#since I don't use them in anything these days

[littleapplle]

bad dog!

mating season's part two. not necessary but read it for more context. nsfw. 4.1k w.

cw.: hybrid!caleb, fem!reader, masturbation, dry humping, caleb is pathetic and anxious asf, a lot of spit, handjob, cunnilingus (sigh...), p in v, big d caleb, knotting, breeding kink, pregnancy kink (sorryy..), caleb is PATHETIC (again), biting and lwk marking kink, doggy style, mating press, squirting.

note: ah!! its finally out! to everyone who liked and asked for a part two of mating season, im sorry! i took so long to start and finish this. i hope i can keep up with the expectations and that this is just as enjoyable as part one.

“bad dog!”

Is what caleb's got most used to hearing in the past few days.

“caleb, do you know where my white bra is- hey, what are you hiding in there? bad dog!”

“caleb! stop going through the dirty laundry basket! bad dog!”

“caleb, why are there holes in my black panties? oh my god did you chew them again?- ugh! bad dog!”

the first few times, he'd whine in guilt and shame, give you his best puppy eyes and maybe, just maybe, get away with it. but now? you're afraid he's getting bolder, that your punishments – denying him his weekly spoon of peanut butter and his blueberry bites – aren't being enough to keep him on his tracks. 

and what's the solution for a puppy with bad manners? a trainer, of course! you've searched everywhere online for a hybrid trainer close to your apartment and nothing was worth wasting time on. most of them were men, which you knew wouldn't end well.

puppy!caleb is friendly, a sweetheart around you. he lies on his back and whines for belly rubs and when you scratch a particular spot on his side, his leg twitches a little. your sweet pup is lovely but you know him well enough to know it's better to avoid interactions with other men.

it's not personal! he isn't scared of them or anything. he just doesn't like them around you:( so why would you bring a stranger to your shared apartment to not only try and order him around but also infect the air, which usually smells like you, with their yucky scent? that's a nono!! caleb is a good pup but his teeth are still huge and sharp!!!

with no other options left, you return to scolding caleb almost daily for his misbehavior.  sure, you’re letting him get away with it sometimes and maybe you're too soft on him but you're trying!

his behavior worsens with time. it's been a little more than a  week since the incident you'd rather not mention. caleb barks when you get home, showing his teeth to the world once his nose sniffs a different scent in your clothes. caleb growls and both of you play tug of war with your clothes every morning. caleb hides stuff around the apartment and you're running out of undies.

he's clingy. you love him but he's constantly clinging to you, sniffing every inch of your skin when he thinks you're not looking. When you sit down on the couch to work, laptop resting on top of your thighs, he lies down on the floor, waiting for you to invite him to sit beside you and take a nap while you write reports, and when you don't? his sharp teeth nip at the ticklish skin of your foot. bad dog!

to his dismay, you still have a job and need to go out by the morning and spend the whole day out. the baby teethers you bought for him aren’t helping to keep his teeth and mind busy anymore and caleb is starting to destroy the shit out of your apartment. you’ve found bite marks everywhere this past week. your mascara? bitten. the corner of your bedside table? destroyed. the cute and pink silicone spatula in your kitchen? disintegrated.

ok, sure, it’s kind of your fault for not educating him properly but how could you? poor boy gets anxious when you’re not around and his gums are itchy! he’s innocent! 

so, to help with said problem, you bought him a friend! a fluffy, cute, white bunny plushie with the cutest light pink heart for a nose. but that alone was too tedious for your bored pup! to prevent him from absolutely destroying the plushie, you spray some of your perfume in its fluffy body. the cologne he whines and buries his face in your neck when you wear, the one that made you put a lock on the cabinet under your bathroom sink because he kept spraying it in the air when you weren’t home.

great idea! he loves it. a bit too much maybe, but it’s a win. 

“i’m leaving, caleb! leftovers are in the fridge. yes, i love you, yes, i have to go, no i can’t call in sick.”

you announce loudly from the front door before shutting it close, a tactic you quickly learned. you sneak to the front door quietly, tell him that you’re out and boom. door locked. sometimes you can hear him whine and paw at the knob and it breaks your heart but your boss will chop your head off if you arrive late one more time this month. you try to make your goodbye as painless as possible for him, like removing a bandaid with a single, quick pull so he doesn’t have the time to process the sting.

the clock hits 11:00, it’s been an hour since you left. caleb is miserably sprawled on the couch, he tries to focus his eyes on the show playing on the tv but his purple orbs stare at the clock more times than he can count.

it’s 18:00 by the time he gets frustrated and decides he’ll take a nap in your bed. everything on the tv is too boring if you’re not there to watch it with him, he doesn’t want to eat if you’re not there to treat him with dessert- oh, he misses you dearly.

opening the door of your room, he sighs like a wife that has been waiting six months for her husband, who left to save their country, to answer her last letter, whining dramatically at the hopeful thought you’d magically come home earlier. the mattress sinks down with his weight, curling under your weighted blanket like a puppy.

and that’s when he sees it.

his new little friend, with a light orange bow tied around its neck, sitting beside his head on the pillows. you’ve definitely sprayed your perfume on it this morning, the scent is still too fresh, he notes. 

he yanks it closer quickly, big hand and fingers gripping the fabric with force as he buries it in his face. comfort immediately runs through his veins, filling his bored brain with a sense of calmness. his fluffy ears twitch, glueing to the sides of his head pitifully and there’s a barely visible tail wagging slowly under the thick blanket.

caleb takes a whiff, a second one, a third one, and his eyes start to water. this is inhumane! he cherishes your gift dearly but now the scent just makes him miss you even more. rubbing his face closer to the plushie’s tummy, his canine teeth sink on the fabric as gently as he can, trying not to damage the toy you gifted him with so much love.

his little puppy heart shatters. if you were by his side right now, you’d pet his ears, pinch his cheek just enough to make his canines visible and giggle at him and it’d make him feel better! 

his hips buckle against the mattress as he squirms around the bed sadly and a shiver runs up his spine, making the fur on his tail stand up. caleb has been so pent up since he pressed you to the floor and had his way around you, his cock is always sensitive, the scratches you give behind his ear make his lower stomach tighten with arousal and his pupils are always blown.

gross stuff is a nono in your bed but his hands paw at his hardening cock through his boxers anyway. It’s not in his hand he wants to come and the feeling of not having what he wants makes his chest heavy with frustration. With a hiss, his hand leaves his cock, like any touch burns and hurts him more than it helps. 

‘caleb- no. i need you to calm down before i give you the spoon. breathe.’ is what you tell him after lunch, when he gets to have some peanut butter. the situation is different, he feels like a bomb, ticking closer and closer to explosion but he obeys your voice in his head anyway, breathing nervously against the now covered in saliva bunny.

a long breath makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull as his hypersensitive nose catches a glimpse of the intoxicating, sweet smell of your cologne. 

and what happens next is not processed by his pathetic brain. the poor plushie is dragged down the blanket and pressed right to his crotch, its fur sticky with precum that seeped through his boxers. this is what you wanted when you gifted him this thing, huh? a ragdoll for him to fuck when you’re away? well it’s not enough!

his hips rut against the bead filled body with messy thrusts and more whines escape his lips. He can’t come. Not in this, not in his hand, his knot will take too long to go down and he’ll be sensitive, too sensitive. it has to be you. he wants you.

caleb is not there to see the clock tick 18:40, his ears don't help him this time, his nose is buried in your pillow too deeply to catch your slightly sweaty scent in the air and tell that you’re home. 

from the front door, you arch a brow as you kick your shoes off and place them on the shoe hack. the apartment is quiet, too quiet. caleb is like a child, you’ve noticed, if everything is too silent, something is wrong. 

“caleb? where are you, boy? have you eaten anything yet?” you call out, no one answers.

the door of your bedroom is ajar. is he sleeping? cute. you walk carefully to its direction, tiptoeing in hope to not wake him up. and once you peek inside, your smile falters.

“caleb! gross!”

the shriek makes him snap out of his drunk, dumbed down mind and his eyes almost pop out of his skull. his ears, once hidden on both sides of his head, stand on top of it, tense. “you-” he cries and sits up.

you don’t give time to finish his sentence, a frown blooming in your face as you cross your arms close to your chest by the door. 

“seriously caleb?! in my bed? i just changed the sheets this morning, for fuck’s sake-” and listen, he wants to apologize, feel guilty and pout but he can’t. he can hear your breath hitching, he loves when you come home with sweat clinging to your skin, fuck, you smell so good. he wants a taste. this time, he’ll get it.

this time, he begs. he crawls to the edge of your bed, tail wagging behind him mindlessly and the words that leave his mouth are pathetic.

“please- r’lly need your help! feels so hot- please i- i really need you! been waiting for so long, ah, please- i’m a good boy, kept my teeth to myself, promise. oh fuck.” your ears can barely catch up to everything he’s saying, his words are dragged, desperate, needy.

you really want to keep up with the ‘i’m mad at you’ act but you break. his whines go right to your core, arousal pooling on your underwear disgustingly fast. pinching your nose, you sigh, walking to his direction and sitting on the bed.

with the space between you two getting smaller, his tail wags faster, his pupils blown wide, shaky. your hand makes contact with his sweaty cheek and he is quick to lean in, shutting his eyes close and basking into your touch. “what’s wrong, pupp-” — “hot.” you can hear the distress in his voice. “it’s okay, i’m here now, aren’t i?” at the reassurance, you receive a lick in your hand as acknowledgement.

scooting closer, you cradle his face with both hands. there’s a bit of sweat clinging to his bangs , making them stick to his forehead, a bit of saliva is smeared on his lips and his brows are furrowed. “oh, my poor pup.” you coo in pity before pressing a kiss to his wet lips. he whines, kissing— well, licking your lips stupid—, you groan at the mess but doesn’t fight against it, you’ve been mean enough already.

while his clammy hands grip your shirt for a sense of grounding, yours scratch his chest in affection, tracing down to the happy trail that trailed up to his bellybutton. you’d love to take your time with him, let your mind settle, but knowing caleb, he’ll grow frustrated and bark weakly as a way to protest. so, in order to keep him quiet, your wandering hand pulls down his wet underwear, his cock standing proud against his stomach.

your eyes almost pop out their sockets once you peek down. he is big, much bigger than whatever the average is. his tip is an angry shade of red, beads of precum leaking down the shaft. the cool air makes it twitch. 

slowly, awkwardly, your hand wraps itself around it, working up and down. that makes him snap, breaking the kiss and throwing his head back with a loud whine. “‘s that good, pup?” he doesn’t answer, how could he? not when your thumb presses on his tip in a way it makes his thighs shake and his ears twitch with pleasure and he’s trying so hard not to come. 

your other hand leaves his face, going south to cup his balls gently. his jaw tightens. gross. you think with a smile but leans in anyway, kissing his adam’s apple as it bobs with his nervous gulps.

the stimulation is too much for him, making his brain go fuzzy. your lips now working on his shoulder blade, your hand gripping his length tightly, your other hand massaging his balls- “stop! argh- please, ‘m gonna cum! can’t cum. needa be inside you, please.” caleb squeals, both hands holding down your arms with force as his hips buckle in your hands.

so you do, you let go, just staring at him with big eyes as his chest goes up and down quickly and his face flushes with heat. once he settles from his high, caleb’s hands grip the hem of your shirt, taking it off quickly and messing your hair. “ow! caleb-” — “no.”

caleb has always been stronger than you, you lose against him when roughhousing, you give up on trying to save your clothes from his teeth because once something is in his grasp, you’re not getting it back. in a second, you’re under him, face shoved into one of your pillows while your ass, covered in the pretty, black skirt you left to work with is up in the air.

he doesn’t take the skirt off, too irritated to care about something so trivial. he takes a second to sniff your crotch, covered by a cute pair of wet lilac panties, before yanking the fabric down to your bent knees. you squeal against your pillow at the roughness and the quick, hot sniffs on your lips.

last week caleb discovered he loves the way you taste, he’d love to eat you out the whole night, starting now, but he just can’t take this long right now. his warm tongue laps at your arousal, lips wrapping themselves in your folds and sucking gently.

“c-caleb! fuck! good- good boy, keep going, baby.” muffled whines escape your lips and at the praise, caleb’s tail wags faster, tongue working around your clit, teasing it. he sees the way your knees fight to keep your ass up and not buckle weakly, that’s his sign to keep going. 

his free hands grip your ass, spreading it for more easy access. he trails kisses from your clit and up to your slit, continuing going up till he gets to your asshole, placing an open mouthed kiss to the hole. it twitches, your body shivering at the unexpected contact. you hit the pillow you’re currently biting in protest. “gross, caleb!”

it doesn’t take long for your moans to grow louder and your thighs, dripping with sweat, shake violently as he sucks on your clit harshly. “fu-ck! yes! good boy, caleb- mghhh- jus’ like, ah, that!” you moan, creaming on his mouth tiredly.

you curse his stamina, because once you think you’ll finally be able to catch your breath and rest, caleb’s already rutting against your wet folds and slapping his dick on your sensitive bundle of nerves. energetic mutt, you curse. he is not giving you a break.

“caleb.” you warn, trying to make your voice as steady as possible. “gimme a break and then we can conti- aaH! oh my god- fucking mutt!” you scream, cursing him for the pain between your legs as he buries himself inside you in a single thrust. his tip kissing your cervix and walls tightening around his length painfully. 

“s-sorry! o-oh fuck. fuck, y’er so tight- mgh-” 

and ohhhh fuck, he waited so long for this. you look so pretty from this angle, hair tangled and messy, face buried in a pillow, back and thighs sweaty while your knees can barely hold up your weight. he gulps down, trying not to piston his hips inside you just yet. 

he doesn’t give you much time to get comfortable before snapping his hips against your ass, the sound of skin against skin disgustingly lewd. his torso bends down to bury his face in your nape, breathing deeply in your hair once he does. “mine. oh- ahh- yes, mineminemine!” caleb whimpers, his eyes rolling back as you clench down around him, making his thrusts messier. 

as a response to pleasure, his fluffy ears twitch and drop to the back of his head once again. his tail doesn’t stop wagging ever, swishing behind him happily. the warmth in his stomach grows at the sound of your moans and screams, your curses only making him hornier.

you’re a meanie, you don’t let him chew on your shirts and get a whiff of your bras, you nag at him and hide the small container with blueberries that’s usually in the fridge when he does something wrong. and usually, he’d whine, eyes getting watery at the thought of you being mad at him, but now? he doesn’t even care! you look so pretty, you feel so good. his ears barely get a glimpse of you cursing all his next generations.

a shiver runs down your spine once he licks the back of your neck, sniffing it contently as his cock abuses your insides. you hate him, you fucking hate this mutt, he is disgusting and he does not obey and his cock drags along your walls so fucking nicely. his mushroom tip pokes your cervix roughly, making you stupidly drool in your sheets while your things dig on the bedding. 

“y’smell so good- y’er so tight- feel so- ngh- good! mine, right? don’t like other men around you! noooongh”  – “w-wait! caleb! aah!” something in his mind upsetted him because the way he thrusts into your cunt is inhumane, caleb’s bigger frame presses you down on the mattress, the hair of his happy trail tickling your lower back as his skin slaps on yours. 

you’re a mess, pussy drooling pathetically and stretched to her limit around him, juices spilling down your thighs and the mattress everytime he fucks his cock inside you. and when you’re sure you’re getting used to him, of fucking course caleb has to start talking again. “need to mark you, everyone need’ta know y’er mine, just mine. that’s my cock you’re clenching around. needa bite you, yeah.” 

and he keeps up with his words, his loving, ticklish licks to the back of your neck turning into a sharp pain. you scream, squirming under him and one of your hands tries to slap whatever bit of his skin you can reach but it’s worthless. once caleb sets his mind into something, you’re definitely not the one that’s able to stop him with physical force. with a hand tightly around your waist and the other keeping your neck in place, his canine teeth sink down on your nape, biting down just enough to make the skin irritated and leave a scar for a few weeks.

and when you feel like you’re getting closer, his hips stop, his cock slips out of you and a strangled whine leaves your wet lips as he manhandles you, flipping you on your back. “you!-” annoying! you’re so annoying! bad dog!, you want to shout. “s-sorry. need to see your face.” he hisses as his eyes wander down at your breasts. “you’re so pretty, ahhh, so pretty. have i ever told you that?- fuck, mine and so pretty- oh-” 

he doesn’t waste any time, his hands help your legs up his shoulders and he slips inside you again. his sunset colored eyes stare at his cock going in and out, in and out, in and out of you and he finally notices the creamy ring around the base of his length and smeared on your lips. it’s pinkish, he notes, probably from being too rough and not stretching you properly. he’ll say sorry later.

“you’re so-” he pants tiredly, “so pretty.” a sweaty hand gropes the fat of your tit, squeezing it under his large palm. “want t’a breed you- need to- fuck! need to get your tits swollen with milk-” caleb leans in once again, this time bending your body like a stick, pressing your legs closer to your chest in the process. his nose takes a whiff of the valley of your boobs before wrapping his lips around your free boob, playing with the other one with his hand. 

your voice fails you once again. it’s not like you have the strength to judge him harshly again anyway. his tongue swipes at your hard nipple, sucking it like he has a point to prove. “and you would mghhh! would look so pretty and round and ah! everyone would know y’er mine, oh god-” 

with a last kiss, as if sealing a promise, he lets go of your nipple with mercy and stands up again, kissing your knee as an apology for bending you like your bones are made of jello. and then it hits him. “o-oh! s’rry forgot you like this.” the hand squeezing your tit snakes down between you two, adding some much needed stimulation to your clit.

you jump, legs thrashing against his shoulders and back at the pleasure. you clench around him once more and this time, it’s his turn to squeal in pleasure. “o-oh fuck. ‘m cumming, g’nna breed you, yeah? fill you up, mhm? yeah? fuck! cummin’!” caleb whines before throwing his head back, his sweaty hair barely moving an inch away from his forehead while doing so, and his once steady thrusts turn languid, messy. 

his cock twitches around you, spilling white, watery ropes in your pussy. bicolor orbs roll to the back of his skull as he feels his knot grow swollen at the base of his cock. even after coming, he keeps pistoning his hips in you, tiredly, but it’s the thought that counts.

at the weird, swollen and hot thing trying to fuck its way inside you, you mewl, eyes going wild as caleb tries stretching you just a little more. 

“caleb-? what the aha! fuck?” — “sorry!” he cries but keeps going anyway, his fingers working faster around your clit to make up for the pain. “jus’ a little more? ple- ase? it feels good, doesn’t it?” back to being stupid and pathetic apparently, because the way he stares at you with puppy dog eyes and begs is disgusting. 

his other hand leaves your thigh to press down on your tummy and it becomes too much. your walls convulse around him and you cry, clit throbbing under his touch pathetically. the hand putting pressure on your bladder makes your eyes roll, your hands grip the sheets to the point of turning white.

“caleb! ah! oh my god- fuck- aha, cumming, i’m gonna cum! pl-please keep going!” 

and you don’t have to ask him twice. he thrusts his cock in you a last time, his knot slipping in easier than he thought it would, thanks to your drooling cunt and his cum and that does it for you. your body goes static, hips bucking against his and back arching against the bed. his fingers don’t stop, rubbing your clit until you’re shaking uncontrollably and your juices spray on his thighs and lower stomach.

“oh-”  — “don- not a word!” you manage to cry out.

“so… how long till it goes down?” you murmur tiredly against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his big frame as he lies on top of you. your legs feel sore, aching from being spread for so long, thanks to his cock still buried in you.

“an hour and a half, probably” caleb shrugs. 

your eyes snap open. “an hour?!” — “and a half.” he barks with a chuckle.

“i hate you! you’re heavy, y’know?! argh, bad dog!” he only manages to laugh at your rage and lick your cheek, covering it in saliva.

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)

[cephaloph0re]

we're going back to the first thanksgiving

everyone lets do this ok? play touys

[sabos-husband]

Hi! was hoping for a request (this might get really specific) reader as a strawhat member who grew up with luffy (by extension also ace and sabo) back in foosha village, but actually used to be a slave for the celestial dragons before she arrived there, maybe never told luffy because in her mind, luffy was the epitome of freedom and she was ashamed of her past. The scenario I had in mind for the reveal was maybe in the middle of battle, her clothes gets torn and her mark is seen, maybe some strawhats have an idea of that mark is (maybe jinbei, robin and alike) while others don't (ussop? maybe?), while making the enemies ridicule her and how the strawhats react, but you can choose another scene that you think are more fitting! i just wanted to see how you'd write luffy because i love your writing style! the way you write flows perfectly and it's never out of character, you're my current fav writer on tumblr! so thank you!

★ Around the World

Reader and Monkey D. Luffy ★

Fishman Island Spoilers!! ~ Straw Hat!Reader ~ Feminine Reader (she/her) ~ Hurt/Comfort

a/n: Aww, that's so sweet of you! I appreciate that so much! Specific asks are wonderful, it makes it easier to write something as close as possible to what you want. Thank you for the request <3 I put the majority of this between Fishman Island and Punk Hazard, but there aren't major spoilers. Sorry this took a while!

As well, there's description of the reader's history with slavery and the trauma that came from that. I left it vague for the most part, though.

For so much of your life, Luffy's been a constant. Even when you ran around Gray Terminal with Sabo and Ace, terrorizing all the people you could find for all the money you could grab, Luffy wasn't far behind for most of it. It took the Bluejam Pirates torturing Luffy for hours before his loyalty dawned on the three of you.

It then took Bluejam setting fire to Gray Terminal for you to truly consider Luffy special.

When Sabo took to the sea, swallowed by flame, you held Luffy tight as he wailed. When Ace left for the sea, aided by nothing but a burlap sack on his shoulder and the wind in his sails, Luffy had promised he would follow. When Luffy left for the sea, you were there, standing by his side. His very own first mate, meant to weather the Grand Line by his side.

You hoped with all your heart it'd stay that way. You hoped that it was all he'd know about you—you, his first mate, with nothing else of her past beyond the Grey Terminal's walls and Foosha Village's people.

Of course, nothing you want ever comes so simply.

You can still remember the shrieks of laughter that burst from Luffy as you both clambered into barrels—it made sense that he would wind up into trouble on the sea, but the first day takes the cake!

Your life has been non-stop ever since. From the very moment you both step foot on Shells Town with Koby in tow, the crew grew and grew to numbers that made your pride in Luffy bloom.

Zoro was tough with a sword and reliable when you need him, but his difficulty with directions always made your head spin. Nami was quick with her hands and quicker with her mind, just like how she could never stand to let a Berri slip by. Usopp was sharp as a tack with his constant innovations and steady sharpshooting, even when he ran at ten knots an hour away from danger. Sanji was nothing short of a first-rate chef and one of the strongest men you knew, despite how often he lost himself in the wild pursuit of women.

Then there came the Grand Line. It brought Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook, Jinbei; thinking about the people Luffy drew to himself never failed to bring a smile to your lips. It's not like you could ever speak against them for their affection towards the captain—it's what brought you away from the safety of Foosha Village as well, skirting past the World Government you hated and feared for all your life.

It's like second nature, how much you love Luffy. Every single one of you would give anything for your captain.

"Anything" changes for you sometimes, though. Late into the night, long after the moon took its place in the sky, you wrestled with the dark. Could you keep this secret from your captain? From Luffy, the person you've known all your life?

(No, you'd remind yourself, not all your life.)

You think of the little boy you grew up alongside with, with a smile so bright you had to shield your eyes. The wind whipping his hair and threatening to carry away his straw hat as he lights up with laughter. You think of how your captain looks at you with the stars in his eyes, declaring that he will be the next King of the Pirates, and you believe him with all your heart.

Even after Ace died, his flames swallowed up in magma, you were there two years later. Luffy had gone through hell and back with you—couldn't that be enough?

It was thoughts like those that kept your secrets to yourself.

It was some foolish, childish part of you that thought you could have kept it up forever.

~

The day was as usual. It was nice, even. You had just finished helping Sanji with the groceries—to his chagrin, of course.

As much as he adores your company, he detests making such a sweet lady do manual labor for him, and he lets you know. Often. It was charming for the first while, but by the time you help Sanji put away the groceries, you're just glad it's over with.

The snack he rewards you after with, though, makes you sure that you'll help him next time. After he waves you off to begin lunch prep, you're quick to escape back to the docks.

You have some time to kill, you think. It's the last stretch until the log pose is finished setting and you've sort of lost track of the group... Thinking back, Zoro and Usopp got tied together, so you don't have to worry about searching for the poor swordsman. Nami stole Chopper to carry the clothes she was planning to get with Robin, while Brook and Franky were the ones assigned to watch the ship. That just leaves you with... Oh, seas.

There's a burst of screams that tear through the town's square, punctuated by a shriek of excited, almost maniacal laughter.

You're missing Luffy.

You're off like a shot towards the commotion before you can even think, weaving and pushing your way past the people. The crowd thickens as civilians shove past you. It's like swimming up river, but with every step you take, that familiar laughter gets closer.

When you finally burst from the mob, your feet catch on an unconscious marine. You stumble forward.

It's like breaking through a shield into a bubble—a ring of civilians gather to enclose Luffy as he's circled by marines, too duty-bound to flee but too cautious to fight.

Your captain hasn't put nearly as much thought into his approach. He barrels fists-first into the nearest hoard; the soldiers go flying like playing cards against a cannon. Sure it's charming, but he was supposed to be on board the Sunny, like, a hour ago.

So, Luffy deciding to gather the marines?

It sure isn't ideal.

Gathering your courage and tossing aside your exhaustion, you steel your nerves to storm the castle and extract your captain. And speak of the devil; Luffy whips his head around to stare at you.

"Oh! Hey!!" Luffy yells, with just a bit of manic glee. Great. You step forward—

—And a marine steps in your way. Really great.

As you fall into your fighting stance, you watch your captain dart from view. Well, whatever. You'll find him after you kick this guy's ass.

The marine wielded an odd weapon, like brass knuckles with claws soldered onto the palm. He hadn't bothered to clean the last victim's blood from it, and if the rust near the joints were to tell you anything, it was clear that he neglected to clean the blood of anyone from the weapon.

It feels like a warning.

It feels like a trophy.

Your captain rockets past him without a second thought (it's unlikely there was ever a first thought) to explode into another group of soldiers. It's like dynamite dropped in a haystack, the way navy officers go flying here and there.

The marine's eyes fall on you.

You can barely remember the fight afterwards, shamefully. You remember how it starts though.

He lunges at you with the speed of an animal, his clawed hands outstretched to sink into your flesh.

You dodge, he pivots, you aim to strike before he finds his footing—every move you make is to drive you closer to Luffy so you can cut and run.

Your mindlessness makes you sloppy. You don't even notice the way you're babying your secret, cradling it away from the fight. Of course that fucking marine notices.

Seas, you don't even know this marine's name, and yet he could still read you like a fucking book.

It's your last mistake.

When he slips to the side, too close for comfort, you jump back. His hand raises to tear out your eyes.

You raise your arms to guard, falling for the feint—the marine weaves past you, bearing his claws, and digs into your flesh.

It's over before you can even feel the pain.

You barely hold back a yell as you leap back, clutching your body. Warm blood trickles down the strike until it stained your clothes, sending panic shooting up your spine.

Like a curse from whatever gods left, that damn marine had struck you where you were weakest. There wasn't any time—by the time you whip around to clutch the wound, to hide your shame, it was too late.

"That pirate! She's... branded!"

A chorus of gasps tear through the crowd like a terrible symphony. You cling to the ribbons of your ruined attire like it could still save you.

Shadows claw at your vision as you struggle to breathe. Warm blood trickles down your limbs and your mark aches with a fresh, searing pain—it's grown with you, stretching over your skin in a reminder you can only try to forget.

You hear Robin gasp like she was struck herself. Oh seas, when did she arrive? You want to tuck yourself into a ball and hide from the prying eyes boring into your skin. You're sure she understands, if only because she shares your terror of who gave you this cross to bear, but it scares you. Somewhere, Usopp murmurs to her, "what is that?"

They know. They know.

The marine barks out in a fit of laughter, teeth bared and fingers curled around his claws. "What the hell is Straw Hat doing with government property?"

You think of Foosha Village, dodging your family and bathing in the river at night. You think of the clothes you had to give Makino back, too ridden by fear to wear them.

You think of your crew, sleeping soundly while you were working up the nerve to change your clothes in the dark. You think of Nami, with her skin graft and her new tattoo and the jealousy so strong you choke on it every time you see it. You think of how no one knows what was before that pinwheel tattoo except for the people she wants to know.

You think of your captain. You think of Luffy.

Oh seas, Luffy.

Tears cloud your eyes as you struggle to breathe. When you turn to your captain, you can barely see him—your vision swims, revealing splotches of color you'd recognize anywhere.

His haki rolls off in waves, so suffocating you can taste his rage on the back of your tongue. You see soldiers buckle and civilians collapse.

Your words escape before you can even think.

"Luffy, help...!"

A fist rockets past you. The sound of crunching bone hits you as air whips your cheeks. A mangled yell of pain is the last thing you hear from the marine.

"She doesn't," your captain growls, "belong to anybody."

~

You're brought into the medbay as soon as the Sunny left the docks. The silence is suffocating. You could barely look at Chopper as you shed your clothes, letting it slip until your shame was bare.

If you could guess, you'd bet it was nothing but professional courtesy that's keeping Chopper from reacting. That fucking mark takes up almost the entirety of the flesh, like a wound that can never heal.

The young doctor is kind when he cleans the blood. His touch hovers above your laceration when you hiss and tense. He's patient too, only continuing his work when you allow him to.

You hate this. Seas, you fucking hate this. You slump forward when Chopper continues his work.

You both pretend to not notice the tears that fall.

When he backs away, wound cleaned and bandaged, you don't turn to look him in the eye. You just turn your head and nod at Chopper.

The doctor straightens up like he always does after he works, but there's a new nervousness to him. His hooves are pressed together, like he's trying to quell the shaking. It makes you grit your teeth.

"The wound isn't bad," he says quickly, "but you'll need to rest. As for t-the rest, I couldn't..."

You nod. "Thanks, Chopper. You don't have to worry about... that. You're the best."

You watch the tension evaporate as he grins at you, leaning side to side. "That doesn't make me happy, you bastard!" He giggles, spinning. He sways a bit longer before he tamps it down, clearing his throat.

"But," he says clearly, "you can talk about it—"

"—Chopper—" you try to say.

"—Listen! It's important!" Chopper stands straighter like it'll give him the confidence his next words demand. "I-If you don't want to talk about it to me, it's okay. But... you should talk to someone. Nami, or Robin, or maybe- maybe if we call Jinbei, he would understand—"

"Chopper," you cut through. It hurts your heart to see the young doctor wilt. "It's okay. Thank you, but I'm alright."

"Okay... But- consider it? Please?"

You look away. "I will," you murmur.

Even though you don't see his face, you know Chopper knows you're lying. You know he won't push you farther, though. He hops down off his stool, shucks off his doctor's coat, and offers you the spare clothes Nami had lent you. She was kind enough to waive the fee this time too. You can't find it in you to appreciate it.

Chopper turns away as you get dressed again, which makes you smile. It makes you feel like you have some control again.

(You can't help but study your bandages. They're wrapped snug around you, but the edges of the brand sticks out like a hand print seared into your skin. You can still see the three pointed claws under the stark white of gauze.

It's the first time in a while you've really observed it. Every other time you forced yourself to look, all you could see was the red-hot brand and the wicked smiles of the demons who held it.

It's just as ugly as you remember.

You wish you had killed that marine, even if it wouldn't have changed anything.)

When you finish getting dressed, you signal to Chopper. He turns around, offers you a smile too bittersweet for someone of his youth, and reaches for the door.

"Oh, Luffy," Chopper comments idly. You can't stop how you flinch at the sound of his name.

You were dreading seeing him. It makes you want to cry again; how long has it been since you've dreaded being near Luffy?

The ringing in your ears swallow up the gentle words Chopper offers. Your bandages crush your ribs as you try to breathe—there isn't enough air, like that fucking marine took it all when he- when he—

The hands on your face smell like sun-warmed rubber. It's hard to say they're cradling your face, when Luffy just smacked his palms against your cheeks and squished them together until you were looking at him. When you blink, he blinks back at you.

"Are you there?" Luffy asks simply.

"Um, y-yes Captain," you force out. He nods thoughtfully.

Though, Captain isn't the right moniker. You aren't talking to isn't Captain Monkey D. Luffy, world-renowned Worst Generation pirate, capable of toppling kingdoms and challenging the World Government, feared by the powerful and adored by the powerless.

No, the boy in front of you is simply Luffy. The Luffy you've cherished since you were small, with a smile so bright and a heart so full—for all your life, you've never known how you got so lucky to have him.

Luffy pushes you to sit before he flops down next to you, bobbing with the mattress springing under his weight. You avoid his eye.

"You have something," Luffy states simply. It isn't a question, nor an accusation. It makes you flinch regardless—through all your tears, you can barely see the way your hands ball into fists in your lap.

He waits until you can find your words once again. It's kinder than you deserve.

"D-Do you- want to see it?"

"I don't care." Luffy just sort of... tilts his head at you. "I want to see you."

It's such a simple sentiment. It makes you feel like you've swallowed a thousand blades.

"I'm-... I didn't- I'm sorry, Luffy," you force out. The nails you dig into the stark white gauze don't put any pressure into the skin below it. Luffy frowns anyways.

"You can't apologize," he states simply. "You don't have to."

"But I- I lied—"

"It's okay." Luffy kicks his feet out. "I know you. I don't care about the rest."

All your words slip from your mind. If Luffy minds the silence, he doesn't show it.

Shame floods your chest. All these years hiding your past, unraveled just like that. You stare at your lap.

"They," you admit softly, "had me for so long. I- I never thought I'd be free."

He doesn't respond. You don't need him to—the words rush out before you can think. You stare into your open hands.

"W-When I escaped, I promised myself something. I said, they'll never control me ever again. But- I just... I've always been so scared! It's like- It's like I never even left—"

"Sabo is dead," Luffy says suddenly. "Ace is dead."

When Luffy looks forward, it isn't at Chopper's desk. It isn't at the medicine scattered along its surface, nor is it the kit the doctor had used to patch up your wounds. No—Luffy's gaze pierces farther, looking past the desk and the ship and the sea.

When Luffy looks forward, it's into the fire he left behind.

"But you aren't. You escaped. You're here with me."

Even without words, you understand. You can see the fire, too. "I am."

"You're not theirs anymore. You're mine," Luffy says just as suddenly, "but you aren't mine."

You don't respond. You wouldn't know how even if you tried.

Luffy turns to you with the same inferno that swallowed up your shared home. "You're my crew. You're my first mate. But I don't own you. No one does. That brand doesn't mean anything."

Before you can gather your thoughts, you feel Luffy's hand press his straw hat into your lap. It feels as warm as the sun he had been standing in just moments before. Luffy grabs at your hands to wrap them around its brim.

"You don't belong to anybody."

You could cry.

Luffy shakes your shared hold. "Say it."

"I-I..." You sniffle, "I don't..."

Luffy's eyes don't look away from you. They aren't mean, nor are they worried—they're fierce, just as sure of your power as they were the day he met you.

"I don't," you say finally, "belong to anybody."

When you collapse into his arms, shaking with every sob that wracks through your body, there is no shame when his hands brush over your mark. All you feel is warmth as he pulls you tighter.

You're not property. You're free.

You're a pirate—and no one is freer than a pirate.

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

After two weeks in the desert and nearly dying multiple times, you start to soften up- a tad, only after a drowning a guy.

[Part one]  [Ao3] [9] [Full Piece Here - It's Mine!]

10 * Fill'er [10k]

Suggestive themes + third base (NSFW) We don't care about safe sex or pregnancy! It ain't happenin' here, baby!

"You were oh so kind,

You thawed my heart of the ice,

Now get the fuck out of my mind."

The Sweetest Bone - Go Hang

        Day Eighteen.

        You rose from your mess of a bed, unfurling from Omni's cape that you'd been using as a blanket in the night. He'd yet to acknowledge the behavior and you hoped it'd stay that way. You didn't want him or anything of his, you wanted warmth. The comfortable familiarity of a blanket. The fire kept you warm enough but it was normalcy you craved.

        The GDA issue armor set was near complete on your body. Baldie found the top a few days back but you'd been too out of it to remember him putting it on you. The chest plate was left by the bed, ready whenever you needed it. You were lucid now, which was a relief to the boys, but a burden you were struggling to carry. 

        You couldn't stop thinking about it. The taste lingered in the back of your throat. The muscles that moved his body were now fueling yours. The empty stool no one had sat in since. The blood stain on your bed that Maskless couldn't get off with just water. The lack of his pinched voice and constant threat of wanting to kill you for being even mildly defiant. It wasn't grief or sadness, just a loss, a strange, hollowing thing to know he died and you lived, and you were only alive because you ate part of him. 

        You were able to speak and but chose not to as much as possible these last two days. You didn't trust yourself not to kill one of them and for the rest to tie you down, shut you up, and force feed you until they all died or somehow escaped the desert. You wanted them to die suffering and scared, but you also knew they were the only reason you were alive in this cool cave with food in your stomach. Again the murders were pushed back.

        You stop behind Maskless who is hunched over a swath of fabric scavenged from above. A sprawling map is laid before his hands, drawn with Emperor's fancy pen. Sections are lettered and numbered. The central piece of fabric was this very cave, with the immediate outliers listed as A with a number that must mean some degree north or south. They were all sewn together with scrap wire or loose threads, stitches hasty and puckered.

        "Where can I take a bath?" You ask him. You'd been down and out those starving days, but not deaf. You'd heard a few of them talk about it. Return from it looking slightly less like shit.

        He doesn't turn, good. You don't want to see Mark's face. You'd been doing a pretty good job avoiding looking at all of them this whole time.

        The pen stops moving on a quadrant labeled G60. Fingers hover over the fabric until they pause, come down on, "B-seventy." He goes back to mapping.

        You study the map a few minutes longer. Trying to understand which exit and subsequent turns would lead to B70. Then you remember. You pull out your phone, still largely charged from unuse, and snapped a photo. If you got lost, you'd look at the picture. Easy. You pick the entrance that looks like most B70-ish and walk toward it, flashlight prematurely flicked on. 

        "Where do you think you're going?" Scars says from his post, leaned against the wall, standing guard and watching. 

        "Out." You don't stop. 

        He's stepped in front of you, making you pause. "To where?"

        "What are you, my dad?" You hope the mention of a dad hurts him but his exposed eye doesn't glitter with malice or sadness. He's not moving so you hit him with, "Get out of my way."

        Your body swayed slightly, the dizziness easy enough to ignore. Now that you weren't actively dying or burnt out, your powers were more evened out. Lucky for you, they were working as usual, and he moved out of your way and does not chase. You knew he wouldn't hold long but it was about control with him, and you'd taken it, if only for a second. 

        Five steps later, there was another Mark in front of you. You hadn't even made it out of the main cavern yet. "You're not going anywhere unaccompanied."

        Omni, up from bed. Beard thick and speckled with gray. You'd found his salt and pepper hair on your side of the bed despite your efforts to uphold boundaries. You would put things between you when you slept, the chestplate, a rock, anything you could find, but he found his way back to your side. Such a huge man but you never sensed the shared garbage cot move, waking up with your back pressed to his.

        You side step him silently, hoping your rejection was enough, but he continued, "I will gladly-"

        "No." You were depressed but not stupid. He'd been sizing you up ever since he got back. Something shifted in him up there, and you weren't ready to be alone with the guy. You didn't sense any ill-intent and that made you nervous. You wanted him off your back almost as much as Scars.

        You pulled the knife out of the GDA belt, pinched the blade between your fingers, and held it out to him. "You look like shit, shave."

        He took the knife and moves a step before stopping with a frown. "Don't do that."

        "Leave me alone."

        He doesn't budge. He's tense, like hard muscle could stop your power, sadly it seemed to work. "I understand you do not want my company. I respect that, however," he turned, scanning for someone not busy sleeping or drawing maps or making more water basins, "Hey, Seven." He didn't trust the little fucker far as he could throw him, but morale and productivity needed to stay high- and Seven was doing jack.

        Lensless lifted his head from the jerky he was gnawing on. Omni jerked his head, and he came over. A piece stuck out between his lips, wriggling while he chewed. "Yeah?" 

        "Stay with (Y/n)," Omni said.

        "Go sit down." You try.

        Lensless, apparently the seventh variant Angstrom Levy recruited into his ranks, trotted back to his stool. Sat. Got up again when Omni said, "Get over here."

        The control snapped, the deed done, you hadn't been specific enough. Lensless came back.

        Omni turned to you, "We can go back and forth all day or you can go bathe." There was an implied 'Or I help,' he didn't say.

        The thought of any of them holding your body naked in the water made you rethink sending Lensless back. But you don't want Omni to think he's won. So you let Lensless come before saying, "Fine. We'll go but you? Shave." You didn't particularly care how he looked just that he looked freakishly like Nolan. Brought back too many memories of meeting Mark's parents over dinner. 

        Omni frowns. "Your trick will not work on me, but I will respect your wishes. Thank you." He watches as you go, using your phone as a guide. Lensless nipping at your heels. He didn't like it, but he would respect that you didn't want him in particular around. He'd knew he'd find a way to change your mind.

        He found Tracksuit sleeping against a stalactite. Gray had finished more of the cots, lining the wall by the fire, but he hadn't gotten one yet.

        "Hey." Omni gently knocked the mans leg with his boot.

        Tracksuit stirred, mask shifting as his head bobbed. "What?"

        Omni pointed down the cave you'd just disappeared into. "Follow them." He assumes Tracksuit would concentrate, force his ears to pick up the joint footsteps and one-sided conversation. 

        Instead, the yellow of his lenses flashes in the pale moonlight as he scoffs, "Fuck off." His head nodded back down and he was asleep.

        He searched for others to follow you. Maskless was busy and uncaring. Scars scoffed, clearly feeling rejected. Phantom was gone, exploring off on his own. As were Gray and Mohawk in separate quadrants. The only variant that would cooperate was Baldie, who shot up from sleep in a panic when he heard. He was down the cave in a blink. 

        Omni leaned over the still water and held the knife to his cheek.

        ***

        "I said, turn around." The fourth fucking time. Why did Omni choose this stupid, perverted little fucker?

        He does, shoulder shaking as he says to himself, "Boobies."

        You slide deeper into the water. Pool waist deep. Water tepid, the room lit by your phone flashlight pointed at the ceiling. Underclothes in the water with you to be squeezed and scrubbed after you were done with your body. It took an hour to find the place on the map and Lensless was no help. 

        You were trying, really, you were, but the sand was everywhere and you could barely get a good scrub in before Lensless was turning around again to stare.

        You pressed your body to the edge of the pool, where he could only see your head and shoulders.

        "Are you always this creepy?" You spit at him because using your power so many times today was starting to make you dizzy. 

        "Pretty much." He says. "I'll stop if you use your powers on me again."

        "Yeah, for five fucking seconds." 

        He clasped his hands together, batting his lashes, "One more time? I promise I'll stay this time." 

        "Freak." You said before dipping your whole head under. Hearing him talk through water but not being able to understand was pure bliss.

        Your head barely broke the surface tension before knocking into Lesless's nose. He was on his hands and knees, peaking over the ledge, smiling big. "Will you use 'em now?"

        You start a, "Back o-" then you see it. The bulge pressing against his thighs, not even trying to hide it. You push away from the side. Legs pressed together, arms crossed over chest. "What the fuck is wrong with you, like actually?"

        "A lot of things." He chirped. Fingers leaving the edge to touch the gently rippling water. "You, mostly."

        You warred between using your powers, giving him what he wanted and feeling violated, or not using your powers and still feeling tread on. In the low gravity of the water, you crawled backwards to the opposite edge of the pool. "I'm not your dead girlfriend."

        "I know." His hand sinks into the water, then his wrist, then his elbow until his whole arm is in the pool. "Because you're meant for me." His ass in the air as the other enters the pool, prowling into the water like a leopard. "Before this, everything was so... boring, so normal. I couldn't figure out what was off." His torso kissed the surface as his legs slid in, crawling slowly through the water towards you. "I was a superhero, I had the girl, I had the friends, the life, and then-"

        The taser was at the other end of the pool, it'd do nothing but it'd feel good to use it on him. "Back up, I'm serious." 

        "Then Dad killed you and I killed him right back." Lensless was halfway across the pool now, not even listening to your threats. He moved purposefully slow, every roll of the muscles under his tight suit a warning he wanted you to see. "I didn't disagree with him or even hate him. I loved my Dad but killing him was so much fun, I couldn't just stop. When the Viltrumites came, they said I killed too much of the population to make Earth a viable breeding camp, but things still worked out for me in the end. Cuz now I'm here, with you, and you get it." He was closing in now. 

        Forcing you to pick between staying in the water with him or to get out and expose yourself. Either way, he had you where he wanted you. "Another inch closer and I'll fucking kill you."

        He paused, hand poised to grab your ankle. Already shit-eating grin spread further, "You better stop me then." You swallow, gathering power in your throat, as much as you could muster. His hand passes over your ankle, angling to take you by the meat of your thigh. "Or do you not want me to?"

        "Drown."

        His head went under. At first, you thought he was unaffected, head floating toward your legs but when you moved out of the way he didn't shift to follow. He sunk to the bottom, face down. You pulled yourself out of the pool, limbs heavy with the sudden drain. Blood dripped out of your nose. Still, Lensless did not resurface. 

        You knelt by the poolside, nakedly air drying for a few minutes. Wringing out your solider underclothes, agitating them against the rock to get out as many stains as you could. When it was done, Lensless was still unmoving in the water. 

        You put the armor back on. Underclothes slung over shoulder. No way were you putting on wet cotton and covering it with the unbreathing material. You grabbed your phone and left Lensless's body in the dark.

        You catch him because he wanted to be caught. Baldie not quite hiding behind a pillar of rock on your way back to the main cave.

        "I can see you." You tell him.        

        He swings out. "Sorry, Three told me to follow you guys."

        Your brows knit a moment then remember the numbers Angstrom had given them. "Of course he did. You see any of that?"

        "Enough to want Seven dead just as much as you." 

        Your eyes narrow, "You saw me naked?" 

        "No, I was only listening. Was going to jump in but then you..." His gait pauses. "Did you hear that?"

        You take two more steps before stopping, "No?"

        Baldie's head whips left, then right. "Really? You- you don't?"

        "I don't have super hearing." You say. "What is it?"

        "What does super hearing have to do with it? It's right there." His hand goes up to the low ceiling, touches bare fingers to rock. Soon as he touched the cool surface, he paused. "Oh," and started walking again. Distraction forgotten.

        You had to trot to keep up with him, now power walking, "What was that?"

        "Nothing," he waves you off, "nothing, just sand moving above us, I think."

        "You think?"

        "I'm not used to being around so many living, moving things at once." He says, looking dead ahead, not at you, anywhere but you, "It still surprises me sometimes. I can hear your heart beating and I don't believe it. I-" His head snaps to the side, ear up. "Come on." He takes your hand and speed navigates you out of the caves. Not quick enough to be in danger, but fast enough for you to ask questions. Questions he does not answer. 

        You're dropped off in the main room, sat atop your cot. Phone flashlight still glowing in your hand, he wouldn't look at you before turning and rising out of the porthole entrance into the dim, early evening. He looked every which way, brow furrowed before flying off to investigate. The others gathered below.

        "Is that guy okay?" Tracksuit said. 

        "I don't know." You switched off your phone and stuffed it into your pocket. "He just started acting weird."

        "It is uncommon for a Viltrumite to be found in our own prisons." Gray swept the rock debris off his kilt. A new basin freshly carved in front of him. "But it is always a good opportunity to test experimental medicines and procedures on them until they wither away." He left out a detail, that despite the Viltrumite resistance to age and diseases, the prisoners never lasted long.

        Tracksuit ran a hand through his greasy hair, "Jesus. He's gotta be buttfuck crazy." 

        Your lips twist, and you think of saying he's better than the rest of them before remembering how he let them force-feed you man meat. Who gave a shit if he was nice to you- he was Mark Grayson.

        "Thank you for letting me borrow this." His voice pulls your eyes and mind away from Baldie. Omni held the knife out to you, handle first. Beard gone but stubble still peaked through his skin. Most black, some gray. The knife was made for throat slitting, not shaving. 

         "Sure." You reach out only for the blade to be snatched away.

        "Watch it." Omni snaps, the edge nearly swiping your chestplate as it passed by.

        "Mind if I borrow this?" Mohawk said, already holding the knife. "My shit's been growing." He zipped by the poolside. Knife edge pressed to the grown-out buzzcut around his mohawk. 

        "Give it back." You hiss without power. Everything you had left was used on keeping Lensless's eyes off you, then killing him. 

        Mohawk swiped the blade down his scalp, leaving an even trail, he'd done this before. Hair fell to the dark shoulders of his suit. "Nah."

        Another swipe and Omni stepped in front of you, "She said-"

        "Dude, she definitely doesn't want your help." Another swipe and the right side of his head was shaved down clean. You hated that he was right. You were quite literally just about to tell Omni to piss off. He looks at you through dark lenses, lips pulled taught. Waiting for you to say it. Mohawk doesn't look but wiggles around knowing there's drama afoot, the pot-stirring fuck. 

        "I swear to God, Mohawk." You point at his back as more fuzz falls away. "Give me that back or-"

        The knife sweeps his hair one last time. When he turns he is clean shaven, mohawk seeming perkier with the shorter buzz around it. "What did you just call me?" His tone is mischievous, eyes dancing. That look paired with a knife brought back bad memories.

        Omni moves in front of you but you walk around him. "Give it."

        Mohawk sticks out the blade, edge first. If you wanted the handle, you'd have to take his hand. You take it by the blade, let it sink into the cut-proof material of the GDA gloves. A frown flickers as his grip falls away. You turn to sit by the fire Maskless was building. He didn't need it whatsoever but the chores had begun to naturally fall onto whoever got back to camp first. He could stand to freeze for days but in truth, he liked the warmth and light, it made him feel a little more human.

        Mohawk followed as you set your wet underclothes to hang over a rock, "Wait, say it again."

        "I didn't say anything." You plopped down on a stool on the opposite side of the fire. If you sat on the cot he'd make some gross innuendo and try to lick you or smell you or some other freaky alien thing. 

        Mohawk sat himself on the damp ground at your feet. Scooted close as he could to the stool, shoulder centimeters away from touching yours. Fine with his ass being cold as long as he was beside you. "You heard her call me that too, right?" He asked Maskless.

        Maskless let the fire crack. "I wasn't listening."

        "Bullshit, you have super hearing like the rest of us."

        "I was trying to ignore you guys." Maskless sat himself across the fire. Staring into it thinking about the color of William's eyes and the heat of his naked skin.

        Mohawk chuffed out his nose. "Okay, you hate fun, got it." He turned back to you, firelight accentuating his wide smile. "You've got'a nickname for me, huh? Not very creative but I can let it slide." 

        "It's not a nickname." You say. Head following Baldie as he returned from the surface. Tense but calm. He sat by the waters edge. Unwilling to look at anything else but his reflection.

        Tracksuit flops onto a seat a few stools down. "It's a nickname."

        Mohawk's head snapped to him, flirty stupidity suddenly gone off his face, "None of your business, dipshit."

        Tracksuit held up his hands in mock surrender, "Super hearing like you said, guy."

        Mohawk unwound, legs sprawled out in front of him, arms behind him to lean on, "You agree then?" 

        "I mean, yeah." Tracksuit paused as his stomach growled. "Ugh, I just sat-" Omni was above ground and back in a blink. He held out a piece of jerky to him with something like a smile. "Thanks, man." He bit into the meat, holding his veil off to the side. Tracksuit gave in the same day you did, because Baldie did too and he couldn't be the only non-cannibal. Said it felt like bad juju. The worst juju was him enjoying the meat because whatever Gray did to cook the stuff beat anything he'd had from the grocery store.

        Omni took the chance to sit on the stool closest to you, opposite Mohawk. "What do you think of me as?" The question was silly, stupid, but he sounded so serious saying it, you almost laugh.

        You point to his chest, the color combo that was iconic in your reality.

        "Isn't it obvious?" You said with little bite. Killing Lensless had left you in a better mood.

        His face fell as he said, "Omni Man."

        Jesus, he looked so sad at the thought. You wondered if his Omni Man also beat the shit out of him, if he won that fight unlike your Mark. "Just Omni." You corrected, "You're not your dad." That makes his face a little less depressing to look at.

        "Babe, Omni-Mark is right there." Mohawk says. "Oh my God, did you go by that?"

        "No," Omni says, "I kept the name Invincible."

        Mohawk rolls his eyes but concedes, "Invincible is a cool name."

        Scars doesn't move off the wall. "What do you call me?" 

        "Dickhead." You lied. 

        "Heartbeat picked up, you're lying." 

        Phantom comes down from the roof entrance, holding two slices of jerky. One is for you, you know it is. He always seemed to be the one to feed you, but without force. None of them had tried since the first time. You didn't want a repeat, so you'd eat in small bites once a day. You tried not to look at the meat in his hand, though your stomach was empty and aching. You weren't desperate enough to cave. Yet.

        He notices, slipping the extra slice into his suit to be held onto for awhile. He sat on the stool second closest by your side. Rolled up the bottom of his mask, unveiling sweat-slicked skin with longer stubble than you remembered. Lips parted to bite into the jerky when the knife is pulled from your belt.

        "Need to take care'a that?" Mohawk pulls the blade off your waist and holds it out to Phantom. You were happy about the distraction from Scars so you didn't bite. 

        You feel Phantom's eyes slide to you for approval. You sneer. "Fine, whatever, too many of you have touched it now. I don't want it anymore." Mohawk laughed but Phantom didn't smile. He took the knife only because it retained some of your body heat. 

        Tracksuit swallowed a thick wad of jerky, "Whadda'bout me? Shiesty, right?" He didn't particularly care in earnest, but this conversation was leagues better than the nights of contemplative silence he endured while you were on strike and refusing to talk to anyone. 

        "What the fuck is a shiesty?" You said.

        He tugged on the blue sheet on his face, "My mask, duh."

        "Oh. Huh. I've never heard that. I just call you Tracksuit." You gesture to the very bright and very obvious outfit.

        "Tracksuit." He sounded offended, deeply. "That's fuckin' dumb."

        You shrug, "Can't call all of you Mark in my head."

        "So who do you call Mark?" Mohawk leaned his head to rest on the side of your shoulder. Snickering when you leaned away. All this was a push-pull game of hard-to-get to him.

        "None of you." Hangs in the air. "Too weird."

        Mohawk leaned even further into your personal space, almost laying his head on your lap. "Come on, tell us what happened between you guys."

        "None of your business." You push off the stool to get out of his range, knocking into Gray's boots, who you hadn't even realized was standing guard beside you. Looking down at Mohawk like shit under his shoe.

        "You're Gray." You say to change to subject.

        Gray's hands, perpetually laced behind his back, unfurl so he can point a finger to his own chest. "Me?"

        "Like Grayson, duh." When you look back, Mohawk is back where he started, trying to lure you back onto the stool with his distance. Just so he could invade your space again.

        "I guess, but it's mostly the outfit." You only settle back on the cut rock because the way Gray is looking down at you, so intensely, is starting to get uncomfortable. To crack the pressure, you add, "It's not a bad look."        

        His face does something weird. Shifts. Smiles. Eyes gone soft, cheeks a tinge of pink. "You like my uniform?"

        "I didn't say that." You lean back onto your palms. Feeling a little warm in the face yourself. Mark Grayson smiling at you, blushing because of you. Brought back nostalgic feelings, good ones, then bitter ones. You don't look at him or his charming smile again.

        "You're Maskless." You say to the man who looked like he couldn't care less. Then your gaze rolls onto, "Phantom."

        "What!?" Mohawk barks, "Why does he get the cool name!?" 

        "Because he kept his mouth shut when we met." You say. "Snuck up on me way easier than you getting up in my face with the 'babe this, babe that' bullshit." 

        "Babe-" 

        "Exactly."

        Phantom made himself swallow. Not one to look stupid while being clearly flirted with. His smile was more a shift in the shadows on his face than Gray's.

        "I like it." The lack of modulator left his voice sounding raw, scratchy, but stronger than it'd been when you'd first arrived.

        Mohawk pointed like a child seeing someone slightly outside the norm, "You can actually fucking talk?" 

        Phantom did not dignify that with a response. 

        You knew Scars was behind you because so many of them tensed. "Are you avoiding me on purpose because you call me Sexy?" 

        "How about walking jail sentence?" You shoot back. 

        "You're avoiding the question." Scars breath wafted past your ear. His cape fallen onto your shoulder as he leaned over you. The flesh on the back of your neck prickled. Mohawk's knuckles crack, already forgetting that this place was fragile. Walls couldn't be broken in stupid fights willy-nilly.

        "Scars." You answer quieter than you meant to, and you know he's moving as Mohawk's eyes follow him. 

        "Scars?" He walks around the front of you, assessing your face for the truth he can hear in your heart. A wicked, knowing, deeply wanting grin stretched his face. "Good choice." The words were slick with desire, spoken like a dirty little secret. It felt like one to you, the way he talked about the bombs dropped on his head, the cheek-kiss of getting his face partly blown off. 

        Your leg shoots between his, kicking his loose cape into the fire. Sadly, it doesn't catch. "Hurting me was never that easy, my dear." He tuts. Slinking back to shadows like the creep he was, sporting a semi.

        "Fucking-" Tracksuit shook his head, like even he felt violated. "-Guy, man."

        "What about me?" Baldie said, fingers idling in the pool.

        You feel instantly shitty. He'd been better to you than most of these animals who'd laugh if they heard the name. He'd let you become a cannibal. He'd saved your life from Swimcap. You couldn't say it. 

        "I don't want to make the others jealous." The humiliation could be personal, face to face, alone. Not here.

        Mohawk snorts, "Jealous?"

        "Is it 'cuz he's Sexy?" Echoed off the cave walls he from which emerged. Completely alive, not blue in the face at all, but dripping wet. Lensless. "I was hoping I'd be Sexy."

        "How the fuck are you alive?" You're on your feet going for the taser you wish you'd used on him earlier. 

        "Is he supposed to be dead?" Tracksuit asked.

        "It was a good try," Lensless shakes out his leg, splattering water across the floor, "but you should know we can go without breathing for two weeks." 

        "When I tell most people to drown they usually breathe in the water, you fucking idiot." 

        Lensless chuckled, pushing the hair stuck to his mask back. Lashes darker wet. Suit somehow sticking closer to his body. "I'm not most people."

        "You tried to kill him?" Omni asked.

        "He was being a freak!" You hold the taser out over Mohawk's head. Lensless comes closer, firelight flicking orange on his wet body. You let the prongs release to make contact with his water-sodden throat. You know it won't work but you just needed to do it, for prosperity's sake. 

        He doesn't feel it but the effort makes him blush. He sits down next to Maskless as the prongs retract into the taser. "What do you call meeee?" His toes flex in his boots. Acting like he hadn't been soaking at the bottom of a pool for hours. 

        "Freak."

        He lights up, "Really?" Ugh. His smile is brighter and bigger than Gray's- it's stupid and cute and you hate how it gives you butterflies. 

        You fucking hate butterflies. "No. It's Lensless," You point to your eye, the side where he no longer has one because of you. 

        He partly deflates. "Why not Freak?"

        "Because it'd give you a boner."

        "Oh speaking of! I was in that pool awhile and you held control for a really long time. Like, really long! It was strong." The praise was good news but you had a feeling this was going south. "Like, good job, you're stronger than I thought- But it wasn't strong enough." 

        You lean forward, brows knit. "What do you-" The memory of his hard-on hits you like a grenade, you have to sit down, "Oh Jesus Christ."

        "What?" Tracksuit asked.

        You run your hand down your face. "That's not possible. How did you even-"

        "Cum?" He finishes painfully for you, "I dunno! It was like magic. Dick magic! You should do it again."

        The situation hits the Marks like a wave. Omni had Lensless by the neck, holding him overhead. Phantom had Lensless's arm out to the side, his own arm raised, poised to chop the thing off if he touched you with it. They turn to you for approval.

        "If anybody's killing him, I am." You say, but Lensless is not dropped.

        Tracksuit didn't know to laugh or scream, so he did both, "He came in the fucking bath water!"

        "There are other pools," Gray says stiffly.

        "It's the principal!" Tracksuit argues. "You can't just do that, dude!"

        "Put him down." You tell the duo. "Before he cums on you both."

        Phantom releases him quick, as if stung. Omni is still holding Lensless by the throat, but lowers him until his feet touch the floor. "If you ever talk to my wife like that again-"

        "Not your wife."

        "For the record," Lensless held up a finger as Omni slipped back, "I would not cum on you guys. That's weird. I've jerked off plenty of different ways, but I don't think I could fuck my clone. That's like, too much, even for me."

        "Cumming because I've tried to kill you on two separate occasions is fucking weird." You never thought you'd be having this stupid conversation but here you were, having it.

        "Two?" Omni raises a brow under his mask. "Two times?" Rage taught in the flex of his tensions.

        Your palms press to your eyes. "Can we talk about literally anything else?"

        Scars is merciless. "I'd also like to hear about those two times."

        They begin to bicker among themselves, questioning Lenseless who giggled like his life wasn't in danger. You couldn't listen to it anymore. It was up to you to turn this around. "Hey," You look directly at Maskless, hoping to grab his attention. His eyes don't leave the fire. "Hey Dummy, you wanna hear about William from my universe?" This time his eyes flicker up to you, honey brown eyes lit golden by the fire while Tracksuit goes onto the rest of the group about the principles of jerking off in the desert.

        His gaze is a heat sinking missile. "I thought it was Maskless."

        "Thought you weren't listening, didn't think you'd respond."

        He tapped his ear, "Heard something that wasn't lame. Tell me."

        You remembered little of William. He was spunky, nice to be around the few times you met while dating Mark. He was always welcoming and you could appreciae that. The one thing you really remember is, "He's lethal at bowling."

        A smile cracks his too-serious face, "He was, yeah. Couldn't beat him even with my powers."

        "I couldn't beat him with mine." Though you never tried. Mark and him were to remain in the dark, you had hoped forever before things went south.

        A smile cracks his too-serious face, "He was, yeah. Couldn't beat him even with my powers."

        "I couldn't beat him with mine." Though you never tried. Mark and him were to remain in the dark, you had hoped forever before things went south.

        "Shit, I haven't thought about that guy in forever." Mohawk stretched his arms over his head, bringing them behind him and trying to catch you by the waist. When you dodged out of the way he smirked. An 'I'll get you one day' kind of look. "He was crazy with those strikes n' shit."

        "He was good."  Phantom fiddled with the remaining jerky in his hands. He had more to say, but couldn't bring it to come out.

        "I used to go to the alley every weekend with Mom when I was younger." Omni said, having long since tuned out Tracksuit and Lensless' rambling, "Just so I could get better and beat him one day." He doesn't say how Dad thought it was a waste of his time, made him stop just for those few precious hours of training. How Mom let it happen.

        "Did you ever?" Maskless asks.

        "No." Omni forced away the memories. William didn't matter anymore. He hadn't mattered in a long time. Nothing had.

         Tracksuit noticed his audience had waned and said, "That guy abused those lanes."

        "'S gotta be a universal constant that he's crazy good at bowling." Lensless said, though nobody acknowledged him. Everyone still a little tiffed about the cum water thing. 

        Something in Maskless seemed to unspool. "Yeah, I guess it is."

        There was comfortable quiet a moment. Quiet where Gray wondered who this William character was. Friends were not something Viltrumites had. He was odd for his culture, yes, but he had still stuck by that notion. Across the room, Scars vaguely remembered a kid who's homework he'd steal and company he'd tolerate when necessary. 

        "Baby girl, you're my universal constant." Mohawk bumped his freshly shaved side against your shoulder. 

        "I'm literally not constant." You gestured to Maskless, to Tracksuit.

        "I mean, yeah, but everywhere else you're like..." The words fall off his tongue and his eyes dart around the room looking for a nice way to say it. Because you were not some moral, goody-two-shoes here and that was strange for everyone. But hell, that's what he liked about you. "My super hot and sexy wife-bitch." He doesn't bring up his planned proposal. The failure was too humiliating to share, even with other versions of himself.

        You could tell he'd thought of something else, how there was something fundamentally wrong compared to his (Y/n) and it sours the small moment of bonding. "She had time to care about those things didn't she?" You do your best to cover up the bitterness but it's hard, so hard. When Mohawk is staring at you with Mark's fucking face, enamored by every word. You hated that Mark was still attractive to you, that his opinion of you mattered at all. 

        "I mean, yeah, I ran the empire, she looked hot. It was like a full time job."

        Your lips twist. "How hot was she when you killed her?"

        His head jerks away. Offense flashing in his eyes as his face tenses. Got 'em.

        He hits you back with a low hiss, "How bad did it hurt when you got gutted?"

        He wants you to remember him doing it, knows you won't. Wants you to remember pain and misery for everything you put him through, even though it wasn't you. Just reminding him of you was enough to warrant punishment.

        It's your turn to be surprised. Everyone's turn to be surprised.

        "Gutted?" Lensless sounded hopeful.

        You want to throttle Mohawk. Slap him around the room till he's red but nothing you could do would hurt him. Not even drowning apparently. "Like shit."

        You had just turned nineteen. A few months into your second go-around with Machine Head. He'd sent you to chase a rat down. Some kid your age who kept selling on Machine Head's block, a few of his men had gone missing before you.  

        "Describe it." Mohawk says, "I wanna know exactly what you felt when I did the same fuckin' thing to you."

        So you did. Machine Head didn't warn you because he didn't know. Psychics were a sheltered bunch. Didn't often make themselves known to the public or criminal enterprises. So when you caught the kid selling in the depths of some alleyway, you didn't except it to happen- nothing. He didn't listen to your commands, and you didn't get knocked back into a trashcan by his invisible push. He grinned then, said, "Oh good, I was wondering when I could do this again." 

        He opened you up low with a box cutter. Deep and fast. You stumbled back, holding your cut guts through your slashed open hoodie. He waited, wanted to watch you fall to your knees, onto your face and die by his hands. You whipped the gun out of the back of your pants and brained him right there. Somebody must have heard the shot, because an ambulance was there before you passed out from the pain. 

        "Happy?" You enjoyed Mohawk's rigid expression. How hard he had to focus to feign cool satisfaction when you could feel the agitation roiling under his skin. You were hurt, almost died, and he wasn't there to be the killer or savior or whatever bullshit his twisted brain thought up.

        "I wanna see the scar." Lensless says. "No proof or it didn't happen."

        You turn on him. "Proof? You want proof?"

        "Yeah, that's what I asked."

        You were tempted to lift the armor, but didn't. You wouldn't be able to deal with the sad puppy dog eyes on the old wound that sometimes still ached. Didn't want to tell them how much time Machine Head added to your sentence when he had to pay off the hospital staff for stitching you back together. All those corrective surgeries meant you'd be working for him at least another five years on top of everything else.

        So you hit him with the classic, "I can't have kids, you fucking asshole." It always shut people up.

        The room is still.

        "What?" Omni says.        

        Oh good! He looked upset! But not for you, not the usual pity you got and hated, he was upset for himself, and you loved ruining their expectations of you.

        "He gutted me, idiot." Your hand followed the scar path, memorized well, "Angled the knife so deep inside me it almost cut my uterus in half. Missed most of the important shit but got that. Isn't it funny?" You relish in the misery that falls heavy over his shoulders. "Didn't even get to start considering having kids," you add just to see him crumple, "before the option was literally cut out of me."

        "Are you-" He grips at his hair, struck through with gray stress, "Are you sure?"

        He could sense more gray coming in soon. This was too much. You two had been talking about starting a family when everything had happened. You had to be lying to get at him. Yet you heartbeat was steady, if only a little elevated with the pleasure of upsetting him.

        Here comes the home run, baby. "Pretty sure. Been around plenty and not a single scare." His hand goes over his googles like you'd see the tears under them. Wham, crack, pow right in the kisser.

        "I need a moment." He didn't move a muscle but floated up and out of the cave. You smiled at the thought of him crying.

        Scars liked how mean you were. Lensless too. Mohawk was conflicted. Phantom was concerned. Baldie wasn't upset, moreso shocked you were talking about the apparent trauma with them of all people. Maskless didn't care. Tracksuit quietly enjoyed his personal drama TV.

        Then there was Gray who'd taken his version of you to Viltrum to specifically breed a child into. If you could not procreate, what was the point? Sure, he'd come to your reality for the glory of Viltrum, but you were an added sweetener, a trophy to cement his victory. This you wasn't weak or humanly moral, he liked you a lot, but put simply, what was the point of winning your favor if you couldn't give him a child? That was one of his main duties to the empire, how could he leave it unfulfilled? He said nothing and tried to keep his expression blank. 

        "So you learned that through what? Getting ran through by a bunch'a guys?" Mohawk elbowed your side, trying to win you back.

        "Now that's an image." Scars muses though he hated the idea, he loved seeing you squirm.

        Mohawk took it a step further, "Ever been fucked by a Viltrumite, baby? I bet I could-"

       You had. The memory was sweet and clumsy, though stung to remember.

        "Not interested." You finally feel the weight of all their eyes on you, the reason some of them were upset and why some of them weren't. You stand and he almost falls after leaning so hard into you.

         "I'm going to piss." You didn't wait for reply, just turned and moved. Phone flashlight on, map pulled up on your screen, no piss sloshing in your bladder.

        You heard some protest, but no one stopped you. No one wanted to be the bad guy. Scars did, but he wanted you to brew awhile in your own angst.

        Omni returned maybe five minutes later. Right when Lensless was saying to himself, "She's been peeing awhile."

        He looks across the fire, sees none of them gone, only you, and asks, "Which way did she go?"

        He pointed, Omni went.

        ***

        This was stupid. These caves were stupid. So dark and wet and echoey. You considered downing some codeine just to feel something else besides a dull roiling anger made sharper by hunger you couldn't stand to sate. You'd been running on fumes and rage for so long, you'd grown almost used to it but here- in these caves? Surrounded by reminders of everything that went wrong? It was starting to wear you down. 

        With Machine Head you always went home to be alone at the end of the day. Sat with your cat, watched stupid TV on your laptop. Life sucked, but it was good enough. Now you were sitting on a wet ledge you almost fell down a few minutes ago. Drop so deep your flashlight couldn't penetrate the bottom. There was something introspective there, you think, but couldn't be bothered to chase it. 

        You were vulnerable and sad, but at least you were alone.

        "There you are." Omni's behind you. Of course he came for you.

        "Go away." 

        You don't hear him leave. Hopefully he floated back to camp. But when you turn he's there, hovering in the laid-down phone light, over the ground your ass was freezing on. "I won't leave you again." He said. "I apologize for my... response."

        Your eyes narrow. "Jus' gonna stalk me like the rest, huh?"

        "I'm not going to-" He swallowed the words because they're partly true. He retries, "I want to protect you. And I can't protect you from the past. It upset me to hear that."

        Now, that was funny. "You force fed me human meat."

         His lip twitched, not the response he was looking for. "Two did that." Meaning Scars.

         "You helped."

        "Because I care about you (Y/n)," It's said soft, an olive branch, an apology without actually saying it. 

        "You cared so much you killed the (Y/n) in your dimension, right? Even though she was your wife. Some doting husband you were." Pow, right in the kisser, again. 

        "(Y/n) I-"

        You exploded, why did he get to look at you like a kicked puppy when you knew he killed a version of you he apparently loved. "No, dude! This is fucking crazy! You killed her- me- and now you're like- rebounding with me. It's fucking insane!"

        "That's not what this is. Let me explain." His tone was still soft. It pissed you off. 

        "I don't give a fuck how you feel! I'm not your dumb, bitch wife!" You stand and spin, fast, too fast. Your foot slips on the edge and you tip back, back, back, until there is no ground beneath your feet. You fall, you are falling. Still falling because he hesitates catching you. He's out of view and all you can think is you were going to die because of him again. There are arms strong under your back, body heat curling around you as you gasp. He floats down to the bottom, where the air is even colder and damper, the rock smoother. 

        You can't see anything. Phone light left at the ledge. You are vulnerable and he holds you despite everything he knows you've done, everything you know he's done.

        "Put me down." He only does because your voice warbled. Knife fights and stabbings were one thing, falling almost to your death was another. You'd never get used to almost dying. 

        You stumble until you're leaned against a wall, chanting to nobody, "You almost let me die." 

        "I didn't." He says. 

        "You almost let me die."

        You hear him come closer, cape fluttering behind him, "I would never let you die." This version, anyhow.

        "You thought about it."

        Omni is quiet. "You're just so... different." The admission is a leaden weight, only to be dropped in absolute dark. "I wasn't expecting a different person, different circumstances. You complicate things."

        You swallow the bile that'd been creeping up. "This doesn't have to be complicated." You turn to face the sound of his voice. Eyes widen to try and find his frame in the dark, but you see nothing. "It's always been simple. I'm a different person and so are you. I'm nothing like her and you're nothing like him."

        In this instance you are the same as she was. Eyes wide in the dark, searching, while he can make you out tangled in the sheets of his bed. Disappointed in him but still open looking for an option to make it all better. Vulnerable and wanting in the darkness before he takes you. The scenes of then and now mash together like his lips upon yours. Your back is pressed flush to the wall, surprised hands not yet tightened to fists on his chest. His gentle yet firm touch holding your head in place, knee parting your legs. 

        You hadn't known to resist, it happened so quickly. One second you were bitching, the next he was sucking on your lip. The gasp you let out is a welcome into your mouth, for his tongue to find and wind around yours. The friction melts something inside you. His groan and tightening grip only melts it quicker. 

        He moves his head with yours, nipping at your lip. His tongue lathes over yours. It's the first time he's kissed you, but you know its also not, because knows how to gently tear you apart.  

        Mark never got to know you this well, nobody in your reality did, you'd never had a partner for more than a few months. But Omni had, he knew you. It brings on a wave of nostalgia for something you never had, of sadness, of angst, of desire to know the other side of what he knew. 

        Your hands fold in and out of fists. One second bumping against his chest, the next gripping his shoulders. You hate him but feeling his knee press so hard between your legs softens the feeling.

        "Tell me to stop." He says breathlessly between the heated exchange, spit making both your lips slippery. As he says it, his other hand is undoing the buttons of your pants. Hasty but careful not to rip the fabric.

        All he gets in reply is a, "Fuck you," which isn't stop.

        He takes it as permission, licking a hot stripe up the side of your neck. Which earns him your arms thrown over his shoulder and your clothed cunt dragging up and down his armored knee. The drag stutters when his lips find their home in the nape of your neck, his teeth teasing the skin. You twitch and gasp, the sound different from his wife but the reaction similar.

        His gloved hand slips into your pants and finding no resistance. You were bare. He pressed his palm to the pulsing flesh, just making sure what's his was there. He could feel the heat, the silken softness through the kevlar of his gloves. You buck, needily against his unmoving hand, trying to take what you wanted. The already pulsing flesh of his cock began to ache.

        Omni tore off his gloves, needing to feel skin to slick. At the same time you claw off his stupid mask, pushing it to hang around his neck like a limp hood. You couldn't see his face, you didn't want to, but the lenses were a barrier between you. You find his hair, twisting it in your grasp, pulling hard at the dried gelled strands for a reaction but get none. 

         His touch returned. He hadn't felt you in months and when he did, you were so hot it burned, so wet his fingers slipped, blood rushing to his dick so fast he almost blacked out.

        "God." He breathed against your neck, exploring with fingerpads. Testing if the same buttons did the same things. They did. 

        You had no clue how he was working you like this. Hookups were fun, and part of the fun was the exploratory nature of it, directing someone how to please you. Learning just enough to reach your end and never having to think about it again. But Omni knew, there was nothing tentative about his touch. It was knowing, he was perfectly circling your clit with two lazy fingers and you were mewling embarrassingly into his neck. Scratching at his scalp. He had wiped your mind blank.

        He was in complete control of your body and it pissed you off as much as it made you needily grind against his knee. You unwound your hands from his hair, trailing down the hard mass of his chest, over the bulge you knew was there. Because you knew hookups were always a two way street. You had just barley began to grope him when he pulled your arm back over his shoulder.

        He hissed between teeth. "Don't." He's right back to circling your clit. Breath hot on your face. "This is for me." To prove something to himself. That you were the same person in the very core of your being if not the surface. If some part of you was the same, he could live. He would live for you.

        "That doesn't make any-" Thick finger tips press into your entrance. Not even past the first knuckle and you're gasping, words forgotten. 

        Satisfaction hums in his chest. "I want to focus on you." He pushes two digits in, tortuously slow. Relishing in the way you twitch and gasp at every gained fraction of skin. His palm met your slickened cunt, rough padded thumb pressed to your clit. He moved, slow, curling his fingers against your insides.  

        "Fuck!" Your thighs go up, around his hips like a vice. 

        "Quiet." He swallows your moans in an open-mouthed kiss. You were louder than her, but he didn't mind because feeling you around him, warm, wet, and welcoming, cemented the idea inside him. You were her, in some removed yet fundamental way, you were her and she was you. No other human would allow a monster like him to touch them, but she had been brave to love him, and you were brave for standing against him. Taking him like this.

        For giving him the gift for his wife, alive and whole again, he pulls his fingers out only to ram them right back in. You'd always liked things on the rougher side and he liked to deliver. It seemed you liked it a whole hell of a lot here too. Practically crying into his mouth which meant he just had to keep viciously stuffing your cunt with his fingers. Thumb messily slipping back and forth across your clit. He knew you were close by how uncoordinated your kiss became. Your breath coming out in hot pants against his lips.

        Your hands didn't know where to go, spasming on his back, twisting in the cape or his hair. 

      "Ma-Mar-Mmmh-haaa!" Your walls tightened around him, but he didn't slow. Viltrumite strength was good for something.

        Orgasm hit you, a sledgehammer to the cunt. So hard you were paralyzed in his grip. Pussy clenching against his fingers like it never wanted him to leave. He pumped right on through it, muttering praise, "Good. Good job."

        Your body started to go limp but he held you up. Fingers never breaking pace even as your insides tried to slow him in the aftershocks. You hadn't cum so fast with a partner in... ever. You didn't know how to handle this kind of pleasure, given as a brutal gift by someone else. You wanted to choke him out with his stupid cape. You wanted him to fuck you literally forever. 

        His fingers adjusted the tiniest amount and you threw your head back against the rock. His tongue back on your neck. "Mmm-haaa-!"

        "Markus." He kissed into your throat, "Call me Markus."

        The thrusts dwindle into slow, rolling pumps. He waits for you to be desperate enough to say it but you won't. It's too intimate, too much. You buck your hips into his hand, "Come on, come on, faster." You just manage not to tack on a desperate please. You weren't that far gone yet.

        Instead, he buried his fingers against your g-spot and rubbed viciously at your clit with his thumb. Your back jerked involuntarily up, name ripping out, "Markus!" God, you were going to regret this later.

        Pleased, he pulls his fingers out, and two becomes three, and you are filled to the brim. But it feels right, like he'd fucked you this way a million times. A strangled cry is torn from your throat, pushed back in by his tongue in your mouth. His thumb has fallen, hand focused on ramming you full. Whole arm flexing, shaking you both. Palm slapping harsh against your swollen clit. 

        Your second coming is a lot different than what's in the Bible. Lots more, "Oh fuck's" muttered against his spit-slicked mouth. 

        His pace followed the spasm of your muscle. First erratic, then dwindling, slipping out of your pulsing body when it was done, though you had more to give. He let you go slack in his hold, allowing himself a still moment to taste you on his flesh. He sucked his fingers nearly down to the bone as your feet found purchase. That familiar sour tang that reminded him of home, his cock throbbing. His point was proven. His meaning refound.

        Your heartbeat still pitter-pattered, your body still wanting, still open to him. You could go another round. He considered the idea. He still had you against the wall. A no still hadn't come off your lips but a, "What the fuck is wrong with you," just had, so it was about time to pack it up.

        "Did you not enjoy that?"

        "What- I- Tch-"

        You can't see it but he smiles soft. You'd come around and there'd be more where that came from. 

        "Well?" He goaded, hoping you'd say it. How right that felt. How inexplicably well he knew your body. 

        "I'm still mad at you." Came out with little bite. He'd dulled your teeth.

        You feel rather than hear his chuckle, his hand coming to your waist. 

        "Are you?" It's teasing in a way you'd never heard before, but she had. Before you both had done the same song and dance. Something stupid was done or said and you were on the verge of argument. Then he'd bend you over a counter or table, and fuck the fight right out of you. Worked like a charm. Happy wife, happy life, dad had once said.

        "Yes." You don't give into his teasing, don't lean into the fingers tracing your body but don't move away.  

          Markus pulls his mask up and over his head. He knows if he says nothing you'll dig your grave deeper in three, two, one... "I'm not calling you that in front of everyone. It's a stupid name."

         "It's our full name." You try stepping over his knee, still perched between your legs but nearly trip. He catches you by the arm, shifts you easily to rest over his forearms.

        You tried to keep your voice from wavering, “I know that. Nobody calls you that in any universe.”

         "I know, that’s why it'll be our secret," He lifts off the ground easily, feeling lighter than air.

[d3wdropz]

Gojo Annoying Megumi and his S/O

Imagine being Megumi's partner- it's sweet and he's a gentle boyfriend. He's quiet and isn't the best at expressing his feelings so small gestures and quality time are his main forms of love language

You spend a lot of time in his dorm or yours usually his cause yours is messy. It's such a relaxing time, getting the chance to just chill and bond together. You read books, play board games, nap, anything really- everything becomes fun when you both do it together. This is especially true for Megumi who gets to indulge his inner child

Since Megumi didn't really get a childhood you both like to do activities that gives him the chance to catch up on some of the things he missed out on

His favorite thing to do in that regard is building legos- yes he's made you a bouquet for Valentine's Day

So on a random Sunday morning, you're both in your usual spot: Megumi's room. Specifically, on his floor as you paint his nails black. It's something you've both been meaning to try and today seemed like the perfect chance

Everything is nice and calm- you're focused on finishing his left hand and he's admiring how hard you're concentrating. It's quiet, perfect even

Until someone slams the door open

"Megumiiiiiiiiii- I got you souvenirs from London!" Unsurprisingly, it's Gojo standing in the doorway

You're left shocked, still holding Megumi's hand gently and taking a glance at the now ruined nail job

Megumi, on the other hand, is silently fuming at the sorcerer who just barged into his special time

Gojo's just as shocked as you, having heard nothing about Megumi being in a relationship. If it wasn't for the sudden discovery, he'd have the time to be bummed that his little 'Gumi didn't tell him anything- but at that moment he was just absorbing it in

You're all kind of stuck for a moment until Megumi sighs and speaks up "Gojo-sensei, can you leave?"

This, sadly, breaks Gojo from his thoughts and has him gushing over the two of you

"Oh my little Megumi is all grown up! When were you gonna tell me that you've got an s/o? You've been staying PG-13, right?"

It's so much at once that you don't even have the time to think about an answer before Megumi is slamming his door shut in Gojo's face. By the look on his face, he'd prefer you pretend that nothing happened

He'll have to deal with Gojo later and that's already a lot to handle, so you go back to fixing up his nails

After that first incident with Gojo, you and Megumi rarely have a moment of peace

You're eating out somewhere -guess who's tagging along and taking up the seat next to Megumi?

You're both training- Gojo takes time out his very busy schedule to yap about how annoying the higher ups are

The relationship you had with Megumi is no longer a private matter, Gojo's constantly hanging around and inviting himself to your outings

Things only ease up when Megumi reaches a breaking point and goes off on his annoying guardian well in his own megumi way

"This is the reason I didn't tell you about us- since you found out we haven't had even a minute alone. We're not immature or reckless, so if that's what you're worried about you can drop it"

You're standing there, sweating bullets and caught in between their weird father-son/brother-brother/uncle-nephew(?) bond. In your eyes, it's a stand-off for the ages, a teen wanting freedom and their guardian that still wants to baby them

To your surprise, Gojo starts sniffling before he cries out Megumi's name and jumps him. He's squeezing Megumi to his chest and nuzzling his hair, crying dramatically

"Ooooooh! My little 'Gumi's all grown up!" He lets out a loud whine and continues to sob, "It felt like just yesterday you were my little baby!"

When Megumi finally breaks away from Gojo, he's huffing and glaring- but the strongest sorcerer is still rambling "I'm sorry that I made you feel like a baby- you're a grown man now" he sighs dramatically "I'll start treating you like one"

Before Megumi could throw insults at him, Gojo's phone pings and he's gone in an instant, a faint "Great talk- gotta go!" is all that's left

The both of you are now left in silence, just as confused and alarmed as when Gojo first found out about you two

Only difference is the lack of his constant presence looming over your heads now

a/n so hi

I know i've been gone for like ever, but the fanfic writer's curse is real and its found me- i ended up getting diagnosed with bipolar disorder, i got accepted into the biggest university of my state, and i'm moving out at the end of the summer

life's been pummeling me but i'm trying to get back on track with my writing- thank you to everyone who've been patient with me!

[omegasomeone]

I would like to introduce the class to my two OCs/DnD characters: Les and Lee (yes this is a pun on Lesley but I felt like naming one of the characters Ley would have made her a simple self-insert so I changed it. jokes on me, I started going by Lee too not long after).

Les is a bard, Lee is a rogue; they're sisters. they haven't seen each other in 9 years (last seen each other when Les was 13 and Lee was 11), and have been looking for each other as soon as they could. they fled their village while it was being raided, but went different ways. they don't know if the other one is even alive, but they both continue the search without stopping.

their only goal: tell the other they're sorry.

you see, they got into a pretty big fight because of their mother's declining health, and Lee ran away from home. two days later, she came back but didn't have time to find her sister before the first houses started to burn. a villager grabbed her to try and put her out of harm's way, but died before they could go to the forest and hide, so she ran all the way to the nearest village.

Les didn't get that chance. she got kidnapped, and was sold as a slave. she became a servant, but after a few months, an injury rendered her unable to do much of the tasks she was obligated to carry out. so, she was sold again, this time to a cult where she was to be used as a sacrifice, until a group of adventurers killed the cultists right a the sacrifice was starting to take place.

while Lee didn't get kidnapped or anything, she was left to fend for herself when she was just a kid. she learned to steal in order to be able to eat, hide in people's sheds to rest, until she got caught. an old lady took her in after catching her stealing apples she was going to use. see, the lady was a baker, and seeing half of the stock of the key ingredients for your most successful item gone and a kid asleep next to them with a half-eaten apple in hand was, let's say, not ideal. she decided that a worthy punishment for this was to make the kid help her bake, and make her essentially a maid, until she found out about her 'situation' and took her in (she still had to help her, though). they lived happily until the elderly baker's death, at which point Lee returned to stealing to survive, and started looking for her sister that she missed so much and needed to apologise to.

Les, on the other side, got adopted by one of the adventurers that saved them, who now wanted to settle down and have a calm life. the adventurer, a bard, decided to teach her music. because of her treatment as a slave, she couldn't do physical activities: her back hurt too much with every intense-ish effort, and infections had her right leg be left basically unusable; she had to have a peg leg instead. so she sang. she sang about winter making a village look like a herd of fluffy white sheep with smoke coming out of them, she sang about a small girl with big dreams. she sang the long-forgotten tales of an old man climbing a mountain to find flowers for his tired wife, she sang the cries of a girl, slightly older now, learning that her father wouldn't ever come back from the mountain he'd tried to climb. She sang the lament of a dying mother, and the fury of an 11 year old girl that has been denied permission to see hers in her final days. she sang the grief of a mother whose child was lost. she sang the grief of a sister lost.

then she sang about running away, and for the one who had taken care of her not to worry; she sang about wrongs to right and family to find. It had been five years since she had gotten taken in by an adventurer that had saved her, and four years later, she is still looking for her sister. she knows not if she will ever find her; in fact, she fears for the worst. but she needs to find her, she needs to apologise for keeping her sister from seeing their mother; back then, she just wanted her to be able to rest, but it was no excuse. she won't stop until she finds her sister, or she dies trying, whichever comes first.

Lee had basically not even considered the fact that her older sister might have still been alive, until one day she committed larceny in front of a guard that noticed her. she got thrown into a cell that she shared with someone else, who claimed to have seen a bard that looked just like her at an inn a few weeks back, singing about lost family. this made her hope she could find her and tell her: I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ran away and left you all alone, I'm sorry I couldn't understand how worried you were, I'm sorry I couldn't help. it had been six years since she had run away, and she's been trying to find her sister for three years now.

People should make more doomed by narratives siblings relationship.

Like with lovers you can just sever it and not have it related to you ever again but with siblings how could you?

You grow up with them you raise them or they raised you you both know how unforgiving the world is to both of you? You would die for them but will hate them for doing the same and yet none of you would regret it and both of you know it. They could be the person you loath the most and miss the most cause you still remember how they sneaked a candy into your hands. You can sever the tie but you can never look away at what you've lost, at whom you've lost because fate doesn't allow you to be together, eating dinners in quiet peace, if only there's another life, another time, where i can make you another plate of pancakes i would im sorry im sorry im sorry —

[heavyhitterheaux]

Shh!

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: This might be the last time that Ja'Marr studies with you and Joe in the same room

Pairing: Boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Series Masterlist

Requested by: my boo @hoodharlow 💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Midterms were approaching so with that being said, it seemed like every library on campus was littered with students and of course you were no exception.

You had been studying for close to an hour when your twin sent you a text to find out where you were. Once you told him, you lucked out once you found out he was bringing your boyfriend with him.

You missed him even if you had literally just seen him that morning.

Joe would always help you study to the best of his ability, even if it was for classes that you were taking and he had absolutely no clue what was going on. To him, it was more time that he got to spend with you so he didn't mind.

Study sessions included a lot of stolen glances and small kisses. Sometimes it would lead to more, but only after you had completely finished.

That was one thing that Joe refused to budge on.

He had already gotten one degree and he was going to make sure that you got yours and that all of your hard work wasn't going to go to waste.

Today was no different as Ja'Marr sat across from the both of you and literally wanted to gouge his eyes out with a spoon at the scene in front of him.

Bottom line was that he needed a girlfriend because he was tired of being the third wheel to the two of you.

It was as if the two of you completely forgot that you weren't by yourselves.

You on the other hand were laughing at something Joe had whispered in your ear and placed a quick kiss on the shell of it before erupting in a quiet laughter himself before you went back to studying.

It was quiet for about ten minutes before Ja'Marr once again heard you and Joe laughing and cleared his throat making the two of you look over at him.

“Did you two forget that I'm here?! Damn.”

“How can anyone miss that big ass head sitting across the table from them?” You asked and Joe had to turn away from the two of you to stifle his laugh, but failed miserably.

“Pebbles, you are always choosing violence against me. I thought yall were about to make a baby on the damn desk.”

“I wouldn’t mind, but this is a library and this one is anything but quiet. Might get kicked out.” Joe replied while shrugging as you hit his shoulder and Ja’Marr quickly made a gagging noise.

“Ew! What the actual fuck!? I can't unhear that now!” He exclaimed while massaging his temples and looking down at his textbook that was in front of him.

“Well you wanted to come and study with us, Bam Bam.”

“This is a library and not a porn video so will you two PLEASE keep it together for another hour? And the two of you aren't even studying! Joe hasn't cracked open his book once and has been in your face since we got here.”

“Hey! I missed my girlfriend. And it's apparent that you need one.” Joe told him as he pulled you closer and you smiled up at him.

“I'm ignoring that last part. You literally saw her this morning and I can promise you that she looks the same now as she did then.” He softly said which had you raise your middle finger at him.

“And you wonder why I always choose violence when it comes to you.”

“We’re going to end up getting kicked out, so how about we all be quiet?”

“I'm hungry. I don't think I have an hour left in me.” You confessed while looking at both of them.

“I am too, but not for food.” Joe added and Ja’Marr quickly slammed his book shut as the two of you were doubled over in laughter.

“I'm done. Sometimes I regret the day that I introduced you two to each other.”

“We love you too, Ja'Marr.”

[mainblogonly]

hinata x streamer!reader | fluff | gn!reader | lowercase intentional

it's a pr day for msby - which means a day full of photoshoots and interviews and smiling at every camera in sight.

despite his teammate's brewing annoyance at having to deal with all of this, hinata honestly enjoys it! he gets to talk about the sport he loves, show off the physique he's worked so hard on, and make connections with all the different production team members (which he thinks is very important, especially since he's still a rookie).

he's now on his second to the last interview of the day, seated across his companion for the next half hour or so—the interviewer.

"all right, we'll do some fun quick-fire questions for the fans to get to know you a bit more. sound good?"

"absolutely," hinata flashes a smile.

he easily flies through the questions, throwing in a joke or two to the interviewer's delight. they go through a wide range of questions from his pre-game ritual to his favorite snack.

"celebrity crush?" the interviewer asks, expecting the name of a popular supermodel or actor but still hoping for something a little more interesting.

"Y/N." hinata replies, with absolutely zero hesitation.

"Y/N?"

"they're a streamer. you might see them in some of my friend kenma's streams, too! they're sweet, funny, gorgeous—"

"do i smell something more than just a celebrity crush on this streamer?" the interviewer teases.

"something like that," hinata winks. "i'm just saying, my dms are open."

"alright, alright," the interviewer laughs, before moving on to the other questions and wrapping up the interview.

what the interviewer—and the rest of the world—don't know is that he's been in your dm's for the past year. in fact, he's heading over to your apartment once this pr day is over (and he's actually been staying over for the past few weekends). neither of you have announced anything, and he just has so much fun being a tease about all of this.

as hinata intended, your chat goes absolutely wild after the interview goes live a week later. he would know—he's in the room with you as you deal with all the excitement from your fans. little do you know, he has a little plan for this stream.

"okay, before anyone else asks," you prompt as more viewers tune into your stream, "yes i saw the interview. yes i am very flattered. yes i think he's cute. no i did not slide into his dms—"

"actually, i slid into theirs." hinata pops his head in frame for your stream, for the first time ever, talking directly to your viewers.

the chat pretty much explodes while you panic and try to recover from this huge reveal.

OMG he's there with you?

pls be on a date

is this fr or are yall messing with us

OK SEEING YALL TOGETHER I GET ITTTTTTT

we defs need the whole story NOWWWWWW

"guys- hold on- wait- i wouldn't stream during a date- listen- the whole story- well-" you stutter out.

"aren't they cute when they're nervous?" hinata drapes his arm around your shoulders, leaning in to read all the messages coming through the chat.

"sho, not now," you gently whine, leaning into his touch anyway.

"yeah, yeah, i'll let you get to your game," he whispers as he kisses the top of your head. "just wanted 'em to know i'm yours."

he stands up straighter and, before moving back to his spot off-screen, he turns to the camera.

"you guys can't really be that shocked, right? she's had this orange sticker on her headset for months. and my jacket is right there." he laughs, pointing to the background.

"stop, now they're going to overanalyze every single thing in my room," you laugh, gently pushing him off camera.

he sends you a wink before moving back to his usual spot to watch you stream.

(you end up having to hold a special stream later to answer a bunch of questions about your relationship and how you two got together)

[runninriot]

better late than never

for @pennyplainknits (a little late but i guess it fits the theme xD Happy YOU Day 🖤)

inspired by the @steddiemicrofic may prompt 'delay'

wc: 408 | rated: G | tags: Steddie & The Party, background Robin Buckley, est. relationship, friendship, confessions

"It's just a delay. They'll be here soon, nothing to worry about," Eddie tells him not for the first time since they arrived at the airport to pick up the boys. "So, would you please stop the pacing? You're making me nervous!"

Good, Steve thinks. Good, because it's not fair Eddie gets to be so calm about it.

Not the delayed flight; he's not worried about that. Hell, they've got Dustin on board. He'd probably figure out how to land the plane himself if he had to. That's not what this is about.

Eddie's facing him now, creating a physical barrier to finally stop Steve's jittery back and forth movements.

"Baby," he whispers and it works like a spell on him, always does. "Listen to me. They are fine. Okay?"

Eddie's hands on his shoulder are grounding but it doesn't make the nausea go away. Steve is sick with nerves.

"I-I know. It's just... what if they're not fine with-"

Us, he doesn't say but Eddie understands.

It's the first time Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will come to visit them in New York after moving there almost six months ago.

"You know we don't have to tell them, right?"

Only they do. Because how else are they going to explain the two-bedroom situation in their three-party shared apartment?

"Robin said she'd be happy to play the fake girlfriend for either of us," Eddie reminds him and yes, she did, but Steve doesn't want to lie. Not to his friends. Not anymore.

"No, I want to tell them."

An hour later they're finally home, four overexcited boys in tow.

"You're gonna crash in Robin's bedroom while she's gone. Remember, she's smart and strong and she will kill you if you touch anything you're not supposed to," Steve warns them.

All four teenagers roll their eyes at him and it feels like nothing has changed.

Except so much has.

"Can we see your room?" Dustin asks, looking expectantly between him and Eddie.

"There's, uh, there's something we need to tell you first. Eddie and I are-"

"Boyfriends. We're boyfriends," Eddie finishes, linking their hands.

The teenagers share a look of confusion but none of them seem even slightly shocked.

"See, I told you they thought we didn't know!" Mike groans exasperatedly.

"I can't believe they let you guys take care of us," Dustin shakes his head and grins, "But- I'm glad you finally figured it out. Better late than never."

[amillionmagpies]

A couple years ago, I started hearing scratching noises from inside the wall. I asked my parents about it (I was living with them at the time, and still am) and they said it was probably a small bird or squirrel that had gotten in through a hole in the wall, and that it would probably either find its way out or die. I shrugged and moved on.

For the next couple months, I kept dismissing the scratching noises, even as they got louder and louder, figuring that probably other critters had found the hole too.

I found a yellow jacket in my room one day and freaked out, because they're fucking mean, but I managed to squish it.

I kept hearing scratching in the walls.

I found another yellow jacket and managed to trap it and remove it (it was easier than squishing it with the stuff I had on hand. We started looking for where they must be getting in, since two was probably not just an accident. We found that my window screen was a little bent, and concluded that was probably the entry point, and the nest must be somewhere in the yard.

The scratching in the walls kept getting louder.

After the third yellow jacket managed to make it into my room without me ever opening the window, we called in an exterminator. I went to visit my mom for a couple of days, and he came to poke around and figure out where the nest was, how they were getting in, and what to do about it.

On my second day at my mom's, my dad called me to say that I should probably stay there for a couple weeks. I asked why.

He explained that the yellow jacket nest was in the wall, and they were getting in because they had chewed through the g-ddamn wall.

The exterminator was going to gas the room to kill them or drive them away, and it wasn't going to be safe to enter for a while.

I thought about that for a moment. I remembered the scratching in the walls, which had been growing for months. I asked where the hole was.

He said it was right under my bed. I decided not to think about that for very long.

I stayed with my mom for a few weeks.

When I came back, my room looked mostly the same. Mostly.

There was a patch-job of cardboard under my bed, and several dead wasps in odd places - the exterminator had cleaned up all the obvious ones, but he hadn't found the ones in my closet, for instance. Or on the bookshelf. I spent the next few weeks a little afraid to move anything in case a dead yellow jacket fell out of it.

There are still a few wasp carcasses in my room, in places I don't use often enough to worry about. There's also still a hole under my bed, so it gets real fucking cold in there in winter.

But at least the scratching is gone.

bees?

[spaceshipkat]

It's late when Pepa leaves, but Buck is still too wired to sleep. Or maybe not even wired, but whiplashed: his fight with Eddie last night that felt both too tense and not tense enough. Waking up to that note on the stack of sheets, corners folded army regulation crisp. Spending the day fighting fire with water that just made it worse.

And then walking into Eddie's house--his house, to find Eddie somehow there, and then Chris at his dining table. Hugging Chris after a year apart might have been the happiest Buck has been since Bobby died. And Pepa hugging Buck close, like they're family.

It made the empty corners of the house feel a little less close. A little less dark.

It's temporary, he reminds himself while he walks Pepa to the door, instead of Eddie, while Eddie and Chris hang back on the couch.

It's temporary, he reminds himself when Eddie shoos Chris off to get ready for bed, and the clacking of Chris's crutches echoes through the house in a way it hasn't in a year. A fucking year.

"Want a beer?" Eddie asks, already walking into the kitchen.

"Uh, sure," he says, and reminds himself It's temporary.

Eddie still has that job offer in El Paso--a firefighter in his hometown, what he'd wanted to be when he moved there. What he's never stopped wanting to be. Being a firefighter is in Eddie's blood as much as it is in Buck's, and Buck knows he can't be selfish here. He can't beg Eddie not to take it because he doesn't want himself to be replaced as Eddie's partner. He can't demand Eddie sit with his legs closed in the rig so his knees don't knock into anyone else's the way they used to knock into Buck's.

He can't make this all about him. Not again.

Because he knows what this is: this extended visit, Chris's arrival, the family dinner. Just a band-aid on a cut to stop the bleeding. It doesn't matter if the wound never heals, because at least it's out of sight.

And yet his mouth twists at that. Eddie isn't doing this to be cruel. He's just reminding Buck he isn't alone, even if in a matter of days this house will empty once more. And he'll just be living with ghosts.

"Dog shit?"

Buck blinks, looking up as Eddie returns to the living room, caps already twisted off the cold bottles. "Dog shit?" Buck repeats and glances down at his feet. He's already taken his shoes off. He's fairly sure someone would have mentioned smelling dog shit sometime tonight--Chris, at the very least. Even at fourteen, the kid doesn't always have a filter, and he'd likely have no problems with announcing Buck's house reeks.

"Your nose's all twisted up," Eddie says, plopping onto the couch beside Buck to kick his own feet, clad in socks, up onto the table.

"Oh." Buck takes a sip but doesn't really taste anything but cold. "Nah, just--just thinking."

"Never a good idea with you," Eddie says, head dropping onto the seatback. "But stay calm, it should pass without incident."

"Funny." Buck forces himself to relax in the couch, even if it feels strange. It's the wrong couch to be sitting on next to Eddie, even if it's the first one he's bought with his own money and actually liked enough to bother keeping it clean.

It's quiet between them, but not quiet in the house. The ice maker rattles. The faucet in the bathroom turns on, then off, followed by the rasp of Chris's toothbrush. The air conditioning hums on. But for all that it's quiet, it's not the bad kind. The kind where Buck feels like he has to fill it with his voice, or music, or the television. Sometimes he'd leave it on while he was in the kitchen cooking breakfast or dinner, just to make it feel like he wasn't cooking for one in this house.

"Thanks," he says, picking at the label on his bottle with his thumbnail.

Eddie hums. "For what?"

"For--" Buck winces. "Well, tonight. I appreciate it. Wasn't--wasn't really looking forward to coming home to an empty house."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie roll his head over the back of the couch toward Buck, but Buck doesn't look back. Can't, really, Sometimes it's easy to look at Eddie--sometimes it's the easiest thing in the world. The only thing that grounds him.

Tonight, it feels like it might just be like scratching a sunburn.

"Chris wanted to see you," Eddie says. "He's been asking when you're coming to visit."

Buck smiles, peeling the label off the bottle in sticky strips. "I'll get out there one of these days."

"Yeah."

Words crowd between them, but Buck would never be able to pick them out. They might be "I miss you," or they might be "I'll be glad to get back to Texas." They might be "The house feels so much better with you two in it," or they might be "I can't wait for it to be just me and Chris in here again." Buck isn't brave enough to confront them, not yet, even if he feels Maddie looming over his shoulder, breathing down his neck, telling him to just talk to Eddie.

But this is just temporary. How can Buck be selfish--how can he make this all about himself again--by telling Eddie what he's feeling? What he doesn't want to be feeling, because Eddie's straight?

He can't even look at himself head-on. Can't face everything he's bottled up for so long he's just gotten used to the pressure in his gut. Can't face everything he's not allowed to feel because Eddie may not be a renter anymore--no, he put a down payment down on the El Paso house--but he's still straight.

Buck can't be honest, so he won't.

The bathroom door opens and the light flicks off, but Chris pauses in the archway. Buck can see his reflection in the black of the television screen, looking from Eddie to Buck and back.

Then he says, "Please tell me Buck isn't sleeping on the couch."

Eddie snorts, tilting his head to look back at Chris. "Nah, mijo, that'd be me."

"So I have to listen to you complain about your back being sore?"

"Your back's sore?" Buck says, turning to face Eddie at last.

Eddie's cheeks go red, but he just scoffs. "It's fine. Nothing can beat sleeping on the ground for painful."

"'Cept you're not as young as you were back then," Buck says, almost without thinking, but when it makes Eddie squawk and whack him in the shoulder, Buck doesn't regret the slip. He's laughing, and Eddie's laughing, and Chris is sighing because he's fourteen and they're embarrassing. Or at least his dad is.

"Take the bed," Buck says. "I'll take the couch."

"And then have you complaining about your back?"

"I've fallen asleep on it a dozen times, watching TV."

Eddie's brows furrow at that, but before he can say whatever he's thinking, Chris interrupts: "If Buck sleeps on the couch, I'll be up all night from his snoring."

"And, what, you think you won't hear him snoring if it's in the bedroom?"

"No, because you can just wake him up every time he starts."

"Then I wouldn't be getting any sleep, bud," Eddie says, slinging his arm along the seatback. His fingers brush the collar of Buck's shirt. Buck doesn't dare breathe, and Eddie doesn't pull away. Either he doesn't notice or he doesn't care.

"Have you seen Buck's bed? It could fit five Bucks in it with room to spare. Maybe just sleep on the other side of it."

"I like a big bed!" Buck insists.

"So just share," Chris says, and then walks into his room like that settles the matter. A moment later, he calls, "Thanks for making my bed, Buck!" and shuts the door.

"I'll come say night in a minute!" Eddie calls.

"Yeah, yeah," Chris says, almost too quietly to hear.

Then Eddie looks at Buck, and Buck realizes he's been staring at him. He looks away, takes a sip of his beer, tries to become one with the wallpaper. It might be easier if he wasn't the only other person in the room, and not sitting a foot away from Eddie.

"Really, Buck, I can take the couch," he says. "It's just for a few ..."

When he trails off, Buck mentally finishes the sentence: a few more days. Because this is temporary. In a few days, when Eddie deems Buck sufficiently healed enough that the wound will stop bleeding through the band-aid, he and Chris will get back on a plane and return to Texas, and Eddie will take the firefighting job in El Paso, and Buck will be replaced. And Eddie won't mean to leave him behind, but it's inevitable, isn't it? Eddie's too friendly to not get along with everyone he meets. He's too fun to not befriend. He's too pretty to not stare at. Too warm to not want to linger, closer than is polite.

"No, you should take the bed," Buck says. "You don't wanna be sore when you get on the plane."

"I'm not kicking you onto the couch in your own house."

"And I'm not making the guest stay on the couch."

That five-letter word sits like a landmine between them, and for a moment, Buck almost expects the argument in the kitchen to rear up again, to force them into neutral corners. To keep him awake all night, staring up at the ceiling while he listened to Eddie toss and turn on this goddamn couch. To make him have to close his eyes and grit his teeth against the urge to go out there, to join him, to try to take the blame for a thing he can't name.

But the tension dissipates, slowly and then all at once.

"Bed's big enough to share," Buck says, and Eddie says, "All right," and nods, like that settles it, and drains his bottle before rising to take it back into the kitchen. Buck's barely had more than a sip of his own, but Eddie takes that, too, and Buck doesn't complain. He didn't really want one anyway.

But he's still sitting on the couch when Eddie returns, lingering in the doorway, looking at Buck the same way he had hours ago, when Buck came home after delaying it as long as he could--going over inventory at the station twice even though it had already been perfect the first time, taking the long route home and not bothering to complain at any missed green lights, sitting in the grocery store parking lot while he tried to think of something he could buy as an excuse even though he'd just done the shopping.

"C'mon, Buck," Eddie says, quietly, and crosses the room to clutch his shoulder--the right shoulder this time, with the right pressure. The right meaning behind it. "It's just a few nights."

Those words that crowded between them now cram behind Buck's teeth, and for the first time he's finally able to piece a sentence together from the goddamn alphabet soup of them all: I want more than just a few.

"Yeah," he says instead, and swallows those words, and gets to his feet with a crack of his knees.

Eddie's hand lingers there on his shoulder, and when their eyes meet, Buck suddenly wonders if maybe some of those words arranged themselves into sentences behind Eddie's teeth, too. But Eddie doesn't free them.

He just smiles, and it's too soft to hurt as much as it does, like pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurts. Like digging a finger into a cut to make it bleed.

"We can even do rock paper scissors for who little spoons," Eddie says, rocking back on his heels and spinning away, leading the way into the bedroom that Buck sleeps in but still can't call his own.

"You cheat at rock paper scissors," Buck says, forcing normalcy into his voice. He's not sure he achieves it, but Eddie doesn't call him out on it.

"It is literally impossible to cheat at rock paper scissors."

"Categorically untrue when it comes to you, because you always change the rules."

"'Rock paper scissors shoot' is how it's supposed to be played."

"Sure, if you didn't tell me every time to throw after 'scissors' so you can throw after 'shoot,' already knowing what I've thrown."

"I never heard you complaining when it got us outta KP with Gerrard."

Buck sighs at the ceiling and shuts the door. Maybe it's only temporary, but it still feels like coming home.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Speak Your Language Day

So I thought since it’s the day for it I’d share some of my favourite expressions in my language. This is probably my favourite thing about my language, we have an expression for pretty much anything. And translating them it’s always fun because it makes them funnier and most of the time they make no sense in english. I used to do this a lot with my sister just for fun. Anyway here it goes. These are some of my favourites.

Desenmerda-te. This one kinda connects to BL. In La Pluie, Tien says this to Tai.

And although the most direct translation of the portuguese expression would be ‘unshit yourself, 'unfuck it' is closer to the spirit. You fucked up, now unfuck yourself. Or in portuguese - ‘Fizeste merda? Desenmerda-te. 

Tirar o cavalinho da chuva. Take the little horse out of the rain. It means to give up on something that just won’t happen. Like an unrealistic expectation. 

Quem não sabe dançar, diz que o chão está torto. Those who can’t dance, will say the floor is tilted. Basically if someone doesn’t have an excuse for something they will blame something else that is out of their control. This is one my faves and it’s one I say whenever I get the chance. 

Fia-te na Virgem e não corras. Trust in the Virgin and don't run. This one is said sarcastically. Like continue to hope for a miracle and don’t do anything about it. 

Muitos anos a virar frangos. A lot of years turning chickens. Basically when you’re talking about something you have a lot of experience in. Whatever it may be. Like someone compliments you on something you’re doing that you have a lot of practice in, and you respond with this expression. 

No cu de Judas. In Judas’ ass. This one is just funny. But it means somewhere really far away, usually in the middle of nowhere.

Falar pelos cotovelos. To talk through one’s elbows. This has been said about me several times. It's basically talking a lot, someone who doesn't shut up will be accused of talking through their elbows. Nascer com o rabo virado para a lua. Be born with your ass facing the moon. Basically someone who is very lucky in life.

I'm gonna stop now cause honestly I could go on forever. Hope you find this amusing. I invite anyone who has some funny expressions in their languages to share their own if they want. And tag me if you do.

[the-starflower]

My thoughts on the companions during my first run

In order of appearance:

Lae'zel

Cool intro, cool character - but I never really vibed with her. The aggression and talking down to everyone like we're idiots got tired very quickly. I have very little time for that, both irl and in games 😅

I also don't like how she's just blindly following whoever is her current authority figure. She renounces Vlaakith only to immediately devote herself to Orpheus with the same burning fanaticism. I kept hoping she would tell them all to sod off and choose her own path. She did become a leader herself in the end but... it was frustrating.

She has very funny banter though, and her voice actor did a stellar job. Great animations and facial expressions too! I love the eye roll when corrected on the pronunciation of "teeth-lings" 😆

Shadowheart

I went from disliking to loving her. She was so cold and shady in the beginning I didn't feel like I could trust her. I also didn't understand how to play a cleric in combat.

The others were fairly straightforward: Lae'zel and Karlach smash stuff, Astarion stabs people in the back, Gale is aoe damage and/or a jack-of-all-trades with a spell for every occasion, and Wyll just Eldritch Blasts people in the face. And Shadowheart is... a support healer... ish? In early game it felt like she didn't do much of anything, so every time it was her turn I was just like uuuuuhh Guiding Bolt I guess? Didn't help that the memes about her missing everything are very true. Poor girl must be half-blind.

But with time and a few levels under her belt, I figured her out. She became one of my most used and useful companions. As her story progressed she also really grew on me as a character. I absolutely loved her whole arc in the Shadow-cursed Lands.

She ended up feeling like my Tav's closest friend alongside Karlach. Even shed a few real tears at the end of her personal quest. 💜

Astarion

Had the same feelings towards Astarion as towards Lae'zel. I immediately loved his snark, but I played a very good character so his constant sighs of disapproval got old fast.

What's funny is I know younger me would've been smitten with Astarion IMMEDIATELY. Alternative bad boy with a sassy personality and tragic backstory? Oh, and did we mention he's a vampire? I would've been "I can fix him" all over that. But present-day me is too old for that nonsense. You can take all of that attitude and stay in camp. Call me when you've seen a therapist. My wood elf ranger had enough dexterity and thieves' tools to pick her own damn locks.

With that said, he did win me over.

I eventually realized I would probably need to up his approval if I wanted to resolve his personal quest (I'm a completionist and didn't like leaving it abandoned) so I gave him another chance and... boy, did he deliver. Astarion turned out to have so much depth and nuance, sold even further by the incredible voice acting! His story is also the darkest and most disturbing of them all.

By the time we arrived at Cazador's mansion I felt so protective of him. Gonna make damn sure nobody lays a finger on that little prima donna ever again.

Gale

Instant fav 💖 He introduced himself like a civilized person (unlike most other people in this game) and was polite and pleasant to deal with right off the bat (again, unlike most others).

He was also immediately useful, not only in combat but in general. Whatever the problem, a solution could probably be found somewhere in his smorgasbord of a spell book. He seemed overpowered already at the beginning of the game and was a downright force of nature at max level.

Most importantly though, his personality is 100% my personal brand of kryptonite: smart, kind, funny in the most adorably dorky way, romantic, artistic, absolute nerd... Neurodivergent? Very likely. Obviously I romanced him and have been obsessed since 💕

Wyll

Warlock business and hero complex aside he felt the most "normal" of them all. I immediately liked his kindness and charm. He usually had a very sound outlook on things as well.

My only gripe with Wyll is that his personal story kinda fizzles out. For a good while there he had the most interesting story and I was so curious to see where it would lead. Sadly the answer was mostly meh. As the son of Duke Ravenguard he should've been front and centre in Act III, but even in his personal quest he barely had any agency or even much of a part to play. And more than once I had to step in to make decisions for him instead of him having his own opinions!

I still really like his personality though. Might try romancing him in a future run. Hopefully he's less passive in that...

Karlach

I love her. I love everything about her. Her gorgeous looks, her golden-retriever-with-an-attitude personality, her battle prowess... I want her and I want to be her in equal measure. ❤️‍🔥

I had known her for all of five minutes before deciding she must be protected at all costs. AT ALL COSTS!!

Which was sadly proving very very difficult. Her personal story is just... heartbreaking. None of the things happening to her are her own fault, she doesn't deserve any of this. Act III was so stressful because there wasn't a damn thing I could do to save her. I bawled at least twice during her story and was afraid her ending would ruin me completely. 😭 Luckily, she went to Avernus with Wyll in the end. I'm not sure I would've continued playing if she hadn't made it.

Hey, maybe that's how I'll break my BG3 addiction? I make a run where I intentionally make sure Karlach dies? That might actually do the trick. 🤔

The non-origin companions

Minthara Didn't know she was a potential companion and killed her. Oops.

Halsin Mr I'm-sexy-and-I-know-it. Also such a wonderfully nice and stable person (showing my age again lol). No breakdowns, no angst, no drama. He's old enough to know who he is and what he wants. Had a moment of weakness where I actually considered breaking up with Gale for him. Obviously couldn't do that to my beloved wizard but... I admit I thought about it.

Jaheira Easily the coolest of them all. I love her no-nonsense attitude and the way she talks to me. She is who I want to be when I grow up. 🫶 I only wish she showed up earlier so I got to spend more time with her.

Minsc and Boo He's so ridiculous but I can't help but laugh every time he opens his mouth. I was already playing a ranger so had no real use for him, especially since he shows up so late in the game, but I adore him. It would be fun to make a run with him and Jaheira as permanent Act III party members. The Netherbrain wouldn't know what hit it!

[immadatdisney2]

HUGO IS A GREAT COOK!!!!

So APERENTLY this isn't a "popular" headcannon (which left me feeling hella bamboozled) so @uhjamszone, here's your promised essay (took more than ten minutes but wtv, sry lol)

SoOoOoOoOo, Hugo grew up on the streets where food was scarce and what people like him could get was usually from the dumpster or worse. So Hugo grows up not being picky, eating whatever whenever just to survive, but he still tries to make it decent (he tried to sleep in the back allys of restaurants and stealing from markets in the summer and stuff) so he learns to try different food combinations.

Then, when he gets taken in by Donella, since she is not only a badass crime boss but the Royal Engineer (#queen) he has access to real food now (he'd still have rations like all of Donnie's lackeys but it's still wayyyyyyyy better than before) and since he'd have to travel a lot for missions, he'd get pretty good at actual cooking (and he'd hide a little travel skillet in his room so he could cook) and since he has such a strong stomach from years of such shitty food, his dumpster-fire first tries don't phase him so he can just keep getting better at his craft.

On the trials, Nuru or Varian are usually the ones to make meals (neither of them trust Hugo not to do something stupid and prank their food) but all they can make is shit like ham sandwiches and baked potatoes and eggs on a good day or something all the time (Hugo dosnt love it but he dosnt care, food is food) but then, one day when they're out getting supplies or stm Yong is super hungry and asked Hugo to make something with him and Hugo just casually whips up the best meal they've had the entire journey so far and he's in charge of cooking from now on!

(Quick intermission to say that Olivia is his little chef just lime Remy. Yes she has her own little chefs hat. Yes she runs around grabbing all the spices and ingredients and stuff. Yes she does go up and pull on Hugo's hair and it dosnt do anything but piss her off. Annnnnnnnnnd Yes she does act all bossy and insist her idea is better despite not having a sense of smell or taste because she is a robot <3)

But later on, post-betrayl when he moves in with Varian at the castle and stuff. He gets super overwhelmed, he hates it there, he hates himself for hating it there, he dosnt deserve this, he dosnt belong. He dosnt know how to use all this fancy silverware and weird food that's super small and fancy and one of the things he lived most is turning against him, so he ends up skipping a lot of dinners. Varian gets concerned but he's sees how Hugo will eat his basic sandwiches and stuff, so they end up having a lot of cooking dates and skipping the fancy dinners in favor of Mac & Cheese in the library. And, another hc is that he ends up becoming good friends with Lance as they cook together (I hc he's a good cook too<3) and Lance teaches him how to make those fancy royal foods and Hugo ends up making them WAY better.

So, to wrap things up. He likes cooking, it's one of his love languages, he can pick up on new recapies pretty quickly but prefers to just wing it, despite being a great cook he's a shitty baker so dessert is always Varians job and feel free to add to this.

I'VE DONE MY PART, MAKE THIS A PIPULAR HEDCANNON NOW PLS!!!!

-ImMadAtDisney <3

[faghubby]

Something New II

"Paulie, time to wake up sweety" Amy whispered in my ear. I stirred. As I did I remembered the wonderful time we had last night. I hugged her close kissing her.

"Good Morning" Amy smiled. She ran her hand over my still pantied cock. Reminding me even more I blushed as she got out of bed. I allowed Amy to shower alone.

I was still in bed when she got out. I watched as she moved around the room. She let her towel fall moving around naked.

"Go shower" Amy told me with a smile. I got up. Amy stepped close

"And no touching" she grabbed my cock thru the panties. I went and showered. Amy was already dressed just finishing her makeup when I got out.

"Have to go, see you tonight" she said kissing me and heading out. I got dressed and went to work as well.

It was a few days later Amy sent me a text

I want to tie you up. Is all it said. I instantly got an erection when I read it. She then sent a pic of her silk scarf.

I can't wait. I texted back but got no response. When I got home I found Amy in the bathroom. Door was locked.

"Get naked and on the bed" she yelled thru the door. I did as instructed Amy came out a moment later in a sheer black lace robe. I sat up. To see she also wore seemed stockings and a black bra. She wore no panties. And her high heels clicked on the floor. She bound my hands without as much as a kiss.

"Now you can fight me as I put these on you or enjoy it" Amy smiled pulling out the satin black panties that went with her outfit. She quickly slid them up my legs I even lifted my ass as she pulled them into place.

"How do they feel" Amy teased rubbing me thru the soft panties ever so softly. He hands also rubbed my ass and thighs.

"You like wearing my panties?" She laughed. I just moaned. She then stopped and moved up. She took the edge of her robe and used it to tease my nipples.

"Ppppplease" I moaned. She stopped got up and bound my legs as well. She then pulled her wand out of her drawer. She turned it on and held it against my throbbing cock in her panties. I wanted to cum so bad. She quickly moved the toy holding under my testicles. She pushed it under me making my ass vibrate.

She suddle got up turned off the toy and turned off the light leaving me there alone. I have no idea how long she was gone. Suddenly the door opened in the dark she sat next to me.

"You choose, you can stay here all night alone, I can untie you and you will wear your soft panties to work tomorrow only then will I let you finish, or I can fuck your ass with my vibrator. Which one would you like?" She asked her fingers teasing my nopples.

"I'll wear your panties" I moaned.

"If you cum before I say I will fuck that sexy little ass of yours" she told me.

"I understand" I said in a squeaky voice and nodded my head. Amy untied me. I rushed to go pee. I had to wait till my erection went down. But as soon as I pulled the panties back on I was hard again.

"I don't think I have ever seen you this excited" Amy said pulling me back into bed. Cuddling up to me. I started to kiss her.

"No, if you want to thank me you can use my vibrator to please me. But that's it" Amy told me. She handed me her vibrator. I turned it on and realized Amy was completely naked. The toy slipped into her with ease. Soon she was moaning and begging me to fuck her harder. She came hard soaking her toy and my hand. She kissed me and cuddled next to me. Patted my erection and drifted off to sleep as I held her. I held her and tried to sleep. But I couldn't stop fantasizing. At some point I must of passed out.

I woke in the morning with an erection like I was a teenager. I showered fighting the urge to masterbate. When I got out Amy was waiting

"Paulie, here are your silkies panties" She cooed. I took them I had never seen Amy wear anything like them. Pink panties with ruffles all down the ass. But I slid them on. I was instantly hard. Amy rubbed me.

"Since you like them so much" Amy smiled and produced a pink match camisole. She didn't ask just started sliding over my head.

"You're going to have such a sexy day" Amy told me kissing me. She left me standing there. I paused before I finished getting dressed on my regular work clothes.

I spent all day at work unable to focus. Three times I tried to call Amy. And sent 15 maybe 20 texts all went unanswered. I was so horny every time I moved I had to hold in a moan.

As soon as I walked in the house I went to the bedroom and stripped down to my panties and camisole. I laid on the bed I so wanted to play with myself. I was only there a few minutes when Amy came home. She immediately tied me to the bed. This time she bound my legs to same ropes as my arms. Spreading my legs far but also pulling my ass up off the bed my dick pointing at my chest. She had not said a word other then to give me instructions of what to do so she could bind me. She held her wand against my asshole.

"OH god Amy please" I begged.

"You love being mine. And you are mine now. My little slut" she teased. "Do you like this?" She teased my ass.

"Yesssss" I moaned as she adjusted the vibrations. My eyspes closed she pushed something in my mouth. A ball? I couldn't talk or push it out as she attached it around my head.

"I am going to fuck you" she told me. Suddenly I felt something cool being pushed into my ass by her finger. She was going to fuck me! I wiggled trying to get loose but she kept working my ass. Soon I wanted more. Amy rubbed my erection as she pushed something bigger into my ass.

"You like that don't you?" She asked looking at my eyes I just nodded as she pushed it deeper.

"I like this game, and so do you." Amy told me the toy buried in my ass.

"Things are going to change around here. From now on I am in charge and you are my bitch." Amy to me. Againni nodded she turned the vibrator on deep in my ass. I felt myself cum. I looked down to see my panties now soaked in my sperm.

"Want more?" Amy teased I nodded she smiled and started to fuck me with her toy. As she did she unmatched the gag. I spit it out . She ran her fingers over my lips it was salty I realized she was rubbing my cum on my lips. I licked them as soon as I did I was rewarded by a big glob she had scooped up with her fingers.

"Want me to stop?" Amy asked.

"No" I told her. With that she started to move the toy harder and faster. Driving it in deep hard and fast .

"My god you are such a fag" she laughed. She finally stopped and removed the toy. She untied me.

"I love you babe" she told me. "But after that, I don't think you will ever be allowed to pretend to be a man and make love to me agsin" she said taking my head in her hand.

"I am going to start sleeping with real men" Amy said looking straight in my eyes.

[polyamorouscultureis]

Hi,

I hope this isn't too heavy to throw at you but I could really use the advice or opinion of the polyam community. I've been polyamorous ever since I started dating (6 years ago, I'm an adult); I never recognised myself in monogamy, and I believe in polyamory both due to personal preferences and to the political and ethical dimensions of polyamory, which are very important to me.

My partner and I live very far away from each other. We've been together for 3 years and have always had a polyamorous and open relationship (he was with someone who was married when I met him). Due to circumstances and personal preferences, we ended up in a hierarchical polyam situation where we are primary partners. We trust each other a lot, we have a very open and honest communication. All this to say it's a very loving and healthy polyam frame where everyone is on the same page.

The thing is, every time he tells me he's going to see someone (or have them over - meaning we can't talk at night like we tend to almost every day -, or go on a weekend with his friends and that person), it makes me sick. As in, I can't stop thinking about it, I feel sad and angry, I wait for texts I know won't come because he's busy with someone else. But I reach levels of envy and jealousy I can hardly deal with.

We do talk about it, because communication is important, but I refuse to talk to him about it every time because it would amount to emotionally pressuring him. He would either stop himself from seeing people (which is not something I want because I do want him to be free to create and have meaningful relations as he sees fit), or do everything without telling me, which would eventually weaken the foundation of the trust we share. I try to think about my own relations and sex partners, which I have and with whom I share meaningful and nice moments, in order to bring everything down to manageable proportions, but it barely works.

I hate feeling like this. This suffering is just not something I want in my life or as a reaction to my partner's exercise of his freedom. I don't understand why I'm not able to feel compersion and move on with my evening, instead of spending the entire excruciatingly long time with my phone at hand or without being able to put the thought away. I feel that I'm not actually able to be polyam and open as I have always seen myself. I know one of the baselines is to not be too hard on yourself, but I can't help but feel ashamed of my reactions in addition to feeling like absolute shit with the combination of jealousy and envy taking over my brain. This is not who I want to be not how I want to live my relationship and my life, because, then again, I choose to be polyamorous and I like it, and I feel it's a precious part of my identity and how I relate to the world.

Sorry for the length. I just don't have many polyam people around me and none are dealing with the long distance factor in addition, and I could use anyone's point of view on this.

Thank you 💜

Hi! I'm so sorry you're dealing with this and that you have been for so long. As I'm sure you've heard a hundred times, jealousy is so, so very normal. It's awesome you have such exquisite self-awareness, and I think you're doing all the right things in not putting your partner in a position where he feels like he needs to change what he's doing for your sake.

Here are a few things that sometimes help me turn my own jealousy into compersion (or at least make it less intense of a feeling):

I think about my partner's laugh, their smile, and how valuable their happiness is to me. Although I know they're with someone else and it's sometimes hard to think about their attraction to the other person, I try to focus on how I would encourage them to do anything that makes them happy, and if they're happy with this person, I would never want them to pull away from that source of joy. (Similar to the "if you love them let them go" kind of logic, only I don't have to let them go!)

Letting my body react however it's going to react. If I'm home by myself, I can let myself feel the feelings and whatever comes with it -- if I need to cry, or stress eat, or take a nap, or scream, or whatever, I allow myself to do whatever it takes to express the feeling and get it out of my system. It feels awful at first, but once it passes, I can then indulge in my own hobbies to pass the time until my partner comes home. And usually, the feeling goes away just a little bit faster every time.

Getting a poly-affirming therapist! Either an individual therapist or, if your partner is willing, a couple's therapist. It may take a bit to find the right practice or the right type, but it can be so helpful to have a professional to talk to, especially if this affects your daily life.

Additionally, see if you can figure out the root cause of your jealousy, or if you can find any patterns in what makes you more jealous than other things. (Journaling is suuuuper helpful for this, imo). Is it the idea of him being attracted to someone else to begin with? Is it the thought of him having sex or physical intimacy with someone else? Is it the inability to contact him while he is on a date, or the uncertainty about what they're doing together? There are soooo many factors that could make a person feel insecure or jealous, and once you find the root cause, it'll be easier to tackle. It may be as simple as asking him to check in with a text every couple of hours so that you know he's thinking about you, or asking to meet his date before they go out. See if you and your partner can find little ways to make you feel more secure without him having to completely pull away from anyone he wants to connect with.

I have answered a few other asks on jealousy in case you would like to read those as well!

I hope that this helps at least a little bit, and I'm sorry I didn't get to answering this sooner (and thank you for following up to make sure I saw it)! Hopefully others will give their own insights in the reblogs and comments as well.

Sending you all the love, anon! <3