#stream illusion or else

[creative-robot]

It’s so easy to forget that The Social Experiments was, above all else, chats experiment, was Showfall experimenting with the audience, that Hetch ran this whole thing and Ranboo was the lone Hero put through the horrors and Hetch’s main goal wasn’t even fully focused on him, it was how the audience would react and what the audience would decide. That was the real test. And man, did we pass with flying colors

[lavandulawrites]

An Escape To Warmer Temperatures

Yandere Capitano x reader

Yandere Capitano is something else<3 Got this idea while doing the archon quest. (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).

Synopsis: Capitano wants to take you with him to Natlan in search of the pyro gnosis

Masterlist

Warnings: spoilers for 5.1, implied murder, implied violence (not towards the reader), obsessiveness, possessiveness, power imbalance

Word count: 1146

The Captain was a righteous man. It was a well known fact. He was tall, way above 190 cm and he was as muscular as a god. He had an aura that made one cower before him, even if you didn’t know about his identity as the 1st Harbinger. His love for you was passionate and over consuming. He sat you above all others and he had told you time after time that he would burn down Teyvat for you. It was no secret that Capitano had shed blood for you. Both his own and the blood of others. He never told you, but you had gotten the glance of blood speckles on his clothing after some had sent you a dirty look and you had overheard his lackeys disposing of what remained of a unfortunate man who had bumped into you.

Capitano was a strange man, but there was no doubt about his love for you.

At night he caged you in an gentle, but firm embrace. His strong arms wrapping around you and keeping you close. At first you had resisted, in fear of what he might do to you, but you caved in when you realised he didn’t mean you any harm.

Capitano was no stupid man, quite on the contrary. He knew about the dangers of the world and wanted nothing more than to shield you from said dangers.

The snow storm had lasted for days, almost a week. The wind hammered against the roof and the snow clouded the sky in an endless stream of white. The old hearth was lit and the flames beckoning you closer. You reached out your hands in an attempt to warm them. The flames were bright and looked like a living breathing being.

The polished floor creaked making his presence known. Your eyes remained focused on the fire rather than his imposing figure. His movements stilled and you knew he was waiting for you to say something.

“You are home” you could almost see your breath in the cold air despite the fire before you.

A low hum could be heard from behind you. A heavy fur trimmed coat was laid around your shoulders in an attempt to stop the shivering of your limbs that you hadn’t been aware of.

“We finished early” the black haired captain replied. His hand stayed on your shoulder. “Are there any special reasons as to why it is so terrible cold in here?”

“The heater broke and the firewood was wet” your eyes were still staring into the flames.

The hand on your shoulder moved its thumb in an comforting manner. “Why didn’t you ask the servants to help you?”

“I don’t mind the cold…” your voice low. The truth was that the temperature inside the grand mansion was one of the few things you could control in your life. It was rather childish, but you couldn’t care less.

“I see…” he sighed. The thumb came to a halt. “There is something I have been wanting to discuss with you.”

The Captain often gave you the illusion that you had something to say in the matter of discussion, but it was only that, an illusion. What he said was final. That much you knew.

“Oh. Go on” your voice was devoid of any emotion as your mind raced through all the possibilities of what he wanted to discuss with you.

“I’m going to Natlan in the search of the gnosis” his hand left your shoulder. “And I want you to come with” his words were filled with authority.

You swallowed as your eyes widened. Natlan…. You had never set foot outside of your homeland. And now he wanted you to come with him to Natlan? You almost wanted to laugh. This was really the last thing you had expected to hear from the rigid man.

You turned around to face him. His beloved helmet was nowhere to be seen. What met you were his dark midnight blue eyes that reminded you of the deep Snezhnayan waters that you could see from your bedroom window. His eyes were deep and you felt like you could drown in the endless blues. His star-like pupils stared right back at you with a whirlwind of emotions you could only hope to place.

A scar ran down one of his eyes and you wondered how he had managed to escape with his eye intact. Multiple other scars littered his skin, but the most noticeable save form the one over his eye, were the one straight over his nose. It had faded to a white colour, but you could imagine it must have looked quite bad when he first got it.

Due to his Khaenri'an blood, his skin was filled with blue veins accompanied with black lines that ran through the entirety of his body. His mouth looked rather normal, but when he smiled or sneered it stretched a little too far for a normal human being. Behind his pale lips were sharp teeth that belonged more in the jaws of a hound, rather than a man. His tongue was long, but he rarely made it known.

Despite the curse he suffered from, he was an undeniable handsome man. His beauty was something that greatly unnerved you as he seemed almost like a beast that made itself appear human in order to come closer to its prey. He was unsettling with his imposing height and muscles, yet you found it hard to tear your eyes from his own.

“Do I have a choice?” your voice were meek despite your effort at sounding indifferent.

He huffed and the corner of his lips turned slightly downward as his dark eyebrows furrowed. “No” Capitano’s voice was soft as if he tried to calm you down. It came as no surprise that he had long sensed your inner turmoil.

His large hands cupped your face gently. His thumbs stroking your cheekbones. He stared at you for a while before he pulled you into an embrace. His strong arms caging you in as your face was pressed against his muscular chest. His hand stroked your back and you found yourself getting calmer.

“I think a change of scenery will do you good” the bit that he was incapable of departing from you for a long period of time was left unsaid, yet the words hung heavy in the air. Suddenly the living room felt as hot as the steps of Natlan.

His hand traveled up to your head were it intertwined with your soft locks. His head came down slightly as he inhaled your scent in a rather desperate motion that seemed unfit for the 1st Harbinger.

“Jeg elsker deg [Name]” the words that left his lips were in the national language of his homeland. Though you didn’t know the language, you understood all too well what those words meant.

Translation

Norwegian → English

Jeg elsker deg = I love you

[vyva-melinkolya]

we all agree that the push towards short form, vertical video (tiktok/reels/shorts) is ruining fucking everything right? Tiktok has been useful for the dissemination of political information (e.g Gaza) i’ll give it that, but that feels moreso a result of meta and twitters algorithms being just a little *more*’evil and censor happy. And i want to make it very clear that my hatred for tiktok has nothing to do with the fact that it was a product of a Chinese company, because i see a lot of critiques relying on some sort of sinophobic conspiracy. On the contrary, it’s what tiktok has become in the vacuum of western popular culture and marketing that makes me fearful.

I know that every generation faces a new, polarizing technology and inevitably, there are those among said generation who will critique it. That is the nature of things. However, there is also something to be said about how, with the acceleration of technology (running parallel to the acceleration of capitalism, acceleration towards collapse etc), each coming generation faces an increasingly more malevolent “advancement”. TLDR, i’m going to talk my shit.

I’m going to speak on the aspect that is most relavent to me, as a musician. I am petrified by what short form video is doing to music and to musicians. I think that tiktok provides the illusion of making music and being a musician more “accessible” while actually pouring gasoline on the fire that the pop music machine had already started. Standards for what popular culture “expects” from music are being doubled and tripled. Let’s talk about song length. Success and marketability favoring shorter songs is not something new, it has been the trend for decades. But with short form video, it goes even further. You’re not just hearing the same song over and over on the radio, you’re hearing the same 15-30 seconds of the same song over and over again. This in-turn, starts to influence the way people write music, persuading people to make songs that *could* have that 15 second appeal. There is an art to pop music, there is an art to writing a catchy hook—this is something else. We weren’t meant to hear or understand music like that. There are so many songs from reels that i found annoying, until i heard them in their full context. It’s insidious. It makes everything feel like a fucking commercial, even if nothing is being advertised.

I’m going to pull directly from someone else’s experiences, someone who’s music seems to be everywhere on short form videos. The ambient musician My Head Is Empty has a hundred million streams on the song “i was only temporary”. Despite that exposure, they experience “never ending copywrite issues” and have “received death threats” by people who refuse to credit them when using their song. Pulling a quote here, from a comment on their own post

“vyva_melinkolya unfortunately it just gets worse. i saw a bot content page that steals pod cast footage and spams dozens of videos with my song stolen, comment on a "motivation" spam content , who actually made a post telling people the name of my song, and the previous page i mentioned, the pod cast spam commented on that video saying "Bro stop don't give out the sauce. this audio helps me pull numbers brooo" - so people are actively INTENTIONALLY stealing it and telling people to not credit me. like. u can't make this stuff up”

Beyond this, My Head Is Empty feels frustrated that despite all this exposure, the rest of their work (nine albums) as a musician remains under appreciated, and i think that frustration is 100% valid. People cannot fully appreciate music, or even understand it as a work of art created by another human, when it’s taken so far out of its context. Again, the soul being sucked out of art by “the machine” isn’t anything new but, this is a whole other level. Being a musician is more expensive than ever, streaming earns you fractions of a cent etc, it all feeds into itself.

When a song or a musician i love deeply finds its way on to tiktok (let’s use Duster’s “Stars Will Fall”, one of my favorite songs ever as an example)I am not upset that i cant “gatekeep” it anymore. I’m not upset by the idea of something I love and hold dearly finding a larger audience. I AM upset in the manner in which it is being disseminated. I’m upset with art I hold dear to me being chopped up and used as “trending audio”. When I saw Duster in concert recently, lStars Will Fall” was the song I was most looking forward to hearing. It was the last song they played, and it was the song seemly everyone chose to talk loudly over. The audience was mostly people my age and younger. This complaint might come off as petty or pretentious or cliche, i frankly do not give a shit.

Let’s talk about how musicians are expected to promote music on tiktok/reels. This is a matter of opinion, at the risk of sounding very pretentious: the “POV we are x band from x” “My label says i need x followers before x” “posting this video until c musician notices me”. I understand that some of it is in jest but, what the fuck? When did this become the norm? I do not blame anyone for promoting their music like this, but we should want more for ourselves. I’ve always said being a musician is deeply embarassing, inherently. If being a musician is inherently embarassing then what is this? I dont have a solution for this, and the music industry has always been ugly and bloodthirsty and seldom fruitful— but i feel like the very small amount of dignity we had as artists is now lost and I cant fucking stand it. Artists seem to promote the same single with dozens of reels over the course of months, hoping that something sticks. I dont want to sound like i’m shaming or, again, sound like i can provide a solution. I’m just very fucking sorry that it seems like this is “the way”. And personally, i’m scared that if i dont “get with the program”, im going to fail.

Again, all of this speaks to larger trends in entertainment industry and even larger trends in capitalism. But i’m just airing specifics right now because frankly? I cant take it anymore.

[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Cemetery Love.

Dean Winchester x Witch!reader

Summary: Ever since you accidentally discovered that Dean had made a deal and that his days were numbered, you've been trying to make every one of them unforgettable without telling him why. According to him, you're getting crazier and crazier, and according to Sam, you're in love.

Words: 2,9k.

TW: mentions of death, dealings with demons, witches. spoilers for season 2 and 3. angst with happy ending. fluff. the winchester brothers being chaos lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I love Dean and the Grumpy x Sunshine dynamic, so taking advantage of the sad plot of the deal and mixing it all up with confusion is one of my more chaotic ideas and I hope it turns out well haha.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You closed the bedroom door behind you, careful not to make any noise that might wake the two brothers who were still sleeping peacefully in their beds. You left the groceries on the table and began to arrange everything to make it a perfect breakfast, the coffees you had bought, the muffin for Sam and the cake for Dean, the wild flowers you had made appear in the new vase you had created with your magic to give the table more vitality, and as a final touch you snapped your fingers and the curtains opened to let in the sunlight.

While you checked that everything was perfect, you stared at them for a few seconds, and the serenity with which they slept made you wonder if all the bad things that followed them were real. So many times you wanted to believe that your mind had played tricks on you, that the first time you saw Sam die was an illusion and that being alive after that was as normal as your magic. You didn't want to believe anything else had happened until you heard Dean talking to him when they thought you couldn't hear and you knew his days were numbered and he didn't want you to know.

That day, you wanted to scream at him that he was an idiot for selling his soul like that, and worse, for not telling you to find a spell to fix it. But the desperation in his voice as he repeated to his brother that you would look at him differently if you knew, and that it scared him more than anything else in the world, silenced you for weeks as you put your secret plan into action. You wanted each day to be better than the last for him as you searched every known coven for ways to avoid his death at all costs.

“Good morning, you lazy pair. It's time to wake up.” You spoke after several minutes of being lost in thought, watching them stir in their beds.

“Shut up, please.” Was all Dean said, pulling the blanket over his head to keep out the sun streaming through the window.

“Good morning to you too. Is that coffee and muffin I smell?” Sam sat up in his bed and looked gratefully at the table. “You're the best, thanks.” He added with a smile.

The best way to start a good day was with a good breakfast, you believed, and you knew the younger Winchester agreed, and that a little cheerfulness, sponsored by a little magic, couldn't hurt in the midst of monsters and supernatural cases. However, the other brother had been in a bad mood lately, and your positivity irritated him, especially when it came in the morning. Of course, he didn't know that the cheerfulness was fake, just an attempt to make him a little happy.

“Let's go! The day is beautiful today, the sun is shining and the birds are singing, all that deserves to be seen.” You said, giving Sam a smile to authorize him to throw a pillow to his brother. “It's so nice.”

You took a sip of your coffee and heard a groan from Dean as he received the pillow his brother had thrown at him. You let out a small mocking laugh.

“You know what's nice? Sleeping and not getting hit in the face by flying pillows.” He replied, finally sitting up grimly in bed, his eyes still closed.

“Be thankful, Winchester. I brought you a nice breakfast.” You said as you sat down in one of the chairs in the small dining room in front of Sam.

Finally, he opened his eyes and scanned you and then the table. He couldn't deny that his stomach rumbled and his mouth watered at the sight of the pie you'd bought. However, nothing took away the feeling of irritability and the headache from not getting the thousand hours of sleep he needed to be well.

“How can you be so happy and look so good in the morning?” He asked after looking at you from head to toe and snorting because you were all dressed up and glowing while he was still in his pajamas.

You raised your shoulders and heard Sam teasing his brother. At that moment, your cell phone vibrated and a message from Bobby asking you to call him caught your attention. You tried not to make the slightest grimace so the brothers wouldn't notice and worry.

“You two take a shower and get something to eat. I'll take a walk and wait for you to join me later.” You got up from your chair and walked briskly to the door.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Dean asked as soon as the door closed behind you and the creaking sound it made echoed in his head.

“Wrong? She bought us breakfast and she's happy, I don't see anything wrong.” Sam replied, frowning at his brother's attitude. “You're just in a bad mood.”

“I'm not.” Dean replied with a snort, getting out of bed and sitting down in the seat you had used earlier. “She's being weird.”

Until the last few weeks, your behavior had been very different, and the eldest Winchester had noticed it the most. In the past, you barely laughed at his bad jokes or cast spells that weren't meant to save a life on a hunt. Now you smiled so much he was surprised your face didn't hurt, and your spells of pure joy seemed endless. It was as if you had been injected with positivity and vitality.

“She's just happy, it's nice that one of us is.”

At his brother's comment, Dean snorted and began to eat his pie uncomfortably. It wasn't that it bothered him that you were happy, because that was the only thing he could wish for you, it was more a resentment that he couldn't be the same way.

“I think she's in love.” Sam said and took a sip of his coffee.

Automatically, Dean's disinterest in the conversation ended and all his senses kicked in.

“Why? By whom? Since when?”

“Suddenly she is happier, she doesn't stop texting and doesn't let go of her phone, she suddenly disappears and never says where she went, she is much more concerned about her appearance, I have seen her get up earlier to put on makeup and she has asked me a thousand times if she looks good, she rejects every boy who approaches her and she buys us rich food just for the sake of it. The other day I even heard her humming a love song. She is definitely dating someone.”

His brother's full explanation made Dean frown even more and his stomach churn, even the urge to eat was taken away. He didn't like that none of it made any sense, no matter how much it did.

“Or she just went crazy.” He said, putting aside the pie he had been devouring.

“Are you jealous?” Sam asked with some mockery in his tone.

“No. Shut up.”

“Come on, are you still in love with her?” The hunter asked with narrowed eyes, trying to decipher his brother's feelings, even if he only got bad looks from him. “Don't make faces, you told me so.”

And it was true, because months earlier, Dean had gotten drunk in a dive bar after you had almost been seriously injured on a hunt and decided to turn in early. Your absence, combined with the unlimited drinks that a fake card got him, made him finally spill his guts, even his darkest thoughts, to his brother. Most importantly, he confessed that he had been in love with you for years.

“Forget about that night, I was drunk.”

“Everyone says drunks tell the truth and I remember everything you said that night.” Sam remarked, taking a minute to mentally go back to that moment. “Oh Sammy help, I think she cast a love spell on me because I can't get her out of my mind. I don't know what to do anymore.” He put on a high-pitched voice to imitate him and remind him exactly of his words.

“I never said that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at his denial.

“Well, maybe I did say some things.” He finally admitted with some embarrassment. “But it was stupid.”

“Having feelings for someone isn't stupid, Dean. It's normal, and it was bound to happen to you sooner or later.”

He sighed and could feel the tension in his body rise. “Stop.”

“You can talk to me and...” Sam insisted again, trying to give him some understanding and reassurance, unaware that he was doing just the opposite.

It was definitely too much and made the eldest Winchester feel like a foolish, lovesick teenager chasing an unrequited love thanks to his brother's words. The whole situation infuriated him to no end, it seemed stupid and out of place when he was literally closer to death every day.

“I'm. Not. In. Love. With. Her.” He said slowly, punctuating his voice with every word. He had already lost his patience and only wished that Sam would leave him alone. “How could I fall in love with someone like that? Lately she's been so irritating and stressful. I don't need her songs, or her perfect smile, or her to buy us that damn dream breakfast. We're hunters, and we don't need a witch.”

As soon as he finished speaking and looked at his brother, he heard the door to the room slam shut, throwing an excessive amount of wind at them, almost knocking him out of his seat. It was then that he knew he was completely screwed.

“That was...?” He tried to ask with his voice somewhat shaky.

Dean didn't really need an answer, he knew you had heard him.

“You're an asshole.” That was all Sam said before he got up and walked to the door with the intention of talking to you.

“I'll go.” He said, grabbing his brother's arm and stopping him before he could leave. “I messed up...now pray I don't turn into a frog.”

“It's what you deserve.” Was the last thing Dean heard from his younger brother before he left the room and went to find you.

The sunlight and the sound of birds singing was the first thing he noticed when he left the room, it almost made him smile knowing that you had been right. It didn't take him long to guess that you were in the woods behind the motel, it was the kind of place you always said you found relaxing and probably where you would go when you wanted to get away. He walked quickly and after a few minutes he found you sitting on a rock, staring blankly.

“Get out of here, Winchester.” You said as soon as you felt his presence and heard the distinctive sound of his footsteps, without even turning to look at him. “Or I'll turn you into a rabbit.”

Dean almost smiled, he knew you liked rabbits.

“You have to listen to me, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...that. I didn't mean what I said.” He tried to explain in a confused way, unable to fully express himself. “It was a mistake.”

“What was a mistake, what you said or that I heard you say it?” You replied with irony in your tone, still not turning to look at him because you knew it would hurt.

“It was all a mistake, I shouldn't have said any of that because I don't believe it.” He replied, taking a few slow steps towards you to touch your shoulder. “Maybe I think you're acting weird, but I...”

“You what, Winchester?” You turned and walked away from his touch swiftly. There was something burning inside you from what you had heard and it was releasing everything you had been holding back. “You're going to tell me you don't need a witch because you're a hunter? Well, let me tell you yes because I'm the only one doing anything to save you from the damn deal you made!”

Finally, you stood up from the rock and looked him straight in the eye. You could see him turn pale and frozen at your words.

“How...how do you know?”

“I heard you talking to Sam.”

Once again, a conversation you weren't supposed to overhear had ruined everything for him.

“What have you done?” His tone was serious, there was not a hint of playfulness left, only concern.

Your lips were fully sealed for several seconds before you spoke. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

All the events of the last while began to flash through Dean's mind with speed and began to make a different kind of sense. Every argument his younger brother had given him about you being in love with someone and doing everything for that person made sense, only that someone was him.

“Tell me what you've done.” He repeated coming dangerously close to you. “I'm serious. I know you did something.”

It was so obvious that you couldn't stand by and do nothing to save him. So why didn't he ask for your help in the first place?

“That's why you bought me so much pie, you know I'm going to die. And the calls you make so much...what did you do?” He began to recapitulate all your strange attitudes in his mind and it bothered him that he hadn't noticed it before. “Tell me you haven't done anything stupid, please.”

“Doing so much for you when you don't appreciate it or care is the only stupid thing I've ever done in my life.” You tried to walk past him and leave, but he stopped you.

“You're going to tell me what you did and you're going to forget it.” He said firmly, never letting go of you for fear that you would leave. It was stupid, because he knew you could leave with a single spell if you wanted to. “Speak.”

You looked into his eyes for a few seconds and knew he meant it. He seemed more concerned about your actions than his own situation, and that confused you. You had heard him say how annoying you were and that he didn't need you, but your heart still pounded at his touch. You knew that if you confessed to him that you had been looking for ways to save him for months without caring about the consequences, you would look desperate and vulnerable, you didn't like it, but it was the truth.

“You don't want to talk? Fine, I accept that, but then you're going to stop whatever it is you're doing.” He said after waiting several minutes for you to speak and getting no response.

“But...”

“No buts, I'm serious. I don't want you to do anything, I didn't even want you to know about this before.” Dean sighed tiredly, as if he didn't know what to do. “And again, I'm so sorry for what you heard, it's not the truth and I only said it because Sam was bothering me. I do need you and know it, but not in this.”

“Why? It's my decision.”

“Listen to me for once in your life.” He moved closer until you could almost feel his breath and put a hand on your cheek. “I can lose myself, but I can't lose you, and you have to understand that or I'll go crazy.”

You froze in place, not knowing what to do or say.

“Please forget about it and go back to being yourself.” He finished.

“How am I supposed to do that? What am I supposed to do without you?” You asked, feeling your voice crack as you spoke. “I don't want to say goodbye.”

Dean didn't say anything, he just hugged you tightly, hoping that for once in your life you wouldn't fight. To his surprise, you clung to him and your fear of him disappearing became apparent. You lost count of how many times you heard him whispering to you to let it go, to focus on the present, and that he was with you now, kissing your forehead and repeating that everything was okay.

“Will you turn me into a rabbit if I kiss you now? Be honest.” He asked as soon as he was able to pull away from you a little to look into your eyes.

“Honestly? No. Would I like to? Yes.”

One of his hands rested on your waist and the other tangled in your hair, pulling you closer to him and finally shortening the small distance that separated you. You saw him smile for a few seconds before he placed his lips on yours, letting you know that you had indeed lost your mind. His movements were soft and slow, something you had never imagined from him before, and it surprised you for the better. He seemed to be making an effort to be gentle and that, combined with the sweet taste the pie had left on his lips, had you hypnotized.

Time flew, and almost as if under a spell, you broke the kiss only when your human need for oxygen appeared. You could only guess that it had been a while because his lips were red and he seemed as agitated as you were. All you knew was that you had waited a long time for this and that the possibility of losing him was a thousand times more terrifying now.

“Part of me has been grateful all along to know that I will die before you.” He spoke, and you looked at him as if he were completely insane, because he probably was. “Really, don't look at me like that.”

“Sure, you always want to win and go first.” You rolled your eyes, tried to fake a laugh, and hugged him tighter.

“No, I just can't imagine life without you, my sweet witch.”

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙩 || dieter bravo x camgirl!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || being quarantined in his hotel room has dieter getting a little stir crazy, and when the drugs run out, he has to find a new vice. that's how he found you.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (18+ only; phone/video call sex, use of toys, male and female masturbation), sex work (obviously, look at the title), dieter being down astronomically bad with a burgeoning housewife kink, basically nothing to do with the movie he's from whatsoever it's just porn with almost no plot

(my challenge for @the-slumberparty this week was to write a fic that has a bouquet of flowers somewhere in it! leave it to me to find a way to include that in something so insanely smutty...)

He couldn’t stop watching you—both right now, in this moment, and just generally.

Right now, he couldn’t take his eyes off the way your cunt slid up and down on the glass dildo, your walls gripping every ridge and detail of the toy, your arousal coating it and running in droplets down to the base.

And for the past two weeks, your videos had been his obsession.  Maybe it technically qualified as a porn addiction—but it wasn’t just about that.  He didn’t watch anyone else, and he didn’t even jerk off every time he watched one of your videos; sometimes he just liked hearing your voice, feeling less alone in quarantine in his hotel room.

Most people just put on sitcom reruns or the local news to make a hotel room feel less empty, but that didn’t work for Dieter.  Maybe being an actor ruined the illusion of scripted TV for him—and as for the news, well, nobody would be comforted by the news these days.

So he turned to the only comfort he could rely on when all else failed: masturbation.  But he didn’t like to do it without something to watch, and normally he would just find a video he liked and work with that, but something tempted him to try a cam site… and now he was never turning back.

You weren’t the first girl he saw, it took a little scrolling, but something about your channel caught his eye.  It didn’t take even a full stream before he was addicted: you scratched every itch.

First of all, though he didn’t want to be too shallow, he couldn’t deny that your body was just his type.  It felt like he could stare at you naked for hours and never get bored—and it drove him crazy that he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t turn you around and look at every inch of you.  Instead he just had to lay back and let you show what you wanted; in a way, it was like a dominance thing—he was a victim to your whims, he could only get what you offered and that was it. 

That said, you never left him wanting, that was the second thing he couldn’t resist about you.  Your videos were… indulgent, maybe that’s the word he was looking for: it was so much more than just a girl rubbing herself in front of the camera and calling it a night.  You spent a while talking with the viewers and reacting to comments, sometimes while undressing if you weren’t already naked; then, you upped the ante bit by bit, teasing yourself and him until it finally culminated in you bringing yourself to the peak over and over—until neither of you could take anymore.  He wasn’t just satisfied after watching you, he was exhausted, in the best way.

And lastly, this one was probably just him projecting, but you seemed… sweet?  Kinky, sure, but with something real about you—kinda that girl-next-door vibe.  Maybe it was because you started some of your videos in normal clothes—not lingerie, not a sexy nurse outfit or whatever people are into these days—just a baggy band t-shirt and shorts or an old hoodie and pajama pants.  It was hard not to imagine you as his girlfriend during those streams.  Actually, once he let himself do it, he couldn’t stop—and it got him harder than anything else.

Perhaps Dieter had a bit of a reputation, and most would say he wasn’t very… sentimental with women.  They wouldn’t be wrong, but they’d be misunderstanding him a bit.  Truth be told, he was a pretty sensitive guy, and he’d always wanted a real relationship, it was just difficult with his career.  Love is sort of like eating healthy: maybe you like to cook, maybe you like green beans and chicken breasts, but when a bag of potato chips is right there, you know what you’re probably gonna end up eating.

And Dieter really did go through ‘em like potato chips.  It was easier that way.  He got used to expressing his emotions through acting, and when emotions become your career, it’s a lot harder to be vulnerable for free.

Sometimes he wished he’d met you in person, somehow.  (Then again, right now he was wishing he could meet anyone in person.)  But if he’d met you in person, he would’ve probably just hit on you, convinced you to sleep with him, and then gone back to his same old habits—you would’ve just been another meaningless night.  Instead he was trapped in this hotel, using his laptop like a window to the outside world, and you had become his vice.  Even drugs couldn’t do for him what you could; the high you brought him was incomparable.

He told you just as much; sure, he felt like kind of a loser, but he started commenting on your streams hoping to get a reaction.  I think I’m addicted to your videos.  It was just one in a long string of adoring, horny comments that floated up alongside your video that day as you were casually touching yourself—one hand teasing your breast, pinching and circling the nipple, the other between your legs as you gently rubbed your clit.  You hadn’t noticed his comment that time—or if you had, you didn’t say anything—but the next time, you saw it.  You’d been using a vibe, taking it on and off your clit so you could edge yourself: that alone was a feat of self-discipline he couldn’t imagine.  Can’t wait to see you cum, he’d written, too worked up himself to really wonder if it was clever or interesting.

You smiled, a little breathless laugh coming out more through your nose than your mouth.  “Can’t wait to see you cum,” you repeated, “me either, buddy.  Shit.  Need to come so bad.”

Hearing you read his comment made him actually anxious—like an adrenaline rush, like when he was a kid and hadn’t gotten rid of his stage fright yet.  You had such an effect on him; his heart was still racing when he finally came—he managed to wait until you did, only because he didn’t start jerking off until the last minute.  Having to keep his throbbing dick out of his hand was an enormous task, but he knew that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.  And it was worth it, to come with you; he loved hearing your moans as you came, imagining how you’d sound if he was fucking you—imagining all his come painting your stomach or ass or even going inside you…

And now, right now, he was imagining that last thing—imagining filling you with his come.  You rode that glass dildo beautifully, and when he moved his hand at just the right pace, he could watch and feel the way you would ride him.

“Mm, y’like that?” you moaned, looking back at the camera—damn, if you looked back at him like that while you were on his cock he’d be a fucking goner.

“Yeah,” he panted, in real life, because responding to you aloud was a bad habit when he was close to coming.

“Wanna come in me?” you encouraged, and he bit his lip as he nodded; he wanted to shut his eyes from the pleasure, but he couldn’t miss a second of you picking up the pace as you bounced on the toy.  “Wanna fucking come inside me?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he panted out, starting to fuck up into his hand when your pace felt teasingly slow (even though it was already getting so much faster).

“C’mon baby, I want it—come in me, nice and deep,” you begged, voice getting shakier as your own orgasm neared.  “Can you come with me?  Please?  Just fill me up right as you make me come—fuck, so good—”

“God, baby,” he whined, tightening up his stomach to try not to come instantly.  Thankfully, he only had to hold out a few more seconds before he heard you start to make those undeniable moans: when you came, you were loud.  He fucking loved that.

“Yes, yes!” you screamed, and he swore he could see the way your pussy squeezed that toy, he could see the shiver that ran up your spine—he’d give anything to feel that squeeze on his cock, to feel that shiver under his hands…

Come painted his hand, splattering onto his chest and thighs; if only he’d had the thought in advance to take his robe off entirely before he did this, now he was going to have to send some very shameful laundry to the front desk.

“Fuck, that was intense,” you laughed breathlessly as you started to recover.  He could tell you were still a bit shaky as you lifted yourself off the dildo— and he winced, the last drop of come squeezing out of his slit, when he saw the way your pussy was left gaping for juuust a moment by the toy.  Then one squeeze and it was like you were back to normal; she’s fucking incredible, he thought to himself, finally taking his hand off of his softening dick.

Panting, he felt the slightest tinge of shame in the back of his mind.  Not just shame, actually, but loneliness: he watched you smile and turn to face the camera again, reading the slew of filthy praises in your comments, and he just wished it was the two of you— in real life, alone, holding each other…

But this was easier, this was so much easier.  Being alone meant there was no one here to judge him, and that was worth having no one to wrap up in his arms in a time like this.

As he snagged a tissue from the bedside table to wipe himself off, he listened to you read and react to some comments.  “Thanks, guys,” you beamed as you were overwhelmed with so hot and I just came so hard and you’re perfect.  “You flatter me, stop it…”

He had to bite his lip when you started to play with your own tits, seemingly out of nowhere.

“They’re so sensitive after I come,” you explained with a giggle, then a moan as you pinched and teased the buds.  “Have any of you ever tried that?  Playing with your nipples?”

Dieter laughed as the comments poured in: what? that’s fucking gay all the way to I’m doing it right now for you my queen

“Oh god, has it been an hour already?  I think I need to hop off, guys,” you announced.

Instantly the chat was flooded with pleas of don’t go!! and ten more minutes and how much do we tip for more time?

“If anybody wants to keep the conversation going, private chats are on sale on my page right now,” you explained with a friendly smile.  “But if not I’ll see you tomorrow!  Or, you’ll see me.”

With a flirty wave to the camera, the image froze and blurred; STREAM ENDED popped up on the screen.  It was already trying to suggest other streamers live right now that he could watch, but Dieter only sighed and shut his laptop.

Seven seconds later, he opened it again.

“Private chats…” he mumbled to himself remembering what you said.  He knew that you offered other services on your page, but something about you mentioning it this time got his attention.  As he considered for a second if he should’ve washed his hands before touching the trackpad, he navigated to your page and looked at the menu of additional services for purchase.  The list was long: private chats, as you’d mentioned; custom videos anywhere from 15 minutes to a concerningly-long two hours; a subscription to daily nude pictures, sent via Snapchat; even used panties available for shipping anywhere in the US and Canada.

He was originally just going to get a custom video, but as he scrolled through more options, he saw one-on-one video chat, and he got that feeling again—the adrenaline rush.  It took him a second to even compose himself enough to read the description.

Do you hate having to share me with all the other viewers during my streams?  I’d love to have some personal time to get to know you better, and do exactly what you’ve been dreaming of.  You can use voice if that’s easier for you than text—top fans can even turn their camera on if they so desire.

A half-hour video chat was only $75— that sounded like a steal to Dieter right now— and they were available to book as soon as tomorrow.  The idea made him feel all tingly and weird, but weird in a good way.

Top fans can even turn their camera on…

His constant engagement with your page for the last couple weeks had earned him the ‘top fan’ badge.  When he imagined showing you his face, his body, he got unexpectedly anxious, though; he wasn’t a particularly shy guy, but this was a delicate issue.  What if you recognized him?  What if you were a fan?  That would be weird— in a bad way.

Or what if you were a fan and you were overcome with the need to send him free videos, free pictures, even being willing to meet up with him sometime?  That would be… convenient, certainly, in some ways; but the thought overwhelmed him, and he decided that if he was going to buy one of these chats, his camera would have to stay off.  Just not worth the trouble.

He decided something else, too; a strange instinct, but one he was too deep in his post-orgasmic haze to resist.  He wanted to send you a gift.  Mostly, he hoped it would set him apart from other viewers— give you two something to talk about during that call.  If he bought you a toy from your wishlist, maybe you could use it for the first time for him… that would be incredibly hot.

Or maybe he’d buy you something more normal, like a nice throw pillow for the bed you laid on for some of your videos… the domesticity of that certainly attracted him.

But then, he had a simpler idea.  When in doubt while giving a gift to a woman, why not stick to the classics, right?

There was a P.O. Box for fanmail and gifts on your page, and he pulled up another tab to search: can you send flowers to a po box?

Just because he was a whore didn’t mean he wasn’t a romantic.

~

“I have to say, I get a lot of gifts… never gotten flowers before.”

His heart warmed to hear you say that— but it didn’t stop racing.  This felt different: having you here, in only a t-shirt and panties as he’d seen you many times, but knowing it was just for him… he loved it, but it was a little scary.  In a good way.  “Do you like them?” he asked.

“Yeah!” you smiled, fiddling with the stems as the vase sat beside you.  “Pink roses, lilies, orchids… you’re gonna spoil me, Hector.”

(Yes, he gave you his real name.  Ironically, he used it to hide who he actually was— but he liked hearing you say it.)

“Not that I mind,” you added with a wink.  “Do you mind if I have these in the background of my next stream?  They'll match the toy I'm gonna use."

"O-oh, yeah, sure,” he choked.  “What toy are you gonna use?”

You smirked a little, to the point that he almost felt stupid for asking that— but you didn’t mind showing him, in fact you had it ready and showed the baby-pink toy off for him.  His throat got a little tighter when he saw the U-shape of the toy; didn’t take a genius to imagine where that would go… and already his mind was jumping ahead to how you’d look with those silicone ends penetrating both your holes—

“Looks like fun,” he managed to get out, and you looked pretty proud of yourself for making him a bit flustered.

“Do you wanna turn your camera on?” you offered suddenly after you’d set the toy aside.  “No pressure, of course.”

He went through a whole rollercoaster when you asked that.  Because yes, he did—sort of.  But would it just make things more complicated?  What if you were uncomfortable with him being famous, thought he might expose you or something—or, more concerningly, what if you exposed him?  Or what if you just berated him with dumb fan questions when he was trying to forget about his life right now?  “Uh,” he stalled, “is it okay if I don’t, this time?”

“Of course, it’s all up to you,” you replied.  “I’m just a little curious… you have a sexy voice.  Gotta wonder if it matches.”

He didn’t even know if you would think he was sexy—he certainly hoped so, but maybe you had a type of your own.  Maybe you were a lesbian, how should he know?  “Thanks,” he hummed, “you too—but, you know, all of you is sexy.”

“Aw shucks,” you said as you struck a pose, putting your hands under your chin and batting your eyes to complete the sarcastic impression of innocence.  He laughed, and it reminded him why your videos were so special— ‘cause you made him laugh like that.  “You know, a lot of people book these chats because they have a specific kink they want me to try for them,” you explained.  “What about you?  Why’d you book this?”

“Is it weird if I just… kinda wanted to talk to you?”

His heart skipped when he saw your reaction—the shy, tender smile that appeared on your face.  “No, that’s not weird,” you replied, and for some reason it was how incredibly sweet you looked right then that made his cock jump in his boxers.  “We can talk about whatever you want.”

“Can we talk about you?”

“Not much to talk about,” you shrugged, smirking a bit; of course you were teasing him, he didn’t even mind.

“I really doubt that,” he chuckled.  “Is this your only job?  Do you do anything else?”

“I, uh, used to do something else,” you answered, “but then they found out about this.”

“Oh, that sucks…”

“Nah, worked out for the best.  Started making way more when I had more time to put into it,” you nodded.  “I like this a lot better, actually.  No sick leave, but no dress code, either.”

“Yeah, that’s a plus,” he nodded, even though you couldn’t see him.

“What about you?  What do you do?”

“Um… I’m an actor,” he replied.  He considered lying, but couldn’t come up with anything else.

“Oh, that’s really cool!” you smiled.  “Wouldn’t have seen you in anything, would I?”

“Probably not,” he laughed off your question.  “Do you, um, have any hobbies?  You must not have a lot of spare time, with people paying for chats and custom videos and all…”

“I take a few days off, here and there,” you nodded, “mostly I just like movies and stuff.”

That made him even more anxious that you would know who he was.  He still hadn’t decided if that would be a good thing or a bad thing, though.

“I like to cook,” you added. 

It was starting to feel like you were intentionally targeting his newly developed girlfriend fetish.  Instantly his mind was flooded with all this domestic bullshit: shopping with you for ingredients, coming home to a fresh dinner, waking up to you in the kitchen wearing his shirt and flipping pancakes.  “I like to eat,” Dieter replied, “we’re so compatible.”

You laughed, and if this was all just some act where you pretended to think he was funny and interesting, it was the best acting he’d seen in a while.  “Are you flirting?” you noticed, raising an eyebrow as if to point out how fitting-yet-bizarre it was for him to be hitting on you—because he didn’t need to, you were his for the half-hour regardless.  But he liked this better, and he loved making you laugh.

“Maybe,” he offered cryptically in return.

“Is that what the flowers were for?  Are you trying to seduce me?” you accused with a grin.

“Those were just to get your attention,” he admitted.

“Hector, honey,” you cooed, making his heart skip.  “You already have my attention.”

That excited him and his dick, which was now making a tent in his boxers as it waited for some of your promised attention; somehow, just casually-flirtatious conversation with you was almost hotter to him than the usual stuff.  Maybe he was just a little burnt out on all that by now— because talking to you had become much more valuable than seeing you naked.

“Just tell me one thing about you,” you bargained.

“Alright,” he agreed.

“Are you hard?”

He swallowed.  “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice sounding weaker than he meant it to.  You smirked a little.

“We don’t have to,” you assured him, “but if you’re interested, why don’t we get off together, hm?  Does that sound okay?”

Was it a good sign that you were initiating this, or did it just mean you were getting impatient with him?  God, it didn’t matter—he was gonna do whatever you wanted.  “Okay,” he answered.  “Yeah—that sounds… more than okay.”

Biting your lip slightly, the way you looked at the camera almost made him feel like you were sizing him up—even though all you could see was a black screen.  “Are you touching your cock already?”

“N-no, I… I still have boxers on,” he replied.  “Should I?”

“No, you should rub it a little through the boxers,” you instructed.  “That’s what I’m gonna do—touch my clit through these panties.  It’s even more sensitive when I do that, don’t ask me how.”

“R-right, okay,” he nodded.  He already liked taking instructions from you more than he thought he would.  His hand spread out over the bulge in the cotton, a sigh slipping from his lips as he started to find the right amount of pressure so he wouldn’t get too into it too fast.

His eyes were transfixed on the way you spread your legs, and he swore your panties already looked a little damp…

Your finger traced delicately over the seam of your pussy, and his balls tightened up at the way you sighed as you teased yourself.  “You should play with your tits, too,” he informed you, his own voice sounding shaky as he tried to hold back from just getting his cock out and jerking off as fervently as he wanted to.

“You’re just full of good ideas, huh?” you joked, taking your free hand and pinching yourself through your shirt.

“Then here’s another one for you,” he offered, “take something off.”

“Shirt or panties?” you asked.

“Dealer’s choice.”

You smiled and surprised him by lifting your hips, pulling your underwear down your thighs before kicking them off to the side.  For some reason, even though he gave you the choice, he expected you to take the shirt off first; and there was something surprisingly sexy about you still having that casual t-shirt on and nothing else.  (Likely, it was because it made it easier to imagine you just wearing one of his shirts…)

It added a new thrill to the now-familiar sight of your pussy— not that he ever got bored of that view.  “Can you— can you spread it for me?” he panted, nearly whimpering when you took two fingers and scissored apart your lips.  “Fuck, got such a pretty hole, baby…”

He saw it flex as you heard the compliment, and he couldn’t help but moan quietly.  “Yeah?  Have you thought about how good it would feel?” you encouraged with a sigh.  “How good this hole would feel on your cock?”

“Every fucking day,” he promised.  

“Then take it out,” you instructed breathily.  “Start touching your cock, and think about what it would be like if I was there touching you instead.”

Though he was glad to do as you’d said, pulling his throbbing erection from his boxers with a sigh, he had to disobey one of your commands.  “No, m’thinking about a lot more than that,” he replied, and you cracked a smile as you rubbed your clit faster.  “Thinking about being— fuck— inside you…”

You hummed happily; after all that teasing, he was so sensitive and worked up that it felt like he was already fighting to hold himself back.  He certainly couldn’t keep his pace down— right away he was stroking himself quickly, struggling to keep it together.

“Thinking about how fucking tight you are,” he added with a groan, loving the little whimper you let out in return.

“Hector, baby,” you moaned, and he hadn’t heard that name said that way in a very long time.  “This might be over sooner than I thought if you talk like that…”

“Good,” he decided, “it’s not gonna take me very long, either— you always make me like that.”

“How would you fuck me?” you asked, panting, rocking your hips against your hand.  “Tell me how you’d fuck me, baby.”

“Fuck, I—hard,” he choked out.  “So fucking hard—”

“Mm,” you moaned encouragingly.

“And I’d eat you out,” he decided, “before and after.  I’ve been dying to know how your pussy tastes.”

“After, huh?  Is that with your come inside?” you wondered.  “Or did you wanna come on my tits?”

“Inside,” he groaned.  “I’d eat my—fuck—eat my come out of you, I don’t care.”

“That’s dirty,” you purred, “I like it.  I like a man who can clean up his mess.”

“Never liked coming inside that much until I started watching your streams,” he admitted.  “Now it’s all I can think about—coming inside you.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, “want you to think about that when you come for me now, okay?  Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” he promised, moving his hand faster and feeling that tension in his gut that told him the breaking point was approaching.

“Think about filling me up,” you continued, “giving me all that come, so deep inside—”

“Fuck,” he hissed, “are you close too?”

“Baby, I’ve been trying not to come since we fucking started,” you admitted— and maybe it was a lie, but he bought it joyously.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he gasped, “I’m gonna come so hard— fuck yes— gonna come for you…”

“Do it,” you begged, “I want you to, I want you to come, Hector.”

“You— you should come, too,” he countered with a shaking gasp, his cock already starting to flex as he knew he was seconds away from losing it.

“I will,” you promised with a smile, your voice itself turning every word into a moan, “I’m gonna come with you, baby, fuck— lemme hear it, wanna hear you come—”

He came with a grunt, squeezing down on his cock with his fist as come launched out in long pulses; “F-fuck, I’m coming, ahhh fuck,” he narrated— normally he wouldn’t say something like that, but you had asked to hear it, so…

“Me too, I— oh!” you shouted, and he watched with heavy eyes as you tossed your head back, hips rocking up into nothing— your hand was a blur over your pussy but he swore he could see it pulsing and clenching, creamy slick leaking slowly from your hole.

The last of his come came out as a fat droplet running down his shaft, making his fingers unpleasantly sticky as the ringing in his ears subsided and he began to slowly come back to reality.  You were panting, pushing yourself just a bit further until your whole body jolted and you quickly pulled your hand away.

“God,” you groaned, “that was… draining.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, laughing a little at how wrecked his own voice sounded.  

“I wish I could just, like, take a nap right now,” you admitted with a tired grin.

“I mean, you could— we’re almost out of time…” he noticed.

“No, I— yeah, I could, but I have something after this,” you replied, and he felt a little twist in his chest.  He didn’t blame you at all for it, but it made him jealous to think of you hopping right on to your next call— it made him feel like he was just one of your thousands of fans, which is not how he wanted you to think of him at all.

“Another call?” he assumed.

“No, just private chats,” you corrected, which somehow made him feel a little bit better, “and I should probably post a few things for my Snapchat— we’ll see.  I will definitely need a break before my stream tonight, though… will I see you there?  Proverbially?”

He smiled a little.  “Yeah, definitely.”

“Drink plenty of fluids before then,” you winked.  “Thanks for calling, Hector… I hope we can do this again sometime.”

It’s an upsell, she’s not actually into you, she’s not actually into you, he tried to force himself to believe.  But it was so much easier, so much more fun, to imagine that you really liked him— that those flowers stood out enough for you to realize that he’s different.

You both said your polite goodbyes and the call ended.  He was definitely sleepier than he anticipated after all that— you said you were, too, which made him just want to have you here even more so you could fall asleep on his shoulder and he wouldn’t have to be alone in this bed for the seemingly-thousandth time in a row.

Exhausted to the bone, some impossible mix of satisfied and starving for more of you, Dieter sighed and shut his laptop.

Seven seconds later, he opened it again.  He wanted to book his next video call before he passed out.

~

thank you so much for reading! if you're interested in a second part to this, please let me know by reblogging or maybe even leaving a comment! you can read my other works for pedro pascal characters here or check out my full masterlist here

[thewritetofreespeech]

Night 221: Liar’s Night

words: 1.7K rating: E pairing: Gale x Tav summary: A night for tricks & treats at the annual Blackstaff Academy Masquerade Ball. An certainly more treats than tricks that Gale had hoped for. tags: kinktober - masquerade, f!oral, public sex, fluffy smut

Ao3 - 1000 Night Series

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

Gale huffed as he adjusted his mask, trying to straighten it. It was rather itchy too. He wished he could have just used a glamour like some many of his colleagues tonight.

Liar’s Night. A festival in honor of Leira & Mask, gods of trickery, deception, and illusion.

It was often celebrated with people dressing up in costume to ‘trick’ the gods into thinking they were someone else. Though celebrated up & down the Sword Coast, in Waterdeep, the celebration was very elaborate. As home to one of the greatest magical academies, people took their effort in the illusions very serious.

None more so than the academy itself.

As a student, Gale often wondered what the professor’s masquerade ball was like. The smaller celebration for students was often quite involved, so he had to assume that the professor’s was over the top. It did not disappoint. The main ballroom had been decorated with beautiful crystals straight from the Underdark and beyond. Intricate weavings of pumpkin vines from some of the best herbologist magicians this side of the druids. Candles floated in mid-air, a common trick, but would change on their own with the tempo of the music played by an invisible orchestra. Seeing his colleagues unbutton their collars for a bit, dressed so unique & silly, was also quite impressive.

“Gale my boy, where is that enchanting wife of yours?”

“Hard to say, Elminster.” Though not on staff at the academy, a wizard of Elminster’s acclaim was welcome at any magical gathering. And Elminster would go just about anywhere with free cheese. “It’s a little hard to see with this mask.”

“Hmmm…her suggestion, I take it?” The older wizard asked. Though not really asked, as he seemed to already have his answer before Gale nodded. “I thought as much. Do not take this the wrong way, my boy, but I would not have thought a proud peacock like you would cover put his visage so willingly.”

“Did you just call me vain Elminster?”

“Not so much ‘vain’ as more….proud of your appearance. And which you should be, my boy. Enjoy your looks and your youth while you can. They will be gone from you sooner than you know.” The older man huffed a little, seeming defeated by the weight of his own years a bit, before he sipped his wine. “I will leave you to search for your mate then. Do say goodbye before you leave though.”

“We’ll find you by the buffet I take it?” Gale quipped as his old mentor departed.

Alone in the crowd for a moment, Gale continued to try and scan the room for his wife. She had said that she would met him at the party, saying it was silly for him to come all the way back from classes just to return a few hours later. Gale said he didn’t mind what man would, arriving at a party with a beautiful woman on his arm but she insisted.

“Excuse me kind sir,” he turned around at the gentle tap on his shoulder, thinking it was someone looking for the loo again, and felt all the air rush out of his lungs, “could you direct me to the nearest stream?” There before him was Tav. His beautiful Tav. Dressed in what he could only assume was a water nymphs costume.

The intricate, flimsy material moving around her body like waves on the sea. The flecks of sparkle like moonlight blinking in the sea. Her mask, not nearly as cumbersome as his, just some delicate pieces of white coral by her temple with makeup over her eyes. Clearly her inspiration that of the Umberlee charges they helped while in the Gate. But where they looked ready to slay a man in divine vengeance for their Bitch Queen, Tav looked as if she would lure a man to the sea, who would willingly follow as a sacrifice to the Mother of Oceans for just one more glance at her.

“There…there are no streams here.” Gale replied. Collecting himself and turning fully towards her. “But there’s a pretty large fountain in the south corridor I could interest you in.”

Tav giggled. The sound like sea breeze through a chime. “I suppose I will have to make do. What’s a handsome man like you washing up on these shores?”

“I’m looking for someone.” Gale told her. “A missing love.”

“Missing? Oh, how horrible.” She stepped closer and placed her hand at his chest. Even with the thick cut of his jacket he could feel her pulse there. Although maybe that was his own heart. “Anything I can do, to help a poor lost sailor?”

Gale clasped her hand and, without a word, cast Dimensional Door. Suddenly, they were no longer in the thick of the party but in a secluded, unused portion of the ballroom. Gale torn off his mask and threw it to the ground somewhere in the dark before he kissed Tav feverously.

“Where did you get this dress?” He asked when he finally let her go.

“I made it.” She told him; would her wonders never cease. “I thought it would be a cute couples costume. Nymph and pirate.”

Suddenly his outfit made sense. Gale hadn’t questioned it. Interested in the party but less on what he was wearing, and trusted her judgement. “Well then, it seems I have caught myself a nymph in my net.” Gale replied. Falling back into ‘character’. “According to legend, that entitles me to three wishes for your freedom.”

Tav giggled again. “Alright. What are your wishes, handsome sailor?”

“I want to taste you.”

Gale kissed Tav again, deeper this time, before he moved down to her neck. Her skin tasted like salt. Gale wondered if she had added it to make her costume that much more authentic, or if it was just his imagination. He moved further down. Kissing the patches of skin her costume left dangerously bare as he moved the kneel in front of her. “Gale,” Tav hissed quietly, “we’re at a party!”

“You said you would grant me any three wishes.” He reminded her. Her blush an intoxicating contrast with all the blue. “This is my wish.”

With no further complaints from Tav, Gale moved the ruffles of her skirt aside. Letting them fall over him like a curtain as he reached up to spread her legs and lapped at her center. His wife moaned. Fingers gripping into his shoulders at the hem of her skirts to keep quiet. Gale used his practiced tongue to work her open. Moving one leg carefully onto his shoulder by her hand to give him more room. Taste her deeper. He was pleased to feel Tav buck her hips against him in a soft cadence. Using his mouth to gain her pleasure. His cock straining in his pants in reply.

In the quiet dark of their little corner, Tav moaned between the bite of her bottom lip as she came for him. Her sweet ocean coating his tongue before he pulled out from under her skirts. “Everything you wished for?”

“And then some.” Gale replied. Looking up at her with reverence before he stood to his feet. “For my next wish, I wish to be inside you.”

“Yes please.”

Tav wasted little time helping him unlace his pants and hike up her skirts again. Gale was pleased with her eagerness. Maybe it was the moment, or the fact that they were still at his work party, but she seemed quick to join with him; compared to their usual slow & passionate love making.

Gale held on to Tav’s legs when she wrapped them around his waist. Using the wall to brace them before he slid his cock inside. His little nymph moaned. Clinging to him as he fucked her. Thrusting in & out with ease from the wetness of her orgasm and tongue just moments ago.

“Don’t stop.” She begged him. “Feels so good. Don’t ever stop Gale.”

How Gale wished that could be true. To be joined with her always. To be one forever and feel her around his cock for eternity. Sadly though, all good things must come to an end, and the wizard grunted as his hips stopped. Coming deep inside her.

Gently, he let Tav down and allowed them to adjust themselves. Gale groaned as he straightened his back. The lower part tense from the strain and his impulse decision to lift his wife. Well worth it, but he was paying the price now.

“Shall we go back to the party for a bit, my love?”

“Yes we…Oh…Oh dear…” Tav giggled as she looked at Gale. Covering her mouth as she snickered. “Your face is covered in blue.”

Gale was surprised, although he really shouldn’t be, and touched his cheek to find blue paint at his fingertips. “Nine hells…” It was probably in his beard too. It would not do to go out looking like this; their disheveled appearance already a dead give away that they had not been taking in the pumpkin displays nor the night air.

“Think we can sneak out the back?” Tav asked.

“Now that you mention it, I just so happens I know a way to sneak out through this back hall.” A memory for his school days that was proving quite useful.

The couple snuck out through Gale’s hidden escape route and out off the campus to head back home. Once there, he took Tav in his arms again. “Sorry my impulsiveness ruined your costume. And the chance to show it off.” He apologized. “You just looked so lovely. I couldn’t help myself.”

Tav chuckled at his apology and offered him a kiss. “No need to be sorry. We’ll be better prepared for next year I suppose.” Gale smiled. Delighted at the thought of next year. And the year after that. And the year after that.

His wife wrapped his arms around his neck to stare lovingly at him. “You never told me your third wish, sailor.”

Gale grinned. He tilted her chin up, holding just before their lips touch to whisper, “Forever.” His one wish. His only wish for a very long time.

Tav leaned up to seal their lips together. Like the stamp on a contract. “Done.” She told him. “Now, handsome sailor,” Gale grunted as Tav hopped up into his arms. His lower back whining again as he held her up. “You’ve caught yourself and sullied a fine nymph this day. You’ll have to clean her up.”

“Oh yes, woe be unto he who interrupts a nymph’s bathing rituals.” He teased back. His cock already getting excited again as he carried her to their bathing suite. Eager to show his water nymph how long he could hold his breath for.

[ferrstappen]

the first one l Charles Leclerc imagine

a/n: so, I just KNOW Charles is a girl dad. I know three is his sweet spot, but idk if the boy would be the middle child or the youngest. what do you think? also, I'm working on requests and the collection pls trust me, but I'm a law student trying to hold my life together and not having a nervous breakdown every day &lt;3

this first piece of dad!Charles is from this request &lt;3

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader.

genre: dad!Charles, fluff.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, not proofread bc I don't have time for that shit.

summary: Charles tries to prepare to be the best dad for his daughter, even if she's just two days old.

It wasn't fun being heavily pregnant.

Yes, the illusion and excitement of a baby coming to complete your family was an emotion neither you nor Charles had the proper words to explain. Friends and even strangers affirmed it was going to be the most magical moment of your life, that you wouldn't even be able to imagine life before your daughter.

But that wasn't relevant now, it was the furthest thing on your mind, sleep being the only thing remotely important at the moment, and it didn't seem to come as a faint light was coming from the opposite side of the bed.

Charles was shirtless, probably cold while slightly propped on some pillows, reading something on his Kindle, a small frown noticeable between his brows. He clearly was very concentrated on whatever he was reading, the only thing that made his attention shift was the light groan you let out. Of course Charles' instantly put his attention on you, the muscles on his neck showing with the fast movement.

"What happened? Are you okay?" He asked you, his eyes fixed on your figure, very carefully placing his hand on your swollen belly.

"No, I'm not okay because I can't sleep and I have to sleep since your daughter is sucking every bit of energy and space left on my body, and to make matters worse, the light of your kindle makes it impossible to sleep," You said with a pettish tone, but Charles wasn't fazed, after almost nine months he was used to the mood swings. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm being such a bitch I'm sorry," and before you could stop, tears started streaming down your face, and that gained a reaction from Charles.

"No no no no, chérie. It's okay, it's just the hormones, it's fine," He carefully rubbed your swollen belly, feeling how the baby moved relentlessly. "Why do you move when mama is trying to sleep, mignonne?" Charles asked his unborn daughter, knowing with certainty she was listening to him.

"Because she's your daughter, why else?" You answered and he laughed, playfully rolling his eyes. "What are you reading in there, anyways?" This time you placed your hand on his hair, knowing Charles loved the little touches of affection.

He sheepishly smiled, "It's this book I found about pregnancy and the first weeks of the baby," he answered with a quiet tone, likely waiting for you to mock him.

Instead, fresh tears started streaming down your face, again. Sending Charles into a panic, again. "No no no no, chérie!"

✨✨✨✨

The apartment looked like a mess, the baby had arrived just two days earlier and didn't have time to even think about cleaning the extremely spacious penthouse overlooking the ocean, only focused on the little lilac bundle sleeping on her crib.

Since you left the hospital in the morning, where you asked for privacy and to not have any visitors, friends were constantly texting if now was a good time to visit you and the adorable newborn. You could've sworn every person in Monaco had made their way inside your family home.

First it was Carmen and George, with Alex and Lily, with a gorgeous bouquet of lilies for you, and carrying a large Zara kids bag with multiple cashmere onesies and clothes that would probably last a couple of weeks since, as Charles read on his book, babies grow up "very fast". Charles got a pat on the back.

Then followed Fred, with a huge basquet for both you and Charles, courtesy of the entire Ferrari team, and lots of small Ferrari merchandise.

Fred wasn't even out the door when Carlos and Isa quietly made their way inside, now with a bouquet of pink roses and a gorgeous and timeless Louis Vuitton baby blanket. Again, Charles received a pat on the back from Carlos as you carefully placed your daughter on Isa’s arms.

Charles had the biggest dark circles you’d ever seen under his eyes, and you probably looked worse, dealing with the recovery of your own body after giving birth. Right when you thought you could take a nap, Max, Lando, Kelly and Penelope arrived.

Of course they tried to make a statement, with multiple balloons, Gucci and Burberry bags for the baby. Of course Max was a natural holding her, cautiously kneeling for Penelope to see her. Lando nervously laughed and the only thing he was able to say was "she's so tiny", telling you he'd hold her when she was a little bigger.

It was almost 3 PM when Charles forced you to lay down, reminding you of the stages of healing after giving birth as he read in the book. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, waking up every ten minutes because, apparently, mother instincts didn't take very long to kick in. That's why you immediately woke up when you heard low voices, quickly recognizing the voices of your in-laws. Carefully getting up and trying to look presentable, you walked towards the nursery.

No one noticed you, both Arthur and Lorenzo enthralled by their niece while Pascale held her, whispering sweet nothings in French as her granddaughter placed her tiny hand around Pascale's thumb.

Then, Charles demeanor changed.

You could see it as soon as Pascale placed the baby in Arthur's arms. His back tensed and he stood straighter, instantly moving closer towards his younger brother.

"Arthur, you have to hold her head," Charles told off his brother, carefully placing Arthur's hand on the baby's head.

He still was standing closely and worried, hand on his chin while staring at his brother. "No, Arthur don't move your arm like that," Again, he fixed his brother's arm. "No, Arthur fix your stance, you need to hold her still," His breathing was getting faster and then he couldn't take it anymore.

Arthur was perfectly holding her, but Charles simply couldn't bare with the fact of his brother making a microscopic wrong move and something happening to his daughter, his mignonne, é carina.

"No, give her to me, you're doing everything wrong." Charles carefully took his daughter off Arthur's arms.

Ignoring Arthur's shocked face and Pascale's amused expression, everyone noticed how the baby nuzzled in her papa's arms, instantly yawning and moving her hands as if she was trying to reach him; Charles instantly relaxed, feeling her against his chest and knowing she was okay because she was with him.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I think he's kind of overprotective," You said entering the room. Pascale immediately approached you, asking how you were feeling and how much pain you were in.

"Poor her, honestly. She's doomed to have Charles as her shadow forever, she won't be able to go to school or anything!" Lorenzo chimed in, making everyone laugh, except for Charles of course.

"You haven't told us her name! We've been calling her mini (Y/N)," Arthur asked, admiring his niece from afar.

The only reason Charles lifted his gaze was to find your eyes, which you took as the cue to take your place next to your family, resting your head on Charles' shoulder.

"Josephine. We are still thinking about the second, we're seeing if Jules fits," You announced, Charles giving a bright smile to his family.

"I'm thinking of Josephine Sofia Jules Gia Leclerc," Charles said. Everyone in the room looked at each other with curiosity.

"She is not having four names, Charles!" The answer came quickly from you, the tone revealing this wasn't the first time it was discussed.

"Okay then, three?"

Josephine, that's what's clear.

[strrynigghts]

unexpected news

— könig x fem!preg!reader

— cw/tw: pregnant reader, accidental baby, potential typos, 3am writing, babies, established early relationship, reader and könig don’t live together, illusion to house!wife reader though she has a job, fluff(?), english to german google translate, so I’m sorry if it’s not perfect! lmk if I’ve missed any!

— summary: y/n is pregnant with königs baby, and he finds out

— an: I apologise for my long absence! I’ve been on and off tumblr for a few weeks now. just have been busy and had major writing block unfortunately. I am officially moved into my new home, and my pets are a lot sometimes, especially with two jobs. I’ve been focusing more on life, rather than tumblr, hence another reason why I’ve been gone. this idea came to me when my bf and I talked about how many kids we’d prefer XD enjoy lovies :3

it was honestly an accident. you and könig got a little too into it one night, and the way you wrapped around him oh so tight, ugh. he couldn’t help it, ripping off his condom to stuff his seed deep in you, mumbling, “ich möchte, dass du die mutter meiner kinder bist, maus. bitte lass mich in dir kommen,” in german as he came inside, your eyes rolled back so far into your skull you couldn’t even comprehend what happened until you felt sick a few days later.

you’ve called out of work for the past week, telling your boss you have a bad case of the flu. but the pregnancy test in your hand had said otherwise. you were in fact pregnant, and you couldn’t help but slouch against the door to your bathroom, tears streaming down your face as you started wallowing in what only you could describe as self pity.

könig, ever the gentleman, bright you soups everyday up until he had a mission. but you wouldn’t answer the door, or his calls. you couldn’t face him. he was in the military for gods sake! he couldn’t care for a baby, and honestly, neither could you. your apartment was falling apart at the seams more or less, and you honestly felt terrible.

but it was on the second week, you decided to face könig and his coworkers. after a mission that went horribly wrong, you wanted to invite him and his team over. you made them their favourite foods, and even set up the table while they were on their way over. as königs girl, you honestly didn’t mind cooking for him, or his team. they were like his family, and you made sure your apartment provided them comfort when they couldn’t feel comfortable in their own homes.

when they arrived, könig was the first to greet you. “hello my maus,” he said softly, kissing you on the cheek before stepping further into your home, everyone else following behind him. they all sat and ate, while you messed with the food on your plate, your appetite not so much in the moment. you felt sick, so you excused yourself and dashed for the bathroom, bending over the toilet. “oh my love, are you okay? did the soup not help you? you’re still sick from before I left for the mission?” könig spoke softly, grabbing your hair so it was out of the way.

you kept lurching over the toilet, unaware that königs eyes locked onto the pregnancy test that sat semi hidden under a wad of toilet paper, his breath hitching as he glanced between you and the test.

“you’re pregnant?”

you whined, looking at him with teary eyes and a red face, nodding subtly. “I was going to tell you I swear! just wasn’t sure how you’d react. wanted to tell you when the time was right, könig.” sighing, you stood up, flushing the toilet as you looked at him as he eyed you.

in a flash, he pulled you into his chest, hugging you tightly. “I’m going to be a dad!” he laughed softly, grabbing your hand and pulling you back towards the team, shouting, “she’s pregnant! I’m going to be a dad!” they all smiled and clapped for him and you, saying their congratulations and whatnots.

you weren’t sure how’d this play out, but you were ready to go down this lane and see where it takes you, so long as könig remained by your side, and his team on the other, lending a supporting hand to you both when needed.

© 2024 strrynigghts | please don't copy, translate, or repost any of my works. reblogs and likes are encouraged however.

image credit here

[imsuperhungry]

4 𝙖𝙢 (entry 005)

"𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨,

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨"

WARNINGS: Mild Yandere Themes, Cussing, Mentions Of Blood, Mental Breakdown, I made reader sound kinda weak here...

WORD COUNT: 2202

(11:34, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʙɪɴ)

You could hardly distinguish whether the violent shivering that seized your body stemmed from the merciless bite of the wind or the crushing weight of the news Ashley had just unleashed upon you. All that mattered now was the desperate journey back to the cabin—where, despite the unsettling truth that clung to you like a shadow, the familiar embrace of warmth would provide a fleeting, comforting illusion of safety

When Ashley and Chris told you about Josh’s death, it felt as though the world stopped in its tracks, a heavy silence pressing into the conversation. You struggled to process the crushing weight of the moment, unable to fully grasp the magnitude of your situation. Not only had you lost the two girls you had come to think of as sisters over the years, but now, you had lost your “brother” as well.

Ashley’s panicked rambling continued after she told you about Josh’s death, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. Your mind was too consumed with thoughts of him. Josh—he had lost both of his biological sisters, and now, he had died on the same mountain as them. The guilt that had already been gnawing at you from the prank gone wrong with Hannah now felt like a crushing weight, multiplying with every passing second. You cursed yourself for not somehow intervening, for not magically saving Josh, even though deep down, you knew there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.

What you didn’t know was that when Matt and Emily were also informed of the killer on the mountain, something strange settled deep in their chests. It was as though a switch had flipped in both of them, a primal instinct that surged in different ways. For Emily, the feeling was overpowering, like a compulsion she couldn’t fight—a desperate, almost obsessive drive to protect you from whatever danger loomed ahead. It took hold of her quickly, like a parasite, consuming her thoughts and actions. Her sole objective was clear: get you out, and damn everyone else.

Matt’s reaction, though similarly intense, was more complicated. Along with the protective instinct, there was an undercurrent of something darker—a twisted excitement. Of course, the deaths of your friends should have been a cause for grief, not something to feel exhilarated about, but Matt couldn’t suppress the feeling that protecting you, being your knight in shining armor, might somehow redeem him in ways he hadn’t fully admitted to himself. And as the realization sank in, an internal, wicked grin spread across his face.

Matt quickly wiped the grin from his face, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. There was no time to waste.

You snapped out of your trance and turned to Emily, suddenly aware of the tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them until the cold liquid trickled down your neck, the weight of everything finally breaking through.

You gripped Emily's shoulders tightly, desperate to make her understand the urgency in your voice. "Em— we, fuck... we have to find the others!" Your words were strained, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else. The weeks you’d spent in bed, drowning in grief over Hannah and Beth’s deaths, had already broken you. You couldn’t go through that again—couldn’t handle another loss, not like this.

She rolled her eyes as she placed her hands atop of yours. “Mike and Jess are off 69’ing each other, and only god knows where Sam is.”

Her words confused you. Where was the urgency? You turned to where Matt, Chris, and Ashley stood, expecting to see the same desperation on their faces, but to your bewilderment, none of them seemed particularly keen on finding the others. It was as though the gravity of the situation hadn’t quite sunk in for them, or worse—they simply didn't care.

“She might be in the lodge!” you said, turning back to Emily, your voice sharp with urgency.

You locked eyes with her, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of everything was there between you. God damn it, how could she say no?

She felt the familiar rush of guilt flood through her, remembering the dumb prank, the one that still haunted her. She remembered the frantic voicemail attempts, her calls going unanswered, and the sick feeling in her stomach as she drove to your house, only to find your phone left forgotten in another room, the tear stains on your walls and, most painfully, your face. It hit her like a punch to the gut. She knew why you were crying—everyone did. Ever since the police had announced the girls as missing, no one had heard from you for weeks.

And now, here you were, pleading with her to help, as if there was any other choice.

With reluctance, Emily finally nodded, agreeing to help. She could see the panic in your eyes, the raw desperation, and it tugged at something deep inside her. The sight of you in any kind of pain—whether mental or physical—made her stomach turn, like a sickness she couldn’t shake. She hated seeing you like this, hated that it was even happening.

“Fine…” she starts “Fine, you’re right, but if there really is some maniac running around killing people on this mountain, we need to get help.”

And just like that, a weight was lifted off your chest. The situation was still bleak, the darkness of it all hanging over you like a storm cloud, but something shifted. You knew searching for the others would be harrowing—nothing short of dreadful—but with Emily by your side, there was a sliver of hope, however small.

Matt, however, was still uncertain about the situation. While the "knight in shining armor" fantasy still played out vividly in his mind, a darker, more protective side of him gnawed at him. He hated the idea of you being in any form of danger—whether it was something as trivial as a tiny paper cut or something far worse, like searching for the others on a dark, freezing mountain with wild animals and a killer lurking nearby. His instincts screamed at him to keep you safe, to pull you away from it all, but he also knew he couldn’t let you go through this alone. Still, the conflict inside him was palpable, the desire to shield you fighting against his need to be the hero.

He grabbed your shoulder, his grip firm, and opened his mouth to speak. "Hey, don't you think—"

But before he could finish, Emily was quick to cut him off, her voice sharp and final. “Why are we still talking about this!? Let’s go!” she shouted, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

With that, the conversation was over. No more hesitation, no more arguments. Emily turned on her heel, and without waiting for a response, she started moving. Matt followed along with her, but you decided to stay with Chris and Ashley, figuring that since they had witnessed Josh’s death, their experience might push them to be more helpful—more driven to find the others. After everything that had happened, you needed people who would act, not just follow.

Both Matt and Emily walked down the hill, their figures slowly disappearing into the frigid night, swallowed up by the darkness. You stood frozen for a moment, staring after them, the cold biting at your skin as you watched their silhouettes fade away.

A knot formed in your chest, the uneasy feeling of being separated from them weighing heavily on your mind. You didn’t know where they were going, or what their next move was, and that uncertainty gnawed at you.

Praying to whoever might be listening—if anyone at all—you silently begged that they, along with the others, would make it through this night. That somehow, by the end of it all, everyone would be safe. The thought of losing anyone else was too much to bear, and you clung to that fragile hope, even as the dark woods around you seemed to close in, relentless and unforgiving.

You were suddenly twirled around, your body spun by a pair of hands gripping you from behind. They pushed you in the opposite direction, the unexpected force taking you off balance. You would’ve been taken completely by surprise, but then you heard Chris’s voice behind you, steady and firm, and felt Ashley beside you, her presence grounding you.

"Come on," Chris urged, his grip tightening as he gently pulled you along. "We can’t waste time.”

As you began the walk, you let them push you forward, your body moving like a ragdoll, limp and heavy with sorrow. Each step felt like dragging yourself through thick mud, your mind weighed down by the thought of Josh. Josh, oh, Josh. Just being on his property—the place that had once felt like a second home—was enough to make your chest tighten with grief. It was all too much. You wanted to scream, to wail like a toddler who had been torn from something they loved, to let the tears flow freely, but you couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

You walked in silence with Chris and Ashley until you reached the cabin, each step heavy, each breath colder than the last. The familiar sight of the place only deepened the ache in your chest. The second the door creaked open, you didn’t hesitate. You darted inside, your feet carrying you up the stairs before Chris or Ashley could say a word.

Without a thought, you made a beeline for the bathroom—the one you last remembered Sam entering for her bath. The door was ajar, the space still smelling faintly of soap and steam, though the warmth that had once filled it was now long gone.

You stood there for a moment, taking in the empty room, the silence settling around you like a suffocating weight. The bathtub, still wet from Sam’s last use, felt like a dagger driven deep into your chest.

You pulled yourself together, your breath shaky, and sauntered out of the bathroom, moving aimlessly through the cabin. You passed by the guest rooms, pausing at the second bathroom, and then forced yourself into Hannah and Beth’s rooms. You’d sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t enter either of them tonight—not after everything.

Hannah’s room was eerily untouched, her belongings scattered in the same way they had been before the prank. Beth’s room, though, was different. The bed was unmade, the scent of her perfume still faint in the air, and it all felt so painfully real.

Sam was gone.

It became too much for your body to handle. The suffocating grief, the weight of all the loss, had exhausted you in a way you couldn’t describe—a new, unfamiliar kind of emptiness that left you hollowed out, barely able to breathe. Sam, Josh, Hannah, Beth... The names echoed in your mind like a cruel chant, and somewhere deep inside, you almost wished you could be next. Just to escape this endless cycle of pain.

Before you could stop yourself, your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the ground, the cool wood pressing against your skin as your sobs wracked through your body. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your chest heaved with each scratchy, ragged breath, the sound raw and broken. The sobs were too deep to stifle, too powerful to suppress. Your body shook uncontrollably, every tear that spilled feeling like a new weight added to the crushing burden you already carried.

There was no way to escape it. No way to stop. The grief, the guilt, the overwhelming sense of loss—it consumed you. It was all you could do to let the tears flow, to let the sobs shake you to your core, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the pain would eventually start to fade. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. Not anytime soon.

Josh’s gaze flickered through the screens, his feet propped up on the table beside the sprawling array of monitors. He watched as you began your slow descent into despair, each moment an agonizing unraveling of the person he once knew. You were like a delicate flower wilting under the relentless weight of sorrow, sobbing on the unforgiving, rough-hewn wooden floor. The sight twisted in Josh’s gut, a bitter pang of helplessness striking every chord in his body.

Faking his death had clearly left its mark on you, and in a twisted, perverse way, that fact brought him a strange sense of satisfaction. It was obvious how deeply you cared for him—your breakdown over his “death” spoke volumes—and knowing that his own feelings were returned brought him a happiness nothing else could match.

Yet, even amidst the happiness, a shadow of sadness lingered. He couldn’t bear to see you like this—none of the others who had once filled the cabin could. To him, you were his little bumblebee, and you deserved nothing less than joy, far from the weight of any negative emotions.

He reached out to you through the screen, his hand moving gently as if to stroke your hair—a fragile attempt to comfort your trembling, tear-streaked form sprawled across the floor.

“Just wait, petal, I'll be back soon.”

[angstyhikka]

(Translations are in image alt description)

Continue development of the Colliestrophy :3

His physical form is unstable, dangerous and very chaotic, as you can see. Limbs are twisted at unimaginable angles, joints seem to be missing at all or there are too many of them, facial features are distorted beyond recognition in seconds.

Colliestrophy, unlike Collie, is completely incapable of hiding and controlling his emotions. He is thrown from one extreme to another, one moment he is crying into three streams, and then he destroys everything around, and then he falls into hysterical fun and makes all the islands dance the Abba dance and maintain the appearance of fun, making sure that no one can sleep, so that there is daylight all day long, and so that everything in the area is so bright that it burns your eyes

There is a moment in the plot when Philip needed to hide Collie in a fragment of his old prison so that the boy would not die from the blood of the Titan. After which he mysteriously disappeared, hiding the glass in the hollow three. And so a month passes, and Philip still does not return. And Collie manages to wrap himself up in thoughts that his best and only friend, almost his brother, seems to have abandoned him, and he is left alone again. How else can you explain where Philip could have gone EXACTLY at the same hour when he sealed Collie and swore that they would run away from the Clathornes TOGETHER and hide?

And when Philip finally finds Collie, releases him and explains where he went and what he was doing, this only worsened the situation, and Collie, enraged and exhausted by languishing in the fragment, eventually turns into Colliestrophe.

In this state, he does not want to delve into his feelings. He's offended. He's in pain. And at the same time, he wants intimacy. Colliestrophe prefers to pretend that nothing happened. He maintains the illusion of their perfect life, until his confrontation with Hunter. Pretends everything is fine. He is doing everything to gain Philip’s favor now, and maybe he will allow him to merge with him. He is almost ready to do this against Philip's will. But he is afraid. Doesn't want to become a rapist. He understands that such a screw-up cannot be made up for by anything later. And so he only begs:

“I still want to try. Even if it hurts. I feel like if I don't get this from you, I'll just die. This all feels like the end of the world

- Collie, brother, this is not the end of the world, believe me. Life doesn't end when you get rejected. It's painful, but not fatal.

“Well, if it hurts anyway,” Colley sobs, “ThEeeeen...

And he buries his face in his elbow.

“But I don’t want,” almost in a whisper, which still thunders like a meteor shower, “for you to get hurt...”

In the end, everything will be resolved well, but it won’t be very soon, and who knows how much the heroes will suffer and what they will have to endure until Colliestrophe becomes just a Collie again.

(Dialogue was written by Ludwig aka LasyMit)

[saphronethaleph]

Around The Galaxy In Eighty Hours

Rey left the Falcon behind, walking up the steps on the Ahch-To island, and she fought the urge to run.

It had taken all this struggle to get here. All this time. The map BB-8 had carried… so many who’d been lost on the way… and now she was here.

She was going to ask Luke Skywalker for help. The legendary Jedi Master, the one who had defeated the Emperor.

As she climbed, though, a niggling little feeling began to gnaw at her.

Where was he, anyway?

She’d been assuming he was somewhere high up, and the Force wasn’t pointing her anywhere else. But she couldn’t see him, and as she reached the very top of the stairs… there was no sign of him.

“Master Skywalker?” she asked, looking around. “Master Luke?”

“Jee-dhai?” one of the locals asked, in a curious voice.

“Huh?” Rey replied, turning. “I… well, I don’t think… I want to be, but I’m not one yet… do you know where Master Skywalker is?”

The hooded alien shrugged, and pointed to one of the rock huts.

Curious, Rey entered.

It was immediately obvious Master Skywalker wasn’t in the hut. There wasn’t room. There was barely room for Rey… but, after a moment, she spotted something odd.

A folded piece of flimsiplast, with a metal-rimmed piece of crystal on it.

Taking the crystal, Rey was surprised to find that it felt… warm, and tingly. It fizzed with an unidentifiable but oddly familiar energy, and she turned it over before opening the flimsiplast.

It held only one sentence.

Use the Force on the crystal.

“...is this going to be a riddle?” Rey asked. “Or a trial of some sort?”

Silence answered her, and she took a deep breath before closing her eyes and focusing.

It was still… difficult, to call on the Force at will, but she could do it.

As she did, the crystal glowed, then filaments of light streamed out of it to form a face.

Master Skywalker’s face. She was sure of it.

“To whoever has found this,” he began. “Firstly, if this is Ben… well done for coming back to the light. And if not… I’m glad there are others besides myself who can use the Force without being tainted by the Dark Side. This crystal has been constructed using the techniques of the ancient Holocrons, which would shatter if they were forced open by the Dark Side.

He paused. “The Caretakers have a few of them, in case they need to replace one. Anyway… if you came here, then either the Force guided you here to Ahch-To or you came following the map. And if you came following the map, you came looking for me.”

Master Skywalker’s expression turned rueful. “So I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m not here. I left. I grew up on a desert planet, and this place just… unsettles me. It gives me the creeps to see all that water. Hurricanes should be illegal, and this planet has some really nasty ones… anyway, I’ve moved somewhere where I don’t need to worry about that. You’ll find me in the Bespin system, on Cloud City…

Rey’s eye twitched, as the blue illusion of Master Skywalker’s face listed off an address.

The crystal fizzed slightly, and she dropped it before she could break it somehow, then crouched down and picked it up again – not accessing it with the Force, this time.

“Right,” she said, her voice tight, and turned to go right back down the slope again.

“You’re back early,” Chewbacca said, concern in his voice.

“Luke’s not here,” Rey replied, hitting the switch to raise the Falcon’s ramp. “Do you know where Bespin is?”

Chewie blinked.

“What?” he asked. “Yes, I know where Bespin is… you’re saying he’s on Bespin?”

“Apparently,” Rey replied. “Though I suppose the map is a map to where he went, not where he is. It’s not like he was updating it…”

Cloud City was an amazing sight, though it had begun to pall slightly for Rey when it took them half an hour to get a landing permit.

Eventually Chewbacca called in a favour from someone called Lobot, and ten minutes after that Rey rang the door chime on the address Luke had given her.

Then she stood outside, waiting.

It was strange to be in a completely built environment. Even the ground under her feet ultimately had nothing beneath it but air… and yet all this was kept in the air by technology.

If Rey hadn’t known quite so much about how solidly built repulsorlift units were, she might have been unsettled.

The door hissed open, and a woman looked out. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for Luke Skywalker?” Rey asked, awkwardly.

“Oh!” the woman said. “You know, he didn’t leave a forwarding address, but he did ask that something be given to anyone who came looking for him… hold on a moment, please.”

The door hissed closed again, and Rey leaned on her staff and groaned.

“I’m guessing we’re leaving?” Chewbacca asked.

“We’re leaving,” Rey confirmed. “For somewhere called the Dagobah system.”

She held up the crystal she’d been given. “If you’ve never heard of it, this should help, at least. It’s got a planetary map, as well… and a long, long complaint about vertigo.”

“He did once fall out the bottom of Cloud City,” Chewbacca volunteered. “That would give anyone vertigo… here, anyway.”

“So after spending a month here, I realized what training with Master Yoda had let me forget until then,” the pseudo-visible Jedi Master explained, as Rey focused – not without some annoyance – on the crystal she’d found in a hut. “Which is that Dagobah is damp. I can’t walk very far without sinking into the swamp, the only food available is moss soup… Master Yoda stayed here for decades, and I can see the argument that a Jedi should be inured to physical discomfort, but I just can’t take it any more. I’m going to Ajan Kloss.”

“Really?” Rey asked. “Really?”

She focused, drawing out her anger, and expelled it with a sigh.

Where on Ajan Kloss was she supposed to be looking, anyway?

The holocron-alike crystal shimmered, showing an Ajan Kloss planetary map, and Rey committed it to memory before closing her hand around the delicate-seeming crystal.

“All right,” she said. “Ajan Kloss, then! And there had better be a Jedi Master there.”

There was not.

“So it’s been the rainy season…” the next crystal declared. “And it’s not as swampy as Dagobah or as rainy as Ahch-To, but it’s a lot warmer and the combination is absolute hell. I thought it was the rainy season when I was here before, but it turns out that it was actually the dry season. This is the rainy season, and it never gets dry. Nothing gets dry. The humidity is absolutely one hundred percent constantly. The floor’s covered with millipedes and our robes are growing fungus on them.”

Rey shuddered involuntarily.

It did sound bad.

They were fortunately in the dry season again, or at least she assumed so since the rain coming down outside was only moderately heavy and the geography hadn’t been entirely covered by cloud.

“What’s worse, the plants here even grow at night,” Luke complained. “So that’s it. I’m done with this place. We’re moving somewhere where there’s no need to worry about plant life at all…”

“Are you sure this is necessary?” Rey asked, two hours later.

“Yes,” Chewbacca replied, giving her another parka, and Rey put it on somewhat awkwardly. “You’re from a desert world. You know how Dagobah was cold and wet?”

“I’m having trouble forgetting,” Rey replied.

“Well, that’s about fifteen degrees,” Chewbacca explained. “Hoth is minus forty. I was cold there.”

Rey stared.

“...do you have any more warm clothes?” she asked.

Eventually, with some difficulty, Rey struggled into the ruins of the Rebellion’s Echo Base.

It was below freezing cold, and intensely annoying, and what was worse was that there wasn’t even a Jedi Master there. Instead, there was another crystal.

It mostly contained Luke complaining about how kriffing freezing it was, and that he’d spent three days here before electing to move to the Forest Moon of Endor.

“What is this?” Rey asked, after extracting herself from the parkas and as the Falcon sped towards the Endor system. “Is it some kind of sick joke?”

“I’ll give this for Endor, it’s warmer than Hoth,” Chewbacca contributed.

The Endor map led to an Ewok village, where they treated Chewbacca like an old friend and sniffed at Rey with great suspicion before Chewbacca managed to make himself understood enough to explain that she was a friend.

Then an Ewok shaman said… something… and Rey found herself involved in some kind of blessing ceremony. It was surprisingly useful, in that it actually involved the Force, but Rey was struggling to concentrate by the second hour… and it wasn’t until the fifth that she actually managed to convey the question she had.

The Ewoks discussed amongst themselves, then finally realized what she meant, and led her to a large treetop hut.

An empty hut, with nothing but some folded flimsiplast on the table, and a crystal on top of it.

Rey wanted to scream, but she didn’t want her hosts to take it the wrong way.

“If you’ve ever met Ewoks, you’ll know they’re brave warriors and good people,” Luke said, as Rey slumped over the Dejarik table on the Falcon.

Both she and Chewbacca were watching Luke’s latest message, and part of Rey hoped that wherever it was going to be was far away enough that she could get some rest.

The rest of her was wondering if they could just give up looking.

“But they’re also… a bit much,” Luke went on. “It took a month or two, but ultimately it got to be too much for us, so we decided to move on. This time we’re going to somewhere where we should be able to be alone, and as a bonus we can be out of the rain as well… it’s a lot like a homecoming, in some ways. We’re going to the Great Temple on Yavin Four.”

Chewbacca muttered something, and went to set the autopilot.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I have actually got bored of green,” Rey said, as they flew low over the jungles of Yavin Four. “I didn’t think it was possible to get bored of something that quickly.”

Chewbacca shrugged.

“Are we picking anything up?” he asked.

“Not on the long range,” Rey replied, sitting down and checking the scanners. “Nothing on passive… that’s just because Luke wants to hide, right?”

She detected a note of desperation in her voice. “It’s not because he’s moved on again, right?”

Chewbacca didn’t say anything, but he did raise an eyebrow at her.

Searching the Great Temple took about an hour, and they didn’t find a Jedi Master.

They did, however, find one of the now all-too-familiar crystals, and Rey stared balefully at it before clasping her hands and letting out her anger.

Again.

Then she snatched it up, wanting to know where they were going to have to go this time.

“You know…” Rey said, as they broke orbit. “I actually almost sympathize with that one.”

“You do?” Chewbacca asked.

“Yeah,” Rey agreed. “Knowing that the temples here were literally built by slaves who were members of the original Sith species… it’s a Sith Temple. I imagine any Jedi would be uncomfortable with that.”

She looked down at the crystal. “I really wish he’d put one of these on Ahch-To, though.”

“No argument there,” Chewie mumbled. “At least Naboo is an easy one…”

“I don’t know much about the place,” Rey said. “Only that it was involved with the Clone Wars, somehow. Or maybe something before the Clone Wars.”

The crystal pointed them to a very fine town house in Theed, which did not have Master Luke in it.

Instead, it had a droid, who beeped and whistled at them.

“We’re looking for Master Skywalker,” Rey said. “Please tell me you know where he went.”

The droid beeped again.

“...Master Amidala?” Rey repeated. “But Master Skywalker said to come here…”

“Same person, it’s just his mother’s surname instead of his father’s,” Chewbacca provided. “Show the droid one of the crystals?”

“It can’t hurt,” Rey conceded. “Is this some kind of ancestral home, then?”

She activated one of the crystals, and the droid whistled gleefully before opening an internal compartment and depositing another crystal in her palm.

“Right,” Rey said, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. “It’s a good thing the Falcon is so fast. We must have done a lap of the galaxy by now.”

“We’ve mostly been going through the middle, but yes,” Chewie agreed. “Where now?”

“That’s always the question,” Rey conceded, focusing.

If there was one thing this was good for, it was learning to master her anger.

“I know, I know, I said we’d be here for good,” Luke apologized. “But I ran into a Palpatine on the street yesterday, and it freaked me out.”

He shook his head. “I know, they’re from a different branch of the family, not everyone called Palpatine is evil… but it really unsettled me and I can’t feel comfortable here any more. Not after I heard from Binks about how Palpatine exploited both my parents… and him.”

The Jedi Master let out a long sigh. “But being somewhere I inherited… it helped, really. It reminded me of the other place that I inherited. We’re going back home. Beggar’s Canyon and the Lars homestead. Ben, if you’re the one hearing this… I’m sorry that we couldn’t give you the childhood that my aunt and uncle gave me.”

The force hologram disappeared, and Rey closed her eyes.

“That didn’t even give us a planet,” she said.

“No problem,” Chewbacca replied. “I know where we’re going. I know where Luke grew up.”

He nodded to the droid. “Thanks for your help.”

The droid whistled, waving a probe cheerfully.

Naboo to Tatooine. Mos Eisley to the Jundland Wastes to the Lars homestead, and from there on to Beggar’s Canyon.

Rey could feel the tension building in the air. Like the signs of a sandstorm, but more positive.

Signs of… something. Maybe signs of hope.

“Found something,” Chewbacca said. “Zeroing in on it now.”

The Falcon banked, slowing, and Rey went to the ramp as it opened. Around her, the light transport hovered on repulsorlifts, and she held on to a stanchion as she leaned out into the hot, dry air.

“I can see something!” she reported, through her comlink. “Bring us down another four metres… all right… I’m getting out here, land as near as you can.”

“Got it,” Chewbacca replied, and Rey slipped out of the door.

She landed with a roll, and shaded her eyes to look closely at what she’d spotted.

There was no mistaking it. It was a hangar bay. Built into the side of Beggar’s Canyon, concealed from above except at exactly the right angle, and big enough to service plenty of ships at once.

There were ships there, in fact. Two transport shuttles, a light and utilitarian variety, and a heavier and heavily modified yacht. But there was space for several more, and Rey frowned as she approached.

This didn’t feel empty in the way the other places had been, a difference that only made sense now she’d felt both sides of it.

It felt… lived in.

Then three young adults – a strange four-legged two-armed half-equine, a more familiar Bothan, and a human – came out of a doorway, all looking at her warily.

“Who are you?” the bothan asked. “Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for Master Luke Skywalker,” Rey explained.

“...oh, well, you just missed him,” the half-equine replied. “He’ll be back-”

“Lusa!” the Bothan protested. “Operational security!”

“Right, right,” the now-identified Lusa said. “Why do you want to speak to him?”

“Because we need him,” Rey said, simply. “To fight the First Order. I… brought his old lightsaber?”

She held it out.

“Whoa,” all three youngsters said, at once.

Then the Falcon came flying back over, still looking for a landing spot, and the human gasped.

“Is that the Millennium Falcon?” he asked. “Did you come here with Han Solo and Chewbacca? Does that mean Ben-”

“No,” Rey replied. “Han’s dead. He… Ben killed him.”

That put a damper on the mood.

“...so, where is Master Luke?” Rey asked, after a few seconds. “Who are you? What are you doing here? I’ve been following his messages for more than a day!”

“Well…” Lusa began. “We’re… trainees?”

“The old word was padawans,” the Bothan supplied. “Master Luke decided that… uh… he said that he remembered what Master Yoda said, and that the only thing that mattered was the spirit. That you had to learn to avoid the Darkness, and that everything else you could learn at your own pace, however fast or slow that was.”

“And all the teachers left about two hours ago in their X-Wings,” the human contributed. “So we’re the ones defending the Academy!”

“I am going to need some time to process this,” Rey said. “...wait, in X-Wings?”

“We had a fleet,” Poe said. “Now we’re down to one ship, and you’ve told us nothing!”

He waved his hands, for emphasis. “Tell us that we have a plan! That there is hope!”

Admiral Holdo stared back.

“There is a plan,” she said. “But I don’t have to tell you what-”

“Admiral!” someone interrupted. “Hyperspace signatures! It looks like… they’re snub fighters, twelve of them!”

Holdo’s shoulders slumped.

“And there it is,” she declared, as the tension left, and she sat back into her seat. “Turn the ship! Prepare for close engagement!”

The radio crackled.

“All wings report in,” came a voice, Luke Skywalker’s voice, and it was so unexpected that Poe staggered back a pace.

“Katarn standing by,” one of the fighters reported.

“Horn, standing by,” another voice added.

The reports came, one by one. Jade, Dracos, Solusar, Durron, Ikrit, Binks, Desann, Korr, Penin. Then they broke for an attack run, and Poe could only stare.

He knew he was a good pilot. One of the best.

But even he had to admit that he couldn’t outdo that squadron.

[lookinghalfacorpse]

i can't really think of any unicorn!cdream fic ideas because all i can really think about is cdream stumbling to ctechno's house.

dream matched the snow. he hadn't considered how well camouflaged he is in this biome; had spirit still been alive, they'd both blend into the white background. but dream was alone, and his own two hooves dragged through the snow, and the red blood on his face and torso ruined the illusion.

his horn still dripped, and steam rose from his body as the heat dissipated. the cloud of butterflies that followed him sometimes rested on his shoulders, hooked on the edges of his armor, but they mostly stayed behind him and pushed him forward. they knew where he was headed, and apparently they approved. annoying bugs.

technoblade was shoveling. he grew still when he heard movement in the forrest, and upon seeing dream, rushed over.

dream collapsed into him. his body, small in comparison to the piglin, begged for rest. techno caught him easily, pressing him gently against his own torso as he spoke. dream couldn't hear him. he was asking questions, probably.

"i didn't know where else to go," dream provided as an answer.

techno pressed his head against Dream's chest-- the boy's horn was too sharp for the normal piglin headbutt, so the two of them improvised. it was the last thing dream felt before he was swept into techno's arms, feeling much like he was flying, but techno's body was warm and comfortable and familiar. Safe. his white hair caught on the streams of blood on his face. a butterfly attempted to move it, grabbing the strands between its little feet.

dream's long tail flicked in his sleep as the piglin carried him into the cabin.

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

KULINDAY IS COMING!

July 24th, the anniversary of the description of Kulindadromeus, is a bit of a party here in Palaeoblr!

AKA, I and my friends stream us playing video games and talking about prehistoric life and dinosaurs in general

And this year is special! It's the TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY of Kulindadromeus' discovery!

Can't believe it's been 10 whole years!!!

Alas, I can't give you guys a video tour of the museum I work in, mainly because it's a mess

I also can do more than one if multiple are appealing!

[sad-scarred-sassy]

Please please please continue the one shot of Feyre and Tamlin meeting after she has the baby. It’s so beautiful and well written

Oh 🥹 thank you!! I wasn’t gonna continue it but since you asked so nicely… proceed at your own discretion.

// It’s a headcanon of mine that Feyre questions all her life choices after the whole pregnancy fiasco happens.

If you wanna read the first part here it is.

~~~~~~~

She had sworn she would not go back.

Somehow nobody had noticed her brief absence, not Azriel, not the wraiths, not even Rhys. Feyre had carried that secret for months with a small hint of shame, and a very weird sense of triumph.

What Rhys had noticed since then though, was the new barrier she had put up between them. For the first time, she no longer let him slip in and out of her mind at will. She no longer shared with him her deepest darkest secrets. She realized with a cold, sickening feeling, that he knew every miserable aspect of her life and psyche and she did not know him, not entirely.

It was a strange realization, Feyre truly felt alone for the first time in years. The whole deal of her pregnancy had acted as an eye opener for her and it didn’t help that she had just too much time to think. Feyre spent her days taking care of her toddler, a beautiful child that smiled at her and she could not, for the life of her, understand why she did not love him as she had been promised she would.

Feyre sighed, sitting next to Nyx’s crib. Rhysand was gone to the Hewn City for a meeting, leaving her alone with the baby. She tucked Nyx’s small wings correctly behind him as he slept. Logically, she knew she loved him, she could simply not reach the feeling, not yet.

“I will try” She said, a tear streaming down her face. “I swear”

When she had found out about the secret, she had been so hurt and mad, betrayed by her mate, her family, the ones who said they loved her. She had yelled at him, had demanded him to tell her why. Then, she had succumbed to Rhys’ explanation again. He had said he hadn’t wanted to worry her. At the time she had concluded that she was fine with the decision, she wanted Nyx, she would have done anything to keep him alive. But after he was born, when she had too much time to herself, her mind had started to unravel on her.

How many times had he decided something and made her believe she was the one on charge? Why hadn’t they ever talked about the awful things he had done to her when nobody was witnessing it? How much of anything he had told her was actually true? How much of her hatred towards her past friends had been fed to her? How much of her rivalry with her own sisters stemmed from what he wanted?

It was too much. It was suffocating.

She knew she had to talk to Rhys, he was her husband, her mate… her High Lord, but she was tired of hearing his excuses, she was tired of him pretending to adhere to her demands only to flip it to something he wanted. She was tired.

After tucking Nyx in his bed she grabbed a sketchbook and let her fingers do the talking.

She had seen him again after their brief encounter in the Spring Court. Helion had called for a High Lord meeting wanting to discuss the next steps at peace, and she had taken her ass to Dawn pretending she had any say on whatever was to be discussed. As much as she tried to believe it herself, the sheer reality of being nothing else but a puppet in her husband’s hands was so glaring she could not hide from it.

Even if she knew he loved her, she could see it in him. She could see the way he also valued what she could do for him, how she was useful, how keeping her in this illusion of power actually benefitted him. She knew he would do anything for her, unless doing it contradicted what he truly wanted. Whatever that was, she did not know. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Her chalk began tracing lines she had burned in her memory a long time ago. Strong jaw, deep set eyes with a hint of sadness in them, high cheekbones and plump lips. Long, silky hair that cascaded down his strong trapezius muscles.

She had studied him in the meeting, his green worn tunic, his old polished boots. He had informed everyone that the Spring Court was slowly healing. Beron had snorted and mocked the state of his manor, still in ruins. Tamlin simply watched him and said “I’m not living there anymore” and that was that.

Their eyes had locked for a fraction of a moment, he looked lonely and broken still, she averted her eyes before anyone noticed.

She did not know what she felt about him after all this time, after all was said and done. The things she had said to him were true, he had hurt her and she had destroyed all he was in return. It still didn’t feel right.

Did he see it in her? Just how lost and desolated she felt? How trapped she felt in her own chosen life, trapped to serve a purpose, serve like she had always done. He had trapped her once too, why did this feel different? Why did it matter? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

The question plagued her while she yanked the page from the sketchbook, and giving it one last glance, put it in the fire slowly, for it to be consumed and destroyed. She wished she could do that with all these thoughts, set them on fire and let them burn into nothing.

She would never go back to him, she could never go back to him anyway. She had a son now, she had a mate for life. He was the one who hurt her.

You hurt him too.

Yes, they had both destroyed each other. So why did she feel that unshakable need to see him again? Why couldn’t she just be content with her life? Why did she want to talk to him again? Why did she care about what he had to say? Did she need confirmation that he was the monster she believed him to be? Or did she want to think that at some point she did have something genuine, even if she thought she lost it forever? Did that make her feel better or worse? She didn’t know. She couldn’t, wouldn’t go back-

“I’ll take care of him tonight” Feyre almost jumped at the sound of her sister Elain’s words from behind her. She turned abruptly to see her knowing eyes studying her. “Go, do what you have to do” She said and Feyre felt her heart beating unnaturally fast in her chest.

“Elain” She said. “I don’t know what I have to do” She said.

“You want answers, right?” Elain cocked her head at her, seeing too much, too damn much. “Go seek them”

Seek the other side of the story. Seek the answers to her questions. Seek the clarity she so desperately needed, for better or worse.

So there she was standing again in the middle of the Spring forest, feeling like thief in the night, a witch to be caught and burned, waiting for him to sense her somehow. He didn’t disappoint, standing before her just minutes after, face open, arms slack at his sides.

“I-“ She said. “I wish to talk”

He gave her one nod and signaled her to follow him, which she did, slowly, keeping a distance.

To her utter surprise he led them into a small Spring town she hadn’t ever visited before. The night was quiet and she could see the smoke coming out of the chimneys of the small wisteria-covered cottages. He kept walking, turning to step towards a small stone cottage lit with fae lights and covered by vines and moss.

He pushed open the wooden door and let her inside, her eyes jumping to look at everything within, the small dinner table and two chairs with a bowl of uneaten stew on top of it. The small kitchen and cozy fireplace, the feeble stairs that led to a second floor where she could spy his bed. The arrangement of knives lying on the small worktable along with piles of documents and notes in the far back. The muddy boots in the corner. Feyre was stunned by what she concluded. He lived here.

“You-“ She couldn’t articulate her words. “Why?”

He understood the question. “If I was going to fix this court, I had to do it from the inside” He said moving to sit on the chair next to the dinner table.

“But you’re a High Lord” She said.

“I am” He said, eyes stern. “Do you want some stew?” He asked and she shook her head vigorously, he shook his hand and the stew disappeared. Her shock didn’t subside, even when she remembered just how close Tamlin had been with his subjects before, she would’ve never thought she would find him in a place like this. Then again, this wasn’t too far fetched for a male who had wanted to leave it all to write poetry while traveling around the world.

He watched her, studied her, then wet his lips and furrowed his brows.

“Why are you here, Feyre?” He asked genuinely.

“I wanted to ask you something” She said. “If you would give me your word and answer honestly” She heard herself say.

“I give you my word” He said solemnly. “Please-” He gestured to the other chair in front of him.

Feyre cautiously dragged her feet and sat down, utilizing the moment to arrange the question in her mind, picking at her nails in anxiety. He noticed.

“Why did you lock me up in the manor?” She asked in a blurt.

Tamlin’s fingers, which had been thrumming a pattern on the table stopped abruptly.

His throat bobbed as he took a fortifying breath.

“I was terrified of not being able to protect you, and seeing you die… again” He said so quietly she had to stop breathing to hear him correctly. “I acted on impulse, everything I did in that time was on impulse, I knew you were going to hate me and I still did it, I can’t justify it, I’m sorry” He said, eyes lifting to find hers.

“I had never felt so alone then” She said.

“I never wanted you to feel alone. I understand now that I could not give you the partnership you needed at that time” He began drumming his fingers again.

“You were broken, as I was too” She concluded, studying as his eyes lifted towards her for a second, only to drop as he gave her a small nod.

“What did she do to you there?” She whispered, Tamlin’s eyes shot to her in a panic.

“I-“ He said, sitting straight on his small chair. “That doesn’t matter”

“It does.” She said, placing both hands on the table facing him. “You never told me”

“It wasn’t worth discussing”

“It was, if we had maybe-“

“Maybe we would still be together?” Tamlin smiled a sad smile of disbelief. “He would have never allowed it, you know that” He said. Feyre closed her eyes. The control she had thought she possessed in her life had been an illusion and she knew it. She hated that he could tell, he could always tell and she was just too stubborn to admit it.

“I still want to know” She said again. “If you’re comfortable telling me”

He sighed, running a hand through his long hair. “She said she would kill you if I didn’t-” He said suddenly, then didn’t continue, choosing to look away from her.

“You never showed-“ She remembered all the times they had been intimate after it all happened. Why didn’t it ever cross her mind? “When we were together, I-“

“Being with you was like a salve for the horrible things that had been done” He said in a closed tone. “I thought it was the same for you”

The silence stretched for long moments before she spoke.

“I’m sorry”

He laughed humorlessly. “Please Feyre, don’t apologize to me. Especially not about that” He clenched his fist. “Especially when I did nothing when he-“ His eyes fell to the tattoo on her hand. “I wish I could have done more to save you… from all of us”

“I chose this life”

“You were thrust upon it”

“You still think of me as a helpless little thing” She clenched her fists.

“No, but you are young, and you have been through too much” He said.

She pressed her lips together, looking down at her manicured nails, the intricate tattoo that branded her… like a mare. She shook her head at that thought.

“Did you know I would fall for his… for his tricks?” She croaked. She couldn’t believe she was talking about Rhys in that way, but she couldn’t stop, the words were burning in her throat.

“I thought you were happy falling for them” He mumbled and she looked up at his empty eyes. “He was there when I couldn’t, after all” He took a breath. “I can’t blame him for setting to win over his mate”

“I’m not his property” She said.

“Aren’t you?” He glanced at her tattoo. She flinched.

“He loves me” She proclaimed with a sniff.

“He does” He moved his hand in a swipe and two cups of wine appeared on the table, along with a decanter. He began pouring the wine for himself, then for her. She placed the cup on her lips and took a sip. She would never say it out loud but she had missed the Spring rich and sweet wine, so different from the Night Court’s bitter undertones.

They sat there, drinking the wine, listening to the crack and sizzling of the fire. His green eyes fixed on it, the flame reflecting on them, hiding the emptiness within. She always thought they were very similar in some ways, maybe much of it was still true.

“The woman you loved died in that mountain” She said stiffly. “I think that was the toughest part, saying goodbye to her while seeing how you still searched for her when you looked at me” She took another sip. His gaze rose to meet hers.

“Is that what you think?” He cocked his head.

“It’s the truth”

“It’s bullshit”

“The woman I was before would have never done what she did to you, to your court, to your people” She placed the cup on the table forcefully.

“Perhaps, but she would be here now, asking me of all people to forgive her” He breathed a laugh, turning his whole body towards her. “You’re not ruined, Feyre” He said and she felt her eyes sting.

“I am. I said you were a monster, but I am one too”

“No, you are not”

“I am! Do you think I cared when I came here and destroyed this court? Do you think I cared when I sent your life to hell, sent the lives of innocents to hell? I didn’t care, I relished on it” She leaned forward as she spoke with bitterness.

He simply watched her, took his cup and downed the wine.

“I always knew what you were capable of” He said, staring at the fire on his side. “I never saw you as an innocent fawn, if that’s what you’re thinking” He mumbled, she noticed her fingers were trembling.

“You still trapped me so that I didn’t fight”

“Capable is not all-mighty” He said. Her stomach clenched so she took the cup in both her hands and drank its contents in one gulp.

“You didn’t see it coming, what I did when I came back”

“I didn’t see it coming because I didn’t think you wanted to do it, not because I didn’t think you could” He said pensively. “But I was clouded in my own delusion” He smiled sadly.

They stared at each other then for a long moment, before he leaned and poured them more wine.

“What will it take for you to be happy?” He asked suddenly, taking her by surprise.

“I was happy” She said, dragging the wine down her throat.

“Not anymore?” His eyes were pinned on her.

“I don’t know”

“You should be talking about this with him, not me”

“I know” They both took a sip of their wine at the same time, the silence stretching, the seat in her back digging into her, his eyes burning a hole through her. She could see now how time had also affected him, his eyes were empty but clear, for the first time since everything had happened, she could tell.

“Do you love him?” He asked with a strain in his voice, as if he did not want to know, but he had to ask anyway.

“I do” She said, the sad truth of the matter. “It’s not so simple, though”

“It is. You love him, he loves you, he’s your mate, it is simple” His gaze was vacant again, the words seeming to burn through him as he spoke them.

“Do you love me?” She heard herself ask. Why did she ask?

His eyes snapped to her like a whiplash. He didn’t say anything for a long moment as he studied her, then smiled bitterly.

“I guess I deserve it” He placed the cup on his lips, mumbling to himself.

“Deserve what?” She breathed.

“You, toying with me when you’re bored of him” He cocked his head at her. “I should have guessed that’s what my life would be like. Letting you toy with me and fucking relishing on it, relishing on the sight of you in that chair, tormenting me” He let his eyes travel down her body down, down, then up towards her face again.

“I’m not trying to torment you” She rasped.

“Hm” He took another sip. “Don’t worry about me. Your torment is the best thing that has happened to me in years” His eyes found hers and locked, vibrant green that exuded the power she had known, the power she had held in her hands once.

Her breath caught and she stared down at her wine.

“I should go” She said, she didn’t know what would happen if she didn’t leave now. She was not in the right mindset to be having this conversation, for him to be saying these things to her, to having him look at her the way he was. Her head was already pounding.

“I do” He said quietly, answering her last question just as she stood up to leave. “I always will. You know that” He said, his eyes were still fixed on her, that lupine gaze that hunted her features as a predator would its prey.

She nodded. “I should go” She repeated.

He nodded weakly. Her heart started beating faster and faster. She wasn’t sure why. “If you’re lonely” He stood up and towered above her. “I will never turn you down” His eyes fell to her mouth and she sucked a breath.

“He will kill you”

“Hopefully”

“Tamlin-“ She warned and he only closed his eyes momentarily, a small rumble in the back of his throat at the sound of his name on her lips.

“Go” He said, eyes still closed, fists still tightly clenched at his sides.

With a heaving chest she gathered herself, and with one last glance at the male before her, disappeared from his small, cozy home into the grand empty hall of her own.

She would never go back she said to herself. She would never go back.

[morgana-ren]

Shigaraki would defiantly stalk a streamer who uses one of those vtuber models. He also probably thinks being a mod on their channel means there’s mutual attraction between them.

It's different.

It takes him a moment to get used to the image. The dimensions aren't the same-- 2D is so much different than 3D. The eyes aren't as wide as saucers and as vibrant as the sky, and the eyelashes don't touch the brim of the hair-- Oh, and the hair. The hair, obviously. He knew that one was coming.

It was supposed to cure him of this addiction, truth be told. Seeing the person behind the mask. Master said it would help absolve him of this desire, and help him focus again. He's been loose with the wallet-- and his attention.

His impudence and stubborn nature are usually tolerated by Master--within reason. But this has gotten, as his Master states, 'out of control.'

"End it, Tomura," The Master had said. "One way or another."

Hours upon hours and thousands upon thousands spent-- no, wasted-- staring at his computer screen, hardly blinking, hardly breathing. Enraptured by every word of the disembodied voice mouther by the uncanny cartoon. Hypnotized. Ensnared.

There's something there that spellbinds him. Some hidden bitterness or animosity that sings to him like a siren. He's not foolish enough to fall in love with a facade--or so he'd like to believe-- but the woman captured in his screen is something he swears he understands on a level no one else does-- or ever could.

'She's like me, Master. I could swear it!'

He was trusted to see an end to it. A lesson in control. Self discipline.

The solution was brilliantly simple.

Simple. Easy, easy, easy. He'd kill you and be done with it. The person behind the avatar wasn't her. It wasn't you he'd fallen for, it was her. Your persona.

Master is right. No one is like me.

You're a liar. A fake. You must be. No one is like him. No one feels how he feels. The undercurrent of hatred carried by the current of your voice is just a ploy to eat at vulnerable simpletons. And it almost worked on him.

He'd break the illusion you had over him. He'd crack the facade and rip it wide open. After that, he'd end it permanently.

There's the wretched feel of peeled scab beneath his nails. Blood-hungry fingertips drive into the rounds of his neck, searching reprieve beneath the dry skin, digging, digging, ever digging--

He had your trust. Modding your chat for ages, you suspected nothing, like most people when he lays on the flattery and charm online. It'd been all too easy to send a few exorbidant donations to win your attention, and a few more to win moderator.

'One way or another.'

He can see you through your webcam. Not you, but you. Not the avatar you pretend to be, but you: Unmasked and stripped and naked. Every expresssion, every eyeroll, every last thing the camera can't pick up to trace back to your beloved audience.

It's intimate. It's something you keep very deliberately veiled and yet, unbeknownst to you, you're entirely bared before him as he observes every grimace, every sneer, every last detail of your picture-perfect veneer crack behind the coded wall as he takes control. Things a mere camera cannot pick up but he can.

Yet now, you look tired. Peeled barren and exhausted. You are not the avatar, but a person. A person whose eyes he can see, and whose light and bubbly brilliance he cannot. A mirage dissipating before his very eyes.

It's effortless, really. Watching you; banning them; driving his courage and hatred to maximum to give him the ambition to do what he needed to do. He remembers the hero fundraiser stream you'd done a few months back. The collabs. Another media whore, another of the same--

You had bills, you'd told him in a DM. People liked hero shit, and it made you a lot of money. You didn't care about heroes, you'd said. You said, you said, you said---

He thought you were a liar.

It should be easy. It should. Fuck, it should be so, so easy. You smile derisively as you accept a donation that demands you talk in a baby voice. Another bill paid. Another humiliation tallied.

It's like looking into a fucking mirror.

You're lovely. You're angry. You're tired and jaded and clawing for reprieve. He can feel it. You're lovely. You're exhausted and you hate every last one of them. Every last one of them. You're lovely.

Something in him aches and for far from the first time, he places his hand on the screen to trace the low-res curve of your snarling cheek.

He will deal with it. Just like he said he would.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Drowning In You

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @norsetenko. Dabi is about to begin his mating cycle and is eagerly awaiting for his mate to return. He always needs so much when he's like this, and it's very fortunate, then, that his octopusfolk mate is more than happy to satisfy him however he can.

Content: Mer AU, hybrid merfolk, mating cycles/in heat, triple penetration, oviposition, multiple orgasms, tentacle sex, degradation kink, wet and messy, prostate milking, non-human genitalia, egg laying, overstimulation, begging, hand feeding.

Word Count: 7,302

Dabi has made his den on the far edge of the reef, a place that was overfished by humans a decade ago before the more violent members of the coral formation decided that they couldn't risk the safety of the entire ecosystem to try and live peacefully alongside them. He was still a guppy when that happened, and he remembers wondering why hearing so many sirens singing frightened his mother and sent his father looking for his spear, why no one was allowed out of their dens for days and the water was so thick with the taste of blood and smoke. But eventually the fighting stopped when all of the humans were dead and many of the folk who had participated had moved to the far edge of the reef, closer to the reef crest. Folk were said to be more blood-thirsty out there. He considered going there when it became apparent that his father would not look past his broken body and train him as a warrior, but he doubted he would survive for long. His species is unique, a lionfish on his mother's side and a black-tipped reef shark on his father's. But instead of getting a powerful tail he got a softer frill. Instead of getting sharp venomous quills to protect himself, he got the illusion of them, but with none of the bite. His body was made to be powerful, but he was hatched a guppy that would never grow any stronger. 

He left the main reef when it became apparent to everyone around him that he wouldn't be worth much, making his den along the abandoned edge so that no one would bother him while he was there. Here, his spikes, even just silhouetted in his den, are enough to scare other folk away, and he has been left in peace for a long time. It's just his misfortune at the moment that he doesn't want to be left alone right now. No, now the water is getting warmer as the summer crests over this section of ocean, and his blood is going hotter and hotter with the need to mate and he is growing restless. He's sure that the water all around his den is sweetening with the flavor of his need, his arousal feeling like it is seeping out of his skin at all hours of the day. But he tries to hold that restlessness at bay. He needs to be patient, has to wait, because he knows that letting the crest of his need swell through him too soon will leave him miserable and desperately seeking out a mate that he doesn't really want. Not when he already has a perfect one who will be home soon. 

Dabi is dizzy, having crawled up onto the shelf of rock within their den that has soft algae and seaweed grown across it so that the two of them can lay above the waterline and breathe air for a little while when they want to. He mostly is doing so because he doesn't want to entice anyone else to try and come near his home, and he feels like his skin is on fire as he sits in the air, a thin stream of it coming fresh through an opening they put into the ceiling that took months to carve through the rock and coral. His slit is pulsing with his need, telling him again and again that he should be out. That his claspers need to release, that he needs to have his stomach distended with eggs or he needs to be over a mate, fertilizing theirs. He just shouldn't be alone. He needs someone to touch him. He wants to be touched so desperately. His stomach is gnawingly empty as he lays on the rocks, wishing for relief. He should have gone hunting himself, but he never is able to swim fast enough to get enough food to make it worth it for him when he does expend the energy. But he needs to eat, he needs to touch. He needs any kind of relief that he can get that isn't just wasting away. 

Dabi has just about decided, half-deliriously, to go out of his den when he sees the surface of the water ripple and sees a large black and white shape drift in at the base of their den, where the entrance of their home is. He chitters weakly, getting a hand into the water and immediately that shape takes notice and starts to swim up to him. His mate's head breeches the water at the same time as one of his tentacles catches Dabi's hand, squeezing his fingers gently. 

Tomura churrs at him sympathetically before he presses a kiss to the back of his knuckles and murmurs, "Bad, darling?"

He nods weakly. 

"I'm sorry I took so long." Tomura brings his palm to his cheek, nuzzling against his skin. 

"Need you." 

"You need to eat first, love." Two of his tentacles come up from the water and he has two large surgeonfish in his grasp. "If you eat up, then I'll make sure that you don't need anything else for the rest of your cycle, precious." He promises. 

The warring sources of hunger in his body are both strong enough that he feels like he's being drowned in their currents and he's grateful when his mate decides which one he needs to see to first, and starts to reach out to him to help. Tomura uses his talons to tear away chunks of the fish and brings them to Dabi's mouth. He moans as soon as the first bite is past his lips. Blood drips over his lips as he chews it and swallows the meat away, and his mate is right there waiting to give him the next one. He's not a guppy, no matter how broken and inept his body is, he could feed himself. But Tomura never gives him a chance, instead giving him every bite, his bright eyes soft with his affection, cleaning up the little droplets of blood that cling to his cheeks and lips with a thumb before giving him the next. Dabi isn't even in the water anymore, but he can feel his skin prickling as his body tries to entice his lover with his pheromones, as if the look that he's already being given could imply that Tomura is anything other than completely devoted to him.  

He finishes the first fish, and even though he knows he should have the second too if he wants to make sure that he won't end up needy from hunger again in a few hours, he can't put his other needs on the backburner anymore. He needs his mate's touch. When he brings the last bite to Dabi's mouth, he takes it, swallowing the flesh whole, and wrapping his hand around Tomura's wrist, his tail swishing behind him as he starts to lick and suck any trace of blood off of his mate's fingers. Tomura churrs at him as he does, much stronger than him and easily pulling his hand away from his grasp. Dabi whines. 

"Please, Tomura, need you." Dabi pushes himself up, showing his lover that his slit is flushed and swollen between his legs, his claspers barely staying inside of him, won't be able to stay inside if he just gets one touch from his mate. And his mate is usually very good about making Dabi behave himself and take care of his physical health first before he tries to have other things, whether that's sex or just making sure Dabi is giving his body the proper rest after trying to train his tail to move faster as he swims. But he doesn't care about being given something soft or something kind right now. He only cares about getting fucked. He doesn't wait for the octopusfolk to tell him it's alright, Dabi reaches between his legs, rubbing his fingers against the plump outer lips of his sheath, and moans loudly when he feels how slick and sticky he is with his lubrication, his whole body getting hotter as he touches himself once, and immediately he opens up more as his heads push out of his slit. 

He is still trembling just from how sharp the air feels against him when his lover growls at him softly. Tomura sets aside the second fish and then his hands are on his hips. He pulls him down into the water and even just that has Dabi moaning loudly as Tomura's tentacles join his hands. He loves the way his extra appendages feel as they curl around his legs, up his thighs, around his waist, moving over his chest. The muscle can go from soft and giving to firm and strong enough that it rivals stone. They thicken and thin at his lover's whim, change their texture based on how he decides he wants to tease him, and are so cool to the touch, even after hours of being tangled together, and right now, that coolness is like a balm to the burning heat building under his skin as his mating cycle kicks in properly. 

He knows that Tomura understands what's happened before he can even say anything because his sheath gushes to help his claspers emerge the rest of the way as quickly as they can, muddying the water around their pelvises, and before that can even get up to the gills on their chests or necks, Tomura is chittering at him with his satisfaction because every sucker across his tentacles can taste too. 

"My needy little whore, can't even be patient for long enough to finish your meal?" One of his tentacles moves up between Dabi's legs, earning him another loud moan as he rubs the tip along the edge of his sheath, pushing inside slightly and bringing a blinding texture against the hypersensitive roots of his claspers. A moan that ends with him half-choking as his lover submerges him completely as it happens. The split second of his body trying to determine if he needs his gills or lungs is disorienting, and his disorientation is enough to have Tomura holding him tight and rushing them down to the bottom of their den. 

Dabi's back hits soft sand and he can't do anything but mewl, spreading his legs wider as the last bubble of air leaves his lips. His whole body is feverish and he's so, so empty. He doesn't want to be empty. "Tomura, please," So easy to beg when his claspers are swollen and throbbing like they've already been fucking for hours even though he's barely been touched so far. He whimpers loudly as his lover engulfs his lower body with all of his extra appendages, settling his weight over top of him as he leans down to kiss him. Dabi melts into it, his hands tangling in his long hair that's drifting around his head, and rocking up with a moan when one of his tentacles lays it self over his claspers, his suckers giving his lengths soft, fluttering kisses as he lets him grind up into the touch. He can't stop moaning then, unable to even keep his mouth on his mate's because his jaw keeps falling open to let out the sounds as he rocks up into him again and again. 

Tomura, for as sweet as he is, always likes seeing him get this desperate. He will happily work Dabi over to the point that milky tears are slipping over his face and he can't even form coherent sentences, even when he's not entering his heat. When he is it just means-- "Desperate little slut. Just want something to put your cute little cocks into and hump until you feel good, hmm?" 

Dabi whines, shaking his head. "No, please, sir." 

"'No'? Oh? Then I guess that you don't need this then." He starts to draw his tentacle away and Dabi cries out, hands moving to his back and talons sinking into his skin to try to keep him in place. 

"No, no, no, please, Tomu, please!" 

"My sweet little guppy isn't making any sense," he teases. "Can't decide what he wants?" 

"Want you, please, please," He spreads his legs as wide as he can, angling his hips up so he can push his tail up behind his back against the sand, hoping that will show his mate how open and ready he is to have him inside. "Want to be full, please." 

"Naughty boy," Tomura nuzzles into his neck, licking at his gills and sending Dabi into another desperate fit of moans. His tongue can be just as long as his tentacles, tapering to a point in the same way as well, and he uses it here to dip inside of those sensitive parts of his body, stealing Dabi's breath as his mind whirls with the knowledge that he shouldn't have a touch there if he wants to survive him. But he's still leaking and grinding up against the muscle between his legs as it happens. He would let Tomura drown him, let him suffocate him, if it meant that he could just have the more his body is so desperately craving. "Want it so much that you would take anything you could get, wouldn't you? I'm lucky I came home when I did. Too much longer and you would have just gone outside and spread your legs for the first folk you found wouldn't you?" 

Dabi, being the way he is, has never been a particularly prideful creature, but he knows that whatever he had is absolutely in tatters when the suggestion makes him even more aroused as he shakes his head. "No--" 

"Yes you would, precious. Don't lie. I know that the only thing that keeps you right here," he purrs, as he brings one of his appendages to his hole, "Is the fact that no one can fill you up as well as I can." 

He pushes inside, barely an inch, only the thinnest part of a limb, and that's still enough for his heat-stricken body. Dabi dissolves into nothing but a litany of moans as his claspers twitch and pleasure radiates through him as he spills his spend between their bodies. His orgasm makes way for the flood of hormones that his heat brings with him, and relaxes all of the muscles below his waist. His body opens up readily, easily taking Tomura's tentacle inside of him as deeply as it can go, until his tip is pressing against that secret barrier deep inside that keeps him from actually worming his way through all of his guts. That pressure inside of him has his nails digging into his mate's skin even deeper, spilling the tang of his blood through the water alongside the sweetness of Dabi's release. The smell of them both in the water makes his head feel even hazier, which is probably why it takes him a second, his gills trying desperately to take in the oxygen he needs from the water, for him to realize that the tentacle inside of him–

Dabi whines, his whole body trembling. "Tomu," He rocks his hips back on the appendage, but he's sure now, "Want your cocks, please, please, please!" Because no, the tentacle inside of him isn't either of his lover's dicks. It's tapered and is completely lined with his suction cups that Dabi can feel kissing his insides as it undulates, petting along his walls as his muscles quiver. 

His mate chuckles, licking at his gills again and then nibbling up his neck and along his jawbone, rolling his weight up so that his tentacles can support most of Dabi's body, only his shoulders left against the soft sand at the bottom of their den. He doesn't understand why until his fingers dance up his back, finding the base of each false quill that lines his spine and begins working his touch over his skin there. It's like there is a jolt of lightning centered at each point, sending pleasure radiating through him alongside a sharp ache at the roots of his claspers as the constant assault of sensation keeps the need of his cycle pushing through him and forces them to stay hard and exposed. He swears he can feel his pulse humming between his legs from how much his body is aching to be bred. 

"Of course you want my cocks. You just can't help yourself, can you?" The tentacle against his claspers tapers and twines, wrapping itself around his lower length, between the two of them, and then looping around the upper one as well before constricting and stroking him from the base of his sheath up to his heads, tightening there and flicking the tip of his tentacle over his heads teasingly. "So pathetic, little one. Have two pretty little pricks, meant to find a mate to breed, but instead--" He grinds the tentacle inside of him against his walls, watching with a sadistic delight as Dabi immediately lets out another loud cry as he writhes on the ground. "All you care about is being full." 

He can't even bother to protest. He wants that more than he wants the water in his gills and he finds himself nodding as his insides clench around Tomura's tentacle, looking for his eggs, his seed, something more solid that will make sure that he isn't left in this hellish limbo of want. Dabi nods as frantically as he can and that just makes his mate laugh at him again. 

"Pathetic little whore. I should keep you here," he tells him, shifting so that he can open the tangle of tentacles that make up his lower half a little more. Dabi moans again, knowing what that means, trying to spread his legs even wider and really, really not beating his mate's cruel assertions about his neediness and making red eyes practically glow with their satisfaction as he sees him. "Pump you so full of my eggs that you can't move. Tangle you up in seaweed and put my cocks deep in your hole and a tentacle down your throat to make sure every part of you is being used since that's all you want. I bet I could keep you like that forever and you wouldn't even notice as long as I'm making sure that you're fed and feeling good." He punctuates the statement by squeezing and stroking his claspers a little harder, pairing the motion there with his fingers doing the same to two of the quills along his spine. The motions have him moaning again, his throat feeling hoarse with the sound, but the pleasure he's getting from those places isn't satisfying his need. He wants to be full. He needs to be, and every second that he doesn't get it, the more his body pulses out his flavor into the water, making every breath that he takes echo that need right back to him. 

But for as much as his mate likes to tease him, that scent is making him more feral too. His own flavor is starting to work its way through the water, promising Dabi that he will be bred soon. Tomura lets his cocks unfurl from beneath his other limbs, his cocks always startling just from his lack of pigmentation there. His skin along those lengths, only a few inches shorter than the arms that make up the rest of his body, is as stark white as his hair. He can't spread his legs any wider, so he settles for tugging at his lover insistently, digging in harder with his talons to put the spark of pain under his mate's skin that usually gets him to actually give Dabi the things he wants faster. The two appendages are shaped differently from each other and the rest of his limbs. These still have the long bodies that taper as they get closer to the tips, but they lack suckers once a few inches from that point, and the tips themselves are different. One has a bulbous round head with two intersecting slits that are almost entirely sealed right now. The bulb itself isn't too wide, no more than three of his mate's fingers across, but the eggs that will be released from it once Tomura is ready to fill him, are easily six inches across. The second is more of a flatter diamond shape, smaller than the other head, and curved in on one side that will fill Dabi up with his lover's cum. Just seeing his cocks, just knowing that he's so close to having them, makes Dabi shake and burble like a guppy as his mind goes even foggier. Mate, mate, mate, his instincts screech at him. Needs to be filled by his mate.

Tomura is still enjoying him, tasting him with tentacles and his tongue, his hands moving over the most sensitive parts of his skin, but he does start to ease the tentacle that's already inside of him out--"No! Tomu!" He cries, his legs tightening around the other's waist as much as he can when he's being half-restrained by his mate's many limbs. 

"I can't give you what you want without taking that one out, precious." 

He's never had anything else with Tomura's cocks inside of him, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be empty for even a second. "Please, please, please!" 

His mate hesitates, but then he brings his first cock to Dabi's hole, the egg-laying one, its bulbous head pushing up against his rim, as he prods at him gently. Dabi's claspers twitch as he feels him so close. He needs that. He needs more. And his body shows Tomura that he can accept it. The octopusfolk rubs the tip around his rim, pushing against him more firmly with each pass until his hole opens a bit more. He's had two of his limbs inside of him before, he has two inside nearly every time they mate, and the stretch of his rounded head popping in past his rim makes Dabi keen as it starts to give him the pressure that he has been craving inside for hours. He stays in the other's hold, trying to be good and keep his insides from tightening around his lover as he is filled, knowing that the tensing of his muscles will just make it take agonizingly longer.

"That's it," his mate chitters, giving him as much of his first cock as he can. He always pushes this one up to that invisible inner barrier, getting as deep as he can so that his eggs will be settled deep against his insides and unable to spill out. "Body so desperate to be bred that you'd take anything I can give you, hmm?" 

Dabi can only manage a weak nod, further proving his mate's point when he opens his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out as much as he can so that it is fully covering his very sharp lower teeth. Tomura laughs at him as he rolls his tentacle and first cock inside of his body, and Dabi accidentally bites his tongue as he moans. But before he can even regain his coherency from that feeling, his jaw is being pulled open again, Tomura catching his tongue between his forefinger and thumb, pinching slightly on the new wounds and pulling it out until the root aches and Dabi is drooling, the moisture from his mouth thicker than the water around them. And once he has him pulled open like that, Tomura brings one of his other tentacles up and shoves it between his lips. Held in place, Dabi can't try to swallow around him, only being able to-- 

"There, now your throat is just as open and desperate to be used as your gaping whore-hole." Dabi drools around his tentacle, his lover's flavor on his tongue briny and his suckers kissing the inside of his mouth as his tip teases itself just into the back of his throat. He pairs those motions with undulating the tentacle and cock inside of his ass and Dabi's body jolts with the sensation, bucking uselessly against the thick coils of muscle that are keeping him in place. Tomura purrs as he squeezes the spine closest to the base of Dabi's tail, clearly delighting in the way that it gets his whole body to jolt and his insides to tighten around him. He feels almost past the point of coherency when he brings his second cock to his hole. 

His head on this one is thinner, but the widest part of the diamond shape rivals that of the egg-laying one. He doesn't bother to rub around him and add pressure to get this cock inside though. He doesn't need to. He already has two limbs inside of him, and all his mate has to do is push them to either side of his hole and stretch. Dabi has stars burst across his vision, a muffled scream coming from his throat as he feels his hole get spread so easily, gaping open so that the second cock can slither inside. Each of the limbs has such a distinct shape, every nerve ending below his waist so sensitive that he can feel exactly where they're moving, so he knows exactly where each of them are as he rotates and rubs them around, keeping the ovipositor as deep as it can go, the fertilizer rubbing and pushing up towards Dabi's stomach, but at the same depth as the first. It's the third one that has him arching again against the other tentacles as that one twists so that one of the large suckers is pressed against the special place inside of him that makes his pleasure white-hot, and latches on. 

He writhes against the bonds, putting bruises under his skin that hurt in such a distinctive way, that remind him how small and useless he is trying to fight off the bigger predator. He could never survive Tomura if his mate didn't love him. That sends such a heady rush through him that he feels delirious and his body is moved again. He already is being held mostly aloft, but Tomura makes sure that his shoulders and back of his neck are braced properly against the sand and then he lifts Dabi, swimming so he is still over him, and pushing the tentacle in his mouth to one side, using the muscular tip and the hold on his tongue to force Dabi's chin to tilt downwards. 

"Pay attention, little one." Dabi doesn't know what he's supposed to be paying attention to, not until the cocks and tentacle move inside of his hole again and he sees the shadow inside of him move, his stomach distending slightly as he grinds his cock heads up against that tight spot inside of him. "See that? So desperate to be full that I made you into nothing but a sheath for my cocks." 

Dabi cums again on the spot. His claspers ache and gush his release, painting white all over the limb that was grinding against him between his legs and he screams his pleasure through the gag in his mouth. It's too much, too good, and he thinks he's going to lose his mind as it happens. And his lover doesn't even stop, he gives a cruel laugh and keeps working his limbs inside of him, his body shuddering too with his own pleasure as he feels his walls try to tighten around him uselessly. He can't be tight like this. Not when he is being forced so wide already. It just makes the pressure in his pelvis ratchet even higher and Dabi's eyes are rolling back in his head as he starts to be fucked by all four of the limbs inside of his body. 

He is incoherent as his insides are stroked and petted, Tomura coiling his cocks and limb into twists that stretch different parts of his walls, making them give as much as they can in any direction until he can't move any more, and then twisting to do the same thing to whatever neglected part of him that he can. And all the while his mate is growling, chittering, gasping out more words that are made as much of praise as degradation. 

"My needy whore," 

"Nothing but a pretty set of holes desperate to be filled," 

"Going to breed you so full of me that you won't be able to breathe," 

And all Dabi can do is let his body be overwhelmed with pleasure at every point of contact. There are stars bursting behind his eyes, the constant sound of his own pulse thudding in his ears, his gills flaring and gasping to take in as much water as he can because his body thinks it's starving for something, but nothing can keep him grounded, not even every inch of his mate that is pressed against and inside of him. Dabi knows he'll never be able to think straight again when the bulbous head inside of him pushes hard against that second tightening of muscle deep inside, hard enough that he feels it stretch at his stomach again, his nerves so sensitive he feels it as the slits begin to open up. His eyes roll back in his head as that head blooms open, as Dabi feels his hole being asked to stretch even wider so that the first egg can push in past his rim. A shiver runs through his core, like his body can't tell if he's feverish, if he is ill from how much he is putting it through while still asking for more. And then that soft, solid egg is pushing against that place deep inside of him, settling weight on his insides that doesn't give him any release or way of coping. 

His mate isn't in his cycle, but he has been storing his eggs in anticipation of Dabi's, knowing one solid laying and spawning will bring Dabi out more quickly and let him reason again. So one egg rapidly becomes two, four, seven, ten, until Dabi can't keep count anymore. Until all he knows is that he can't keep all of the things inside of him without his guts tearing open around them. He sucks on Tomura's tentacle as he begins to cry, his sobs muffled against the soft gag inside of his throat. 

"Shh, I know, pretty little whores always bite off more than they can chew." Tomura's panting, a flush across his cheeks as he trembles a bit too. Laying the eggs feels like one long orgasm, and when he has so many, it means that his fertilizing cock has to be held on the edge of his second release for an agonizing eternity. He shudders as three more eggs push inside of Dabi's body in rapid succession, squeezing all of his limbs a little tighter as it happens. "Ah," hearing him take such pleasure from his body, put the evidence of that pleasure inside of him has Dabi crying harder, each milky tear slipping across his temples in ecstasy so sharp that it is nearly agony. He feels the bump of another two eggs trying to get inside, but his hole can't stretch anymore. Trying to make it has the first real jolt of pain twinging his lower half, and an instinctive fear rolls through him, making him give a muffled chirp of distress. "Don't worry, I'm not going to break my pathetic, whiny incubator. I'm just going to leave you so stretched that no one else will even bother to fuck your gaping hole because you won't be able to hold any of their eggs inside. You won't even be tight around their cocks." 

He exchanges the tentacle that was inside of him for another gush of eggs that fill up that space so completely that Dabi can't possibly complain, even as his cocks also start to pull out little by little inside of his hole. It takes several minutes, his pleasure aching constantly on the edge of his nerves, until the bulbous head is plugging his hole, the spoon-shaped one cupping underneath it, and the rest of his mate's cocks outside of his body again, rubbing against each other as Tomura's pleasure paints itself plainly across his features as he growls and moans, the lengths of his cocks rubbing against and coiling around each other. His fertilizer knots itself around the ovipositor, milking his own body as the last egg starts to travel along his length. Dabi whines as he feels it pushing inside, as he feels the spoon tip quiver as it does. The final bulb settles against him and there's a moment of them both just trembling in the water, making a current around them as their gills flare in desperate pants. And then Tomura shudders as Dabi screams. His body didn't think it had room for anything else, but it isn't given a choice. His mate's cock twitches and then he is drenching every crack and crevice between his eggs with his seed. His fertilizer twitches as he gives him pulse after pulse of his cum, his stomach distending just a bit, like he actually took the full meal his lover tried to give him, but knowing that it is only his mate's pleasure, his body being bred the way he was craving so deeply, sends him all the way past the surface and into the clouds. 

Dabi didn't think he could cum again, but his claspers twitch weakly as his hips buck up, and then the world goes abruptly black as a fresh wave of pleasure crests over him. 

///

He wakes, air in his lungs, laying on the soft seaweed that makes up their bed, his lover still holding him close and chittering at him quietly. One of his hands is stroking his stomach, and he feels even more absurdly full than he did before he passed out, a sharp, overstimulated ache screaming between his legs that has the second breath that he takes after waking hitching on a sob. 

"Shh," Tomura purrs. "You're doing everything a good whore is supposed to do." He's so lost in sensation so quickly after being woken that Dabi only manages to quiet the hiccupping sobs a little. He wants to be good. Being good means that everything happening to his body is what's supposed to happen. He's supposed to feel like a nerve scraped raw with every minute touch grinding along the precipice of bliss and agony. But the tears fall even faster when his mate rubs a tentacle up between his legs again and he feels how achingly swollen he is. Not his claspers, no, those are soft. They're soft and still out because the tentacle between his legs has latched several suckers on him and are forcing them to stay out of his sheath that is aching and swollen, squeezing his bases on either side as those lips try desperately to suck him back inside and close up. But he can't. And he's soaked, all between his legs and down his thighs. His claspers are still drooling as he looks down at them, a thin, milky stream of cum pouring out, and out, and out, even though he should be dry. But his body can't stop, not when the eggs inside of him have gorged on the seed Tomura pumped in and swelled, ensuring there is an unceasing pleasurable pressure against the special bundle of nerves in his hole. 

Tomura's ovipositor is closed up inside of him again, the bulb of it just inside of his rim so that his hole closed up around the thinner part of his cock, effectively plugging him up so that he could use his body as an incubator. But now that he's awake again, he starts to move it, pushing in a little bit and making Dabi arch and keen, his claspers giving another thin gush of fluid in response as black spots burst behind his eyes. And before his vision can even clear, Tomura is starting to ease his cock out. He feels his rim trying to clench around the ovipositor, but his muscles are too weak. He can't keep it inside when his mate wants to take it out. And the moment that it's pulled free with an audible pop, Dabi's mind goes blank. He doesn't have words for the kind of pleasure that goes through his body when he's unplugged. He never has words for this. All he wants during his cycle is to be full to the point of bursting, but the relief that pulses through him as his body decides that it can't stay full makes him delirious with fresh arousal. 

His claspers, throbbing with oversensitivity, fill again rapidly and in a matter of seconds, the first egg is pushing against his rim too. Tomura chitters softly, nuzzling his nose against the gills on Dabi's neck, as one tentacle prods at his aching hole. It only has to tease a little, the tapered point pushing just the slightest bit inside and hooking on his skin easily, pulling him wider. 

"You have to push, little one." He reminds Dabi, but he couldn't if he wanted to. All of his muscles are too weak. He can't even twitch his toes; he's been rendered so completely spent from their coupling. Tomura breathes a laugh against his neck when Dabi can only whimper in response to the instruction. "Pathetic. Your dirty hole has been fucked so many times you can't even try to squeeze it tight again. Or maybe you're just being greedy." He teases. "Maybe you just want to stay full forever." Dabi thinks he would if Tomura would let him, but his mate doesn't. Instead two more tentacles go to his hole, and they hook inside too, holding his skin softly, and then pulling his rim wide again. It doesn't hurt, he stretches so readily after having so many of his limbs inside up to their thickest points. He gasps as the suckers on his claspers start to work again, giving his lengths fluttery little kisses that mingle hurt and pleasure through his body sharply enough that the muscles in his stomach jump and tighten involuntarily. Spread as he is, that's enough for the first egg to push out of his hole, landing with a wet plop onto the seaweed bed. 

That sends a cascade through his body. Dabi sobs again as he feels the first one slip out, and then the second is moving to right there, Tomura's tentacles keeping him nice and wide. He can't keep the gush of his seed inside, or the eggs. They start to push out of his body, soaking the backs of his thighs as another of his mate's tentacles goes to his hole to help catch and ease each one out as they come. Every egg is bigger than it was when it first squished into his hole, having absorbed some of Tomura's seed and Dabi's own fluids, and his tentacles keeping his hole stretched, don't leave him wide enough for them to come out without making him open a little more, ensuring each one, even as the pressure lessens inside of him, is lighting up his nerves again. Dabi's fingers claw at the seaweed, sobbing uncontrollably as his toes just barely manage to twitch as his pleasure pulses inside of every cell. And egg, after egg, after egg is worked out of his body. 

He feels hollow when the final one slips out, nearly wailing because now that all of the pressure inside of him is gone, he can't find the way to get his pleasure to peak again and he needs it to. He needs it to be over, he needs to feel good one more time or he is going to shatter. He has to have it. He sounds absolutely pathetic, beyond misery when he pleads, "P-please, please, Tomu, Tomu, Tomu--" 

"Hole's gaping open, can't even move, and it's still not enough for my pretty slut." He nuzzles against him, rocking his tentacle between his legs and making Dabi scream from the overstimulation. "It's okay, precious. I know what you need." He feels the whisper of his mate's cock against his rim, the large flat diamond pushing inside. "Fuck, you're so loose you aren't even squeezing me." But it doesn't matter because that just means he can push even more of the limb inside, curling it back around on itself until the head is cupping his prostate, the rest of the limb undulating inside of him again and again, as Dabi feels his sanity shredding apart. And then Tomura closes his teeth over his gills, bringing the intoxicating pleasure-pain in him past its peak. Dabi's body jolts, barely tightening on his cock, before his claspers give one last hard pulse, only managing a tiny dribble of thicker cum as his orgasm overtakes him. He must tighten a little, must be just enough, because Tomu lets go of his neck and groans against his skin as his cock twitches before he's cumming again in thick ropes inside of him, so much that it easily gushes out of him even as it fills up all of the empty spaces inside of him. 

Tomura lets go of his claspers, the tip of one tentacle moving to soothe the swollen lips of his sheath, gently massaging them as he cries and his claspers rapidly shrink back inside of his body. As soon as they're inside and the muscles and tissue that swell to keep them exposed are allowed to relax, he feels an ache inside of him that makes him hope he doesn't need to use them again for a long time. Tomura gives him more soft kisses, wiping away his tears as he takes his tentacle out of Dabi's hole, and he can't keep any of his seed inside. It rushes out and soaks both of them thoroughly, and fills the space with the smell of their union. 

"There, love, all done." He promises, and Dabi hopes he's right. He isn't sure if his body could handle anything else. His mate pushes the infertile eggs into the water, letting them sink to the bottom of their den to be crushed later. He swishes a few of his tentacles through the water, bringing up armfuls of it so that he can pour it over their bed and Dabi's body, sending the mess of their fluids over the edge of the stones. As he cups his cheek in a palm and turns him to face him a little more so that he can kiss away his tears and stroke his hair. Dabi clings to him, still crying weakly as his hormones surge through him, taking in the weakness through his whole body, the ache of his claspers, the hollowness inside, coming to terms with the fact that he had nearly a week's worth of intense mating in only a matter of hours. And the exhaustion in him is enough to tell his instincts that he won't need it again for a full cycle because his mate is superior to any other creature in the ocean at taking care of him.

"Shh, you did such a good job, sweetheart," he promises, letting Dabi cling to him, and enveloping him with his limbs until Dabi feels like every inch of his skin is being held together by his mate's comfort and adoration. "Just rest now, precious. I'll be right here. I'll take care of you."

It is a far cry from how he started the day, desperate, miserable, and alone, and all Dabi can do is give himself up to the pleasure of being whole and loved, surrounded by the sweetness of his mate.

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