. There was only a conscious decision that she had made, and that he supported.

She kissed him softly, gently, slowly. He answered in kind, accepting this for what it was: a question, an exploration.

Can you help me feel? Can you help me understand what I’ve lost?

It seemed the answer was yes, as her body warmed and strange sensations swam through her head, too foreign for her to name but too tantalizing for her to walk away from. His lips were soft against hers, his hands tightening—don’t stop—around her waist. She sighed against his lips as a deep desire, more, rose in her, and she moved forward again, into his lap with one knee on each side of his body.

One of his arms looped around her back, pulling her in closer, as he raised his other hand to her hair, wrapping it around his fist. A soft “oh!” escaped her mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss as she sighed into him.

As she touched him, explored him, tasted him, she realized—it’s not just the kiss. It’s him. His hands exploring her body, his tongue teasing hers, his lips warming her from the inside out—everything she thought she had lost began to coalesce, and for once, she felt hope that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to find what she was missing. To recognize herself again in the ruins of this strange new world.

To understand him and what drove him, and unravel her feelings for him.

She drew back at last, nearly holding her breath. She had begun to answer her own questions in his arms, but she had to see him—to know if he would regret having crossed this line with her.

His gaze was inscrutable as he looked up at her. He was still so close to her, his chest warm and firm against hers, his hands still resting on her back, his eyes searching hers. The only thing she was sure of was that there was no regret. She had seen that expression darkening his eyes before and didn’t recognize it now. There were traces of something else, something wild and fleeting that she couldn’t identify, but no regret.

“Lane...” he said quietly, her name falling from his lips like a secret. Then he fell silent, looking away.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do next?

“We don’t have to,” she murmured. “Not now.”

He looked at her again, relieved. “All right. Later.”

No, the madness hadn’t passed. It still gripped her, and him as well—and maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t actually madness at all, but something she had never truly felt before, something with new depths to explore. A mystery just as tempting as the Book, and perhaps just as dangerous, too—but one that she wanted to decipher just as badly.

With him.

[liamrrys]

UNDONE .

𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘹 𝘦𝘷𝘵𝘩𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 —— ( 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘦 )

call it a youngest’s reflex, to be so stubborn to the wills of his eldest; but he believed that shesmu could work together peacefully. he believed they could co-operate and share their wisdoms, & when he looked to eva, he believed they could also love. ( nip this in the bud, brother, for this will become your undoing )

rated: explicit word count: 2.8k notes: it started out as fluff but the smut wrote itself oops !!! not drafted because i got a bit excited lol but hello fellow rame fans!!!! i hope u enjoy <3 tw: explicit adult themes, slight mention of abuse tags: @rc-catalog

Life as a shesmu was a lonesome one, for trust was a luxury even the richest and most renown of necromancers could never afford. A slip of the tongue to the wrong person at the wrong time would be enough to seal Ramesses’ fate beneath the ground. This was a sentiment Remmao had instilled within him from the second the warmth left his soul. It was for his own good. The more you cared for others the more of a liability you are, he would say - only this time, accompanied by a cut lip and a bruised chin to punctuate his point. As secretive as Ramesses tried to be, his brother was not blind to Rame’s growing fondness and longing glances towards a specific troublemaking shesmu. Our kind can only afford to care for ourselves. Nip this in the bud, brother, this will become your undoing.

Maybe Ramesses would have benefitted from another mentor — perhaps if Remmao were not also his brother, he would not dismiss his advice as one from an overbearing sibling, but as truth. Call it a youngest’s reflex, to be so stubborn to the wills of his eldest; but he believed that shesmu could work together peacefully. He believed they could co-operate and share their wisdoms, and when he looked to Eva, he believed they could also love.

A small candle flickered, dancing reflections in her ardent eyes. Rame leant back against his chair to allow Eva access as she carefully grazed a damp cloth over the cut on his lip. When she asked where his wounds were from, Ramesses only replied that his tongue moved faster than his brain. 

While her mouth stayed uncharacteristically shut, her expression betrayed her - showing her true emotions. Eva knew him well enough to recognise a lie, but understood him just as much to not have pressed further. Through tired eyes, Rame noticed her frown and couldn’t help but release a breath of a laugh.

“Remmao and I had a little brotherly spat, since you’re sooo worried about me.” A soft hand finds its way to Eva’s cheek as he brushes dark locks behind her ear. “Look at you, you’re going soft on me, Ev.”

He teases, but what Rame purposefully leaves out is that, under her touch, he’s become as unwielding as the sand that if Eva were to cup his face, he would melt and slip through the gaps between her fingertips, pooling at her palms, dripping down her arms.

“Do your brotherly spats usually end like this?” She has him again. In the years they have known each other - through all the arguments between him and his brother that she had witnessed, not once had she seen him carelessly lay a hand on Rame.

The bruise on his chin was a silent message from Remmao to Evthys. Not her mentor, but Remmao the brother. I have eyes on you.

Eva glanced down towards his lip once more and gave Rame a knowing look. As clever as she was beautiful. He nodded his head and turned to avoid her gaze. He felt sickened by her pity; her guilt. This should have never become her problem to carry.

“This one was particularly scathing, I’d rather not get into it, if you’ll let me have that.” He whispered gently.

Delicate fingers run through his hair in response. Eva combs through soft waves, massaging at his scalp. Rame lets himself shut his eyes and cock his head back, losing himself in her touch.

He only opens his eyes again when he feels her straddling his lap, hands moving to both sides of his face.

        And there he was, looking up at her with soft pleading eyes and oozing between her fingers. He was unmolded clay in her hands. She let her hands explore him as they trailed downwards from his jaw, fingertips dragging his neck and stopping at his shoulders.

Eva. Evthys. The giver of life breathed new vitality in him with every touch they shared. Rame liked feeling her in places she never dared wander before. Her touch was curious, and she held him carefully. He let his own careful hands trace along her back and waist. She gasped at his touch and in return, she placed her lips at the nape of his neck, letting her tongue slip through just to see what it would do.

Ramesses couldn’t hold back a moan as he moved his hips underneath her in response. A hand gripped her waist tight as the other entangled itself in her hair, cradling her head. He felt her smile against his skin, as if pleased that such a simple action was enough to elicit a response.

“Isfet, Evthys. You will be the death of me.”

“Are you done already?” She punctuated by digging her nails into his chest, making him gasp.

“I’m not so fragile, my love.”

The flower he was meant to nip in the bud, he secretly watered and sunned until it bloomed into a bright belladonna. As beautiful and and healing as it was deadly. Clouded with desire, Ramesses crashed his lips against hers, and it was as if he ingested nightshade’s berry instead, the way Eva made his heart race, skin flush, and pupils dilate.

Ramesses felt her breaths becoming shaky on his lips, she had clung onto his as if he were her only source of air. The surface of her skin became hot and her body moved for her as she grind down against him. He pulled his lips away, despite her protest so that she could breathe.

“My sweet, are you alright?”

Sweat made Eva’s hair stick to her forehead and her cheeks blushed red. Eva was breathing heavily and looked at him through her lashes, nodding wildly, as if begging him to keep going. Ramesses wondered what saint he must have been in a past life, to be able to witness such a sight to behold in this one.

“Rame, please don’t stop.”

He pressed his lips back onto hers, this time more frenzied than last. He grew hard beneath her, only the fabric of their clothes keeping them apart. Ramesses traced his fingers down her arms, gently placing them around his neck. “Hold tight.” Only giving her a second’s notice before he grabbed her legs and lifted them both off the chair, his lips never leaving hers. 

Eva had a newfound appreciation of his strength. He had always been so wonderfully chiseled - as if sculpted by the gods themselves. However, Rame had always touched her with such gentleness that she had failed to realise the weight of his muscularity. As he lifted her, she clung on to him tightly, clawing at his back in pleasure. She pulled away, only to bite at his neck. Rame responded with an amused sigh and dug his fingers into her thigh before carefully placing her on his bed.

She pulled him close so that he would collapse fully on to her. She needed to feel him all over her. Eva wanted to be engulfed in no one but him. She had never done this before - and she was hesitant even, but Ramesses, her dear Ramesses made her feel safe. Heard. Protected. She was a patron in his sanctuary.

Every time he grind against her, she felt her legs shake and her breath hitch. Ramesses took his time to unrobe her slowly, kissing newly exposed skin. They became tangled in each other, neither one able to let go of the other.

It was only once she was fully unrobed that Rame pulled away. Just to look at her. Her head leant back and her skin flushed red. Her breasts rose with each breath she took and he noticed a glistening between her legs. Perfect. Eva is perfect. He took this time to slow his pace down, noticing that Eva was getting carried away in her own pleasure. He wanted to take care of her.

Ramesses reached for his body oil on the nightstand, holding it up and letting it drip over her body. He let it run over her breasts and stomach before slowling using his palm to rub it all over the rest of her body. Eva moaned as he took her nipples in between his fingers, pinching them ever so slightly as he continued to massage the oil down her body. He leant down to take her breast in his mouth, suckling and softly nibbling on her left breast, while his hand stimulated the right.

“Rame—“ She breathed, only for her mouth to be met with two of his fingers. Eva ran her tongue along them instinctively, causing Ramesses to groan into her breast.

He pulled back to push both of Eva’s legs up, kissing her calves, to the back of her knees and the back of her thighs - places only the sun had ever touched. Rame kissed her everywhere except for where she needed him the most. A smirk formed on his chin as she noticed liquid pooling in between her legs, staining the sheets beneath them.

A light graze over where she needed him most was enough to elicit the most delicious of screams from her lips. She looked to Rame with pleading eyes. Looking like that, how could he ever deny her anything? He gave her one more look, a silent bid for permission, allowing Evthys to bury her hands in his hair before he dipped down to taste her.

Ramesses lapped against her as if it were his first drop of water in weeks. Her thighs shook against his head and she clawed at his shoulders, but his pace remained unwavering. He started with his tongue fucking into her slowly before finally making his way to her clit. When his mouth started to suck and lick at her sensitive bud, Eva couldn’t help but clamp her thighs around him in pleasure. She writhed underneath him, forcing Rame to force her thighs back onto the bed.

“Beautiful, if you keep moving I’ll stop.” He said, smirking. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

All Eva needed was her thumb and index to cup Ramesses’ chin and guide his face to hers. She kissed him tenderly, letting her lips linger on the corner of his, travelling down his jaw and stopping by his ear.

“All this talk Rame, but do you really want to?”

And she knew him well enough to be be right.

Rivals they were; and in any other situation, Ramesses would retaliate.

Right now, however? He is hers, and he allows himself to succumb to her. He would kneel before her every morning like a ritual, steal the light from the sun — she only needed to ask.

Ramesses leaves a gentle kiss on her mouth, with a wanting bite on her bottom lip to show his surrender. He plants a kiss on her neck as he adjusts himself before her. Eva looks up from beneath him, admiring her view. Eva hooks a finger under his garments and slides the fabric off his shoulders and unbuckles the metal of his necklace, carefully setting it aside.

Dishevelled and undone above her, Rame looked ethereal. A thin sheen of sweat sat atop his skin, his freckles twinkled making him look like the night sky. She gazed into his eyes and wondered when she started taking a liking to the darkness of obsidian.

Bewildered by pleasure and his beauty, all Eva could do was lean to kiss him again, this time slowly, sensually, and deeply. A silent plea to say that she needed all of him. Rame became careful with his touches. This was as far as they had gotten — he dared not rush her and surrendered to her pace. He pulls away to meet her affirming gaze before he starts to enter her.

“Evthys.”

He sinks into her at an excruciating rate, his attention fixed to her pleasure. The second she would tell him to stop, he would stop. Ecstasy filled her senses, gripping at his arms. Her breathing laboured once more. Feeling Rame about to pull out out of fear of hurting her, she locked her legs around him and held his face with the tips of her fingers.

“Ramesses.” She begs him through half lidded eyes. “There is nothing more I want right now, but you.” A soft kiss plants itself on his cheek. “So, if you’ll have me—“

His enthusiasm interrupts her and he kisses her hard. Rame plunged himself inside of her, his length grazing her walls and filling her up deliciously each time he entered. Eva’s moans were more symphonious than any decorated muse. He swore he could listen to her voice until time came for Anubis to weigh his heart - and even then it would not be enough.

“Until the end of time, neferut.”

Eva lost herself, unaware that pleasure like this even existed before Rame came to show her. She found herself drunk on the contact of his bare skin against hers; a sweeter high than any iboga or lotus wine could give her. She became unaware of her surroundings, her mind only thinking of Rame and his touch. She was breathless as her eyes rolled back into her lids as she reached a peak unfamiliar to her.

“By the gods, Evthys, you are the most captivating sight.”

Rame could feel her tightening against him, drawing him to his own climax. He pressed a hand to her stomach, heightening hers and his own pleasure. He dragged himself in and out of her in heavy, desperate strokes until it was too much for either one of them to bear. 

“Rame, I—“ Evthys held him close and moaned into his ear, her entire frame quivering beneath him.

To watch her come undone beneath him was a sight to behold, but to feel her walls tighten around him as she came was enough to have him follow her to climax. Coupled with the sweetness she moaned his name, he was done for. His hips stuttered in a pace of their own as he chased his own high, Eva’s juices beginning to squirt out and coat his cock with every thrust.

She reached from under him and pulled him close, biting his shoulder to muffle her screams. Rame buried his face in the crook of her neck, nipping, kissing, licking at the skin. He spilled himself inside of her with a final thrust — the groan leaving his mouth guttural and full of desire.

—-

The two lay in sweat-stained sheets as they calmed from their high. Rameses turned and flipped the both of them so that now he was beneath her. He felt Eva, his sweet Eva, still overcome with pleasure as he writhed above him.

Thick hands wandered over her soft skin, one tracing up and down the small of her back, the other tangling itself in her hair as Rame caressed and cradled her head close to his chest. He saw her rise with each inhale they shared and basked in their shared haze.

Ramesses pressed his lips tenderly to her forehead, letting himself linger. “Come back to me, my love.” He whispers into her hair.

As if those were magic words to wake her from her stupor, Eva turns her head and looks to him with fluttered eyes. A soft smile dons her lips, leaning over to give his a quick peck.

Silence breaks when she laughs into his lips, and he laughs at the innoncence of her gesture. He reaches for her hand and he kisses her knuckles, then guides her palm to rest against his cheek.

“Rame, by all the gods, what did you do to me??” Her hand smacks softly against his chest, shaking her head dramatically.

“Excuse me??”

“Tsk. I can’t feel my legs.” She guided his hand slowly up her thigh. “You must have hexed me, traitor.”

He’s speechless as he frowns at her. A look of offense painted his features through furrowed brows and a mouth agape. A giggle leaves Eva’s lips as she had him right where she wanted. Rame retaliates by playfully pushing her beneath him, kissing her in an attempt to dull her laughter (it didn’t work.)

“—and I’m going to hex your mouth next if you don’t learn to watch it.” He says in a weak attempt to sound cross. He peppers her mouth with kisses, annoyingly so as if to prove a point.

“Enough, I’m sorry!” She whines with a smile. Eva holds his face in her hands and plants another kiss to his mouth, slower, and gentler this time. She sighs beneath him and cuddles herself closer. “Ramesses. Thank you.”

He feels her bid for affection and pulls her tight. “Thank you for your trust.”

          ( & that evening was the first night Rame stopped wishing for dreams before he slept. )

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Pairing: John Price x fem!oc (3rd person pov)

Word count: 4.4 K

Warnings/tags: smut, p in v sex, established relationship, pet names, suggestive dialogue, swearing, drinking, caught in the rain, stuck in a blackout, couple plays truth or dare, super long winded set up for porn, and a slightly rushed ending

NSFW taglist [opt in/out]: @imogenkol @illmetbymoonlight @roofgeese @efingart @inafieldofdaisies

@raresvtm @evvie-a @an-drawer @clicheantagonist @rc-dragons

@la-grosse-patate @direwombat @solstheimart @statichvm @cassietrn

@lady-eudaemonia @strafethesesinners @thedeadthree @voidika @mutantthedark

@strangefable @simplegenius042 @writeforfandoms @quantum-lover @heroofshield

Rain pelts down on the concrete streets of London, the scent of cool drops hitting hot pavement one of the rare scents that could only be attributed to summer in the middle of the city – not quite petrichor, but that bleach clean scent of ozone remained apparent as the storm builds to its height. Thunder booms, shrouding once sunny skies in clouds the colour of deep bruises, shades of purple and green, while lightning cracks in bright luminescent streaks worthy of ancient beliefs in Thor or Zeus’ wrath.

Amongst the masses splashing through the quickly pooling puddles, John rushes Rory inside their townhouse, his jacket held over their heads as a deterrent from the rain, though it does little good as the precipitation pours with the steady flow of a broken faucet on full blast, an absolute deluge coming down at once. They're soaked. Drowned rats with matted hair and sopping wet layers of clothing glued to their forms. 

Once inside the four walls meant to shelter them, they are no safer from the clutches of the storm. Rory flicks at the switch by the front door – click-click, click-click – doing nothing at all. The interior of the townhouse left tenebrous, shadows creeping in from the darkened corners. “Bollocks,” she mutters under her breath, heading to the coat closet and grabbing the candles and battery-operated lamps in her power outage kit – even in an unplanned crisis the woman is never unprepared. 

Water sloshes off of her as she moves about, dripping down the contours of her face from her drenched hair as John grumbles, peeling off waterlogged shoes and socks by the front door, his jacket in no better shape. “Worse spots we could be in, love. At least we’re at ‘ome, liquor cabinet stocked, gas is still on so we can cook the perishables.” “Yes. Yes, I know. Ever the pragmatist, John,” she snarks before heading to the kitchen for the lighter. “Comes with being a Captain.”

His reply is muffled as he moves down the hall, the sound of wet bare feet slapping on hardwood floors following after him, and she rolls her eyes. “Well make sure ‘the captain’ mops up after himself, yeah? Don’t need puddles on my floor,” she calls back. Rory begins lighting candles and placing them around the kitchen, filling the space with the warm amber glow of firelight flickering as a draught from the open window flows throughout. Entering moments later, John rubs a towel through his hair and tosses it at her after she places the last candle on the table in the corner nook. 

“Cheers.” She runs the terry cloth through damp strands, rustling it back and forth, leaving her hair a wild, haphazard mess of waves. “So, what do we do to pass the time for the next however many hours?”

A smirk is the only reply she receives from the bulky man in her periphery. Piercing eyes, normally steely and hard while focused on war and staying alive, sparkle with playful intent. A life to them that Rory only finds in their moments alone. The man who, when they’re miles away from base, gets to fold up and pack away things like duty and honor the way he does his clean laundry neatly into drawers.

“Fuck off, you do not have the refractory period of a 15 year old boy, pillock.” Tossing the soggy towel back at him with a grin, it slaps against his barrel chest like a dead octopus. A hearty chuckle fills the room, blue eyes sparkling from behind crinkled lines in his face. “Mind out o’the gutter, my girl. Was just gonna say we could take a nap.” Bouncing on his heels, proud as a peacock with the way he grins at her. 

She hums skeptically, “Is that so?” Her fingers curl around her hips as she stands before him, challenging him like always. “And Soap doesn’t have a bloody rolodex going of numbers he gets from the bar.” “That may be so,” John purrs, drawing closer, dropping off the soggy towel onto the top of the kitchen island. Strong arms wrap around her waist as he stands behind her, drawing her closer to him, grinding his hips against her backside. His mouth near her ear, the bristles of his beard tickle her cheek. “But I think we can both agree after going a round or two together, a rest is often necessary,” he breathes seductively, voice rough and low with desire. “Isn’t that right, love?” “So much for my mind being the one in the gutter.”

He tips his head to the side, angling it to better kiss the side of her neck, plush lips softly pressing to sensitive skin. “Could do something else instead with our time,” Rory offers.

“Like what?” He mumbles against her, lost in his own advances while nuzzling against her slick flesh. Collecting drops of rainwater that roll down the smooth column of her neck on his whiskers.

“Truth or dare? Share a bottle of whiskey while we do it?”

His laugh is a deep rumble in his chest, vibrating against her slender body and through her back as his hands knead at moist clothing cleaving to her frame. “You want to play a bloody kid’s party game?” 

Rory shrugs, nonchalant. “Why not?” “Sure know how to drive a hard bargain, Sinclair,” he snickers.

“Oi, on your bike.” Her elbow moves to gently nudge him in the stomach, her nose wrinkling as she plays up her mock annoyance.  

“Fine. Are we playin’ ‘7 minutes in Heaven’ while we’re at it then?” A lopsided smile pulling at his mouth as his brow cocks.

“That’s for afterwards.” With a frisky wink she grabs a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the counter. “Now, come on.” Placing them on the floor, she sits with her back resting against a cabinet and pours them each a double. The amber liquid streaming in carefully controlled twists of her wrist, she’s a woman well-practiced in the art of a properly measured dram. John sighs and slowly lowers to the floor, careful with his knees and lower back as he settles, his long legs stretched out between his place against the oven door and the kitchen island in front of him. She slides one of the drinks across the tiles towards him and they clink their glasses together in a toast. “To the most ridiculous way two grown military officers could possibly spend their time together.” A bright, lilting giggle fills the space between them as dimples carve into her cheeks. 

“Haven’t done this since before I was at Sandhurst,” he muses quietly, lifting the glass and bringing it to his lips, taking a hefty sip. “Without the drink, ‘course.”

“Oh, of course.”

Sitting in the dark of their kitchen, candles aglow, it was more intimate than it likely should have been considering their choice of entertainment for the foreseeable future while the power was out. Sipping at their drinks, enjoying the smooth, warm burn of the top shelf liquor Rory always had in her collection, they sat together as if it were any other Saturday evening. “Right, sweetheart. Truth or Dare?” John asks, breaking the silence first.

“Truth.”

“Really?” Placing the glass down on the floor beside him with a gentle crystal chime against the dark marble. “Right off the bat, not even going to go for a little danger? What happened to my brave Lieutenant, eh?” His crooked grin appears all the more sinister in the dampened light.

“Yeah, and if I hadn’t said ‘truth’ you would have given me shit about ‘not trusting you’. So piss off, you bloody prat.” He laughs once more, nodding. “Probably right, I just might’ve.” Blue eyes roam around the ebony wood cabinets of the kitchen as he thinks of a fitting question for Rory’s first choice of truth. “Our very first time together – would we have still ended up in the stall if I had the mutton chops?”

Rory, choking on the sip of whiskey she was currently drinking, coughs up the alcohol as she pats her hand against her chest, laughing. Her voice a throaty croak as she speaks, “Fucking hell, not pulling any punches, are we?” “Well?” He remains stoic, waiting for her answer, the brusque response of the Captain and not John. A barely visible curl pulls at the corner of his lips. 

“Probably.” She angles her head to the side and examines him in detail, roaming over him, imagining the baby-faced Lieutenant she met all those years ago with her future husband’s choice of facial hair. “Not exactly a look most girls are used to seeing, however. Few men can pull off the style of someone who would blend in rather nicely in an old west saloon.” A smirk pulling at her full lips as she jokes with him. 

“Probably?” John’s heavy brow furrows as his penetrating gaze lands on her, burning into her like a laser sight.

“Don’t know how the 23-year-old me would’ve felt about them.” Her one shoulder lifts in a shrug. She’s never been anything but honest with him, John having always appreciated her bluntness.

“Ah, so it takes a more mature and refined woman to respect ‘em, yeah? Not worthy of a bathroom stall, but a romp in a tent suits ‘em just fine?”

Laughing, her head tosses back, amplifying it. “Fine, you got me there.” Stretching out from her cross legged position, prodding his shin with her toes, she taunts him, continuing the schoolyard antics that started with the choice of game.

However, she’s met by the swift response of John leaning towards her and taking her hand in his. Her dainty one overwhelmed by his grip as he brings her knuckles to his lips, kissing them softly, the stubble of his beard brushing against her soft flesh. “Glad I waited to grow ‘em out then.”

“Wouldn’t have you any other way now.” Hazel eyes sparkle as she gazes at him, reflecting the candlelight in the amber flecks of her emerald depths. 

“Suits me, my girl.”

A cozy moment of silence settles between them, smiling at one another, rapt in one another’s shared attention. Six years together. It wasn’t all bliss, but it certainly suited them, with enough memories to fill several albums. Love, the most earnest either of them had ever felt, and it was only for each other. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” John answered, not hesitating for a moment as he released her hand.

“Find the most embarrassing item of clothing you have in the closet, and tell me why.”

“Cheatin’.” He points his finger at her, suddenly a stickler for the rules. “Tha’s a truth and a dare.”

“Maybe so, but fuck it, if we’re gonna play a teenager’s game we might as well have teenager’s rules.”

Steely eyes narrow, his mouth purses making his mustache twitch in response. “Is this just a chance f’you to make fun of that Christmas sweater mum got me last year?”

Shaking her head, she works to hold in a chuckle that tries it’s hardest to sneak past tight lips. “I didn’t say dorky, I said embarrassing. Something with a little more meaning behind it than a big reindeer head with a light up nose – as adorable as that was on you,” she teases.

Jaw clenching, his nose wrinkles as he grimaces. “Fuckin’ ‘ell.” Rising with a grumble, he uses his mobile flashlight to find his way through the darkened home. In the silence, free from the usual electrical hum of appliances, Rory relaxes against the cupboard and sips her drink. Quiet and her weren’t usually on good terms. Unlike John, her peace was found through noise, chaos. Silence simply let the ghosts that haunted her seep in, her usual means of coping keeping them at bay. But, for once, she seems to enjoy the relative calm. A certain sensory deprivation about the stillness and the dark, the peaceful hypnotic dance of candle flames flickering around her, keeping her from drifting too far into the shadows in her head. 

Arriving back in the kitchen several minutes later, John unfurls an old Motorhead tee shirt, the once black material now worn out and grayed with age. 

“Motorhead?” Her brow lifts. “How is that embarrassing? I already know your music taste, love.” A cheeky smirk pulls at her lips as she crosses her arms over her chest.

He sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “You wanted the story behind it, yeah?” His brow lifts to meet hers, staring at her from under the ridge, frustration apparent on his face. “So, let me tell it.”

“Go on then.” Holding out her hand in an invitation to him to sit and tell the tale. As he sits, her hands return to the space between her lap, cupping the glass that sits nestled between her thighs, body heat warming the last sips of liquor inside.

“Right. So, before we met – the first time, I mean – there was a bird. Had just gone and seen the band live in concert on my leave, been sweating and fighting my arse off in Iraq before that, meant to give this to her before I left again,” he says, gripping the shirt tight in his fist like he’s choking the life from it, the tendons in his arms standing out in stark relief. “Didn’t work out, for several reasons.” By the tone of his voice, she can already tell it was less than amicable. No wonder he had been looking for a quick hook up the same way she had all those years ago. “But I liked the shirt,” he shrugs, “Had it sitting at the back of the closet for years now.” Tossing the shirt away from him, it skids across the floor in a crumpled mess. Rory’s eyes follow it’s trajectory, attuned to the movement like it's a target in the sight of her scope. Her gut churns, annoyed with herself for making him dredge up the past. She glances back at him, chewing on her lip, her brows knitting together as that natural predilection to be a smartass to cover for the tension boils up inside her. But she can’t. Not like this. 

“You’re a better person than I. Would have burned the damn thing, good riddance too. The bitch,” she snarls.

A smirk plays at the corner of John’s mouth at her reaction. Glancing up, he grunts, the little growl from the back of his throat a response to the possessive hint in Rory’s tone as he lifts his glass to take another drink. 

Sparks flare in her eyes, an idea coming to mind, the little fireball John’s madly in love with coming out to play. She could never sit idly by when she had the chance to solve a problem. “Tell you what, you and me, we’re going to make a good memory with it.”

Wiping his mouth with the side of his hand after swigging back his last sip, his voice is hoarse with the burn. “What the ‘ell are you on about?”

“Well, we’ve made very good memories together quite often, haven’t we?” She purrs, implying the obvious as she snatches the shirt from its puddle of material it landed in on the floor. “There is no way I am letting some slag ruin this for you, my darling.” “What d’you suggest then, sweetheart?” he asks with a cocky lift of his brow. “Clothes are wet anyhow.” 

Peeling off her damp shirt like a second skin, Rory then unhooks her bra. Tossing both articles of clothing to the side as she smiles at him, her intense doe-eyed stare seemingly bottomless in the shadowy kitchen. “Bloody good start, love.” His heated gaze roams over her exposed chest, a sight he’s seen a thousand times before, and still that predatory stare residing just below the surface comes creeping back up to the forefront. Skin the complexion of peaches and cream glows, illuminated by dancing flames licking at wicks, shadows and highlights forming over the scars that blemish her skin from combat. Standing, she unbuttons her trousers, letting the wide legged black pants fall to the ground and drape around her feet. John’s hand deftly sneaking in before they pool around her ankles to grab her glass on the floor, finishing off the last dregs of it himself. Slipping her panties down next, stepping out of the pile of wet clothes, she kicks them away and grabs the oversized band tee. The threadbare cotton hugging her lithe form as she stands over him, hands on her hips. 

“Even better, you ask me.” His stare sparkles mischievously up at her from his spot on the floor, unmoved. Square jaw going slack as he swallows thickly, pushing the glasses away from him, his steadily stiffening erection growing more evident by the moment as it strains against the material of his gray sweatpants.

A quiet, breathy giggle leaves her as she lowers to sit in his lap, legs straddled on either side of his thick, muscular thighs. Her forehead resting against his as she gazes into his eyes and whispers, “When you see this shirt in future, I just want you to think of that time you shagged your wife-to-be thoroughly on the kitchen floor during a blackout.”

“Can do, my girl,” John rumbles as his hands lift to rest on the curve of her waist, gripping her tight.  

Cocking her head to the side, angling it to better mark his mouth with her lips, she kisses him ardently. The rough pads of his fingers curl under her chin as he pulls her closer to him, their lips meet in a searing embrace. 

With little coaxing, the waistband of his sweatbands rolls down his hips. His cock hard, ready to be made of use, thick and heavy. Eyes smoldering with desire, he watches her every move as she settles down on his length, her tight sex enveloping him in its velvet grip. Wet heat. Pure bliss. Groaning – a low, guttural sound – he buries his face in the crook of her neck. Hot breath fanning against her, the skin below becoming moist, his beard burning against sensitive flesh. She starts to move, and his hips rise to meet her, thrusting to drive deeper with each roll of her hips and lift of her toned thighs. Breaths are punched from her lungs as he buries himself inside her, muscles visibly flexing with each shift of her body. A dance, one they've perfected over the years, a rhythm that brings them both to that sweet edge.

As if on cue, John begins to lavish her in praise. Give and take. The ebb and flow of the ever shifting landscape of who leads and which one follows, a comfortable equality within their dichotomy that never fails to work for both parties, knowing exactly what works for each of them to reach that inevitable peak.

"Fuck, Rory," he growls, grabbing at her for leverage. "So fuckin’ perfect f’me.” 

Large, rough paws grip at her waist possessively, pulling her close as if he needs the anchor. He bucks his hips, desperate to delve deeper, but her pace remains deliberate, maddening. A sense of control that causes a smile to tug at the corner of his mouth as he watches her ride him, the sight of her body undulating over his, a work of art.

Flesh meets at several points of contact, penetrated folds and warm hands sliding up the curves of her body send sparks through her nerves. Goosebumps rise, left behind along his ascent towards the firm peaks of her breasts, gentle swells hidden by the excess material of his oversized shirt. As deft fingers tease at her pebbled nipples below the shirt, pinching and pulling, Rory increases the pace in his lap, rocking with a meter that matches the pounding of her heart.

"Yes, just like that, my girl. Doin’ so good, sweetheart,” he groans, hoarse and panting. 

Encased in her body, control slipping, needs demanding to be met, the rhythm builds, sounds of lovemaking growing louder. 

"God, I love you," John mumbles as he nuzzles against her once more. The words, heavy with emotion, fall from his lips, a testament to the bond they share. In this moment, there is no war, no death, no fear - only the two of them, entwined in passion. Rory moans, breathless, her desire carrying her forward. Her arms wrap around his broad shoulders, and her fingers card through cropped hair at his nape. “Love you too, my darling,” she whispers against the shell of his ear. Her soft breaths against him fanning the flames between them.

It’s not a sentiment that is often shared aloud, one saved for moments of life or death or intense vulnerability. But, as he looks up at her, there is a depth of adoration in his eyes that cannot be denied, a devotion and desire that is as fierce as it is tender. This is a man who has killed for her and will likely do so again – when he says love, she knows he means it. Their mouths collide, tongues sliding against each other, lips wrapped in a tight seal that lets not a single breath escape. Sounds of pleasure pass between them as they share everything else in their lives. Home. In his arms she finds solace from bullets flying overhead or silent nights marred by guilt-ridden dreams; this sanctuary exists nowhere else on Earth but right here between them.

John carefully lowers her to the floor, his hand cradling the back of her head, protecting her like some fragile prize as she comes to rest against the tile floor, supine. His mouth refusing to leave hers – firm, adamant kisses claim her lips. A low groan coming from him as he kneels on the hard floor between her thighs. His touch trails up her body, tracing curves he’s felt a hundred times before and still never gets enough of. 

She watches him the whole way down to the floor, her eyes locked on his in a heated exchange. He’s the one, she thinks, and her heart confirms it as it races, her chest rising and falling with short, heavy breaths. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life, of anyone – just him. 

His strong hands slide up her arms, lifting them to bring them up over her head, held there as their hands clasp together. His scarred knuckle brushing against the gold, diamond-set band on her ring finger, a stark reminder of the life they have planned together, entangled forever. The needy head of his cock nudges against her entrance, pushing against her slick folds, as it begs for re-entry. Aching for him, the momentary emptiness felt deep within her. Whimpering together at the gentle pressure before her heat welcomes him in once more, inch by inch, he slides in until their hips meet, taking her slow and deep on the floor of their kitchen. Her back arches, lifting to unite with him. Mewling desperately, not caring if the neighbors hear. Every touch of his mouth and tongue along her jawline and down her throat towards her collarbone drives her wild as she sinks further into her choreographed submission, a practiced performance, knowing the steps forwards and backwards and never showing signs of needing another partner. 

“John,” she breathes his name as his hips continue to move against hers, their chests pressed together with only a shirt that had once left a bad taste in his mouth between them, now slick with their combined sweat. 

“Yeah, love?” He looks down at her, his brow furrowed with concentration, jaw flexing below his scruff as his adam’s apple bobs with each heavy breath and thick swallow. 

Her body begins to show the tell-tale signs of her impending climax, her muscles tightening in her legs, toes curling, the flush that grows from her chest to her cheeks warming her from the inside out and melding with the heat of his body pinned to hers on the cold kitchen tiles. Her stomach muscles flutter, her cunt clenching down on the thick of him. “I’m so close,” she whines. “I know, darlin’,” he husks as the tip of his nose nudges at the side of her neck where her pulse thunders. His lips sucking on her salty flesh stained with sweat, rasping against her, “Come for me, Rory.”

She clings to his hands held to hers, nails digging into the tendons and scars on the back of them. Long, toned legs wrapping around his waist as her body begs to be even closer to him, linked as one. Her breath hitches just before she cries out and her vision blurs, her eyes rolling back as each pulse from her core floods her body, weaving its way up her spine. 

Lost for a moment, unable to find her way in the dark, forgetting where she is, she succumbs to the ravages of John’s single-minded focus on her body. Letting their dance sweep her away as he continues to thrust, chasing his own release. Her body heavy, weighted with the pleasure of release, sinks into the sturdy floor below and she enjoys the jolts of sensation that build up inside her once again with his attention.

The slick of them moving together, the rise and fall of their bodies in unison, the tight contractions around him, drives the two ever nearer to the end of their waltz. His grip on her hands tightens in return, holding her in place as each pump of his cock becomes more erratic. More urgent. 

“Fuck, Ror,” he grunts, “Nearly fuckin’ there.”

The wet noises of their coupling echo through the kitchen, meeting with the incessant patter of rain outside the window. A convergence in tempo with his last surging thrust as he can no longer hold back, cumming deep inside her.

He releases his hold on her, their palms both sweaty and red from the grip they had on each other. Pulling her into his arms, their sweat mingles as he cradles her close. "Tha's my girl," John murmurs, his fingers running through her hair as his hand snakes up the back of her neck. “Gonna need you to wear that shirt more often now, I s’pose.”

It’s a simple comfort, the afterglow of passion, basking in it while the storm continues to rage outside, but they were right where they were supposed to be. They belong to each other, plain and simple, and neither would have it any other way.

[vagabond-umlaut]

tick tock tick!

one's a fool, the other's a fool.

once a fool, always a fool.

you never imagined being thrown over the known limits of time and space, then back again, is what will make you grasp these two simple little facts — you don't appear to be very ruffled, though.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; 2.8k wc; time travel; light-hearted banter and fluff; sassy-yet-concerned-bestie!student-shoko; living-in-denial!student-reader; pining-in-the-background!student-satoru; the grown-up reader's enjoying her time in the past but she really wants to return to her time; suggestive themes in the very end [it's implied & between grown-up reader and grown-up satoru back in the present]

▸ belongs to series we're the summer to our winter rain but you can read this as a stand-alone if you wanna!

▸ the element of time travel's been borrowed from the amazing oneshot 'time travel' by @seeingivy. tysm rc!!!! i love your works!!!! ❤️❤️

▸ the gif, divider and characters used ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

idiocy – same as common cold; worse than common cold – is contagious. 

weird take, isn’t it, for a person such as you on a day such as today? 

gray skies. strong winds. light drizzles.  

perfect day, really – a much desired reprieve from the sweltering tokyo summers, you muse – one you would have been content in whiling away wrapped in your blanket with a novel and a savoury snack. or perhaps, you would have gone on a drive through the damp streets of the city. or, better yet, you would have taken a nice long nap in the comfort of your home– 

–the keywords in each being ‘would have’.  

’cause you do not do either of these – rather, you cannot.  

in a peach classroom you know was painted yellow last autumn, before a phone you recollect being broken in a mission last decade, looking at a face with a hairstyle you haven’t seen the likes of since five years ago – any and every plan you might’ve had go straight out your mind into the courtyard outside.  

cigarette dangling from fingers, shoko blinks back at you. you offer a tentative smile.  

“hey, shoko! long time, no see, eh?” 

the girl lets out a long exhale of smoke and asks, “is this real or am i finally hallucinating from sleep deprivation?” 

“the former, i’m afraid,” you say softly, then frown. “wait a sec–” 

“won’t wait,” cutting you off, she huffs a faint chuckle. you give an unimpressed look at her nonchalant attitude, only to see it bounce right off her. not that you’re very surprised, you suppose. “i’ve had enough mothering from the present-you; any more treating me as a kid and i swear i’m going berserk.” 

your lips dip into a faux-pout. 

“aw, that would be a pity. the only healer we have, lost to the darkness. the society would be in shambles.” 

that earns another chuckle from shoko and she reclines in her seat, eyes watching your features closely. unnerving, yes; yet you let her. it isn’t every day one meets the adult version of their kouhai, after all. [that and the fact you’ve always been rather fond of this friend of yours – both in your teens and twenties – something you reckon is too known to be voiced always.] 

one whole minute elapses before the silent examination ends. you heave an inward sigh of relief, which grows into fatigue at the next question. a mere monosyllable but enough to make you want to hit your head against the window.  

“how?” 

you wonder what answer must you give to your former senpai.  

should you say it was a mishap on a mission which led you here?  

nah, too unlikely to occur for someone as warily careful as you.  

from an encounter with a cursed item you knew nothing of? 

the truth, of course, but with a pinch of salt here and a pinch of pepper there.  

you settle on serving shoko the blandest form of the truth ever.  

placing a dilapidated pocket sundial on the desk, you reply, “i came across this in the storeroom today while deep cleaning the house. now, i knew; this was soaked in cursed energy; besides, it looked too simple to be a weak cursed object. but–” 

“your curiosity overpowered your common sense, and you fussed with it and ended up here,” the girl finishes for you. a lame nod paired with an embarrassed smile is the only response you manage. she shoots an unimpressed face back. “you’ve always been the smart one... since when did you become an idiot?” 

“years of being with an idiot–”  

“ieiri-senpai – what the fuck!? who the hell are you??” 

the familiar screech, you never knew was so raucous until now [suguru was right], snaps your explanation in two and you cast a sideways glance to see the exact image you were expecting.  

messy hair, black sunglasses [not yours], floral print dress and sneakers – accompanied by a gobsmacked expression and two wide eyes peeking from behind the shades – the younger you stays rooted to her spot in the doorway. you wave at her weakly. “kind of shocking, right?” 

“i’m not dreaming, am i?” the target of your question breathes out. you shake your head. “no. i’m real and i’m here.” 

the statement drains bits of incredulity from her form and you watch her slowly enter the class and take the seat next to yours. a frown makes its way onto her lips. 

“how? and, more importantly, why?” 

a short chuckle leaves you.  

this is the age when you were the most into the genre of science fiction of everything... the poor student you must be thinking you’re here to warn her of an event in the future or something of the sorts. you debate for a while on if you should play with her concerns or not – then decide against it. she looks too innocent to be teased so cruelly; besides, you never had the slightest of masochistic tendencies.  

you smile at her, reassuringly. “how... i grew too curious for my good and ended up fiddling with something i should’ve handled more carefully – hey, don’t touch it,” you slap her hand away from the sundial; she gives you a sheepish grin. you resume with a huff, “and as to why... i’ve no clue. i really wanna go back home and start cleaning again.” 

your younger version wrinkles her nose. “ew, why’re you cleaning? just hire some help to do all that work, dummy.” 

you resist the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. you really did hate doing household chores, hm? 

“i do have help hired, but sometimes, you really wanna care for your home on your own, y’know? besides...” a tinge of loving exasperation sneaks into your voice. “there are only so many who have the patience to search for candy wrappers in every nook and corner of the– oh, shit. i mustn’t spoil the future for y’all.” 

a cheshire cat grin and a confused little frown meet the tense smile you aim at your two companions. shoko drawls, “candy wrappers, huh? how’s living with satoru treating you? must be nice, living with the love of your life.” 

“you’ll be the best one to know, senpai, what with barely staying in your rooms whenever iori-senpai's here,” the other girl cuts in with a sharp smile, which becomes soothing when she turns to you. “don’t you let those words get to you; these people are living in a fantasy world of their own, thinking every kind of godforsaken nonsense.” then tapers off, chuckling, when you watch her catch your knowing grin. “ah, sorry. i forgot you’re my future self; you’ll obviously know this.” 

“i do,” saying so, you look at shoko. “’toru and i can be roommates too, you know?” 

the girl makes no attempt to conceal the eye-roll, nor the scoff. “yeah, but are you? the two of you are literally in love with each other.” 

“senpai...” the younger you whines, visibly affronted and annoyed, only to be interrupted by an obnoxious music before she can barely begin her rant. the older girl silently asks you to watch her kouhai – a request you fulfil with an amusement, the latter growing increasingly difficult to stow away with every moment you observe your glowing younger self. 

yes, that’s right.  

glowing.  

from when she accepts the call and places the phone next to her ear, to when she hollers out a cheery “rise and shine, ’toru! you’re late!”, to when she exchanges animated dialogues, giggling, with the boy at the other end, to when she cuts the call and returns her focus to shoko and you, a wide grin blooming on her lips even while she apologizes for having to cut the meeting short — glowing is the only adjective, you think, will suit the teenaged-you.  

you brush her apology away with a grin of your own. “it’s okay, go enjoy your day-off with your ’toru. a few more years and you’ll find such relaxing days hard to come by.” 

“oh?” the girl pauses, grin melting away in disappointment – however, before you can even attempt to rectify or explain your statement, hauling her by the arm, shoko drags her away.  

“off you go, lover girl,” she scowls, shoving her out into the hallways, “you’ve a date waiting; you ought to know better than to mope now.” 

“this isn’t a date! and i ain’t moping!” comes the incredulous exclamation within an instant, soon followed by the reappearance of the younger you in the doorway, showing something between an exuberant beam and a worried frown as she inquires, “you wouldn’t call this a date, would you?” 

a feeling, strangely similar to sympathy, creeps into your heart.  

you hum, “you are going to the new chinese restaurant in roppongi, aren’t you?” 

a nod.  

shoko raises an eyebrow behind her, as if meaning to query you still remembering details from so long ago. the corner of your mouth lifts. “it’s the dress, ieiri. i seldom wore it so obviously i’ll remember when i did,” you explain, then return your focus to the other girl. she returns your gaze, anticipation brimming in hers. you shake your head. 

“i wouldn’t call today’s meeting a date.” 

“told ya, senpai!” the teenaged-you exclaims, and with that and a salute in your direction, jogs down the corridor, a listless tune resonating within its ancient walls as she goes humming. shoko shoots a particularly scheming look your way. “you said you wouldn’t call today’s meeting a date, so are there other meetings...” 

a casual shrug is what you decide to counter her implications with. “maybe. maybe not. i’m not supposed to tell you.” 

“perhaps, you aren’t,” the girl responds, an odd softness developing in her tone. you bite back whatever words you were planning on telling – a soft yet serious shoko is a blue moon, one you know well enough to not take not-seriously.  

ignoring the sharp spike in cursed energy from the sundial, you train your senses on the young doctor-to-be standing before you and her solemn countenance as she regards you.  

she offers a careful smile.  

“perhaps, i too am not supposed to tell you this, but satoru cares for you. very much. and i know you too do. as much as him. but the two of you are simply shit at expressing it. your oblivious ass, more than that lovesick fool.” a chuckle escapes you at this statement – more at its exasperated tone than its words. smile growing freer, she continues, “it isn’t really funny, i’m telling you. it’s more painfully tiring than anything else for us, watching the two of you play this game since forever – something i’ve said to that blindfolded bastard more times than i can count and something i’ve implied to you repeatedly as well. but every word i might’ve said has bounced right off gojo’s thick skin and off your thick skull. however, now–” 

the girl stills and you glance to your side to find the object shining. the clock seems to have begun ticking, huh? you choose to finish your friend’s unfinished sentence.  

“however, now, seeing the older and more matured me, you decided to try one last time, didn’t you? thinking this might as well be the last chance to pop my bubble of ignorance and free ’toru from the pain of pining, yeah?”  

shoko nods slowly.  

plucking the sundial from the desk, you give her a smile – one, you hope, shows the true depth of gratitude you feel towards her. watching the way she returns your expression, you think it does. “satoru and i always count you to be one of our dearest friends,” you say, “thank you for always looking out for us, shoko. and as for our alleged feelings for one another...”  

you toss her a wink.  

“you never lose a bet you place on us.” 

shoko’s jaw dropping to the floor is the last thing you see before the classroom melts into a swirl of colours, into the final beige wallpaper of the storeroom. the sundial sits innocently in the hollow of your palm – a funny little antique you feel less sorry now for coming across now. returning it to the open box lying on the floor beside you, you stuff the box back into the cabinet and rise, brushing dust off your trousers.  

your flat desperately needs a deep-clean – and you’ve got to finish it in the shortest time possible.  

’cause there’s an intriguing story, after all, waiting to be narrated by you to your ‘roommate’ once the latter’s back from work.  

bonus: 

a shocked gasp rings within the steam-filled confines of your bathroom. you giggle.  

“don’t act so offended, ’toru! i had to say something to avoid awkward questions.” 

“how can you be so okay with it, sweets?” the 6' 3" man whines, wrapping his soap-lathered arms round your midsection and dropping his head to rest it against yours. you lean back into him, eyes closing in comfort whilst you listen to him complain, “first of all, you didn’t wear your ring–”  

“i thought we were over it, ’toru. i didn’t want the ring to get dirty or lost while cleaning.” 

a tiny tsk sounds while your left hand is raised and a small kiss is planted on the gold. your heart goes swooning.  

satoru’s grumbles continue, undeterred, “next, you blame poor innocent me for your error – even going as far as to refer to me as an idiot – that’s still okay, i guess. i’m willing to forgive. but to call me your roommate – that’s simply unforgivable, darling.” 

you let out a tiny hum. eyes opening, you turn to kiss the downturned corner of his lips. it lifts a bit. “i know, baby. i know,” you attempt to appease him, “i shouldn’t have called you my roommate when you’re someone so much more than that.” 

blue eyes peering down at you reflect the emotions coursing within yourself now.  

“and what might that be?” he asks in a low whisper. 

brushing the wet strands of hair away from his face, you whisper back, “my ex- fiancé. you’re my darling ex- fiancé. i should have called you that in front of them, right?” 

your eyes blink a mere two times before a set of sharp teeth digs into your neck, pulling a shocked yelp from you, soon followed by the impression of a smug smirk onto your skin. the bath suddenly feels awfully warm – a sensation which intensifies with every little lick and bite pressed down the side of your throat and into your bare shoulder – before satoru lifts his head and a warm puff of breath hits the shell of your ear.  

“that isn’t something you must call me, wife. you’ve made me very, very upset.” 

“and what might i do to make up for it?” you inquire, though the words tumble out your mouth rather shakily – thanks to the shivers your husband’s wandering hands elicit, rough with callouses yet so gentle with the manner caress you.  

“what might you?” gently swivelling your head with a light grasp on your chin, he brushes a thumb along your lower lip – gaze dark and ravenous, you note absently, as it darts over your face. your eyes flutter close at the feeling. “you can let me have a taste of my favourite snack, perhaps, you–” 

“you don’t mean the kikufuku mochi, do you?” moving your face away, you ask, annoyed and worried — does satoru not know how much distressing his addiction to sweets is to you?  

hold on you slackening slightly, your husband blinks at you. 

you glower back. “you can be mad at me for an eternity if you want, satoru. but you aren’t getting another morsel of a sweet dish. you’ve already eat–” 

“what makes you think i was talking of mochis, sweet cheeks?” the stumped question interrupts your rant. you let out an angry exhale. “oh, i don’t know. maybe it was you speaking of your favourite snack, satoru.” 

“and you think kikufuku mochis are my favourite?” 

you raise a brow in silent challenge.  

dragging you closer to himself, your husband chortles. 

“you think my idiocy is contagious, don’t you? well, breaking news, mrs. gojo, your obliviousness is incurable.”  

the furrow between your brows deepens, however, before you can say or ask anything, a pair of pink lips descend upon yours, capturing it in a tantalizingly slow motion – which, needless to say, renders every thought of yours into a mushy white noise.  

a turn of events, you reckon, you aren’t very upset with.  

you can always bring up the topic, satoru’s trying to evade, tomorrow. 

[you don’t, though. 

it is very late the next morning when you finally realize, lips swollen and body sore, the meaning of your husband’s statement — and a loud groan falls past you into the hush of your shared bedroom. a husky laugh muffles itself into your hair. 

your obliviousness really is incurable... isn’t it?] 

▸ masterlist

[novanoms]

Coming back at you with a classic annual post 👋

I’ve been lovingly spinning vore thoughts in my head but always forget I have a place to share them so here you go (put under read more since it’s rlly long):

Been rotating in my head an idea of Reluctant pred/Willing prey, where the prey only feels comfortable enough to sleep when in the pred’s tum, but the pred hasn’t actually eaten anyone before that. Now I know this is more of a common thought, but my specific idea is that it’s like Character A isn’t really a pred at all, just so new to the experience/thought as a whole. Character B is just so oblivious to any and all worries that A might have because they’re completely safe but have to convince B that it’s true before they’re allowed in.

Mainly applying this to like a H//umans a//re s//pace o//rcs situation, where the human on board is a bit upset but used to the fear that everyone else has around them, so they kinda put up with the solitude while being as docile as possible to their small shipmates. One day, one of their shipmates asks if it was true that humans had a [insert alien name for stomach here], and the human is like “Oh they’re gonna freak out if I say yes but I can’t LIE to them.” In the end they tell the truth, and instead of freaking out, the alien asks if they could “Spend the night”. Of course the human is overjoyed by this, keeping cool on the outside. They’ve finally got the chance to make a friend!

Things do get a little confusing when the night comes and the human is asking specifically where the alien wants to sleep, turning to concern when the small creature reiterates their tum. Human gets a bit freaked out but their shipmate, ever oblivious to their reason for concern, is very confused. Mainly over their behavior for two different reasons.

Firstly, they’re confused since the shipmate’s species is known for this kind of thing?? They’re invulnerable to the dangers of the digestive system, producing a chemical agent that allows the organ to be safe for living creatures inside while insuring that there are no long term affects that would bring harm to the pred. But they’re quick to realize that maybe the human doesn’t know that? Secondly, they’re confused as to why the human is acting so…concerned? Scared? It’s almost shocking, cause the alien, along with all their other shipmates, were under the impression that humans were this aggressive, stoic, predatory creatures that were better left alone than risk getting mad. The only reason they actually approached the human was because they had no other option. They hadn’t slept for days, whatever simulated version just wasn’t cutting it. When they did some research and found that humans had something exactly like it, they had to try. So to see what they thought was a stone cold predator, looming over them with nothing but concern and worry in their voice, their hands hovering nearby as though the little alien would crumple any second? It’s a real shift in perspective. A jarring one in fact.

Now it’s the aliens turn to calm down the worried human, explaining everything to ease their concern. After a bit, the human is able to calm down and hesitantly agree to do it since their shipmate is so sure of it and really needs some sleep. I can imagine the human gingerly swallowing their shipmate and just anxiously hovering their hands around their tum. Their shipmate is in instant bliss, this was 10x better than whatever organism they had on their homeworld! So soft and squishy and warm, they’d pass out immediately if not for the constant fretting of the human. Eventually they’re able to get into a comfy state, and human is just curled up and holding their tum, their crew mate tucked away sleeping soundly.

I can imagine afterwards, the crew would’ve instantly heard about this and be asking the alien what it was like and they’re like, “It was the softest thing I’ve ever slept on and I felt like the safest creature in the universe :)”. The human might have to set some limits since they’re having trouble keeping down the amount of shipmates already in their tum, but the others seem content to spend the night snuggled up to them instead when there’s not enough room inside. While they’re having a bit of a stomach ache, the human is just so happy to finally befriend their shipmates and make them feel safe ❤️

[romance-club-daily]

What's the truth? HS2 Edition~

May/2023

VK

Not Adi and Sammy dying again 💀

[k-hotchoisan]

congratulations for the 500 followers! it's my first time doing this, so how about number 7? 🥴 i won't regret anything because both of choices are my favorite

tia!

7. Sub Wooyoung or Dom Mingi?

Sub woo is always the right answer bestie 🫡🫡🫡

I don’t know what made me think of this but where we are???

Warnings: smut, pwp, sub!wooyoung, whining, unprotected sex, cream pie, oh god he whines so much, handjob, riding

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @hoe4wooyoung @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

K’s 500 this or that: Masterlist!

You turn a little more, watching the way the fishnet tights pull against your bare ass in the mirror before you. You tilt your head slightly, pursing your lips in approval before you decide to remove it. Truth of the matter was that you were obviously too lazy to put your underwear on after getting out of the shower when you saw the pair of fishnet tights you bought on the top of your clean laundry pile.

You are about to slide the pair of article off your body when your partner walks in.

And boy, does he have his eyes blown out seeing you in nothing but fishnet stockings. Wooyoung blinks, his legs automatically carrying himself to the bed, watching the way the stockings press against your supple skin, ass and pussy bare.

“Fuck me”, Wooyoung mutters.

You also watch the way his cock under his sweats push against the fabric—a small wet patch forming.

You can’t help but laugh. So you walk over to the bed, and straddle on his lap, your arms wrapped around his as you press your lips against his, parting to taste every part of him, feeling him melt into your mouth. He pushes himself further into the bed and his hands snake around your waist, only for you to swat them away.

“I’ll let you touch me if you be a good boy and keep your hands to yourself”, you say, giggling when you see Wooyoung nod his head frantically. His hands are paused mid air, his breath caught in his throat. He wants to touch you so fucking bad. He wants to rip those fishnets and fuck you so dumb in them. It’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t see you like this everyday, and that all the more drives his desperation.

You shift forward, until your cunt is right at his face and you gasp at the breath Wooyoung releases onto your pussy. Wooyoung already forgets the rule of not touching you, his hands aiming for your thighs, and you give him a soft slap on his hand, having him retreat immediately after, not before releasing whines.

His tongue immediately laps at your sopping cunt, like he hasn’t eaten in fucking weeks—pressing his tongue flat against your clit before he gives it flicks, then he has his lips pressed onto your cunt, kneading his tongue against your clit once more, your moans bouncing off the walls of the room only egging him on to let you fuck and ride his face.

Your fingers run through his hair before you tighten your grip, and Wooyoung whimpers at your tugs, feeling his cock leak more precum. His brain is melting at the way your pussy tastes, the way you don’t stop leaking for him and the whole idea of him just eating you out in your fishnet stockings.

“Fuck. That’s it baby. Right there”, you squeal, your hips automatically just riding his face. Your hands steady onto Wooyoung’s head, tugging his hair gently while you cream all over his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, and your eyes roll back from how Wooyoung is still fucking your cunt with his tongue, drawing out your orgasm as long as possible. You lean onto the headboard, catching your breath after releasing your grip from male below you.

Fuck, sometimes you forget how good Wooyoung is at giving you head. You gather your thoughts and snap yourself back to reality. Wooyoung has that smug look on his face that he always wears when he’s the reason you’re undone. Granted, he was pretty well behaved, keeping his hands to himself, but that only makes you want to tease him more.

You shift downwards, and press a wet kiss on his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue as he moans into your mouth, while your fingers slowly wrap around his length, giving him short bouts of pumps, watching his pretty face contort into one of pleasure. His head is thrown back as his fingers hold onto the pillow, his whines starting to build as his bucks his hips to your hand. Every time you slow down, Wooyoung attempts to catch his breath, and you barely let him as your hands speed up. Wooyoung’s orgasm is building up dangerously fast. The back and forth teasing is driving him nuts.

“Y/n, a-ah! I wanna cum ngh, in you, please, ah shiit-“ Wooyoung sobs, and you see the way his abdomen is flexing whenever he’s so close, his eyes so glazed out from the pleasure, and his knuckles turning white from fisting the sheets.

You let go, and a long sigh of relief is released from Wooyoung, his hand slapping onto his sweaty forehead as he combs his hair back. Just when he thought he could actually catch a break, you slide yourself over him, taking his cock inch by inch, shutting your eyes from how much he’s stretching you out.

More curses come out from Wooyoung’s parted lips as he feels your walls completely engulf him, and he’s left twitching and leaking in you.

Maybe you’ll make him keep his hands to himself for a little longer, you think, as you lift your hips to start fucking his cock. Every time your cunt swallows his cock to the hilt, Wooyoung’s brain slowly goes short circuit, and you watch endearingly at the way he completely goes pussydrunk — eyes rolled back and eyebrows furrowed. At that point he could barely keep his eyes open.

You could only giggle at how much you adore seeing him completely fucked out like this, so you lean in, your stockings pressing onto his skin, and your tits pressing onto his chest, while your hand snakes to his jaw, giving his cheek couple of taps.

“Aw, is my Wooyoungie feeling too good?” You tease, fucking yourself on his cock. Wooyoung barely has the capability to answer. His eyes meet yours and he fucking swears he’s about to see stars.

“So good. Ugh. I wanna -fuck!- touch so fucking bad, please”, he whines, as he balls his hands into a fist. He’s been such a good boy for you despite the walking temptation you are. You press a soft kiss onto his jaw, then trailing downwards his neck, where you give an extra long and hard suck, drawing more whimpers out of him.

“Go ahead. Since you’ve been such a good boy”, you hum, stroking his hair. You know he isn’t letting himself cum because he wants to get his hands all over you, and sometimes it impresses you. Wooyoung’s breathing becomes more shallow and a sigh of relief echoes through the room when you feel his hands all over you, grasping your skin, and most your thighs desperately as he feels the fishnet against your skin. He lets his hands feel against your ass as you bounce off his cock.

“Cumming. Fuck!”, he cries, his fingers pressing onto your thighs as his body floods with a euphoric high, his cockhead filling your cunt with warm and sticky cum. Fucking hell, it was starting to make you go insane too, looking at the way he’s completely undone, his hair clinging onto his forehead with his eyes barely registering the environment around him, and his fingers still holding onto your thighs as he jolts from the remainder of his orgasm.

You slowly remove yourself off him, rubbing his thighs to soothe him, before preparing to leave to wash up in the shower. That is, until you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist, yanking you back into the bed. You could barely turn your head, now confused at the currently situation.

“I’m making sure I’m milking every fucking drop I have in me while you’re in that pair of fishnets, babe”, Wooyoung hisses into your ear, and you feel a familiar hard and wet appendage dragging down your barely covered cunt once more. “You’re not going anywhere.”

[xielexalt]

OC: Orlando Saffron

This is Orlando, one of the main characters of RC. (he/him) He's the Angelic Herald, which is a special individual who can hear the "voice of the heavens." He has a serious yet naive personality. As the Angelic Herald, it's part of his duty to oversee the lands and maintain peace. He also delivers messages from the heavens unto the people.

He was scouted as the Angelic Herald from a young age when he was discovered to have the gift to hear the voice of the heavens. Since then, he's been rigorously trained for the position.

He has a close confidant and right-hand, Justinas, who is always at his side, and helps get work done and keep things in order. The two are quite dependent upon each other.

However, one day, Orlando ran away from the position out of severe stress. So as to cover up the incident, Justinas created an AI replica of Orlando, while the search for the real Orlando was underway.

Partially due to stress, and partially due to a calling -- if he's gonna find out the truth of this world, he can't be confined to the Palace all the time. It's dangerous out there when he doesn't know anything -- what's more, he has to evade the Knights sent by Justinas to hunt him down.

But Orlando isn't just an object of worship, or an icon... He's not an image, he isn't any of that. He is a whole person, with a mind and heart of his own -- a mind and heart that totally broke down under the pressure.

[catgirltoofies]

dragon's dogma's dlc isn't even remotely what people claim it to be

what people say: "you need to pay for fast travel! you need to pay for extra lives! you need to pay for character editing!"

the actual truth:

- you can pay for one mark location. this is an undeniable advantage, especially considering how early you're given it. the portcrystal is overpowered and i think it's the only dlc here that actually really matters

- you can pay for up to five extra lives. you can't buy more than the five dlcs, and getting wakestones is extremely, extremely easy if you want to bother to grind them. especially from the start of the game; every pawn starts with a quest where you get ⅓ of a wakestone for having them in your party for a day. if you really wanted to grind out wakestones, you could hire two fresh pawns, sit on a bench until a day passes, then dismiss the pawns and hire another pair. i don't even know why this dlc exists it's not even valuable and you can just. lose it. they're consumable. it shouldn't exist but not because it's an evil mtx, it's just weird.

- you don't need to pay to edit your character or your pawn. you can buy the art of metamorphosis for 500 RC, which you can get easily by simply playing online and having people hire your pawn, which they will do as long as you're online. I've been playing about 20 hours and have over 2000 RC, enough to buy 4 arts of metamorphosis. and even if you DON'T play online, for whatever reason, you can get RC as rare drops from enemies, so given time you can just build up a stock. in addition, following in the assumption it'll be like the first game, you'll be able to edit your arisen and pawn after entering ng+, which is probably a lot more investment than just fighting some cyclopes for RC.

- to discuss the other dlcs. you can buy RC directly, but there's not much reason to so far unless you want glasses or to change your pawn inclination.

- you can buy a makeshift gaol key, which will break you out of jail once, or you can buy one from a number of traveling merchants for like 1000 gold, which is a pittance

- you can buy the pawn inclination change items. these are more expensive to get with RC, clocking in at 2k RC, but inclination isn't really very necessary to change, and certainly not often.

- you can buy a pack of 3 harpysnare smoke beacons, which... do something? they let you grab onto harpies in certain areas and ride them to other places, but i don't know how useful this actually is in general, and I'm pretty sure you can just buy them from some general stores for a couple thousand gold

- you can buy a heartfelt pendant, which is a gift item that makes someone like you. the only relevance to this mechanic, as far as i know, is getting merchants to give you a discount, and for rp to have your beloved related to story events (assuming it follows the same as the first game). in the case of merchants, you can just look at their favorite items and give them Three (3) of their liked items and they'll be at max affection. in the case of your rp beloved, well, you should already care about them. you should get them what they love instead of just buying a pretty necklace. also if you want to search for every seeker token you can get the arisen's bond that way to max anyone's affection.

- you can buy a mod that changes music and sounds to be from DD1. to each their own

- you can buy a special camping kit. it's lighter than the normal kit, so it's helpful, but you can also just buy it for 6000 gold from some traders without needing to buy it.

- you can't even buy ferrystones. you don't even pay for fast travel you pay for a portable fast travel point, which still costs a very expensive ferrystone to teleport to.

- if you see the steam reviews, they're mixed. if you change the filter to only see reviews from people who have played the game for at least nine hours, that changes to mostly positive. the significant majority of negative reviews were made before even playing the game for NINE HOURS.

- there are other valid complaints about this game, this post is exclusively addressing the dlc. i will continue to defend this game because it's really really fun and I'm really annoyed at the review bombs by people who have no idea what they're talking about and are just parroting something they heard on twitter without actually knowing anything about what they're saying

- p.s. i want to be clear; i don't think microtransactions are a good thing and i genuinely believe none of these dlcs should be available as dlc, for various reasons (mostly detailed above). but the issues i have with them are generally the opposite of the issues people cry about, and i want to make clear that while there are problems with them and plenty of reasons NOT to buy the dlcs, the oft-cried reasons are misleading at best and outright false at worst

[ovaryacted]

Ok ok ok, so…hear me out. (TW: death, and suicide at the end)

Let’s just say Leon’s kids (maybe they’re a teen at this point) ends up captured by some evil bioweapon lab. The ransom note is essentially ‘leave us alone to do our science or we kill your kid’

I can see this playing out two ways.

The first, Leon tears apart the world. He sees red and essentially blacks out until he’s reunited with his child/ren. He’s awake for the entire time it takes to find them. The only time he actually ‘rests’ is when his body physically crashes and passes out. Even then, he gets nightmares. What if they’re too late and his kid/s become twisted creatures? What if they’re already dead? What if he has to put a bullet in his own precious baby because they were reduced to a shambling zombie, just like RC?

He wakes up screaming. Crying. Sobbing.

Even if he gets to them in time, they’re undoubtedly traumatized. They won’t be child/Ren anymore. They would have been exposed to how fucked the world really is. He starts thinking he’s a failure. He’s failed to protect his kid/s. The ones he loved the most in the world have had their innocence ripped away.

But damnit, when he finds them, you bet your ass he’s not letting them go. He hugs them tightly. Almost too tightly. Leon starts sobbing. They’re unharmed. Untouched by evil science.

When it comes to the escape, he holds their hand. It doesn’t matter how old they are, he’s going to hold onto SOMETHING. They aren’t coming out of his sight ever again. Not after this.

Second scenario, Leon IS too late.

He sees what USED to be his kid/s. If he stared hard enough he could see them, under the shambling, the growling. They were still in there somewhere.

But he was too late. Even if they could get a cure, the damage was done. His child/ren were gone.

The world goes quiet for Leon. His only focus would be on them. All he could hear is his own heartbeat. After he ends their pain, I don’t think he’d go home.

The official report be KIA, but anyone else who was on the mission would know the truth. Leon didn’t want to live without his kid/s.

BUT THEN ITS ALL A NIGHTMARE BECAUSE I MADE MYSELF SAD TYPING THIS AHHHH IM SORRY

cw: religious imagery, mentions of gore and violence, suicide attempt

Hey, angsty anon, I know you remember sending this to me when I was at work and it fucking upset me but I said I would make it worse...well I'm making it a tad bit worse by adding my thoughts to this. Apologies in advance, and of course if you don't want to read some sad shit, don't read it. (I was half asleep writing this so my bad lolz)

I think Leon's family becoming involved in the horrors of bioterrorism, the very thing he's trying so hard to protect his loved ones from, is one of his biggest fears. In this field, he's seen people he cared about, good people, who were abandoned by those meant to protect them and had to alter their bodies to try to feel control. Although Leon does everything to ensure his family is protected, he still falls short when his child gets taken away by an enemy and is used as collateral.

The entire aspect of finally being able to have a life gets to Leon. To have a chance to settle down and have a family of his own which is now being threatened, turns Leon into this vindictive monster just motivated by revenge. On prior missions, he's usually calculated and knows what to do, where to go, and what to bring. But now that his child is involved, his own flesh and blood, yeah he blacks out for most of the mission and is going off of instinct.

He doesn't give his partner much of an explanation when he just says he's going to leave and that he knows he's going to bring his family back together. He can't promise anything, can't promise if he'll come back in one piece or at all, but he will bring his child back home. If being a federal agent working in bioterrorism has taught him anything, is that not everyone comes back. Sometimes he just gets lucky and the cycle repeats.

Leon does not sleep, does not eat, and much less gives a shit about his own safety and health. As far as he knows, he's on a witch hunt to kill the bastard that threatened his family and his happiness. The entire time he's trying to get his child back, his mind goes back to the horrors of all of his missions. He thinks back to the fear he felt in trying to save Sherry, he remembers the way his mind went all hazy on his mission to Spain and saved the president's daughter.

It's all the same. But it has to be different right?

He doesn't consider himself to be a religious person, he used to be back in his youth. But as this rogue mission goes on longer and longer and he spends more time without his child, he starts to silently pray that they're alive, that they haven't been ruined like everything else in this rotten world.

Let's say he does find his kid in one piece, scared and traumatized, probably tucked into a corner in a dingy cell in some run down lab. Leon wrapped his arms around them, apologizing over and over again, looking for forgiveness, and blaming himself for putting his child in danger simply because of the life he was forced to live.

He does get back home in one piece with his child in his arms and eliminates any other possible and future threats so he never has to worry about that again. The people who even think about hurting his family will regret ever doing so. As long as his child is safe and back at home, he thinks he's achieved the impossible and is protecting all that he holds dear.

But let's go on the opposite end of the spectrum. What will happen if Leon doesn't get there in time? If he finds his child turned into some monster as revenge? It would tear him apart, and he will consider this to be his karma for even wanting a better life for himself, a life he doesn't deserve. The person or thing in front of Leon wasn't his child anymore, it was a mess of torn-up limbs and cut skin, and he couldn't feel his child's presence anymore.

His soul is empty as he raises his gun to shoot towards the monster, putting them out of their misery, and the last bit of humanity Leon has left goes with the dead body hitting the ground. He still has a mission to complete, a society to protect, so he focuses on that and refuses to give himself a moment of grieve.

Later he says, I have time later.

He's detached from his reality throughout the remaining time he gives himself to finish off this mission, his last mission. When all the threats are eliminated, he walks around aimlessly, his spirit has run dry and he knows the gaping hole in his chest is too much of a burden to handle. He doesn't cry, he's done enough crying in his life and frankly, he doesn't have any more tears to give.

I've failed. I've failed you. I'm sorry.

The words repeat in his head and he pretends his significant other somehow gets the message that he's not coming back home. He wonders if God will come to save him from this blasphemy, but this is the price he had to pay for having too much blood on his hands, blood he did not want to have.

His hand is steady as he puts the gun to his temple, finger on the trigger and he hears it click, nothingness comes right after. He doesn't feel pain, doesn't feel much of anything, and surprisingly he feels calm...at peace.

Things can't be different. Not this time.

[nocturius8015ficore]

**EDITED VERSION** 18th of October.

Nocturius: 4th Republic Commando fanfiction! This one is about Kal Skirata and the clones as children facing some difficulties on Kamino.

————-

Title: Growing up.

Fandom: Star Wars Republic Commando books by Karen Traviss

Characters: Kal Skirata, RC-8015 ''Fi'', Mij Gilamar

Rating: Family-friendly ** Fairly accessible to people who don’t know RepComm / alcohol consummation **

Topic: Growing up, clones, medical concern.

Pitch: RC-8015 ''Fi'' is a clone cadet who noticed some chronic pain for him and his squad. He decide to talk to his sergeant about that since he doesn't understand where it come from.

Like almost every night for the last three years, there was a thunderstorm outside. As a Cuy’var’dar, Sergeant Kal Skirata had his own quarters with a window showing the never ending wet hell.

Fierfek.

Skirata was sick of that dampness and his ankle wasn't in a forgiving mood. It seems the pain was echoing his own mood. He went over the cabinet to swill a mouthful of dry tihaar, a Mandalorian tongue-burning spirit.

Training 106 kids to be commandos and Nulls-Class special ops was hard. It took a lot of imagination to find new challenges to outsmart those little prodigies. No, not outsmart, let’s be honest, they were a lot smarter than him, to stimulate them to their full potential.

The really hard part was to keep day after day his composure and not let himself sink into the depressing thought of those kids having no future. They were blissfully ignorant of how the universe was unjust to them. The Sergeant was about to take another sip but got interrupted by a knock on the door.

‘’ Come in! ’’ he said.

He knew that was not the kaminiise, they would have communicated with him on the com before. They never come to his quarters anyway. A little boy entered the room. Even with universal blue fatigues and the standard haircut, Kal Skirata was able to tell apart each clone boy under his protection. That one usually had a wide cheerful grin on his face, but not this time. It was RC-8015, Fi. He had let the squads lads named themself. That was one of the only few ways he could let them express their individuality. This time, Fi wasn’t all smiles. He looked worried and distressed.

‘’ Sergeant Kal, I would like to talk to you about something. I’m sorry to disturb you. ’’

‘’ Sure, son. Sit there, help yourself in the drawer. ’’

The boy did what he said, but didn’t take a bite in the warra nuts bar yet. Which was worrying in itself. The clones were always hungry.

‘’ I… I’ve noticed that my brothers from Teroch and I feel the exact same pain in the chest, around the sternum area and the rib cage. Some nights, we have difficulty breathing because of it. There are also ligaments and muscles in the back of the legs and most of our joints. I know it’s not the training or musculoskeletal injuries. I’ve signaled it to the med-droid but the scans said our vital signs were normal. ‘’

Skirata shouldn't have been surprised to hear such advanced language from a 5 looking 10 years old boy, but he was. He stood up and walked to the boy and ruffled his hair affectionately.

‘’ Shabla tinnies, they can’t do their job properly, mh? Let me have a look, the old school way. ‘’

He indicated Fi to remove his shirt to inspect his chest and with his bare hands. He tried to feel some irregularities in the area the boy mentioned. Kal Skirata wasn’t even close to be a doctor, but he knew enough about medical stuff to recognize when things were wrong. Fi stayed very still, fully trusting the only human adult who had ever care of him.

‘’ If I push there? Does it hurt? ’’

‘’ A bit. ’’

‘’ Take a deep breath, does it hurt more? ’’

‘’ Yes .’’

The child was visibly in pain but he wasn’t acting to get attention. He knew him. He was the kind to hide it or literally laugh when getting himself in an accident. That was a goofy little one, not a whiny one. The kid was brutally honest with him, no masking, he deserved the truth.

‘’ I’ll be honest with you, Fi, I'm not sure what you have, but I will talk to my colleague Mij Gilamar, who is an actual medical doctor and ask around if it’s just your squad or all of you. Could be my fault for being too hard in the training or something else. We will find a solution. In the meantime, I’ll schedule you more swimming, ok? ’’

‘’ Ok, thanks Sergeant Kal! ’’

Fi hugged him spontaneously and put the whole warra nut bar in his mouth, winked and poorly articulated a goodbye as he left the room. Skirata couldn't repress a chuckle. They were so innocent. ***

The very next morning, Kal Skirata went to the Nulls quarters. They each had their own beds and some personal furniture. He insisted on that. He wanted to make clear they were no animals. Sadly he couldn't win the same level of comfort and intimacy for the commandos.

Without a word, all the 6 Nulls-Class gathered around him in a perfect line, waiting for instructions. They were usually pretty rebellious but not to Kal. He was Kal’buir for them. Their father.

‘’ Udesiir sons, I just want to talk with you about something. ’’

‘’ Is it something we have done, Kal?’’ said Ordo, the leader of the small group. The kid was looking at him with his anxious big eyes.’’

‘’ Of course not, ad’ika. I want to ask you something personal. Do you have chest and leg pain? Especially at night? ‘’

The little boys turned to each other and in a same voice they answered yes. Skirata felt his heart sank.

‘’ Why have you never told me that before? ’’

‘’ We didn’t want to bother you with that, Kal’buir, it’s only because we are growing too fast. I’ve looked on the holonet, there is nothing we can do about it.’’ said Kom’rk, the Null was already very versed into hacking the kaminoan firewalls to access off-world intel.

‘’ Well, I will find something. Next time, you talk to me about any unusual stuff happening to you, alright? We can’t trust the med-droids even less some aruetiise on the holonet to make a diagnosis about you. You are too unique!

‘’ Yes Kal! ’’ they said in unison.

Soon after his quick meeting with the Nulls, the Sergeant went to his friend and other Cuy’val’dar, Mij Gilamar. After telling him in detail Fi’s perspective, he actually laughs.

‘‘ Your boy, Fi. You should bring him to me in a few weeks. His observations were pretty keen. He would make a terrific medic. ‘’

‘’ Yeah, I’ve noticed it. I was planning to make him a sniper but I think he might wear both hats real fine. Actually, I plan to teach all my boys some field medic skills like yours ’’.

‘’ Common sense, really. About the growing pains, that was highly expected but I understand you didn’t guess osik, you are on head shorter than anyone here.’’

‘’ Funny, ner vod. ’’ he said sarcastically. ‘’ But there is truly nothing we can do about it?’’

‘’ Well, not really. And it’s gonna get worse when they hit puberty. ’’

‘’ Fierfek. ’’

Somehow, his brain almost forgot that this growth stage was about to start and will be very difficult to handle indeed.

‘’ Will… they grow normally? I mean, twice as fast, but about their… ’’

‘’ I know what you mean Kal, I’ve thought about it too. I don’t know the details of the aiwha-baits meddling with their genomes and hormones, but they seem to have everything we have, but stronger, faster and it’s not gonna be easy for any of us. They needed to keep the testosterone level accurate for max aggression as soldiers.’’

‘’ It’s gonna be a shabla nightmare for all of them. We’ll need to have a talk. Serious one.’’

‘’ We have about four or five months ahead, but you are right. I’m gonna get in touch with the others. There is no way the flashtraining is covering that. We’ll have to talk about it ourselves. I’ll be on it, don't worry. ’’

Gilamar and Skirata stayed silent for a moment. They were both worried, but the doctor suddenly had an idea.

‘’ I think we can teach them self-massaging. ’’

‘’ What?! ‘’

‘’ Not that, di’ikut. For the legs and chest pain. Therapeutic deep tissue massage. Releasing tension they accumulate during the day. Stretching the muscles and ligaments. Bring the boy tomorrow. If it works, we will teach it to all of them.

In the early afternoon Skirata and Fi came to Gilamar’s medical office. The cadet didn’t show a lot of nervousness but was very curious about the non-kaminoan medical equipment there. The doctor showed on a holoprojector some mix of basic theory about chiropractic, physiotherapy, osteopathy and other less known non standard, or archaic medical procedures for a week. The next one, he began to train them with some practical exercises.

At first, Kal Skirata was unsure about how to perform some spinal adjustments but got the general idea. Fi on the other hand, was very good. The boy took his time and did things with astounding dexterity. He even did some little miracle with his ankle.

The boy would be a great medic, he thought. Could have the potential to be a surgeon with that precision, his sensibility and attention to the surroundings… or a musician, thinking of it. If he would have had the opportunity to choose but that was impossible. Sniper/medic was the only option.

‘’ You got it better than I, son. I'm proud of you! ‘’ he said, moving his feet like a new one. ‘’ Do you think you might be able to teach it to your squad? ’’ the child smiled widely.

‘’ Of course Sergeant! Already did! ‘’

‘’ Oh great, we will cascade-training the other squads under my care then .’’

‘’ Really? I’m gonna meet the other squads? Can’t wait to make new friends! ’’ his face illuminated.

‘’ Just for a couple of days, but yes.’’

Skirata felt sad about it, squads were isolated from each other most of the time, except for some competitive training. The program for commandos required it. Will those boys ever have a normal social life? What would happen after their training when they will see the civilian world?

Meet ordinary people. Meet women.

That night, Skirata thought he might sleep better without his ankle pain but he actually felt worse. He took the bottle of tihaar and drank its contents till he passed out.