#still a bit stressed from the whole needle thing...

[thr4shit]

Finally getting blood work to try and figure out wtf is causing the chronic joint pain that has recently spread (again) to more than just hands as well as ramping up in pain level: 😄🙂

Having to get a needle put in my arm: 😣😰

The guy who drew our blood was very friendly and chatted with us to keep us calm when our blood was drawn: 🙂☺️

Watched our blood leaving our body because of morbid fascination: 🙂😁

[mars-ipan]

i have my first infusion tomorrow and the Anxiety is kicking in and i am trying so so hard to keep it calm

[the-californicationist]

That Fire is Repeated

AO3 Link

From an anonymous ask: fic of where instead of Price, it's reader who's been infected with sex pollen?👉👈please and thank u!

Deep in the southern jungles of Urzikstan, Captain Price is sent to help with your extraction. On your way out of the makeshift Konni laboratory, you accidentally step on a trap, and Price volunteers to save your life.

“I can’t hear her comms!” Simon yelled out over the noise of the helicopter, pointing to his headset and giving the thumbs down to Laswell.

She typed something into her datapad and showed it to him, yelling back,

“Dead zone! You’ll have to go in on foot.”

Price adjusted his vest and checked to make sure his gun was fully loaded,

“I’ll go. She’s my recruit, my responsibility.”

“Sure you’ll wanna be the big hero for her, too, huh?” Farah laughed from the cockpit, glancing over her shoulder as Price twisted his face, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink from his shame. 

It was well-known that Price had a terribly strong crush on you. You had accepted his advances, but he was reluctant to take it further, realizing that fraternizing was frowned upon. So, you pined for each other from afar, and the whole base knew about it.

Laswell rolled her eyes at Farah’s comment, 

“Should we go back to basics? Captain: don’t subtract from the population,” her eyes narrowed, “Don’t add to the population…”

“Yeah, alright, Kate. Got it. Loud and clear,” Price waved her off, staring out the window and ignoring the obvious ribbing from his colleagues. 

“Go get Sparrow and let’s go the fuck home,” Laswell hollered at him, opening the door to the chopper and letting the air whoosh inside.

The wind stung his cheeks, and the tall grass blades spun and twirled like violent dancers as he made his way towards the old, dilapidated lab. You’d been sent to infiltrate secret Konni operations here, disguised as a chemist. Now that the Konni operatives had been dispatched, you secured the intel and were ready for extraction. Price was ready to have you back. These types of ops were so delicate. One wrong move would put you in danger. He was glad the worst of it was over. 

As quickly and as carefully as he could, Price made his way inside. It was a little odd that you weren’t outside waiting for the extraction, so his guard was up. In the main lab, he spotted you, standing with your bag and your weapon with your back towards him. 

“Little bird?” Price questioned under his breath, moving forward slowly, using the pet name he saved for when you two were alone. 

“Hey, Captain. Glad you made it,” you called out to him, your voice tinged with obvious sobbing and stress. 

“What is it, Spar? What’s happened?”

He made his way around the lab table and saw you. You were standing stock-still, staring down at your foot. Then, he knew what had made you cry. 

Jutting out of your pant leg, a giant syringe was stuck into your calf, empty.

Price leaned down to help you, removing the needle, panicking at the thought of losing you,

“Can you move?”

“When I do… Captain, it’s excruciating.”

“Fuck,” Price tried the comms. But, then he remembered it was a dead zone, and no one was coming to help him. He asked you, “Is it poison? How’d this happen?”

“They call it XLR8. It’s what they’ve been working on. A prototype. I was bending down to grab my bag and this was rigged to hit me. They knew I was a spy.”

“What does it do, this prototype?” You heard his voice quiver at the end of his question. 

You blushed, laughing a bit, 

“It incapacitates you, first. Removes your inhibitions, next. Then, it causes extreme vasodilation…”

“In the Queen’s bloody English, love. Please…”

“John,” you used his name, looking up into his eyes, “I may ask you to do things to me. Things that I might not usually ask for. And I want you to know that you don’t have to listen to me. I don’t want you to do anything… I don’t want to force you to do… things…”

“Birdie. Tell me what I need to know.”

“When the Konni scientists injected it into mice, they would breed… for hours. They wouldn’t eat, they wouldn’t sleep. One time, a researcher opened the door to the cage, and they didn’t escape. They only bred…” You looked at him in his eyes, making sure he heard you, “But, the mice who were alone in their cages and were given XLR8 got a high fever and died. Every last one of them”

“Are you… “ Price pointed down at your leg, “Do you mean to say that you’ll need someone to…”

You looked down at the ground, steeling yourself for the harsh reality of what was to come,

“When the drugs hit my system, the effects were immediate. Stage one should be almost over now.. You’ll… you’ll know it when you see stage two. But, listen to me, John. I couldn’t live with myself if I forced you to do something that you would regret. Please. I’m sure they’ll think of some other way to help me…”

“Little bird,” he caught your gaze and smiled softly at you, “I’m here for you. I’m not going to let anythin’ happen to you. I won’t lose you to this. I can’t… I care about you too much. I’m going to catch you, and we’re going to get out of here. Just fall forward into my arms, love. I know it hurts. We need to get you to the bloody medic as soon as we can.”

You nodded, and then you did as he commanded. Every movement felt like some sort of hell. You could hear yourself screaming, but it was muffled, your face buried in his chest. You were hanging, limp, against John’s body. You could feel every stinging step he took as it jostled your body. Suddenly, you heard the angry clipping of chopper blades. Then, you passed out. 

Sometime later, you awoke, still on the chopper, sitting in the jump seat way in the back. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Price was sitting in the jumpseat and you were… straddling his lap. 

You were humping him, shamelessly, right in front of Farah, Laswell, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. The helicopter was full of soldiers, and here you were, uncontrollably rocking your hips against your captain. The others tried to avert their gazes, sitting at awkward angles, trying not to watch, but that somehow made it worse. 

You cried out as if you were in pain, and Price held you closer, soothing you with his deep, rumbling voice, speaking to you right in your ear,

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, little bird. I’ve got you. Almost home. Just a few more minutes.”

“John… fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I need… oh, God.”

“I know what you need,” he kissed your neck, and he took his hand and shoved it down the front of your pants, giving you something to grind against. 

His fingers were strong, and the tips of them were thick, easily pressing through your folds for you, exciting your nerves just the way you liked.

You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself. When you did, you saw Soap’s head peek around the back of his seat. Then, a gloved, skeletal hand yanked him back around to face the front. If you didn’t die from the XLR8, you’d die from embarrassment afterward, that was certain. 

“It’s okay, bird. It’s not your fault. They know that,” he tried to reassure you, but you hid your face in his neck anyway, unable to stop your wanton writhing, soaking his fingers until they slid against you unimpeded. 

You felt your hands reach for his belt, digging under his vest and all of his equipment straps. You wanted to spear your body onto his thick cock. You were sure that it would cure you. The fever made you feel too cold and too hot all at the same time. You shivered in his arms, but your brow was dotted with beads of sweat. 

He caught your wrist to stop you,

“Just a little while longer, love. Shh, shh, shh. I know…”

You sobbed into his shoulder, ashamed and needy, too weak to fight his grip. 

“Hey, look at me,” you obeyed, and he rubbed your cheek, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

You shuddered, cresting over a brief, sharp orgasm, coming on him as quietly as you could, biting your cheek so you wouldn’t cry out. For a few seconds, you experienced some sort of relief, but then it was gone, and the overwhelming internal fire raged in your belly once more.

The chopper pitched, landing on the pad at your base, and everyone cleared out of the hull except for Laswell. She looked down at you, pity in her eyes, and then turned to him with concern,

“I’ll send a few supplies to your room. The medic wants to run some tests. How long is this supposed to last?”

John shrugged, petting the sweaty hair out of your face, tucking you in close to him in his arms,

“Not sure. Just trying to get her through it. Take her datapad. It’s got her notes from the lab.”

Laswell took it and stepped down from the chopper, jogging off to the med bay. 

“C’mon, love. Let me help you take that fever away, hm?”

You nodded, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, letting him carry you from the helicopter. It seemed like the tight coil in your belly was getting more and more tense by the moment. Your orgasm had been too weak, and it was almost like you hadn’t quite completed the event. You were just stuck in between coming and not coming, waiting for someone to put you out of your misery. What you thought had been relief was really just a prelude to the main event. It was torture. 

As you lay your head on his chest, you could smell his aftershave as it mixed with his skin, a comfortingly warm scent with woodsy spices and the faint hint of tobacco from his favorite cigars. You wanted more of it, so you turned your nose into him, running your hands across the belt of his pants, trying to pry your way in..

When he arrived in the barracks, he kicked open the door to a dark room. It smelled just like him. You realized then that you were in his quarters. He lay you on his bed and set to taking off your gear. Your boots and socks slid off, and he unclipped your vest. Then, you felt his fingers on your neck, carefully inspecting your wounds. 

“Birdie…” He shook his head, obviously regretful for what you were going through. 

You whimpered, looking up at him as you moved your hand down your own pants, rubbing yourself in front of him out of a desperate need, 

“John, I don’t know how to ask you this.”

“You don’t have to. Medic’s gonna check you out, and I’ll give you whatever you want, little bird. I promise.”

“I need you, now. I don’t… I can’t… mmmngh...”

“Captain?” A woman’s voice floated into the room from the doorway. Price cracked the door and when he saw it was the medic, he let her in. 

She knelt by the bed, and took your hand,

“Hey, Sparrow. I’m just going to check your vitals, okay?”

You nodded, trying not to stare down the dark opening of her lab coat. Her voice was so sweet, and her breasts looked full and soft. Her olive skin would probably feel so warm on your lips. Before you could stop yourself, you had your hand behind her head, kissing her neck, trying your best to unbutton her blouse.

“Easy! Easy does it,” John sat himself down behind you on the bed, positioning you between his legs, and held you back, keeping you from accosting the medic. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I… oh, my God…” You writhed, trying to fight the demonic need building inside of you.

“That’s okay,” she said, “They warned me. We’re going to get you some help… Let me take your temp… Goddamnit. She’s burning up. I’m going to give her a light sedative and something to try and cut her fever, but…”

She stopped speaking, looking up at the captain, trying to be delicate, 

“You probably need to… um… begin. The sooner the better. I’ll leave these with you,” she dropped two blue pressed pills into his hand, “Just in case you, uh, need a boost.”

Price recognized the sexual enhancement drugs and put them on his side table. He waited patiently for the medic to take a small vial of your blood. He thanked her, trying not to sound like he was in a rush (even though he was), and eventually she shut the door, leaving you two in each others’ care.

John stayed where he was, but he softened his grip, kissing your neck. He reached down and unbuttoned your pants, giving your hand room to move. You rubbed your folds faster, making tight little circles around your clit, struggling to come. 

“Nnngh… fuck. Fuck, I can’t do it. I’m so close, but…” You whined, gritting your teeth and struggling against the XLR8. It was making you woozy, and you couldn’t keep your strength up in order to get yourself over the edge. 

“Show me,” he whispered, staring down at your furious masturbation, watching your hand as it worked, “Show me how you like it, little bird. Teach me.”

Your heart raced, equal parts excited and embarrassed to show him something so personal and intimate, but you did as you were told, letting him see how your fingers worked your flesh. He sighed, and you felt his cock shift against the small of your back. 

He took over for you, sliding his hand down below yours, mimicking your movements, and getting very close to perfection. 

“That’s it!” You hissed, keening for him, “That’s… oh, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t —”

Your orgasm was almost immediate. Your body locked up, every muscle squeezing you until you were frozen, rigidly convulsing as you came on his hand. Your mouth hung open in a breathless, silent scream. Then, to your horror, you felt the heavy stain of some sort of fluid soaking through your pants. At first, you thought you’d wet yourself, but then when John pulled his hand away to inspect your emission, you saw the sticky, gooey consistency shining on his fingers. 

“What… I don’t understand. What is that?”

“It looks like your come, yeah? Quite a lot of it…” He observed. Price brought it to his nose and mouth to smell it. Then, he licked his fingers tentatively, and his eyes rolled back into his head, “Mmm. Fuck. It’s sweet.”

He lifted you so easily, it was as if you weighed nothing. Propping you up on his pillows, he helped you out of your pants and boots, stripping you down. When Price saw you, dripping and pink, splayed in front of him like a gleaming prize, he stalled. Then, he looked up at you, eyes wide with glorious wonder,

“Little bird…”

“John,” you gasped, “Please.”

He didn’t waste any more time. In a flash, your thighs were hitched up toward your chest as he shoved them back, giving his mouth access to its warm, wet reward. 

The first long lick was like its own kind of drug. Your whole body sang like a bell, trembling and ringing out for him and his soft tongue. He licked you again and pulled away, confused but pleasantly so,

“Fuck, love. You taste like strawberries. That’s… fuck.”

You lost track of time as he devoured you. His whole face was shining with your stickiness, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was gasping for air, practically drowning himself, rubbing his chin and nose through your folds as he tried to writhe his tongue deeper into your core, fucking you with it to draw out more of your slickness. 

The sounds you were making seemed almost inhuman. You were convinced you had never had a true orgasm before if this is what they were supposed to feel like. Every lap of his tongue felt like its own crescendo. You were putty in his hands, figuratively and literally judging by the dampness beneath you. 

Eventually, he made his way back up your body, peeling away your shirt and bra, rustling out of his own clothes as quickly as he could, his muscular arms getting trapped in his jacket, stretching and pulling against his heavy bones for freedom.

“You alright, little bird?” He asked you softly, crawling over you and settling himself between your shivering thighs. 

You nodded,

“Yeah, that was so amazing, John. I know its selfish, but I need more. Can… can you fuck me? Please? I’m clean, I have an IUD. Please? I won’t —”

“Shh. Hush, love. I’m not leavin’ this room ‘til I’ve cured you, one way or another. C’mere.”

He pulled you to him, kissing you, covered in your come. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he was right: it was exactly like strawberries. It must have been the stimulant, you thought. Something to… entice… 

Your mind went blank as John began to feed his fat cockhead into your hole. All of the pain and the heat from the fever disappeared, and you were normal again. Well, a very horny normal, but at least you felt some relief. 

“Oh, my God!” You cried, “That’s it. That’s what I needed. Oh…”

“Yeah?” Price narrowed his eyes, studying your face, watching your reactions with rapt attention. Where you were stabilizing, he was falling apart at the seams. 

His whole body shuddered as he slid himself into you. It was shallow at first; he was too thick to fit inside of your tight pussy, no matter how wet you were. But, as he lubed himself up in your body, he squeezed deeper and deeper inside, eventually drilling down right to his base, slamming his hips into yours like a hungry machine. 

Your screams echoed in his small room, and the metal bed creaked under his enormous weight. You could feel his power through his thrusts. He was so incredibly strong, and his muscles bent and twisted just to serve your pleasure. It was hypnotizing to watch. You were focused on the straining sinew in his immense neck when another orgasm threatened to bubble over inside of you. 

It was too soon. You’d barely recovered from the first one, and as he felt your body start to contract around his shaft, he began to moan right along with you. 

“That’s it, Birdie, let it out. C’mon. Come for me… That’s it. That’s… ungh!” He coached you, talking you through it, fighting his own pleasure like the dragon it was, the heat of his breathing furling in hot bursts down your neck. 

His eyes were wrenched shut, but between his long, aching thrusts, he rambled, spilling out his words instead of himself inside of you like he wanted to. 

“Spar… don’t you know how badly I’ve wanted this?”

Your pussy was being pounded so hard you could feel your pulse slamming against your skin.

“...I’ve wanted you… wanted to feel you…”

His face was near yours, close enough that you could still smell your sweet slick on his beard. 

“...it’s so good. I never want it to stop. Feels like heaven…”

When he wasn’t speaking in that hoarse, smoldering timbre, you could see his jaw working against itself, fighting the inevitable. 

“...so damn responsive to me. Such a good girl…”

Then, his tone turned dark, burning into your face as he spoke against your cheek through gritted teeth, 

“You want more, hm?”

“Yeah…” You whispered, your voice sounding so small. 

“Harder? You want it harder, don’t you, little bird? I can tell.”

You nodded, whispering your pleading to him in wordless gasps. He smiled. You could feel it against your skin,

“Bloody hell. Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he lamented, rising up above you, wrenching his fingers around your waist, the gentleness gone from his touch, “Fuck, Birdie. You’ll make me come. You… ah!”

He brought you with him as he tumbled over the edge. You felt like you’d been hit with a flashbang. You couldn’t hear, and your vision went white. When you begged your lungs to breathe, you couldn’t take in the air. All you could feel — the only thing your body would allow you to feel — was each silky throb of his cock as it pumped his come inside of you. You could feel it as it burst from him, and then as it melted down your walls, flowing across his fleshy head. It was lava-hot, and you knew nothing except that you needed more. 

Price collapsed on top of you, his heavy, furry body sweaty and panting, gasping for air himself. He seemed spent, but you weren’t done. 

You flipped him, planting him on his back, enjoying the shocked look on his face, his eyes wide and uncertain. He couldn’t speak; there wasn’t enough time. But, as you began to rock back and forth on his softening rod, he cried out with something between pain and bliss. 

“Oh, fuck, love… wait! I’m… oh, shite…” 

“I’m… so sorry, John. I can’t stop…” You ground your swollen pussy down to his base, fucking him raw and wild, feeling his come slipping out of you in foamy smears. 

He nodded, hiding his eyes behind his palm, struggling to get his breathing under control,

“It’s alright, Birdie. It’s alright. Take what you need.”

As you rode him, he fully softened in you, and you cried out, trying everything you could to bring him back. Then, you watched as he fumbled across the end table, reaching for the blue pills the medic had left behind. He took one, and stared up at you,

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere.”

He grabbed your thighs, and with very little struggle, situated you across his face, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him, forcing you to put your weight on his jaw. He began to eat you out, licking long circles around your messy hole at first, and then he thrust his long tongue inside of you, rubbing his nose deep within your wet folds. 

You screamed for him then, trying to battle your insecurities and failing. It was overwhelming. The pleasure just built and built inside of you, mounting up and then… nothing. It remained there at its peak, a tightened coil, ready to bust. 

“John! John, I can’t… Help me, please.”

With all of his strength, he lifted you off of him, shoving you on all fours, situating himself behind you. 

All of his movements were rabid and unwieldy. He was struggling, trying to overcome his soporific pleasure to accommodate you. Hungry for you even though he’d recently been sated. 

Your chaos quieted for a moment when you felt his fingers prying your lips apart between your legs, slipping into you like a cork, sinking down to his knuckles into a perfect fit. 

“Oh, Sparrow. So fuckin’ soft. So sweet.” 

As he praised you, he ate you, pulling out more and more of your stickiness onto his hand, lapping you up with his tongue. You were coming unwound, and it felt amazing. It was as if he was pulling pulsing orgasms from your body on a long silk ribbon, one after the other, soft and slick, neverending. 

Then, finally, you felt his head tapping its way into your wet hole once more. Fucking you from behind seemed to be your commander’s preference. It was either that or he had become beyond overstimulated. His noises were a cross between whimpers and growls. He kissed his way up your back, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck and shoulder, grunting like an animal as he buried himself into you. 

“You’re so big. I feel so full,” you whispered to him, glancing over your shoulder as he knelt over you like a feral hound, bucking into you shamelessly. 

“Feels good, little bird? ‘M not hurtin’ you, am I?” 

“No, John. You’re perfect,” you found his jaw as he kissed your neck, nuzzling his face with your own, rubbing against him like a cat. 

“Gonna come for me, love? Squeezin’ the fuck out of my cock.”

“I can’t help it,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks. You were so overwhelmed, your body was processing every sensation, fraying your nerves. He wiped your temple with his hand, 

“I know, Sparrow. I know. Let it out, love. C’mon. I can take it.”

“Nghah!” You screamed, trying to relax into the blinding pleasure, feeling your legs start to tremble from it.

“Mmm,” Price groaned deeply, sitting back on his knees as he felt you spill over the edge. Your sticky come coated his cock and the dense hair at his base, matting the dark fur, “Tha’s it, baby. Fuck, so wet.”

You sobbed through the orgasm as it wrecked your body. John gathered you up in his arms, taking the sheet with him, clutching you to his chest messily, still humping himself into you as gently as he could, but unable to quell his own lurid desire. 

“Lay down, Birdie,” your captain whispered, pulling the sheet away and pushing you prone into his mattress, “Try to breathe for me. Tha’s it.”

You tried to do as he commanded. You wanted to be good for him, but your breath kept hitching in your throat. You needed more, and you didn’t know how to get it. You writhed below him, feeling his cock slipping in and out of you, the wetness from your body pooling beneath you. 

“John, I’m still so hot. Feels like I’m losing my mind,” you looked at him over your shoulder, and you had to admit he didn’t look much better. He was spent, fucking you on auto-pilot at this point, letting nature take its own path. He was nothing more than base instincts at this point, and you could tell he was having trouble keeping himself tied down. 

He wanted to come again, you could feel it in how rigid his cock had become, helped by the pills. Something inside of you wanted to force his come from him, to make him explode in you again, filling you up. So, you pushed your hips back, arching your spine to allow more of his cock inside of your pussy, teasing him with your swollen hole. 

“Oh, fuck. Sparrow… don’t…”

“Does it feel good, John?” You asked, not following his orders for once, “Do I… make you feel good?”

“Holy fuck,” he spat, his voice dark and animalistic, unable to tear his eyes from where your bodies were joined together.  

You twisted your hips back and forth, effectively jerking him off with your drooling sheath, listening to his deep whining as you tormented him, pushing him to the brink but not fucking him fast enough to toss him over. 

“Little bird… Please…” John whimpered, overstimulated and eager to come.

“Tell me,” you teased him, not recognizing your own voice, “Tell me how you like it.”

“I fuckin’ love it. Just like that, Birdie. So damn good. Keep movin’ your hips like that, pretty girl. Gonna make me come again.”

You could feel his eyes watching you fuck him. He used his hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, giving him a bird’s eye view of both of your holes. You could feel the cool air rush across them, exciting you and making you shiver from the sensation. 

“So damn pretty,” Price crooned, whispering almost to himself, petting your stretched skin with his thumbs, smearing your wetness all over you.

You felt him grab your hair, right at the nape of your neck, forcing your back to arch, pulling you up to him, 

“You want me to come in you, little bird? You want my fuckin’ come? Hm? Tell me!”

“Nghh… Yes,” you hissed. His grip was so restricting, and you felt the air try to escape your throat, “Come. In. Me.”

“Sparrow!” Price shouted, releasing your hair to hold you across your belly, wrapping your body in his arms, ramming himself into you as deeply as he could, letting his cock spill into you once again. 

You were full of him. John was everywhere. He was wet and dripping within you, and as he fell to the bed with you, his body covered yours fully, wrapping you beneath him. You shifted a bit, convincing him to roll onto his side, kissing his neck and face, whispering sweet nothings to him as he caught his breath. 

“So good, John… You are so good to me,” you let your lips sink into his warm, panting mouth, letting your lips slide together. 

“Mmm,” he sighed, “Still hard. The medic was right about those pills.”

“I’m so sorry,” you straddled him again, humping against his still-rigid shaft, “I still need you, John. Please?”

“Sure, little bird. Ah! Oh, fuck, I’m sensitive. Easy… Ngh!”

“I’ll go slow,” you leaned forward to kiss him, capturing his long moan in your mouth. 

Suddenly, there was a quick knock at the door and then a slit of light as it creaked open. A skeletal gloved hand reached in with a stuffed bag and dropped it just inside the room before shutting it tightly again. 

Price removed you gently, watching you pout, and he explained,

“Laswell’s care package.”

“Come back, John,” you pulled his hand toward you as he opened the bag with the other.

He started laughing, letting you guide his cock back into you while he was standing at the edge of the bed. You watched as he pulled a couple of water bottles out of the bag and set them on the end table, still chuckling to himself. 

“Hey,” you pet your fingers through the hair on his belly as you writhed against him, “What’s funny?”

“Strawberries,” he smiled as he pulled a small box of the fruit from the bag, his eyes twinkling in the low light, “You want one, little bird?”

You nodded, but then felt the sudden emptiness of him removing his cock from you again. Then, with a devilish grin, you watched him dip the tip of the bright red fruit into your pussy, twirling it around in your juices, coating it with your thick stickiness, and then sucking it into his mouth, eating half of it and letting it drip down his chin. 

He brought it to your mouth, at the same time thrusting himself all the way inside of you, making you gasp,

“Open wide, love.”

[solbaby7]

Take What You Need

pairing: cassian x reader

warnings: just swearing and porn with little plot, prolly a few typos

summary: Stress wears hard on a General's body, so you offer up yours in hopes to provide some much need relief

—

He'd been working so hard.

Forgetting to eat some days and once you'd noticed, you made a point to wake up a bit earlier than normal; a whole hour before he'd stir awake to ensure he had a warm meal and a canteen full of water that you'd ordered be refilled at least twice throughout the day. Cassian always grumbled out some complaint while sleuthing his swords between large wings; hands still wiping sleep from his eyes but he always came home with it empty and a little more life in his cheeks.

"Why not just take a little vacation?" You murmur into his shoulder later than night, his fighting leathers a heap on the ground and Cassian's giant body is pliant in your touch, muscles relaxed from a hot bath and head cushioned by your thighs as your fingers rake through inky hair. "Rhysand wouldn't mind."

"I know but I have too much to do—too little time to get it done. I can't get distracted at a time like this; when Velaris and its people need their safety ensured the most."

It's another version of the same thing he'd always said when you'd ever tried to suggest such a thing but you don't fight it and no anger builds because you know how much this means to him; being able to use his skills to protect his family and his home. "I understand your responsibilities completely; I only worry about the toll they take on you." Your point is easily proven, hands grazing over bare skin and while the hard lines and strong muscle is attractive and jaw dropping, the pained groans that pass full lips makes your heart lurch from the soreness that followed. "When do you get to relax?"

"Whenever you bend over my desk and let me have my way with you."

He means it as a joke—you think. A boyish smirk on manly features, eyes closed in content as you continue your exploration, knuckles grazing the membraneous wings behind him and you'll never grow tired of the goosebumps that litter your skin at the moan that pulls from him. "Okay," You whisper, legs moving below him and he goes to complain, eyes peeling open to make some spoiled little comment about how he hadn't yet given you permission to stop your caring touches but the words never leave his brain. Not when you'd peeled off your—his shirt and tossed it somewhere behind you. "Then have your way with me."

Cassian doesn't answer right away, a little stunned by the breasts displayed perfectly in his line of sight, the dangling little belly ring you'd done yourself with a clean needle and entirely too much time alone. "You're serious?"

"Very." It comes out like a hum, a pleased smile on your face and confidence swells now that you've effectively stunned him to silence with so few words. "You work hard," You explain, eyes actually appreciating the bare skin before you. "I see it and I'm proud of you and if all I can do to help you feel a little better at the end of the day is by being your stress relief—then, I'd be happy to oblige."

He takes no longer to ponder it, rising up and taking in your bare chest like it were the first time all over again. "It's been a rough week, sweet girl." For a second, you think he tells you to fill the silence, to ease you into his fingers hooking into the waistband of your night shorts to slide them down your thighs and over the length of your legs; its dangling over one ankle when he moves on to the next, a low groan emitting when he takes in the bare cunt beneath. "So fucking good to me," Cassian praises and it's when a strong soldiers hands curl around your thighs, fingers gripping at your hips when he drags your ass over the arm of the couch. It's a strain on your back, hips jutted in the air and spine stuck in an arch but you push the mild discomfort aside at how much praise he offers for it. “You just always know exactly what I need.”

The position does little protect you from the ravenous assault of Cassian’s mouth that lowers down against your cunt; lips smacking kisses and tongue darting out to explore until your legs were searching for purchase—something to hold onto or maybe to push against to feel more of his mouth or push it off, you can’t tell but the pleasure is addicting.

Weeks and weeks of your fingers that could never quite compare to Cassian’s; digits thick and skilled when they coat themselves in your arousal and shove it back inside. Every filthy moan encourages him, positive reinforcement fueling his ego more than a million compliments on his physical appearance and he doesn’t slow down until you’re dripping between your legs and struggling for breath. “You sure you can handle it?”

“I have many times before unless something here has changed.”

He chuckles at your smart mouth, the snarky response second nature and he probably would’ve let it go if he wasn’t so high on the dominance—the way you were so quick to offer up your body to him and lay at his mercy while he fucked off the stresses of his job. His heart clenches at the huge display of trust, hands gentle after working an orgasm from you; slick fingers grazing over the soft curve under your breasts. You expect him to linger there; to stick to his usual routine and work as many hickeys onto the malleable flesh until there was no space left to mark but it doesn’t happen.

Just one kiss is pressed to the center of your chest, ears a cutely aware of the boxers dropping to the floor and the throbbing cock burning between your thighs when he smiles down at you with a look you can’t place. "Remember something for me, yeah?"

You nod, words escaping you as you try and fail to figure out that glint in hazel eyes darkened by blown pupils. He's slow about it at first; intentional in the way he teases you with the weeping head of his cock and it takes everything in you not to squirm against the bruising grip on your hips. "I love you."

Your brows furrow at the sentiment, ready to return it either way when it becomes clear why Cassian was being so sweet—so kind and eager to give you pleasure before taking his own because something curls in your stomach when you watch the way he braces himself. Certain he can hear the way you swallow thickly, you glance up at him, voice hesitant. “Cass—“

He cuts you off with a gentle shush, almost placating as he watches where the two of you begin to join and the thick stretch of his head is barely inside before he’s talking again. “You said you wanted to help, right? Help baby, be a good girl and take me.”

It’s easy to give him what he wants when you go boneless in his grasp, each excruciatingly perfect inch of his cock fucking into you like you were as insubordinate and stubborn as his recruits. If it weren’t for the unwavering grip on your hips, the sheer weight behind his thrusts alone would’ve been enough to push you clean off the couch.

It would’ve been a mercy—a reprieve from the brutal pace spurred by your words and there’s nothing you can do but take him, moans spilling and eyes squeezing shut as every single nerve ending felt like it was being electrocuted over and over and over again.

The love shows in his words even when he fucks like he hates you, cock unbelievably deep from this position and the sound of your pussy slurping up his girth is obscene. It couldn’t get any better; watching the hard lines fade to relief, nothing but unrestrained pleasure screwed up on golden skin and your eyes flutter shut when a hand slides up to your throat. “Too good to me,” His voice catches and you know he’s close but there’s something comforting about the fingers loosely gripped around your neck. “—don’t deserve you for a second.”

You’re trying to tell him that it’s not true—that he deserves more than you could ever scrounge up but the words don’t come because Cassian is and he’s spilling such sweet words out even though his fingerprints are bruised into the skin of your hips and you’re certain there’s no way you’re going to be doing much else but sleeping anytime soon. It doesn’t matter, not when his seed is so warm inside and his face finally looks calm as he watches it spill out of you. “Cass—“

“I know you’re tired baby,” The hand around your throat shifts into gentle knuckles dragging slow lines against your cheek; a sweet gesture meant to distract while his other hand stroked around a quickly growing cock. “—but I’m not quite finished yet.”

[raggedytiger]

Where did you go? We miss you!!!

hello everynyan... I MISS YOU TOO!! i'm sorry for the inactivity guys!

in general i'm the worst for replying to things so i'm really sorry if you have an ask or message that's being left behind. i stress abt it lol 😭 while i have drifted away from tadc a bit, the main reason is my own brain.. i got a little overwhelmed (with love!) and i have lots to think about with my final project at college. i find it hard to hop back in after disappearing without a trace!! i've been doing some walten files stuff over on my regular art blog but i havent been making a whole lot of fanart due to the general stress and buzz of LIFE!!!

rest easy knowing penny and agatha have not left my heart, though. they live there. it's april now and they're really enjoying the cool sun. agatha has opened the lovely tall south-facing window to let the breeze in, penny is watching the birds. they've put on a belle & sebastian album, and 'mayfly' is spinning softly under the needle.

i still have a vague plot for them post-circus where they figure out the mystery of it all, willingly or not, and its psychologically troubling for them. i think of them as my little ocs now and i like to play around with them as characters outside of tadc canon too! more tadc stuff ive been thinking abt though has been redesigns. i have always wanted to play with it because as much as it's a well put-together pilot made by talented people, some details irk me and i reaaally want to switch them up, particularly with jax and some atmosphere/worldbuilding... i love the odd mix of characters way too much not to mess around with them a little.

i will try and dig thru some asks soon! you are some truly lovely people on here and i hope you dont mind the hiatus too much! mutuals i miss you <3

[the-wayside]

I don't know if anyone else does this but like my brain plays fill in the gaps and I write whole scenes in my head for most things I watch which is why I have so much to say all the goddamn time.

Anyway, I happened to write down this one. It's a canon-ish compliant how we got from A to B to C of Phaya waking up and going to Tharn's and a bit after that.

the you who is everything. 2.6k. pg-13 for sexy adjacent if you know you know.

It’s Tharn who gets ushered out of his room far too quickly, shining brown eyes with unshed tears and a rough unshaven cheek under Phaya’s palm. It’s Tharn who speaks no words but Phaya can feel his anguish as distinctly as his own. It’s Tharn who lets it happen because Nee is inconsolable and Phaya hazily watches as Tharn moves back to let her come forward. He wants more than anything to speak, to call out for him again but his consciousness slips and his fingers slacken without the steadiness of Tharn to hold onto.

It’s Tharn who is Wansarut. His beloved. Wansarut is Tharn. Phaya feels the tight boundaries of memories that are and aren’t his own. They belong to Master Garuda. Still, they are embedded in his skin and he feels their free edge, pushing and expanding in his mind. He grasps onto not the new memories, but a simple one he knows is his and his alone, his hand cupping Tharn’s throat, asking him not to leave. He knows he has searched without looking, yearned without truly knowing. This person who appeared in his life too many times to be a coincidence. Not a coincidence, a gift. Another chance to defy the will of an immodest god. Phaya curls his fingers against his palm when his thoughts slip to Chalothon. The slayer of his love. It’s like another dream as the nurses hustle and bustle around him, taking his vitals and consoling his sister. He feels someone try to take his amulet and he slams his hand down on top of them both.

“No,” he croaks, barely eeking out a whisper. Not for his safety, but because they can’t take what he gave to Phaya. She. They. His mind swirls faster and the hand slips away as he catches the thong of leather between his thumb and index finger, to keep it tight in his grasp. Tharn’s soul is in this stone that he tucks under his hospital gown. They can’t have it. No one can.

“P’Phaya—” Nee calls out to him and he peels his eyes open with a force it has never taken him before. Time has passed or at least he thinks it has.

He mumbles incoherently and she looks concerned, Dao behind her, holding her arm and her back.

“Tharn,” he whispers with more acuity.

Nee looks back at Dao, “We sent him home.”

Phaya tries to understand why, his face crinkling up and Nee must see the stress on his face. The tear that slips from his eye isn’t entirely his own. He cries and wets Phaya’s face.

“We’ll call him back,” Nee says immediately, trying to calm Phaya down, unused to seeing her brother cry, Dao tries to slow her down as she moves quickly to grab her phone.

“P’Phaya,” Dao tries as tries to split her focus on talking to him and dealing with Nee.

He doesn’t have it in him to speak but he repeats himself, “Tharn.”

It’s all he wants. Now. Forever.

***

When he wakes up a third time, alone and after visiting hours, he feels more centered in his body. His eyes open easily and he feels stronger and more like himself. He gently peels the tape from his canula and slips the needle out, pressing his palm down to try and stem the blood flow. His blood is sluggish and it stops quickly, which he is grateful for. He knows that he’s in no fit state and no nurse or doctor is going to let him go willing, so he creeps, barefoot, to the door and peeks his head out. It’s a gentle clutter of activity that comes with the night shift. Easily sifted through. So, he makes his way down the corridor till he sees a room marked STAFF and he opens it with a hard yank down on the closed lock that breaks under even his lesser strength. He closes the door and what catches his eye is a chair just out of his periphery and on it are some men’s clothes. He walks slowly over and grabs hold of them, raising the jeans up, and he mentally fist pumps the air because they look like they’ll work. He peels off his gown, wincing with the movement before he goes into the ensuite bathroom he sees on the other side of the room and splashes water over his face and under his armpits. He’s pretty sure someone gave him a sponge bath, he hopes it was Tharn, but he feels slightly more human and brushes his teeth with toothpaste and his finger to at least get the taste of the lake out of his mouth.

He looks at himself in the mirror, paler than he’s ever been, life barely in his lips. He’s the same. He’s exactly the same but entirely different. His brows, the slope of his nose and his mouth are all him but for a moment when he looks at himself, he isn’t himself. He’s him. The weight of heavy wings tugging on his spine and the sharp bite of talons when he curls his fingers into his hands.

Sakuna.

Garuda.

Naga.

Tharn.

He’s all that matters. He’s out there, alone, he could be hurt at any moment and Phaya can’t get to him. It sets a wave of panic rising inside him. He shakes it off and stands to the best of his ability. The only way he’s getting out of here is if no one out there believes he’s supposed to be in here. He stares himself in the eye and sees nothing out of the ordinary. He grips that image tight and does his best to embody that vision as he walks back to the door to make his journey out of the hospital.

***

He cradles his ribs the entire car ride to Tharn’s apartment. Every dip and ridge in the road lances him with pain. He can feel sweat building on the back of his neck and he tips his head back and tries to breathe it out. 10 more minutes. 10 more minutes and then he can be sure Tharn is safe.

It all comes tumbling out in a rush. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you sooner. You’re only mine. Phaya feels the words like a burning itch under his skin. Tharn is the water, the only water that can slake his thirst and he wouldn’t deny Phaya that would he? No. Not now. Maybe not ever. Walking back, Tharn barely gets enough space between them and mumbles about the door and Phaya hears him but he won’t give him up, won’t let him change his mind, won’t let him deny them this reconciliation. He raises a hand wildly and flicks his wrist and a gust of air like a flap of a wing swings the door closed.

“Tharn,” he whispers, rubbing his nose along his. Tharn looks up at him with those big brown eyes. It’s so hard because he sees him imposed on her. Her who is him. It hurts his head so he strokes his palms down Tharn’s shoulders, down to his slim hips. Tharn is who he is now. Tharn who fell in love with Phaya between kicking sand at base camp and running after bad guys. Tharn who never leaves Phaya’s side. Tharn who is alive and Phaya loves him so very much.

“Phaya,” Tharn calls out to him with concern, hands coming up to his face, thumbs rubbing at what might be dark circles. He doesn’t dare look a second time.

Tharn is Phaya’s. No matter what. No matter what came before or what comes after. In all the sanity, Tharn belongs to Phaya only.

He looks at him because he wants to memorize Tharn’s face, the curve of his cupid’s bow, the strong line of his jaw, thick brows and fluttering eyelashes.

“I need you,” he admits. He needs Tharn like he needs breathing. His entire being has been shifted and remade with a gaping hole in his chest and he feels like he’s been trying to fill it longer than anything else in existence.

Tharn nods like he’s agreeing. He’ll give Phaya this. He’ll let him take without asking questions and Phaya’s grateful because he doesn’t have the answers, only spun-up confusion.

Phaya walks him back, fingers sliding to grasp Tharn’s shirt so that when they’re in his room, softly lit and twinkling, he can pull it off and dive back to that mouth.

Has it only been days since they last did this? Tharn’s beautiful golden skin barely lit as he lays back pulls Phaya in like a moth to a flame, erratic wings beating like the thrum of his heart. Phaya climbs over him to kiss him and Tharn immediately opens up, meeting him kiss for kiss, their mouths sliding against each other in wordless communication. I want you; have me.

Phaya takes his time blushing and bruising Tharn’s skin, littering his skin with marks that don’t penetrate further than the surface but they please that buzz inside his brain that says, people can see. His soul and mine are one. It’s the truest thing he knows as his fingers slide down Tharn’s throat and Tharn grabs his hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

His heart squeezes in his chest at the gesture and he skates his lips, tongue teasing until he reaches Tharn’s scar from the knife that almost took him from Phaya. He had previously skirted past it, careful in case it still gave Tharn pain but he tilts his head back, encouraging Phaya to keep up his tending to his body, so he kisses it once, twice, acknowledging its existence but also the truth that it didn't take what Phaya holds so dear to him.

It’s awkward when he tries to take Tharn’s pants off with one hand, kissing back up his chest to his mouth that is leaking breathy whimpers that Phaya wants to swallow down inside himself and keep them there with everything else he knows about Tharn. I did that, I give him that pleasure.

Tharn understands where he’s trying to go and he tips his head back up and focuses on unzipping his pants and shimmying them down his hips and around his thighs. Phaya leans off him enough to help him push them down off his knees and into a heap on the floor. He looks back up at Tharn who pulls on his bicep and tugs him back up to kiss him again, bolder than before and he slides his hand into Phaya’s hair, trapping him as he pulls him to lay across his naked body. There’s little more that he can do but whine as Tharn licks and sucks on his neck, giving him a hickey of his own. When he finally surfaces, leaning back against the bed, he’s smug and Phaya loves him all over again.

There are dark smudges under Tharn’s eyes and it worries Phaya, so he leans over and when Tharn closes his eyes, Phaya kisses his eyelid gently, the tip of his nose, and then his mouth.

“I missed you,” he says quietly and Tharn’s grip on him tightens.

There are a ton of questions that start circulating in his head, some his own, some pushing back from those now opened recesses but Phaya keeps his focus still locked on Tharn, the silence in the eye of the storm.

Phaya slinks down as best he can until he’s knees on the floor, sitting on his ankles, and there’s some apprehension in Tharn but Phaya calms it with soft strokes on his thigh. He won’t do it if Tharn doesn’t want him to. He kisses the thin skin on the inside of his knee, just above that, sucking on the skin and letting it go with a wet pop. He gets a perfect visual of Tharn’s whole body twitching like it’s on one thread from his head down to his toes, connected only to Phaya’s mouth.

“Tharn?” He asks, kissing a little further up but still in a safer zone.

Tharn licks his lips and nods, “Yeah?”

It’s still a question so Phaya kisses his mid-inner thigh nose rubbing before he bites, Tharn jumping with the unexpectedness of it, “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Sure, definitive, the go Phaya needs. He sits off his ankles and back properly onto his knees as he pushes Tharn’s leg and kisses the inner crease of his thigh and he jolts again, hooked like a fish on a line. Phaya pays extra attention to it, licking it flatly, tasting the deeper texture of his skin where it is saltier and warmer. Tharn’s fingers wind back into his hair, scratching his scalp gently and sending little tingles down Phaya’s nerves. He retaliates by scraping his teeth on Tharn’s hipbone. Phaya can feel his own blood in his veins, singing eternally about this, about Tharn, about them. It hits deeper in his bones than any fight or battle.

He's supposed to be here with his hands on Tharn’s skin, loving and worshipping all that he’s been given. He is dear to me. My affection is pure.

Tharn gasps and it’s a melody he wants to listen to in this life and all his lives. Phaya swallows and Tharn cries out, fingers spasming in his hair. This is all he needs. Only mine, always. Phaya tucks his arm around Tharn’s thigh to hold him tighter and down and catches in his eyeline as he curls up on himself, thrashing as Phaya draws out and pushes bliss through his body.

“Phaya.” Benediction.

More, Phaya thinks, more of me until there’s nothing else. Until you’re safe from harm’s way.

Tharn tries pushing at him but Phaya is heavier regardless of his state. Without any leverage he has to accept everything Phaya gives him, palm moving to be splayed on his belly to stop him from writhing away again.

“Phaya, please, come o—” Tharn’s words stop but his body trembles, his skin getting hotter and hotter.

Phaya stays with him until all of it eases, his thighs previously corded with tension, slacken away from Phaya’s shoulders.

Phaya strokes his palm over the wet sheen on Tharn’s stomach, comforting him as everything ebbs. Tharn throws an arm over his eyes and breathes out harshly. Phaya eases him down and drags himself up to flop next to him on the bed.

“You—” Tharn accuses from his shielded view.

Phaya kisses his chest, “Mmm, I did.”

That gets Tharn to pull away his arm, and let it drop over his head as he frowns at Phaya with the incredulity of it. Phaya grins at him self-assuredly, “I did, didn’t I?”

That arm slaps his weak chest, “Evil jellyfish!”

Phaya bursts out laughing and Tharn stops, mouth clearly working faster than his brain.

“You’re ridiculous,” Tharn settles for. Phaya can’t tell if he’s embarrassed or not but he takes it as a win when Tharn doesn’t deny him snuggling up closer to his side. There’s a cursory glance downward from Tharn and Phaya shakes his head. It wasn’t what he came for.

“But I’m yours,” Phaya tells him. Tharn doesn’t argue and opens the space by his side so that Phaya can lay his head on Tharn’s chest and listen to the thud-thud of his heart.

Phaya reaches for those same boundaries that felt so prominent in his consciousness earlier in the evening but they have receded, further into the dim back edges of his awareness.

He laments what happened to Wansarut. He feels that distant ache of her passing, the screaming need to save her, and the unflinching sorrow when he couldn’t. He feels her as he feels the walls inside himself but she isn’t everything. Tharn, here and now, feels like everything.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, but I promise I will save him.

[whumble-beeee]

Whumptober 2024 | Day 1 | The Bee's Whumptober Masterlist

AI-less Whumptober: public torture/public use, stress position, “If you cry, we’ll go easy on you.”

Whumptober: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK | Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.”

CW: kidnapping, torture, camping gone wrong, little shit whumpee

* * * * * * * * Whumpee screeched as they were dragged through the trees, a sound that instantly silenced due to a clammy hand clamping over their mouth and pinning them violently to someone’s chest. Someone taller than them, someone stronger than them. They kicked and cried out, heart racing in their chest so fast it could’ve burst out entirely.

“Jesus Christ, help me out here!” the voice pinning them yelled out. A flurry of movement. Whumpee couldn’t focus. More people?? “Shut up, you’re just making things worse for yourself!”

Whumpee threw their elbow back, slamming into the soft flesh of the assailant's stomach, and the assailant cried out, their grip faltering just enough for Whumpee to stomp on their knee, causing a worrying crinkly-crunch and a drawn out screech of pain not dissimilar to their own first cry.

Then the deathgrip faltered, and they stumbled out of their hold, and they RAN–

The force of another immovable body slammed into them and tackled them to the itchy pine straw and brush-covered ground. All the air violently expelled from their lungs, and for just a moment, they couldn’t breathe. They forgot how, something was blocking it, the bodies and the heat and the movement and the pain they were trapped in on all sides they were lost THEY WERE TRAPPED THEY COULDN’T MOVE THEIR LIMBS HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP–!!

Glorious fresh air suddenly filled their lungs! They were alive! They were okay! Only then did they realize that the glorious life-saving air wasn’t glorious fresh air at all, but hot and sticky and hard to breath because it was filtered through the thick pine straw underbrush that their face was smashed into–

AUGH THEIR ARM–!!

Stabbing needles of pain shot up and down their shoulder and it was wrenched violently behind their back and pinned in between their shoulder blades, half a breath away from fully dislocating and much too hopelessly pinned and tangled to even dream of struggling to get it loose.

They cried out, a whining sort of cry that matched the staccato tempo of their racing heart. “OW OW OW OWOWOWowowowowow STOP STOP STOP PLEASE, you’re hurting me let go please–!”

Tears instictually and wholly nocensunsuall filled their eyes and they kicked their feet wildly, more out of primal instinct than any hope to escape. The struggling hurt so much, yet they struggled and screamed and fought nonetheless.

Suddenly the grip on their arm loosened, just slightly, just so, just enough to that it didn’t hurt as much but it was still hopelessly trapped in the iron grip forcing it there.

They stopped screaming, took in a large breath they hadn’t realized they so desperately needed, and then suddenly everything felt just a little bit clearer.

But it still fucking hurt!

“Let me go!” they demanded, tearful whine forcing its way through their voice. When had they started crying?

The presence that weighted down their body– was someone sitting on them?? No wonder they couldn’t move. Or breath…– shifted slightly, and whumpee saw a face barely enter their periphery.

“Let me GO! Get off!! Let me–!” Their arm tweaked back and whumpee screamed again.

“Shut up.” The attacker sitting on them finally spoke. “Last chance, or I’ll make you scream until your voice box explodes, got it??”

Their arm was released once more, and they felt their whole body untense as the pain fell away. Mostly. They clutched at the ground with their free arm and pressed their face into the pine straw. Trying and failing to hold back the sobbing whimpers that escaped their throat.

“Fi-i-i-ine.” They growled, voice sharp and fragile as broken glass.

A hand from behind them roughly grabbed the neck under their chin and wrenched their head up to look forward, eliciting another groaning squeal from the victim.

They found themselves staring right into the cold dead eyes of the other person who attacked them.

Their eyes widened, breath running ragged through their constricted windpipe.

Shit.

Ohhhhhh shit shit shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit no no no please FUCK. Whumpee recognised them.

“This the right one?” The voice on top of them panted.

The face in front of them smiled. No, they smirked. And nodded. “Yup. This is the little fucker,” they chuckled, disgusting breath misting whumpee’s face. “We’ll show you to steal from other’s campsites, won’t we, li’l buddy?”

“My family will come looking for me!” The words tumbled out of Whumpee’s dirt-smeared lips before they had a chance to think. “They probably already are, they’re getting suspicious right now because I’ve been gone too long and they’ll ask all the campsites around and they’ll make a search party and–!”

Another arm tweak, another scream, another face shove into the ground, another exhausting tensing of muscle under the weight of the person holding them down.

“Well.” They felt the iron-cold grip of the first assailant on their arm, crooking their arm back in ways an arm should never bend, just like the first. They screamed even louder, a hand slapped over their mouth, tears over the hand, barely enough presence of mind to even struggle as the combined force on their arms lifted them off the ground and they struggled and screamed and kicked and cried against the hold gagging them like a wild animal caught in a trap and fighting for it’s life. They barely felt their feet touch the ground, barely noticed as they were marched forward through the trees, further and further from their family, their friends, anyone who might’ve actually been able to hear their screams.

“Guess we should get busy. Race against time Will they find us? Or will they find you broken on the forest floor?”

* * * * * * * *

Father jumped at the sound that pierced high above the trees. Distant, barely audible, yet it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“What was that?” he commented. His voice rang with equal parts disgust and concern.

Mother looked equally as frightened. “A… A wolf howl maybe?”

“It sounded like a scream,” Sister said nonchalantly as she poked at the raging fire protecting them from the inky blackness of the freezing night.

Wind whistled through the trees.

“Or. Y’know. The wind.”

“Have any of you seen Whumpee lately?” Father asked. “I don’t see them.”

“They uh…" Sister voice dropped low, suddenly sensing an new urgency. They went to the bathroom last I saw.”

“That was hours ago!” Mother cried.

“Well I haven’t seen them since then!”

“Neither have I!”

"Or me!"

Father’s chest heaved, eyes wide, shaking nearly as much as the trees above them shook in the icy wind. “So… So… Where..?!”

The family’s gaze went from one another, ghost white to ghost white to ghost white.

Not a single breath among them.

Another distant scream.

Or wolf howl. 

Or maybe just a whistling of the trees.

* * * * * * * *

Taglist: @whumperofworlds

(If you'd like to be added or subtracted from the taglist just let me know!)

[avvail-whumps]

‘the facility’ — the breakout 2/?

previous · masterlist

content warnings: prison whump, whumpee turned whumper, sadistic whumper, mass prison breakout, captivity, imprisonment, torture, violence, beatings

Noah’s head felt as though it had been rammed through a wall when he finally came to. It took him a long, aching few seconds to realise that was pretty much what had happened - the elevator doors.

His hazy vision could barely make out where he was, if he was the right way up or not, but he soon began to wriggle his limbs and realised he was lay on his side, head pressed uncomfortably into the cold floor.

He bit back a small moan of pain - his arms were twisted behind his back, knotted together with an uncomfortable, scratchy rope. The fear was stabbing numbly at his chest, the situation dawning on him.

The breakout. Cash – shit, Cash.

Noah’s breath hitched, feeling automatic tears start to relentlessly sting his eyes. He could recognise one of these rooms, one of torture. It wasn’t the one they had experimented on Cash in, being much larger and decorated with so many more horrifying tools.

The scientist felt dizzy looking at them, shifting. Aches spiralled through his muscles, the pins and needles kicking in once he finally became aware. As he did, something caught his eye.

There was someone else against the adjacent wall, an Apoid. The helmeted head was dipped down low, arms equally twisted behind his back, but Noah could just catch a small glimpse of a short link of chain. The visor on the helmet was cracked, and their chest was rising and falling slowly.

Noah’s heart sank. The Apoid was still alive, and better yet, he prayed it was who he thought it was.

“Fionn?” He croaked, his throat dry from the last moments he’d spent screaming. His heart was hammering in his chest. “Fionn, wake up. Fionn.”

“He’s not gonna hear you.”

Noah felt his body seize in a vice grip, the voice from behind him making all of his blood go cold. He didn’t even have time to crane around until someone was stepping over his body, and his wide eyes flickered up to meet Cash’s face.

He was smirking. But those eyes; he wasn’t amused at all.

“Hello, doc,” he spoke calmly, crouching down closer towards him. Noah winced, his chest rising and falling with his quickly labouring breaths. “Glad someone didn’t pump you with any lead. Been looking forward to this since the alarm went off.”

Noah shrank further into the floor.

He remembered what that prisoner had said, and it frightened him how Cash had been gunning just for him the whole time the chaos had erupted. To fulfil the promise he’d made. His throat ached in reminder of that moment.

“It’s not as fun when the boot’s on the other foot, huh?” Cash sneered, tilting his head as his unrelenting gaze didn’t falter for a moment. Noah forced himself to look away, tucking his wobbling bottom lip under.

“Cash, please, I—” His words dried up, squeezing his eyes shut. He was so terrified. “I didn’t take any pleasure in it. I didn’t—”

“—want to?” Cash interrupted. “You signed up for this place.”

“I had to,” he shakily whispered. “It’s my sister. There was no way I could afford her treatment if I didn’t—”

“Noah,” Cash groaned, the irritation evident on his face, now hardened from his fear induced babbling. Fingers twisted in his hair, pressing his temple into the concrete floor. Noah bit back a whine of pain. “I don’t want a justification. In fact, I don’t care. But I am gonna make you pay. There’s nothing you can say that will change that.”

His stomach twisted. He was shocked he hadn’t thrown up yet, with the stress of the breakout and all the horrfic things he’d seen, and now this horrific predicament. His white jacket was still stained with patches of blood, a cruel reminder that none of it had mattered in the end.

“Why not run?” The scientist whispered shakily. “This is your chance to escape this place. There’ll never be another opportunity.”

Cash raised a brow, looking disinterestedly at the muck on Noah’s jacket. “Doc, getting out of this place ain’t easy. They’ll have the army, thousands of Apoids, anything swarming the outside of this place. Those lucky enough to get out won’t last two minutes up there. But here?”

Cash grinned, the sight wolfish. The secretary figured he might sink those sharp teeth into his neck for good measure. “They’ll eventually get control of the place. They’ll round up the prisoners and take us alive once we cooperate. After all, they won’t gun us all down as long as we remain in the Facility.”

Cash’s fingers twisted harder into his hair, and Noah’s body went rigid, hissing through his teeth.

“I’ve been in this place longer than you, doc. I know how they work,” he whispered sharply, the puff of air on the shell of his ear making him shudder. “So, why not take this time to do something I’ve wanted to do since the moment I laid eyes on you?”

He roughly released him, and Noah’s throat bobbed as he swallowed uneasily. Cash was right - an escape would only end in death. Clearly, after the fiasco when he’d broken out of his cuffs, the Facility prioritised taking the prisoners alive unless it was absolutely necessary to kill them. They’d send in reinforcements, round them up, and get the place back under control.

It meant that Noah was going to have to wait for the reinforcements to show up. Who knew how long that could take? Depending on how far the breakout had stretched, which levels were unaffected and under control, he was in the dark.

In the dark, and trapped with his prisoner, who had every desire to make him wish for a merciful death.

Noah hadn’t even realised he’d started crying until Cash scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, biting back a small whimper.

“You’re a doll, doc,” he cooed, his eyes gleaming. “I’m going to take my time with you. Though, I was kind enough to provide you with some company, at least.”

Noah’s teary eyes darted over to Fionn.

He wondered how Cash even knew that was him, but he didn’t care.

Fionn wasn’t safe, neither of them were, but at least he knew he wasn’t dead. The last thing he had been so consumed about was if he’d cost the Apoid his job; now he wished that was all he had to worry about. Noah bit back the little sniffle, the dizzy headache throbbing uncomfortably through his skull, only intensified by the pounding of his heart. 

Level Nine was terrifying enough as it was; locked in a room with one of their prisoners, completely at their mercy? Noah didn’t think anything worse could have happened. Level Nine prisoner’s were some of the most ruthless war criminals, prisoners of war, agents and spies, too dangerous to be kept anywhere but a highly sophisticated underground prison. He had recieved Cash’s file, but it didn’t tell him anything about the things he’d done to get himself locked up in here. Only blood types, medication - things that he would have to know as his scientist. 

Noah didn’t want to think about all the horrific stuff Cash had done.

The fact that he probably knew how to kill Noah in more ways than he could ever imagine. 

The fact that he would know how to hurt him until he wanted death. 

Horror twisted his core - there was no point begging right now. For Cash, this was how it was supposed to be. The Facility would be swarming on the surface - the moment someone managed to get out, they wouldn’t be there two minutes before they were found and gunned down. 

And, for some reason, Noah got the impression that mindless slaughter and violence would become pretty boring for someone as calculated as Cash. The breakout was an exuse for anarchy and escape; for Noah’s prisoner, it was an opportunity for payback. 

“If you want to punish someone, punish the Higher Ups,” Noah choked out, cringing when Cash’s eyes remained staring languidly at Fionn’s unconscious form. “The people who run the place. They’re the ones that pass the orders. Please.” 

Cash tilted his head, cold eyes flickering up to the ceiling, as if in thought. “That’s the thing, doc. They’re smart enough to know that. It’s always why they’re smart enough not to stick around when they don’t have to.” 

His boots thumped across the ground, stopping in front of Noah’s damp face again. Over his prison clothes, Cash was wearing one of the Apoid’s jackets, unzipped. He’d probably taken it from someone he’d killed, since Fionn was in full uniform apart from his weapons. The prisoner had stripped them. 

“But we’ve both seen for ourselves that people like you are expendable,” he mocks cruelly, reminding Noah of those words Fionn had shouted with such conviction. Something stung at his chest. “That’s why.” 

He admired the crestfallen expression that fell upon Noah’s pitiful face for a few moments, before he pretended to glance at the non-existent watch on his wrist. He hummed, lip quirking into a malicious smirk. 

“Alright, enough chit chat, doc,” he murmured. “I was hoping your little Apoid would wake up, but we’re on a time crunch here. So, let’s get started.” 

Noah flinched violently when his hand fisted into his shirt, hoisting him onto his feet like he weighed nothing. The prisoner even made a quiet comment about how little he would weigh, even soaking wet, but Noah couldn’t hear anything over the relentless pounding in his skull, and the blood rushing through his head. 

The prisoner guided him, or more like dragged him, close to the wall, where he took in the horrible sight of shackles attached to a chain in the ceiling. His knees were refusing to even hold his own weight, a colourless complexion fixed itself to his face. 

“Coveniently, these rooms were made for torture,” Cash smoothly spoke, taking a pocket knife to Noah’s restrained wrists and cutting through them easily. Before he could even consider attempting to wrench away from him, the prisoner was slapping the cold metal cuffs around them, stretching his arms uncomfortably above his head. There was a small pinch in his shoulder blade from the position, and he had to bite back a pained whimper. 

“The most challenging thing was deciding what to do with you first, though. Especially with all of these options,” he hummed absentmindly, running his fingers along the wall, lined with various tools that Noah didn’t dare crane his head around to see. He heard the clank of metal, and Cash circled back round in front of him to see he was cradling a lead pipe. “I don’t want to put you out of commission too early. Look at you - you’re so frail, doc.”

Noah’s heart was racing. With each passing second of being in this position, he was imagining all of the places that the lead pipe would crack against, and he could barely breathe from the horrifying concept. Was this how it felt for them? Waiting for the inevitable torture?

“Cash,” he breathed out shakily, biting back a sob. “Cash, please.” 

“Not gonna work on me,” the prisoner sighed, unbothered. “I don’t have a soft spot for those that grovell. Sorry.” 

Noah had barely even been able to brace for the first swing. Cash had moved so fast after standing so casually, that he only registered the movement after the crack of impact landed on his side, and his throat closed up in agony. His whole body seized up, a wretched, choked sound escaping his lips. 

The chains rattled from the very impact, his eyes wide and watery. Cash’s eyes gleamed with something predatory, like he could sense he was going to enjoy this. The numbness came next, followed by the tidal wave of crippling agony. Noah wanted to double over, try to ease the blinding pain, but it was impossible with the chains. 

“That was just a love tap,” Cash purred, and there was this sick delight in his voice, like the hit had released something within him that had been festering for years upon years. “Don’t be dramatic, doc.” 

Noah can’t even process the comparison of that only being a love tap before the pipe sinks into his stomach with vigor, and a sickening cough gets all tangled up in the scientist’s throat. The sheer force is enough to rip the air from his lungs, rendering him gasping and squirming in the chains as he tries to process the throbbing pain spreading through his body. 

The pipe goes for his side again. Then his ribs - Noah see’s stars on that swing, and he can barely even feel the instinctive panic that something was cracked before another was slamming into back, avoiding his spine. 

“Stop,” Noah tries to choke out, but he’s been rendered breathless and he’s in so much pain and he just wants to go home. Cash taps the edge of the pipe under his chin, gently tilting his head up to meet his unfocused, tear filled eyes. He can’t help but wrack with groaning sobs, each jolt making his body flare up in intense agony. Breathing aches. 

His face is contorted in pain, and Cash admires it languidly. 

“But, doc,” he drawls. “Why stop when we’ve only just begun?”

tag list – @suspicious-whumping-egg @sunshiline-writes @rabidrabidme @whumpatize-me-captain @thegirlwholived1213 @reverie1234 @unforgivenn @morning-star-whump @seaweed-is-cool @d-cs @whump-me-all-night-long @whump-me @gala1981 @pirefyrelight @whumble-beeee @miss-unicorn0907 @avidrambling @anoontjecanush @2in1whump @ha-ha-one @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @whatwhump @sowhumpful @whump321 @alexmundaythrufriday

[lindsay00000008]

Whumpees in traps

1. A hole in the ground

CW: gunshot wound, tranquillizing/needles, slightly intimate whumper

Whumpee stumbles through the underbrush, away from the shouting men and barking dogs. One arm, bloody with a fresh wound, is cradled to their chest by the other, making their escape a hip-swaying, unsteady affair. They can barely see in the cool blue light of dusk. The trees both aid their cover and disrupt their path. And then, the whole forest shifts up and away, and darkness surrounds whumpee before they feel the hard earth come up to meet them.

Dazed, they attempt to roll onto their back, but they only get so far before a wall stops them. Their legs try to kick out and earth crumbles there too, but doesn’t give — unlike their ankle, which feels tender and brittle. A halo of light shines above, not very far — but when whumpee gets to their feet, leaning on the sides of the hole for support, they find it’s too far for their current state. An arm’s usefulness lost to a captor’s gun, a body weakened by stress and captivity, an ankle sprained in the fall. The trap is a crude, unsophisticated thing, but obviously man-made. For wolves, or snakes, or maybe hobs. Not made for a whumpee, though now it may as well have been.

The barking starts up once more, close by. The shouts then, and bits of dirt rain down as a nose snuffles at the edge of the hole, encroaching on Whumpee’s fading light. The dog marks it’s prey with more barks. Whumpee cowers below, turning into the shadows and trying to make themselves invisible. Hopefully a whumper will fall in, and somehow become incapacitated, and whumpee can climb atop them to get out… but no. The whumpers see the trap.

“They’re here! Get a rope!” one shouts. “There’s no escape, whumpee. You come with us or you die down there.”

But when the rope is thrown in, whumpee refuses to cooperate.

“Take the damn rope, Whumpee.”

But Whumpee is frozen.

“Whumpers, hold the line. I’ll bring them up.”

The whumper scales the drop, wary of Whumpee’s attack when their back is turned. There’s barely enough room for both of them. Whumpee can only curl themselves away, as if they might melt into the dirt or sink beneath it. Whumper grabs the back of Whumpee’s neck, then their arm — the one with the bullet. Whumpee screams. Whumper lets go of their arm with a curse.

“They’re injured! Get me something to calm them,” Whumper calls to the others. “You’re a lotta trouble, you know that? They shouldn’t have used a gun on you though. Dammit…”

Whumpee is almost pressed against Whumper’s legs by the proximity in the small space. Whumper pulls Whumpee out of their huddled crouch, a little more gently than before. They fend off Whumpee’s hand as they make feeble, fumbling attempts to push them away. Then Whumpee is only sagging against the wall before Whumper, too tired to fight. Whumper puts an arm around their waist to keep them upright.

“Please,” Whumpee begs. “Whatever they’re paying you, it c-can’t be enough to-“

“Damn right it ain’t enough. Whumpers! Get me some light. And where’s that sedative?”

A case is tossed into the hole, and a shaky light illuminates the two figures in the dirt. Whumper catches the packet, bracing it against their chest to unzip it and grabs a syringe. They pull the cap off with their teeth, expertly handling the dose and keeping Whumpee still at the same time.

“No, no— just leave me here! You don’t need me! You can just leave me here please—“ Whumpee struggles in vain as Whumper uses the side of their palm to turn their chin. With the same hand, they bring the needle to sink into the flesh between Whumpee’s neck and shoulder.

“Just lemme— let— jrss,” Whumpee blinks, eyes wide and unfocused before they roll away in a haze, “jus let— ff-mmh…” Whumpee’s head slumps, and their body goes slack.

“That’s it, sleepy time…” Whumper mutters, shifting Whumpee’s weight closer to their body.

“Christ, you went fast. Ok. We’re good, boys! Bringing ‘em up!”

[ramblingoak]

The Perfect Moment

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 14 - Doing Each Others' Makeup

Mist x Aurora (using a bonus prompt today and kind of playing with it a bit)

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. It's sort of like a Satanic version of a Hallmark town. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Mist owns an antique store called The Reliquary and Aurora owns Little Sunshine Tattoos ~

Warnings: mentions of a tattoo needle otherwise just very sappy, sfw, 670 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!)

“You need to hold still unless you want me to mess up.”

“I am holding still.”  Mist ignored Aurora’s look, taking a deep breath and trying to relax again.  It wasn’t that the needle hurt, it just felt…weird.  The buzzing sound was almost worse but Aurora had put some music on that was helping her tune it out.  “How does it look?”

“Hideous.”

Alright she deserved that.  She resolved to stay quiet and let Aurora work.  The ghoulette had been fretting over the design of the tattoo for weeks now.  Sometimes even going over to Mountain’s to get Rain’s opinion.  Mist had seen dozens of different variations of it, each one more beautiful than the next.  She had started to feel bad about asking Aurora since it was obvious her girlfriend was stressing over the whole thing but to Mist there was no one else she’d rather have design it.

And obviously no one else she’d rather have tattoo it.

“Thank you.”  Mist glanced over when the buzzing stopped, her eyes immediately meeting those of Aurora’s.  “I’m glad you’re doing it.”

“Baby, I’m honored you asked me.”  Aurora grabbed a rag and wiped away some excess ink.  “And the design you wanted it’s…well…”

“It’s what?  I thought you liked the idea.”

“I do!  Mist, I love it.  It's…well it’s us.”  The ghoulette sniffled a bit and Mist felt her own eyes watering slightly.  “I love you so much.”

She knew she wasn’t supposed to move but nothing was going to stop her from kissing Aurora at that moment.  The ghoulette’s lips were soft like always, a hint of coffee still clinging to them from earlier.  It was chaste at first but like usual it didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, for their mouths to open and their tongues to tangle together.  Mist pulled away after a moment and cupped Aurora’s cheek, swiping at the few tears that had escaped with her fingers.

“You’re such a sap.”  She yelped when Aurora playfully nipped at her thumb.  “But I love you too.”

“I’m never going to get tired of you saying that.”

“Me calling you a sap or saying I love you?”

“Hmm, probably both.”  Mist grinned as she settled back in the chair, placing her arm back where it had been resting before.  “I’m almost done.  Just going to add some color to the water.”

“Take your time.”  

When Aurora started the tattoo gun up again Mist looked down at her lap, focusing on the silver ring the ghoulette had given her not too long ago.  There was a single pink stone on the band, the same shade of pink as Aurora’s eyes.  She still couldn’t believe it, her and Aurora were now engaged.  They had gone and picked out a matching ring for Aurora too, but her stone was the same shade of blue as Mist’s eyes.

It was a moment she was never going to forget.  They had trekked out into the woods a bit, heading towards the pond that was close to Mountain’s farmhouse.  The whole town was awake and watching the skies, waiting for the aurora borealis to appear.  It was an occurrence so rare that a big event had been made of it.  People were camped out in their yards or in the various parks around town.

But Aurora had wanted to be away from everyone, claiming that she just wanted to have a nice private picnic together.  It didn’t really matter to Mist, there wasn’t much Aurora could ask her to do that she’d say no to.  Besides, a picnic next to the water with the aurora borealis above their heads?  It was the perfect moment, a moment Mist would never forget for as long as she lived.

And it was a moment she had decided to memorialize with a tattoo.  One that combined her favorite spot in town with her favorite moment of her life.  One created by her favorite person too.  Satanas, they were both sappy and gross.     

Mist wouldn’t have it any other way.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

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More fics in the Tales From Lucifer's Hollow masterpost

[pseudoartistpostsstuff]

Yandere wind headcannon or Yandere legend please

How about some yandere legend headcannons please

Alright, alright! You got it, buddy! Thank you for requesting :]

Notes: Platonic!Wind and romantic!Legend separate.

"&" means platonic relationship. Yes, AO3 is influencing me.

I'll probably bring more Headcannons in the future but that's all I have for now.

I'm against using the dots but these are headcannons.

TWs: Yanderism, mentions of needles (sewing needles), mentions of swimming and bodies of water.

LU!Wind & Reader || LU!Legend x Reader

Yandere Legend Headcannons

It's not a surprise to say that Legend didn't like nor trust you when you first met. It took a while, and I mean a while for him to start being less mean to you, like, at least a few months.

After that he was still mean, but more so in a teasingly way, like how he is with the others but worse.

Because of the sheer amount of time it took for him to trust you, it may have been a bit upsetting for you to see how he treated you differently to the others.

You see, Legend doesn't like to be open about who he likes, he is a prideful man and also very cautious. He felt like you were a weak spot to him, and if that information went into the wrong hands you would be in danger just as much as his sanity currently was.

Either way, Legend isn't good at acknowledging the strength of his words, so of course, you naturally wanted to distance yourself from him.

However, something kept you from distancing yourself. While Legend may be sharp and hurtful when it came to his words, his actions were quite the opposite. Legend acted like an absolute simp when it came to you.

The other would tease him a lot regarding that, it was really funny watching these situations, it almost made all the hurt from his words worth it.

Legend would be angrily yelling at a laughing Four who just called him out on his bullshit all the while not stopping his fingers from knitting gloves for you after he heard you complain about feeling cold at night.

Ah yes there's also that, I feel like Legend likes knitting, sewing too, but knitting mostly since you really seem to like the pieces he knit.

Legend has anxiety after everything he went through, he's paranoid even when the team is somewhere safe. It gets almost impossible to fall asleep when he can't stop shaking his leg or scratching his arm, his mind also refuses to shut up, sleepless nights rendered him useless both physically and mentally since he just didn't get any rest, spending the whole night twisting and turning in his bed roll.

He needed something to relieve his anxiety and calm his nerves while also being a way he wasn't wasting time. Sewing was useful for repairing his and the other's clothes, now knitting? He had never heard of knitting before.

That was, before the day he decided to buy a needle and a ball of green wool thread out of curiosity.

You two were inside a small shop of arts and crafts together, he was looking to just buy the sewing stuff he needed and leave. When he turned around to call for you though, you were looking around in awe at things you were interested in on the shelves of the shop, you mentioned something about finding knit pieces cute, that was all it needed to make him buy these things with the purpose of mastering doing it.

Of course, before leaving he also made sure to buy all the things you said you liked in the shop.

He ended up really liking knitting, making errors was stressful and it took a long time for him to learn the skill, but, at least the needles weren't sharp like the sewing ones, which meant he didn't hurt himself. His hand did end up sore, but they were already calloused so it didn't hurt as much, and he preferred that pain a lot more than staying up all night every night. The gratitude on your face when he gifted you his first perfected piece, the green socks, made it all worth it.

Legend likes to keep you around his line of sight 24/7, not seeing you makes him 20 times more paranoid, the others bent to his will easily after noticing how bad he could get, keeping you in the same space he was just tuned out easier for everyone.

Since Legend won't allow himself to be vocal about how much he loves you, when you guys spend time together which is basically always and he doesn't feel the need to act mean he will just be silent. It's not rare for him to sit close to you and lean on you during those moments, he tries to not initiate touches but it is hard for him to keep himself from at least doing this.

He adores when you initiate physical touch though, and you did so a lot after discovering that it is easy to use that.

Anything could be happening, your mere touch, a brush of your skin, anything you do can make him just freeze. After getting a hold of you it is hard for him to let you go, he will hesitate before remembering why he needed to keep his liking towards you a secret in the first place.

So yeah, he can melt just from physical touch, don't hug or cuddle with him close to other people, those actions can make him almost cry so it would be quite embarrassing.

Links may seem different but they are still reincarnation of the same person.

That's why kisses can make him flustered like Sky.

Really, when all of this is done and his enemies are gone, if you choose to just live the rest of your lives together, he'll definitely become just as gentle as Sky.

He wouldn't give up his friendly teasing though, that's his charm.

He is soft inside but he isn't known as the veteran for nothing, the world has turned him into what he is now and the dangers that made him into the person he is today are still around.

His protectiveness comes from that, his main objective became making sure you'll stay safe, he doesn't want you to be hurt like he was, he doesn't want you to change. He'll gladly take the pain of the both of you for your sake.

Also, Legend has a lot of trinkets and jewelry.

You're in luck if you like those things, he'll give them to you no matter whether you accept them or not.

He'll feel very proud of himself if he saw you using his jewelry as well.

You may be shocked seeing him just part with his prized possessions like that, but in his mind it is simple.

After all of this is done, you will end up with him, whether you like it or not so if you'll marry in the future you're basically already married. If you're married, his things are yours just as yours are his, so you using his things is just like him using them himself.

Also, you don't have many possessions, so the least you can give to him is yourself, isn't that right?

Platonic Yandere Wind Headcannons

Whether you like children or not didn't matter, it didn't take long for you to become attached to him.

Wind is a typical teenager, even if he acts more like a child sometimes.

He likes teasing but he isn't as mean as Legend, mostly just the normal playful teasing everyone in the chain is used to, including you.

I see wind as a distracted teen whenever he isn't in combat. Like the person who makes stupid questions and annoying remarks that most of the time aren't supposed to actually be annoying or stupid, most of the time he just doesn't pay attention and needs to just make sure he actually heard what you guys said.

Wind is used to being the older brother, so when you decided to be his older sibling he was unaccustomed.

He more than welcomed the attention and affection though, it's been a while since he got it. All in all he is probably the Link who most needs it anyway.

When you're not the one actively making the effort to spend time with him he is the one doing it.

You know how to swim? Great, he will bring you swimming with him.

You don't know how to swim? Congratulations you have just got yourself a very invested teacher.

You're afraid of swimming or of the place where he swims? He will insist you come just to sit close to the body of water he's in. By the end of the day he has a pile of things he found while he was swimming (trinkets, rocks and seashells), prepare your pockets because you're the one leaving with them.

He's a chatterbox, and will talk your ear off about his adventures, the sea and his life before that, like the island he's from, his small family… Anything and everything really.

Like I mentioned a while ago, before he left the island, washing the dishes used to be his chore. Now when you wash the dishes to help Wild there's a big chance of him being there to help you. Helping may also mean chatting with you while doing nothing though, there are always two possibilities and the outcome depends only on how interested in washing dishes he is that day.

I feel like Wind is more inclined to sabotaging any type of relationship you may have with other people, he probably doesn't mind The Chain wanting you romantically or anything as long as he deems said Link as deserving of you, differently to other people the team are always together so he can easily get to you anytime he wants. He just doesn't want his time with you to be interrupted.

He's loud, when he's talking about something he likes he starts talking even louder without noticing.

Please call him to work on something together, things like making necklaces with the seashells he finds will channel his attention which will result in him being silent for longer.

Despite being a normal teenager pretty much, Wind has a longer attention span. At least, with things he likes to do, and with that I mean hands-on activities. He will ignore any attempts of reading, may even throw a tantrum.

He is not against the idea of fully throwing himself against you anytime he wants your attention and you won't give it to him.

Wind is a growing teenager, and he spends a lot of time with you. Don't be surprised when he starts picking up little bits of your personality, likes, mannerisms, habits and even your way of speaking. Most of these will happen without him or you noticing, it is funny when The Chain just sees you making some sort of pose and him just doing the exact same pose for no reason.

Wind would be a son of Poseidon, do tell him that, he'll love hearing you talk about it. He loves the mythology from our world, no matter which mythology you tell him about.

Expect him to do things for you as well, he may make it seem like he doesn't want to do it, but even if you ask him to bring you the heart of Gannon or something he'll eventually bring it to you.

Wind may act reckless sometimes too many times, but then again he is a child. He'll act like he doesn't like it, but he loves when you treat him his age. Wind had to take way too many responsibilities in a much too young age and the fact you still treat him the way he is supposed to be treated despite his hero title will make him cling to you like his life depends on it.

Different from Legend Wind doesn't mind you being away from him as long as you're there the moment he wants your attention. In fact, he'll be the first to tell everyone to leave you in the camp when they're fighting monsters.

You know how siblings are fighting all the time and make fun of each other but still get mad whenever someone else does it? That's Wind, he will get funny annoyed expressions when other Links try to tease you, he's constantly at war with Legend.

As much as he doesn't mind if you have a relationship with the rest of The Chain he'll playfully tease you guys.

If he sees you're uncomfortable (and trust me, he can tell) he'll immediately do a 180° and become very protective, he'll defend you with tooth and nail from anyone, even the golden goddesses herselves.

And he's a gremlin, too, so if physically he can't do harm he'll turn said person's life into hell.

And once again, everything he asks of you in return to what he does is your attention, 200% of it.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Expanding on this a little bit because jealous Eddie is fun to write 😋

Summary; Eddie is the only one allowed to call the reader princess, it's like an unspoken rule in Hellfire. Luke comes along and breaks that rule and Eddie is not happy 👀😳

Warnings; Jealous Eddie, slightly possessive Eddie, not canon compliant.

If you enjoyed this then pls consider giving this a like or reblog or maybe both :) 💕😘 I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

Eddie loved when new people expressed interest in Hellfire Club, not many did but a rare few came along.

Luke was the latest new recruit. He had asked Eddie at lunchtime if he could join in on a game of dnd and Eddie had agreed.

Turns out Luke was an excellent player and the game was fantastic. The only thing that needled at Eddie was the way Luke kept looking at you.

Eddie knew you were beautiful, funny, kind and welcomed new recruits with open arms but this shit? Luke gazing at you with a love sick look on his face?

Him making you laugh with shitty ass jokes? Enticing that sweet laugh out of you that Eddie loved so much? That was pissing him off.

Nothing ever distracted him from his DM duties but he felt a twist in his stomach, his heart racing when Luke leaned in too close to you, a visceral punch of jealousy.

The worst thing of all was the unspoken rule of Hellfire. Eddie called you princess and you were his princess.

All of Hellfire knew never to call you that but the minute that Eddie tenderly touched your shoulder and said ''It's your turn princess" that's when things went downhill.

"Hey, princess? Wanna kiss my dice for good luck?" Luke asked you with a smug smile on his face and the whole room went silent.

You cringe and lock eyes with Eddie who is seething and Dustin leans into Luke and explains the rule to him.

"Dude, you can't call her that. Only Eddie" and Like scoffed causing Eddie's jaw to tense.

"It's just a fucking nickname" Eddie glare at him.

"Yeah, it is but it's my nickname for my girl, you get that or are we going to have problems here?" Luke grimaces then quietens and Eddie assumes that's the end of it.

Until the next time, he calls you princess and Eddies patience snaps because the douchebag carries on doing it and looks at Eddie with a huge smirk on his face.

He was goading Eddie now.

That was it Luke was going to die.

💕

Not literally of course but at the next session of dnd Luke's character met a death with no come back, absolutely none.

"Ahh well, bad luck dude" Eddie shrugs while pretending to be devasted for Luke.

That's what you get for not listening dude he says to himself because he would have given Luke another chance if he didn't follow you around like a lost puppy, getting up in your personal space.

The fact you looked uncomfortable didn't seem to register to look and that pissed Eddie even more.

He flirted during class, called you Princess in front of Eddie, and tried to put his arm around you even when you moved closer to Eddie and stuck closer to him.

"Do you want me to say anything?" Eddie asks you concerned and you shake your head.

"He will grow bored when he sees I'm not interested" Eddie doesn't think so, he thinks that this asshole will still keep trying to get with you.

Like hell that will happen.

✨✨

Eddie sighs as you wrap your arms around him and kiss his neck. He's completely content having you in his arms and letting all the things that stress him just fade away.

When he was with you he was at peace. He was happier than ever. Just you two. He strokes your hair and kisses your forehead.

One of his hands tangles in your hair and the other rests on the small of your back pulling you close to him.

Your soft moans fill the air and he loves it, loves that little breathy groan you make when his hands caress your body.

"I love your sweet moans baby. All for me hmm?" you giggle and gaze at him, the same utter reverence that's in his gaze is mirrored in yours.

He doesn't notice Luke gawking at them, he's too entranced by you to notice.

"Get up on the table baby, I wanna taste you" he's craving it, craving you and the feel of you writhing around and coming undone with pleasure.

Then he hears the sound of something crashing and a panicked shit. He whips around and zeroes in on Luke looking sheepish and he glares.

Was this fucker watching you and him the whole time? Fierce protectiveness fills him, though he shouldn't be worried as you could hold your own, Jason Carver found that out.

Even still you were his girl and he was sick of this horny douchebag making eyes at you. Fuck off, she's mine.

Something in Eddie's gaze must register with Luke as he finally seems to get it through his thick skull that you were off limits and scarpered.

Dickhead he snorts and turns back to you waiting for him. Your fingers hook around the waistband of his jeans and you pull him closer.

Suddenly Luke is the farthest thing from his mind.

✨

[smolcinnamonchipmunk]

To Catch a Grasshopper

(I wholeheartedly blame @a-weird-tiny for this. I showed them Hopper, and she immediately said that she wanted Borrower!Hopper to get in a cat and mouse chase with Miguel for acting like a nuisance (my words)/brat (her words), and she gave me a line that kickstarted this whole thing. Might draw something for it at some point because I now have a new brainrot. 

There are now five men in my brain jostling for attention, and it’s getting rowdy. Also, sorry if anything seems OOC for Miguel, I only know what the movie provides which is a grouchy, broody man, though I think I wrote him softer than anything else the fandom has right now. All I know is ‘angry latino/a’ is a stereotype I’m very tired of being taken to the extreme considering I’m Hispanic and, like, being angry isn’t his only personality trait.)

Count: 5758

TW/CW: Soft, safe G/t vore, a bit of fearplay/worry of being killed "You're pouting again."

"I am not," came the gruff answer. Just like they expected from their current companion as Hopper settled on the edge of the console desktop, crossing one leg over the other and using their knee to rest their elbow and perch their chin in hand. Purple faded in their brown eyes as they smirked up at the back of the looming figure leaning over the console on the other side of the platform.

Miguel O’Hara let out a heavy sigh that was more akin to a growl, a rather common greeting he gave them whenever they popped up during work. Then again, they didn’t know where he lived outside of this place, so showing up at his work was the only way they knew to see him without being creepy. 

His shoulders slumped slightly with the exhale, muttering something under his breath - likely to brace himself for tolerating their presence - before turning around to look at them. Orange from the console screens around the platform pronounced his facial features, glinting off of his red irises and spidersuit. Which was already glowing in the red parts, so the whole platform was a delight of warm colored neon. 

Hopper would have preferred they were cooler colors. The Spiders had blue in their motif, why not use that?

They were still pretty impressed when his eyes almost immediately fell on their sitting form at the edge of the desk. He was a very large man by normal standards, towering over most humans with ease, but he was absolutely massive compared to their diminutive height of three inches. Still, superhuman senses enabled him to easily pinpoint their position. He might not have been brooding, but he had a very naturally tired and brood-y face.

“I’m assuming it’s too much to ask you to leave me alone for the day,” Miguel said tiredly. Already his voice was laced with stress and general grouchiness, but they couldn’t really remember a time he’d greeted them with a wide smile. It wasn’t really his style. Small smiles, occasionally.

To be fair, he was probably the one Spider they liked annoying the most. It was easier than most of the other Spiders, but he also dealt with a whole society of wise-cracking chatterboxes, so he also had a surprising amount of patience with them.

“You assume correctly,” Hopper chirped proudly from their spot, asymmetrical earrings dangling from their proclamation. One was a blue-gemmed planet in a golden hoop, the other a gold star with a blue gem center on a piece of gold chain that dangled it down to their chin. With a mischievous look, their eyes flickered purple and their form wavered with purple sparks, feeling a warm pins-and-needles kind of feeling running through their body. In a blink, they went from sitting at the edge of the console desktop to flickering into existence atop one of the monitors closer to the man, legs and hands on top as they dangled the rest of their body upside down to look at him. 

His gaze quickly followed the brief purple flash of their appearance.

“I can’t just leave my very best Spider friend alone with his brooding thoughts,” they added playfully sweetly, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of blood rushing to their head. “Besides, I’ve been gone a week. Can’t say I didn’t give you a break.”

“If only it was longer,” the Spider grumbled, turning away with a proper growl this time. He began to work on the screen he had previously been using, fingers sliding across the orange glow.

“Aw, c’mon,” Hopper said, teleporting to stand on the top of the monitor being used. Almost immediately, Miguel made a lazy attempt to snatch at them, making them teleport to the screen right next to it. This time, they appeared with their hands on their hips with their eyes narrowed at him. 

He’d found out pretty quickly when they first met that, frustratingly enough for him, they could teleport too quick to be grabbed. Which was good for them because they had time to iterate that they were VERY fragilè. No superhuman strength or durability to be had here, AND they were tiny in comparison. One overzealous grab could probably kill them.

“And I DON’T brood,” Miguel added with a light glower before lowering the hand that went to grab them back to the screen he was focusing on. His eyes followed suit, trying to return his focus to his previous work.

“I think a bunch of Spiders and I would disagree.”

This close, they could see a small quirk at the corner of his lip as he replied, “Just because you and a few other Spidermen think I brood doesn’t mean you’re right.”

Hopper stood waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t elaborate or tack anything on, making them groan a bit in irritation. They teleported back onto the monitor he was using and he didn’t move to snap at them or grab them again. He seemed rather intent on ignoring them. With a huff, they spread their arms out and said, “C’mon, man. I dimension-hopped here. OBVIOUSLY. I don’t wanna go home and basically tire myself out for nothing!"

"Then go bother someone else to pass the time, I’m busy."

They frowned at the rather reasonable response, defiantly declaring, "I don't want to. And when AREN’T you busy?"

They felt a bit of satisfaction as he closed his eyes for a second and frowned. They thought he had anger issues. He did, maybe, but they definitely didn't help. But, if they left him alone, he would just stand here, brood, and bury himself in his missions and self-appointed job. He was a chill guy but they worried about him self-destructing sometimes in his work, even if their version of worrying and action was trying to get under his skin to distract him from everything else. 

That, and Hopper - despite enjoying the sense of humor and more upbeat nature of the other spiders - found them to be easily overwhelming and loud in their own ways, so they felt like they'd be drained quickly. One on one was fine depending on the Spider, but this was literally a SPIDER HUB. The chances of finding many Spiders on their own was slim, and slimmer still was finding a Spider they liked or gathering the nerves to introduce themself to an unfamiliar Spider. Jess was fun, but she was usually out as well, either on mission or home. All the Spiders came and went.

Except Miguel, sometimes. Maybe he lives here, they didn’t know.

He wasn't exactly the friendliest, or most fun-loving, and he was fucking TERRIFYING when he yelled or got too stressed (they teleported out of the room the few times he'd snapped at them), but he was here the most often, was usually pretty quiet, and was alone with manager-y kind of stuff, except like a weird Spider crime department that specialized in dimensional stuff.

"Have you talked to the Therapist Spider yet," Hopper asked without any snark or provocative inflection, sitting down and absentmindedly kicking their feet lightly. Their legs probably barely blocked any of the screen, but it was enough to draw his attention when he opened his eyes once more.

"No, and I don't need to. You're worse than LYLA about asking that."

"Well, I still say you should go talk to him. Just once, at least! Everyone needs therapy, you Spiders especially. Or, I don't know, get a hobby," they suggested, not for the first time. They knew that LYLA made similar comments, but Miguel wasn't in charge of Hopper.

They shifted so that they laid on top of the monitor, raising their wrist above them to watch their bracelet beads sway slightly and glint in the orange light. It wasn't very comfortable since the monitors were pretty thin, but they didn't care too much. They huffed and added, "You're going to make yourself insane by just doing this all day. I'm bored to tears just watching."

"Then go home," Miguel suggested back. “Besides, I’m too busy for hobbies. Or, small annoyances trying to distract me from, again, working.”

Alarmingly, the monitor they were laying on and the one he was using was suddenly jerked to the side, causing them to jolt off the side with a panicked yelp. Instinctively their body kickstarted a teleport, body flickering purple before they appeared at the console desktop. Their instincts made them materialize upside-down, using the momentum from their fall to 'fall' upwards into a standing position that had them flailing their arms for a second to avoid falling on their back anyways. They stood there frozen for a second from the brief fright, looking up to see Miguel chuckle a bit as he fixed the monitor back in place and continued.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER," they hissed as they teleported back up to the top of the monitor, but there was a smile playing at the corners of their lips. "Not fair that you can just knock me off my perch! I'm wasting my Hops here, man."

"Not fair that you can teleport yourself unilaterally transdimensionally and transspacially out of reach and consequences while you sit there and distract me from my work," he replied. He still seemed stressed and grouchy, but there was the barest of difference from before, the slightest amount of loosening up. “Now, cállate.”

"First of all, they're not transdimensional or whatever transports, they're HOPS," Hopper stressed the rather simple word compared to his complicating ones, resettling on top of the monitor as they ignored him telling them to be quiet. This time they didn't lay down, just sitting up and keeping an eye on his hands in case he wanted to be a funny guy again. "And secondly, you're ALWAYS working. It's not healthy, you know."

They were one to talk considering their horrid life habits, but Miguel didn't need to know about any of that.

"If I don't keep charge, who will," Miguel scoffed a little, though they knew he had no ill will towards the other Spiders. He just wanted to take the brunt of everything for everyone.

Hopper realized this was one of the few times his wristwatch-machine-thing wasn't going off every minute or so, but glancing down at the screen showed that he was still monitoring and directing Spider traffic and tasks with nimble fingers.

"What about Jess? Or the black and white monochrome Spider? He seems broody and serious enough for it," they suggested, looking back up at him. His gaze didn't waver from the monitor. "Just for, like, five minutes. C'mon, we go get some tea, or I'm guessing some form of Monster energy in your case since I've never seen you sleep. What’s a monster to a Spider? Praying Mantis?"

"That's a negative, I don't brood, and I’m questioning whether or not you’re a Spider-person with how much you talk my ear off," he said, flicking through pieces of programming that was cleverly styled around this whole webbing deal the Spiders had.

"Sure ya don't," they said dismissively, ignoring most of his statement and starting to develop an idea. A probably very horrible idea that would almost definitely make him irritated at least and furious at worse. But, he was a good guy, even if his attitude suggested otherwise sometimes. They trusted him to not hurt them. "It's just five minutes. Anyways, any big quantum whatsits right now? Influxes? Anomalies? Anomalies. Big Spider Emergency stuff."

Miguel looked surprised at their question since they usually tried to take his mind OFF of his work, not ask about it unless it was after he went out himself. He thought for a second, probably wondering their reason for asking, before he replied, "We had a couple incidents this morning, but they were taken care of pretty quickly. The timelines seem stable for now, but it could change any moment."

"How long?"

"Huh?" The Spider quirked a confused eyebrow at them.

“How long have they been stable?” Hopper clarified, watching the confusion dissipate from Miguel’s face as they did so. While he thought, they teleported to the surface of the console desktop, waiting patiently for the moment or so it took for him to answer.

“Few hours, maybe. It’s always calmer after an influx. Why?” he asked, following them to their spot on the desk with curiosity and suspicion.

“Because-,” a mischievous smile spread across their face as they casually walked over to where his Goober-Gizmo-Computer-Key thing was halfway stuck out of the console. As they placed a hand on it they saw his eyes widen slightly as he realized what they were doing. A flash of red-blue came towards them as he quickly went to grab them, but they already flickered out of reach, computer key and all. They appeared on the console at the other end of the platform while he whirled around to see where they went, leaning a little on the little device-thing that was two-thirds their height. They opened their mouth to continue but he lunged towards them.

“Hopper!” Miguel snapped as they teleported out of reach back to the other side, spinning back to face them with a scowl. His tone was warning like someone prepared to scold a pet or child. “Drop it.”

“Iiif you’ll let me finish,” Hopper replied, feigning disinterest by looking at their nails. They heard him sigh heavily, seeing him cross his arms over his chest in their peripherals.

“Alright, fine. Finish.” he said gruffly.

“Thank you,” they chirped, perking up and looking back up at the man, keeping at least one hand on the key at all times. Clearing their throat, they started again. “Anyways. BECAUSE. If things are settled right now, then that totally means you can take a five minute break with me.”

“No can do,” Miguel quickly cut them off, shifting to hold out his hand palm up rather than attempt to grab them again. “Give the Goober back, Hopper.”

“Only if you take five minutes to just chill. You’ve still got your wristwatch that the others can contact if something happens and all of you guys are capable of handling yourselves, even if some of the Spiders are goofy as hell,” Hopper hummed, watching his frown deepen at their blatant refusal to comply. Teleporting to the edge of the platform, they added, “Or, you know, I guess we could spend five minutes with me playing Keep Away. Just make sure you put a timer on. I feel like you’ll die if you have even one second of rest or fun more than that.” “Haha. Funny,” he laughed sarcastically, though his expression looked far from amused right now. With a grumble, he turned and paced a little on the platform, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering under his breath. After a few seconds of Hopper waiting patiently, he stopped. He looked almost surprised at a sudden thought, turning to look at them. "If I indulge you in your little game of Keep Away, you'll be satisfied giving the Goober back and not causing trouble?"

"Just call it a computer key. And, cross my heart and hope to die. Though, you know, kind of don't want that to happen," Hopper made the X over their heart, feeling a sense of elation at having him even actually consider their proposition. They did wonder why he'd choose a game rather than just relaxing.

"Don't worry. You won't," Miguel replied, rolling his neck and shoulders. Suddenly, Hopper didn't feel very confident in their decisions for the day.

"Oh, uh, are we, like, starting now," they asked dumbly, having not really expected him to accept any of this. They didn't really think this far ahead.

"You're the one that suggested this. Though, if you want, I can give you a second to get ready since I’m not going easy on you, kid.”

Ignoring the fact that he called them ‘kid’ despite them being a full-grown adult, they felt a little better at the thought of being able to collect and prepare themself mentally, saying, “I’d appreciate that very much, thank you.”

“Alright,” Miguel nodded amicably and looked off to the side. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked like he was going to wait patiently. That lasted maybe a moment before his head whipped back towards them with narrowed eyes that glinted with his own slight mischievousness. “One.”

Hopper wasn’t even given a moment to process the brief confusion, eyes widening as the man lunged towards their spot at the edge of the platform with outstretched hands. With a yelp, their body quickly moved into a teleport, barely remembering to keep holding onto the computer key and spread the teleportation to it. Back on top of the console desktop, they took a second to register what happened, Miguel standing up from where they had been standing. Despite literally asking for this whole game, they couldn’t help but exclaim, “What the fuck, Miguel?!”

“What?” he asked, straightening up. His face was now covered by his mask, but his voice had a tinge of amusement to it as he looked back at them. He lunged towards them again, forcing them to teleport to a monitor with another yelp. “I asked if you wanted a second, I gave you a second.” “Oh, NOW you’re a funny guy like the rest of the Spiders?” Hopper asked, smiling now that the initial shock was over. They could feel a bit of giddiness from adrenaline. They laughed and teleported off the platform to the metal arm thing in the room below when he made to grab them again. They shifted their grip on the computer key, looping their arm through the metal ring on top to lessen the chance of losing it as they shouted up, “Does that mean you’re not brooding for five minutes?”

“I like that you think it’ll take that long to catch you,” Miguel replied, leaping off the platform and using a laser-web to pull himself towards them with his claws out. “I like that you think you CAN catch me,” Hopper laughed, teleporting to the ground and then further down the hall when he pounced towards their position almost immediately. “Didn’t we establish pretty early on that I’ll just teleport away even if you manage to touch me?”

“Call it a hunch that I think this time’ll be different.” “I’d ask if it was Spider-sense, but you don’t have that so I’m just gonna say it’s your massive ego that makes you think that,” they continued to teleport around the hall and equipment, having to move quickly because they were barely given a second of reprieve before there was a flash of blue-red in the corner of their vision that had them whisking away out of reach. They felt a slight ache in their chest from teleporting so quickly around, but they ignored it in favor of trying a larger jump to the end of the hall to try and catch their breath for a second.

After all, they were basically compressing their entire body and molecules - and the computer key’s - out of physical existence and back in. They were essentially holding their breath and stopping their heart for brief moments of time, and their body was currently not liking it happening so much.

“I think your hubris is going to be your downfall,” Miguel shouted, seeing them at the end of the hall. This far away, they were given a few seconds to see how terrifying it was to actually be in place of a pseudo-villain, seeing his claws gouge into the metal ground like it was paper and him literally claw and pounce towards them. They were definitely realizing why the fuck he was so buff compared to some of the other Spiders. A laser-web shot towards them and they were gone again.

“I think my hubris is likely to kill me, yes,” Hopper maintained their air of nonchalance, far too into this game to let a bit of tiredness or any aching distract them. When was the last time they played a game? Or basically played tag? When was Miguel’s? Popping up on a structure higher on a wall between some equipment. They thought they were getting closer to the Anomaly room. If they could get in one of the cages, he’d have to talk to LYLA, who they hoped would side with them.

Teleporting away from his claws again, they added, “I don’t think your name is Hubris though, so I think I’m good either way.”

“Maybe I’ll get a name change then,” he said. When they popped back on the ground with the intent to go to the Anomaly room, he overshot and dropped down right in front of them, making them yelp and teleport backward at how close he’d landed. He was starting to try and predict their movements, and unnervingly well. 

As they teleported again away, he shouted after them, “And stop teleporting away-” another unsuccessful pounce to them, “- or hopping around like a-a-,” he struck a wall as he rounded a corner and tried to laser-web them again, “- a GRASSHOPPER or something!” “I’m not-not a grasshopper.” Hopper replied, mildly offended at the nickname and struggling to not pant as they teleported onto another shelf of equipment. They weren’t sure if he heard the way their voice kind of wavered tiredly but he didn’t let up regardless. They were unused to the strain in their chest, finding it more difficult to ignore as time went on. “Tell you what,” Miguel didn’t sound winded at all as he lunged again, though he was used to actual fieldwork like the rest of the Spiders while Hopper hadn’t really tried to test their teleportation limits. “You give me back the Goober, I don’t call you a grasshopper.” “No dice,” they teleported to the other end of a different hall, hoping to double-back on him without him predicting it. They huffed a bit quietly, trying to take in a full breath against the stitch developing in their side. “You’ll just take it and keep calling me grasshopper. But that’s fine anyways because it doesn’t bother me.”

It did, it really did, but they couldn’t let him know that because it would only encourage it.

“Fair assessment, but wrong. Now I just get to call you a grasshopper, which fits because you KEEP EVADING ME,” he growled as he landed where they had been standing. “Quédate quieto, you nuisance!”

They teleported on top of a light fixture to look down at him, ignoring the fact that everytime he landed it was with enough force to DENT the ground. Instead, they ignored the way their heart raced and panting breaths, asking, “Have you ever tried catching a grasshopper?”

“I’m trying right now!”

“Haha, funny,” they teleported away again, closing their eyes against a twinge of pain in their chest, for a moment, having to teleport again to avoid red-glowing claws with a panicked yelp. Was it just them or was that teleport a little delayed? “I meant ACTUAL grasshoppers. They’re pretty easy to catch once you know what to do. Like a cup or something.”

Hopper worriedly began to realize that their breathing was becoming more labored as well, pauses between sentences increasing noticeably. There was no way he didn’t notice that, at least.

“Really? Thanks for the tip.” Miguel said, eliciting another exclamation as they were forced to teleport away again.

They didn’t say anything in response to the Spider, their attention turning strictly to avoiding having the entire weight of the man come crashing on top of them, avoiding claws that still dug into the metal terrifyingly close to them and trying to speed up their teleporting back to normal standard as they felt themself begin to falter while the pain and ache in their chest increased. With a laborious huff, they teleported across the room again, starting to feel like they were physically and bodily chucking themself and the computer key around.

“What’s wrong, Hopper?” the Spider still didn’t relent in the chase, pouncing and barely missing them once more as he taunted them. “You’ve gone quiet. Almost like you’re getting tired. We can stop whenever, you just gotta drop the Goober.”

“FUCK YOU,” Hopper snapped on instincts, letting out a heavy pant when they popped back up before teleporting away again at the sight of more claws. They felt stubbornness fueled by spite, forcing themself to continue. “I’m not-not tired, a-asshole! Maybe I don’t feel like talking!”

“You? Not feeling like talking?” Miguel asked, laughing as he swung from a web to where they attempted to take refuge on some kind of equipment that flashed and hummed like many of the items in the Spider-Hub. He landed lightly as they disappeared again. “That’s more improbable than space-time just fixing itself on its own.”

“It-It happens,” they protested defensively, not wanting to admit that they were being worn down as they wavered back into existence with the computer key. Seeing him immediately face them, again, they teleported back towards his platform room, wondering if they could seek refuge in a dark corner or something. They doubted it, but maybe. But, as they flickered out in their teleport it felt sluggish and painful, barely managing to wrench their molecules away.

Hopper reappeared on the floor beside the wall, not quite where they wanted, and had to gasp for a second past the pain before forcing themself to teleport again. This time, when they reappeared, their vision remained staticky for a second before it cleared enough to allow them a pretty good view of Miguel coming towards them a Mach 5 with a claw outstretched. 

They couldn’t help but exclaim in panic, trying to teleport out of the way. But, the only thing they managed was a painful purple staticky-glitchy effect that brought to mind the Anomalies that the Spiders were catching, a flash of white-hot pain traveling through their chest briefly. 

This was it, they thought, I’m about to fucking die because I really fucked around and found out, huh?

They couldn’t make themself look away, staring at their imminent death with paralyzing fear, watching the red claws draw closer both in an instant and horrifyingly slowly as their mind took in everything. The claws sunk into the metal around them and they didn’t even realize that they WEREN’T being crushed until Miguel spoke up in the same instant the claws caged around them..

“Te pillé!” he proclaimed triumphantly, barely letting out a huff from the entire chase. The eye-shapes on his mask widened from the focused narrowed eye-shapes to normal. It was still weird how expressive all the masks were. “You good, kid?” Hopper didn’t say anything at first, still wondering how the hell they were even alive. They blinked in surprise, their heart racing in their chest and breath laborious and shallow as they VERY slowly realized they weren’t in danger and began to calm. They noticed belatedly that they had a good inch and a half between their chest and the surface of his palm, not exactly in danger but still far too close for comfort after seeing him barreling towards them.

“I-I’m good,” they answered stiffly, voice cracking a bit from the scare. They took a steadying breath, wincing as it worsened the painful stitches in their sides, but they were fine overall. Just exhausted, a bit adrenaline-filled, and feeling aches already begin to settle.

“Good. I’ll take that then,” Miguel said, pulling his claws out from the metal wall and floor, carefully plucking them off the floor by the back of their jacket in his claws - making them yelp out in protest - and separating them from the computer key. He closed his fingers around the computer key deftly. They noticed the way his claws retreated into the tips of his fingers as he added nonchalantly, “You were right.”

“Huh?” Hopper frowned in confusion, more concerned with the fading ache in their chest. Looking at the eyeshapes of his mask, they asked tiredly, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said it’d be pretty easy to catch a grasshopper when I knew what to do,” he replied, mask dissipating to allow them to see his small smug expression, making them scowl immediately. “And it was. You were so sure of yourself, too.”

“I meant ACTUAL GRASSHOPPERS, and you DON’T NEED TO RUB IT IN,” they huffed, still panting a little.

“Yes, well, now you’re just a little grasshopper who can’t hop around anymore,” Miguel said. He lifted them up higher, which they didn’t really care about until he opened his jaws and began to move them closer to fangs that were as long as their forearms.

“WOAH, wait, what the FUCK?!” Hopper exclaimed in surprised panic, purple crackling along their limbs unsuccessfully. 

Miguel only quirked an eyebrow slightly, saying, “Don’t worry, kid, you’ll be fine.” with the feeling that he knew they definitely wouldn’t believe him if he tried to elaborate. Which was true, but it was still kind of terrifying when they were placed into his mouth and let go despite their protests.

“MIGUEL, THIS DOESN’T FEEL FINE,” Hopper shouted when the teeth clicked behind them, yelping when the tongue shifted up against them. Adrenaline ran through their veins, causing their chest to ache again as they tried to instinctively teleport ANYWHERE else, but the light from the crackling of unsuccessful teleporting only gave them a very sharp and vivid look at the inside of the jaws around them like the teeth surrounding them. Or the pit of darkness in the back where his throat definitely was. They yelped - squeaked, but they’d never admit it - as the tongue moved them around and they felt saliva soak their clothes. “MIGUEL!”

Seconds felt like forever as their body took in their surroundings, the heat and humidity all around them, the sound of his breathing, the constant shifting of his tongue as it easily moved them around and licked at them anywhere it could touch, making them yelp in indignation when it poked their side and caused them to involuntarily jolt. They shoved against it in fearful irritation, exclaiming, “PINCHE PENDEJO, LET ME OUT!”

They only knew some insults in Spanish despite having spent years with a Spanish class and their reward was a rumbling chuckle from the man as he continued to lick at them. It was probably only a couple seconds before they found themself starting to be nudged back to the back of his mouth, trying to brace their legs against the roof of his mouth. Rather unsuccessfully.

Now it was their turn to let out a warning tone, going, “Miguel, don’t you fucking DARE swallow me!” as they panicked. They couldn’t help but feel a sense of betrayal, thinking that he was probably one of the more trustworthy people out there and now he was EATING them.

Miguel still didn’t respond, either because they were still in his mouth or he didn’t care to bother, and they found themself squished between the roof of his mouth and his tongue directly before the sound of a gulp overwhelmed their ears. In a split second, they found themself sucked down into his throat, exclaiming protests and trying to squirm away from the constricting walls all around them while their surroundings were briefly lit up every couple seconds by panicked purple light from failed teleporting.

The sound of his heart pounded in their ears along with the small exhale that he let out after swallowing, both breathing and heartbeat the only thing they could hear over the ambient sound of organs shifting in his body. Hopper didn’t realize how fucking loud bodies were.

Seconds ticked by rapidly before they spilled into a more open space, the only thing they could guess as the stomach. Despite their exhaustion, they couldn’t help but try and jump to their feet, immediately slipping and falling over on their back given the moving EVERYTHING and saliva coating it all.

“MIGUEL, LET ME OUT,” Hopper shouted again, feeling their throat start to hurt from all their panicked screaming. But, if they didn’t hold onto their anger, they’d probably just feel distress and fear, and that was so much worse. They yelped when everything got tighter, pressure from one side of the organ as they squirmed in confusion and more instinctive worry. After a second, they realized that he was probably pressing in from the outside to try and make them still.

“Cálmate, cálmate,” Miguel said, voice a bit softer. Whether he was trying to not overwhelm them further or he was trying to actually calm them felt up for debate considering their position. He still sounded far more casual than the situation called for as he added, “You’re gonna be fine, Hopper, it’s just temporary containment. Although, I wasn’t expecting you to have quite as much kick in you after being chased around.” “Temporary containment?! Temporary til what, my death?!” Hopper snapped, trying in vain to shove his hand and the stomach wall away before realizing the full extent of what he said. “Hey, wait a minute! What do you mean by ‘expecting’? How long have you been planning on eating me?!”

“Seriously? Only today, though the thought has crossed my mind a few times since meeting you,” he admitted, only sounded a LITTLE awkward about the admittance. “WHY?!”

“For one, stop squirming. I’ve told you you’re fine,” Miguel huffed, pressing a little harder but stopped when they yelped and stilled. His hand pulled away, allowing them to slip to the bottom of the organ with a yelp and fresh coating of drool from the small puddle at the bottom. “Secondly, having a small person run around on your desk while having spider DNA will lead to some odd thoughts like potentially eating them.”

“Okay, but again, WHY,” Hopper repeated, still confused as to why he’d give in to what they interpreted as a VERY WEIRD INTRUSIVE THOUGHT.

“Because it’s perfectly safe and I’ll know exactly where you are until you’re either able to teleport again or, let’s see… Let’s say an hour and a half or whenever your powers come back, whichever happens first.” 

Hopper’s jaw dropped, realizing why he’d picked the game rather than just five minutes of tea, offended as they asked, “DID YOU JUST FUCKING PUT ME IN TIME OUT?!”

“Don’t take my Goober again unless you want a repeat, Grasshopper.”

[improbable-implosions]

My tshirts generally have a real troublesome habit of developing holes where the seams meet in the armpit, so here's one take on solving that, so I can keep my shirts hanging around for as long as possible!

Stitch of choice here is the ceylon stitch! I was originally using some of the leftover blue thread from the bi flag mend, but as we can see in the next picture, that turned out to be pretty scant and not quite enough for the whole mend.

Not only did I buy some non-sunfaded blue embroidery thread to continue here, but also, someone gifted me the cutest little needle minders, they're cats in teacups! The contrast between the two threads isn't super visible here where there's only one row, but you can really tell in the finished patch that the first thread I bought had seen no small volume of sun before getting used. (Suppose that's what I get for buying thread from a visibly sunfaded display in that joanns!)

Even despite how this turned out, with the two-toned blue thing going on, and the little bit in the top left corner where I dropped stitches and went back to fill them in after the fact, I still actually really dig how it looks. Something something the passage of time, imperfections let your soul out of it, y'know?

Over time, as this piece has settled in, I actually really enjoy how it sits on this shirt. Initially, the stitching made one giant thick mat that I could feel being large and annoying in my armpit, but a few runs through the laundry later and it's much, much more comfortable. If it weren't for the additional wear this puts on already high-stress areas, I'd honestly love to keep doing this to cover holes too small to sashiko patch, but too big for other techniques.

(Future me from the perspective of this mend finds out that satin stitches do just fine, and there's plenty of decorative patterns to put those in!)

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep 96: The Stressies

The structured class on fatherly responsibilities made Luigi more comfortable about his future, but things soon began to go sideways for the couple.

It started when he clumsily told Noemi about his past relationship with Amaya. While trying to apologize for complicating their lives as they were preparing for the baby, he wound up suggesting that she couldn’t keep hanging out with Amaya because of her history with him.

That sounded far too self-centered and controlling for Noemi to put up with. “Not everything is about YOU, Lu!” she shot back, angrily mirroring Beau’s sentiments. “I’m not giving up a great new friend, just because you had a prior failed claim on her.”

“Suck it up and deal with the awkwardness of seeing her around, because I don’t make friends easily and I really like her!” she said, leaving for class.

Luigi picked up a carton of Noemi’s favorite ice cream that evening as a peace offering, but the chilled treat wound up making more trouble for them.

From the very first bite an issue Luigi had been neglecting came back up with a vengeance. The toothache that had started the day they announced the pregnancy to his family had been getting progressively worse, but he’d been “way too busy” to see a dentist. He’d recently been doing his best to avoid chewing on that side, but the mouthful of melting ice cream hit his sore tooth like a thousand icy, stabbing, needles.

When he cursed loudly, tears springing to his eyes, his startled girlfriend pried the whole story out of him.

“You have to take better care of yourself!” she chided, pulling out her phone to make them both an appointment with the dentist. Her own teeth had been a bit sensitive to their snack, and if she had to babysit him to make sure he got to the clinic, she might as well get checked out too.

At the dentist it was discovered that the couple was, once again, in sync. Both sims had a cavity that required filling.

Noemi’s dental decay had been caught early on and she didn’t even need to be numbed for her quick procedure, but Luigi didn’t get off so easily.

He’d let his issue linger too long, and the erosion of his enamel had reached the nerve, causing his severe discomfort. His filling required a big dose of local anesthetic and a marathon session in the dental chair, during which the dentist told him he was lucky he didn’t need a root canal!

Luigi was feeling quite sorry for himself when they got home, half his face still numb and feeling uncomfortably like a block of wood bolted to his skull. Noemi set aside her irritation to plop down next to him and break his bleak introspection with a joke. “Oh, that’s so much better. Where they really need to be handing out painkillers is in the waiting room! That “couch” was awfully uncomfortable, especially for those of us sitting for two!”

The stress of balancing baby prep and schoolwork came to a head for the pair as finals approached. While Noemi was revising her final presentation for her programming class, racket from the apartment across the hall kept distracting Luigi from the studies he felt way behind on.

Eventually his control over his temper cracked and he stormed out into the hallway, pounding on their door and screaming “Keep it down, some of us are trying to study!” Not wanting her baby pictures to feature a proud papa in a nose splint, Noemi dragged her boyfriend away from their unrepentant neighbor and the couple took a short study break (featuring some VERY loud forest sounds) to recapture their zen.

Things went from bad to worse when Luigi returned home one afternoon to find Chubbs dead on the kitchen floor. Noemi, in the office doing homework, heard him sobbing and came to what to see what was the matter just in time to catch Grim whisking their furry friend away to the nether realm.

She took Luigi into her arms for a comforting hug, her heart breaking for him as he sobbed out that Chubbs had been a present to him from his papa, who’d adored cats. He’d always intended to start doing a better job showing her love and making time for her after graduation, and now it was too late!

That concept of running out of time followed Noemi into her nightmares that night, as she dreamt of literally running from a wave of darkness that was slowly turning her into a withered crone. She jerked awake with the vivid memory of a painful stitch in her side.

Noemi gasped, sitting up and clutching her stomach. The pain had not been her imagination. To make matters worse, the baby was wiggling and kicking like he too was in distress.

Panicked and terrified she woke Luigi. Seeing Noemi’s distress, he kept quiet about his own nightmare, in which he’d went home to visit his father only to find him, like Chubbs, cold and still, a cake to celebrate his grandson’s birth sitting unfinished on the counter.

Instead, he quickly got them dressed and headed for the hospital, hoping fervently as they went that both Noemi and their son would be OK.

[sarahdawnsdesigns]

Alright, I'm back with another Finished Object Friday, and the results of re-knitting the Christmas Hat!

 I'm still really happy with how this turned out - even if it's the second time around! 

 I decided, after some testing, simply to unravel and re-knit the whole hat, rather then try and a) sew in an elastic around the brim or b) commit Hat Surgery and slice off the ribbing. Option C - "Reknit the whole darn thing", was actually the best option, I think.  Not only has my giftee tried it on and loves the new fit; now I have a functional Hat Pattern from the prototype that I can submit to yarn companies!

Needles are my 2.25 mm Nickle-Plated Circular Needles from Knit Picks (link is an affiliate link, meaning I get a commission if you make a purchase) - and the only thing I can add to my previous posts about these needles is how well the cord works for Magic Loop on a very small circumference! As I decreased, I went first to Travelling Loop, then to Magic Loop, and I was worried the cord wouldn't like the stress of it, but, no, it did just fine!

Yarn is  Fleece Artist's 2/6 Merino in "Spruce", which is very, very discontinued.  This was salvaged from a hat I knit a number of years ago, and it was Old Stash back then, so, it's old, but still good!  I played quite the game of Yarn Chicken as I got to the end of the hat,  - I'd played a game of Yarn Chicken and won with the first hat, but lost a little bit of yarn with this hat, as I had some untangling to do.   But I made it (only just)!

I'm actually really happy this is off the needles and I can focus on other projects  - there's a couple upcoming samples for some magazines that I'm really looking forward to getting -on- the needles, plus, some long-languishing WIP's that I want to get off the needles!