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#glow moo
bethncherry · 1 year
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♡ Chapter 2: Page 19
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the-g-m · 2 years
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demikittycule reading tsv aloud per omegamoo’s request Pray for us
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apileofmoss · 2 years
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sorrey dkc hasn't been online a lot i Miss them
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k-star-holic · 1 year
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Crush, Joy Conscious "Romance? I shouldn't have" ('I live alone')
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frogchiro · 9 months
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Ok so about cow!reader and soap i wanted to get into bit more detail
Bull!Soap is mounting cow!reader all day because he could smell her hea was getting close he was following her around all day and kept messing with her until farmer!price had to step in and took reader away
Bull!Soap is so cheeky!! He has no shame at all and may seem like a bit of an airhead, more muscles than brains but he's stupidly brave and cunning in his own way, an example of this is when he managed to break through into your pasture one sunny day😭
How he did it no one really knows but all Soap cares about is finding you!! He could smell you from far away, your sweet scent tinged with a more heavy note-you were near your heat! A perfect time for him to finally get to you and breed you so that way Price won't take you away from him since you will be a mated pair with a baby, it's a genius plan!!
When he finally finds you he swears he hears angels singing; you're laid out like a meal on the soft grass, the sun giving your soft skin and fluffy coat an etheral glow as you lay calm and happy among tiny white flowers and only move when you hear Johnny call out to you and you moo softly back.
You shift a bit from your position and prop yourself up on your elbow as you watch the large bull approach you, his heady musky scent making your pussy clench and ache and you curse softly; Soap's your friend but your incoming heat is clouding your mind and the quick thought of being mounted by one of the strong bulls here on the farm comes and goes in the blink of an eye and leaves you flustered, your tail lashing behind you.
Soaps smirks at your form, much more twitchy and fidgety than before and from then on it's game on for him. For the rest of the day he'll be flexing and preening before you, showing off like crazy and scenting you even more, releasing as much of his musky scent as possible to push you over the edge and get you into heat, he's so so ready to mate :(( He'll be nuzzling against you insistently, desperately wanting you to present yourself and smell like him, draping himself over your back and trying to hump you, listening to your whines and soft moos as he tries to fit the tip of his cock inside your aching cunt but in his desperate state he always misses making his cock slide over your swollen lower lips and smearing his seed all over you.
By afternoon you basically won't be able to get him off of you, being on the brink of your heat clouding your head and almost sending Soap into an early rut but he still can't seem to get inside you :(( Your hole just seems too tight and slippery with slick making his cock slide over it and only just managing to hump you, your poor pussy and lower tummy covered with his seed but none of it inside you where he wants :((
Just when Soap was starting to get angry with impatience and desperation, his need to breed overtaking any rational thought he was suddenly pulled back roughly by his horns by and even angrier Price who was basically fuming. How the fuck did this even happen? How did Soap manage to get into your pasture in the first place?? But Price guessed it didn't really matter at that point, his main priority was getting you safely to your private pen/stable to get you safe and comfortable with your heat and send Soap back into his shared barn with the other bulls and punish him to hell and back. He'll have to do a pussy inspection on you now too to make sure Soap didn't stuff you full with his seed but that's more of a pleasure for John than a chore <3
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Pandora was right, taking baths out in the wilderness was great! He could see the stars and point out the constellations as he scrubbed himself and practiced his singing where no one could hear him. This did not stop him from wearing swim trunks, so hess a litte paranoid. Sue him.
Pandora had been very clear about going deep into the wilderness where no one could hear him sing, because if they heard the siren song of a halfa and fled they would be haunted by it forever or until he himself tracked them down and sang a song strong enough to free them.
Ancients she knew him so well.
He had been minding his own business playing in the water with his multitude of floating duck candles, a purchase he begged Sam for when he was drugged out of his mind after a very devastating injury, and practicing one of the songs Pandora put on the "study list" called The Fairy King. If he didn't know any better he would think she was making fun of him.
He scrubbed his arm with a washcloth as he sung watching as the ducks floated around in the little super hero costumes Tucker had 3d printed for them. "Huh. It almost looks like they're dancing."
A light bulb went off in his head. He began practicing with his telekinesis as he sang, making the ducks dance together in little twists and twirls. He doesn't think he's ever had this much fun in a bath before honestly.
----
Red Robin and Nightwing were sneaking through the foliage looking for a supervillians secret base when they heard it. The sound of a full symphony playing live off in the distance. They nodded at eachother before heading in the direction the sound was coming from. They were almost on top of it when they heard the singing begin,
"When the house is still i can hear his song, beckoning me out into the ga-ar-den" the boys froze, this didn't sound anything like thier villain, they turned back to the noise edging closer, "his lullaby- promises sweet- escaaape"
Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw once they parted the underbrush, a glowing white haired teenager was standing in chest deep water, haloed by the moon behind, offering them an ethereal scene "He says, 'come my drifting flower i will hold you tight. Listen to the chime of stars and moo-oonlight-'"
The teen lifted up a floating ducky that was dressed like Red Robin in one hand and placed the other of his chest as he continued singing, "take my hand-and feel here- my heaart"
Red Robin turned beat red and Nightwing moved to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder only to have a twig snap underneath his boot. The guy whirled around and locked eyes with Nightwing for only a moment before screaming and falling backwards into the water. Bubbles rose to the surface of the pond only for a few seconds before they vanished all together.
It felt like a spell was broken and the two vigilantes just stood there for a second before nightwing jumped in to save a possibly drowning teen. No matter how hard he searched he couldn't find any proof that the guy was ever even there, save for the duck candles (?) that Red Robin had already finished collecting from around the pond.
RR didn't seem surprised that the guy had vanished and was examining the ducks. More specifically the bottoms. Dick went to see what was going on only for his younger brother to show him the bottom of the Nightwing duck.
There, in messy handwriting, was the ducks name: Duckwing
Dick laughed and started going through the ducks names, Quack-Hood, Bat-Bill, Red-Drake (which was kinda concerning and brought up the question of whether or not this guy knew any of thier identities) and funniest of all, a Robin one with a little plastic katana simply named Stabby.
----
Danny hid his face in his pillow after accidentally teleporting home. This was awful.
He waited until the heat in his face disappeared before taking a few deep breaths and thinking about how he was going to handle this. He obviously needed to track down the two Gotham vigilantes (what were they doing out there?) and break the spell on them before they become obsessed with him.
Then he remembered his ducks, "Aw man. What are the chances they didn't take my ducks?" Teleporting back to the pond after a full hour of being away showed a dark and duckless pond, much to his disappointment.
Now he added "recue the ducks" to his mental checklist.
Unbeknownst to him the vigilantes weren't the only ones to hear his song...
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kometqh · 18 days
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𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭
Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 of Forget Me Not Rex has finally settled down on a faraway, isolated planet. Finally, he has found some semblance of peace from the ongoing war against the Empire. Finally, he can take the time to recover from losing you, but how long will that last? Word Count: 3007 Warnings: Swearing, making out, old injuries. A/N: This has been specifically requested, and can be thought of as either the continuation of the previous story or an alternative ending :) It was going to turn into a big fat smut but my brain couldn't handle posting that (I've never written or posted a full smut before!!)
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Vast golden fields swayed gently in the warm, evening summer breeze. The golden sun illuminated the landscape, a warm glow settling over the hay and Rex's figure, who was relaxing on his porch, hands behind his head as he observed the sight before him.
How many times had he dreamt of such a sight? Of owning his own little farm, of owning a couple of banthas and chickens and goats? 
Too many times for his younger, prouder self to admit. 
Where his brothers used to loudly fantasise over their ideal futures, he was too busy playing the perfect soldier, sticking to his obligations, rules and limitations.
But now? Now he had that one small bundle of joy, held tightly within his iron-hard grasp. And he wasn't about to go exchanging it for anything else. Not in a million lifetimes.
The loud, content bellowing of a few banthas stripped him of his thoughts, his gaze looking for the one particular creature that always seemed to make the most noise. Far ahead, to his left, was one bantha, rolling its body in the hay, short tail wagging left to right, continuous hums and moos escaping its throat in ground-shaking vibrations.
A soft smile tugged at Rex's lips; that was his oldest, and his first ever Bantha.
He had spent the last four years nurturing and caring for the creature, leading it over stretches of land, until he was finally able to settle down in an abandoned farmhouse, far away from any civilization.
The farmhouse itself wasn't in such bad shape. Sure, it needed repairs here and there, but it wasn't anything a tough solider like Rex couldn't handle. He got to work pretty quick, with his handy tools and a shit ton of determination, he had refurnished and fixed the farmhouse within a year and a half, and now, all that was left was to renew the coat of paint that seemed to chip away any time it rained.
But Rex figured that could wait, after all, no one would be able to tell that the farmhouse was being used as long as it looked old and rusty, right?
With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth provided by the rays of the setting sun. He was tired. It was a long day of working on the farm, planting the appropriate crops for the upcoming, much colder, season, as well as milking the banthas to make different cheeses the next day.
He thought over his schedule, already feeling a headache rising in the back of his head. The following week he was supposed to be making his way over to the nearest town, to sell whatever he had managed to produce over the last two weeks. Going to the closest town over was his least favourite activity; he preferred to stay hidden away in his little farmhouse with his Banthas and Tooka.
He preferred to relax on his porch, to watch over his animals as they grazed happily across the long stretch of fields, to feel the warm sunrays kissing his skin, to watch the sun lazily disappear behind the horizon.
He let his tired eyes fall closed, the wrinkles on his skin seemingly fading away, a soft smile shining on his face at the soft hum of the summer breeze and grazing animals, an all too familiar weight lifting from his chest inch by inch. The gentle breeze passed his body, leaving a pleasant, cooling chill to run down his spine.
Darkness and warmth surrounded him like a weighted blanket, though his body felt light. He dreamt of nothing, his mind jumping to and from consciousness, his body twitching at a sudden shift in atmosphere. His ears almost twitched at the soft whir of a ship flying above, goose bumps rising over the expanse of his bare, muscular arms as a much stronger wind grazed past his body.
But his eyes snapped open to the sound of panicked tip-tapping of his banthas, their heaved breathing and confused whines reaching his ears. The warm honeyed glare of his eyes was gone, now replaced by a deep black as he looked around, the night sky pitch black.
He must have snoozed off or something, how many hours have passed?
The banthas continued to make noise, but this time the briefest whispers accompanied them. With a strong, heavy inhale, Rex slowly rose from his seat, eyes squinted as he tried to cover for his lack of vision.
Who were they? The Empire? 
Surely not.
Rex had made sure to cover all of his tracks, remaining classed as officially dead in the Empire's files. 
Did someone betray him? 
But who? 
And how? 
Only a very small number of people actually knew-
"Hey lady! Calm it!" A familiar voice said all too loudly, giving an affectionate pat to one of the banthas. The voice, it was so.. so like Rex's.
His eyes widened as the other figures shushed the man, and Rex couldn't help the relieved smile and sigh that escaped his chest. 
He knew those people. After all, they're the ones he rescued Echo with.
However, one by one, various emotions swirled around in his head. Happiness? Of course. He was happy to see his brothers after four gruelling, lonely years. Confusion? Hell yeah! What was so important that they had to break their no contact? Relief too, he could feel the way his heart rate had spiked just at the mere idea of danger, blood rushing into his head, loudly pounding against his eardrums.
Slowly, one foot moved, followed by the other, taking turns leading Rex down the porch, towards his brothers. Towards his family.
At the sight of Rex's moving figure, some men groaned, whereas Wrecker and Omega began running at full-speed towards the male, tackling him to the ground in a long awaited hug.
"Rex! We missed you!" Omega exclaimed, erupting into fits of laughter as Rex's strong arm wrapped around her and Wrecker.
"Alright alright! Now get off of me, I can feel my bones being crushed!" Rex exclaimed, though his hold on the two didn't ease, nor did his smile disappear.  Quickly scrambling off of him, the two couldn't contain their happy, yet seemingly mischievous smiles as Hunter extended a hand out to Rex.
"It's been a while, brother." Hunter nodded, pulling Rex in for a quick hug, patting his back. Hunter's body was stiff, his shoulders tense and breathing strained as he moved away, Rex noticed. That was unusual.
Though a smile remained on his face, Rex couldn't help but feel nervous at the strange tension surrounding the batch. As he looked around, one eyebrow quirked at the sight of Tech and Crosshair shielding Echo from view and.. someone else? Who were they?
"What's going on..?" He questioned, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two.
Echo and the figure stood in the very far back, Echo's arm was wrapped tightly around their shoulders, holding them protectively close to his chest, his grip tight as if the figure would disappear into the darkness of the night if his hold let up even by an inch.
His eyes remained trained on Echo and the mysterious figure, though Rex's head tilted slightly to the right, in Hunter's direction.
"Hunter-" Rex started, but was quickly interrupted by the look on Echo's face. His ears strained, almost missing the soft, trembling whimper. The figure brought a hand up to their face, too late in stifling the sound.
As their hand lifted, Rex noticed that all-too familiar, cuffed sleeve hanging onto their hand. 
Time seemed to slow, his chest straining painfully at the sound. Rex could feel his heart drop, the air sucked from his body like a popped balloon.
His sight was stuck on that sleeve, visions plaguing his mind, replaying like a broken tape.
Memories, memories of her.
That voice.
His legs moved before his mind could even comprehend what was happening. Tech and Crosshair narrowly avoided being collided into, stepping to the side as Rex pushed through. 
His lips twisted into a pained frown, his teeth gritted together like metal bars.
That robe.. That Jedi robe.
How didn't he notice it right away?
The look on Echo's face told him everything he needed to know, his hold easing on her as Rex reached his arms out, gripping her shoulders tightly.
"Y/n.." Her name spilled from his lips so easily, so softly, as though he was cursed, spellbound to only repeat her name, only those few simple syllables for the rest of eternity. It lingered on his tongue like the sweetest of syrups, leaving a fiery, burning trail in his throat, scalding at his heart like a molten fist, twisting, turning and tearing.
"Rex," A shiver fell down his spine, his breath hitching in his throat. How long had it been since he last heard it? Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, his gut twisting into a familiar knot, adrenaline spreading like fire through his veins. His heart pumped blood so quickly, so fiercely through his body, it was like a thousand fireworks had gone off in that instant. Many people have said his name, of course, but only her voice had ever evoked such strong emotions in him.
From the way she'd command his attention during meetings, her gaze lingering a second longer than necessary, the way she'd whisper it when it was just the two of them, hiding in a faraway corner on one of the ships, or even the way it rolled off the tip of her tongue whilst-
It felt like the world around had been sucked into the background, leaving only the two of them, hearts beating wildly, minds melting over one another, even the cold night failing to gather their attention.
His hands, which had been previously on her shoulders, were now gently cradling her face, thumbs swishing back and forth in soft strokes. 
His whole focus was on her eyes- oh, those starry eyes.
How many times had he dreamed of them?
How many times had he cried at night, calling out for her in broken whispers and sobs?
Rex knew it was a few times too many, and yet at the same time, it wasn't enough.
A sob left his lips as he dropped the hood off her head, revealing the person behind the shadowy figure.
Something was different. Off.
Her face, although so familiar, was now so different. Bathed in aged lines, marks, grease and dirt, and worst of all.. A scar.
He hadn't noticed it under the shadow of her hood, but now, it was ever so prominent under the blaring moonlight.
A lone tear cascaded down his face, leaving a wet, salty trail from the midpoint of his eye, down the plush softness of his cheek, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Just like her scar. He let his thumb caress the rough, broken, damaged skin, his lips twisted in a pained frown, stunned to silence.
Her hand, one that used to be so soft and so gentle, was now gripping tightly at his wrist, a gentle shadow on her cheeks, on her scar, casted by her eyelashes. When did she get it? How did she get it?
Her head twisted to the side, making the most effort to hide that side of her face from his gaze.
"Don't.." Rex whispered, no, he warned, taking a hold of her chin, forcing her to turn his way, to face him. Lowering his face to hers, his voice was strained, rough, pleading. "I want to see you.. Let me see you, mesh'la." The word spilled from his lips with such ease, like a prayer, with so much delicacy, so much practice, as he brushed his nose against hers, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips hovered just an inch above hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin.
He had dreamt of this day, every night, every day. For. So. Many. Years.
He had dreamt of lifting her into his arms, of kissing her, of crying with her, of pushing her against his bed, leaning on top of her, making love to her. 
For so many kriffing years.
She's alive.
"I missed you. So. Kriffing. Much." He muttered, his voice becoming more strained with each oncoming word, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead flush against your own as he fought every fibre in his body against the awful, suffocating need to kiss you. Another pained whimper left your lips, unknowingly acting as a trigger for his next movements.
His lips crashed against your own, his hands keeping your face steady, making sure you wouldn't slip away like the hundreds, no, thousands of dreams he's had before.
Your lips were as soft as he remembered, your touch featherlight and rough. Your hands were shaking, he noted. You were afraid. Afraid of him? You wouldn't be kissing back if that was the case.
Your scent overwhelmed him, it was that faint smell of peach shampoo that he loved so much, it was making his knees weak. Where did you manage to get that from? From the state of you, he was sure you were dying for a hot, bubbly bath. Maybe it was just his imagination playing up. Kissing you, it was addicting. He was like a starved man, pushing his lips against your own, his tongue slipping past to dance with yours in a sweet Waltz, full of grief and hope and longing and all the years wasted away by your separation, by his fear of your light having been snuffed out, like a flickering flame.
You were his light in the dark, his oasis in a never-ending dessert, his midsummer night's dream. You had that spark in you - the one that attracted individuals to you like moths to light. Your laugh, so easily evoked, and your kind smiles, so easily graced upon anyone and everyone, shining down like sunshine on a dewy, autumn morning. You were a breath of fresh air, but also a crackling, comforting fire on a cold winters night.
But he had lost you just so quickly, on that day. Never knowing, for years, if you'd be back. If you were alive.
Your touch slowly grew from soft, dissipated like cotton-candy and falling snowflakes, to eager, pleading for more as your fingers found solace in his slightly outgrown blonde hair, encasing his head in your embrace, pulling him closer as you kissed feverishly, afraid he will disappear like dandelion seeds on a spring day.
You couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat, you couldn't smell anything but his scent, one that had creeped up on you and wrapped around you in an invisible embrace, the smell of freshly cut grass and smoky campfires entrapping you. You couldn't feel anything but him. His hands, always so much bigger than yours, had completely and utterly gotten control over your body, feeling and caressing your hair, gripping your chin and pulling you closer by your waist, his lips hot against your own, his breathing stuttering and yet so laboured as his teeth clashed against your own, his eyes scrunched shut - afraid you would disappear.
Being held in his arms was like a dream come true. You could spend an eternity with him, never losing your love and affection for the soldier standing before you. His warmth planted butterflies in your stomach, and his touch ignited them, making them burn wildly in your gut, scalding and yet patching over the old scars and wounds, gently embracing your heart in a healing bandage.
Only Rex could do such a thing. 
Only Rex could make your heart beat faster, only Rex could have adrenaline pumping through your veins just by a featherlight touch, or a sweet, candy-like, tooth-rotting whisper, or a longing, loving gaze of his golden irises and lush eyelashes.
So lost in each other, for so long, neither the two of you broke contact, until Hunter had to clear his throat awkwardly and speak up to make the two of you slowly, unwillingly, pull apart. 
Rex's forehead rested against yours, crows feet tugging at the outer corners of his eyes, his lips slightly agape as he tried to calm down the galloping of his heart. 
Slowly, eventually, his eyes opened again, the familiar warm colour of honey swirling around his pupils as he gazed into your eyes, a small, pained, and yet happy smile overtaking his features. His heart melted as that same smile reflected on your face, and tears brimmed in your eyes.
"Are you guys done yet?" Crosshair's voice called from a short distance, disgust and yet somehow a hint of endearment present in it.
"You lot go ahead, we'll catch up in a minute," Rex tossed the words over his shoulder with little to no care, rolling his eyes at the loud scoff that came from Crosshair. It was quickly followed by an audible smack, an 'Ouch', and the sound of retreating footsteps.
Your shoulders shook as a breathy laugh escaped you, and as you shut your eyes once more, tears began to escape one by one, sliding down the expanse of your cheek. Rex wasted no time in bringing a hand to gently wipe away at your tears, his own tears tickling at his waterline. 
He missed you so damn much.
And finally, you were here, with him, crying and smiling in his arms.
His throat felt tight, as if someone was strangling him, daring him to say anything. His chest felt heavy, and he was sure if he was stood up any longer, he would simply collapse. 
His thumb caressed the soft, and yet ragged, skin on your cheek, the corners of his lips twisted into a semi-frown, his heart hurting, blood pumping loudly in his ears.
His lips opened and closed, at a loss for words, but his voice found a way to come through.
"You have n-no idea," His voice was just above a mere whisper, afraid if he were to speak any louder, you'd crumble away under his touch, or he'd wake up. 
His thumb moved to trace the outline of your scar, a loving look present in the golden pool of his irises.
"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.."
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sacredthefran · 7 months
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Cream & Sugar Pt 7 (2/2)
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Pairing: Jake Kiszka + Female Reader
Warnings: Sugar Daddy, Nothing to crazy this chapter :) just some fluff 18+ MINORS DNI
Authors Notes: Hi bb’s! It’s finally here! Also if any of you guys are going to DC, MSG and Philly let me know! I want to meet everyone and give them some bracelets I made. As always, let me know what you guys think :) don't worry, part 8 is coming sooner than you know.......
Word Count: 3.4k
“That’s right. I planned us a little date.” 
“Haha, so funny. Where are we really going?” 
“I told you. I planned a date. Now be quiet and look out the window, entertain yourself.” 
You decided to do just that - entertain yourself. You found yourself looking out of the window, aimlessly counting all the trees that you passed, counting all the cars that you two had passed, hell, you were even keeping a tally in your head of each color they were. 
“We’re here!” Jake spoke in a cheerful voice while tapping your thigh to get your attention.
“Uh….Jake?” You called out timidly to him, watching as he got out of the car doing a little stretch. 
“Yes?” 
“You’re fucking with me right?” 
“What makes you think that?” Jake peered over his black lens sunglasses, raising an eyebrow at you. 
“There’s nothing around us,” you paused to open up your hands - motioning to the empty field that surrounds the black SUV. “Oh wait…I think I can hear a cow mooing in the distance.” 
“Ha ha. Smartass. Get out of the car.” You could see a little grin making its way onto Jake’s face as he tried not to laugh at your joke. 
“Promise you’re not going to murder me?” 
“I promise…well, I want you to enjoy this picnic before I kill you. It’s the least I could do.” 
Jake winked at you as he closed the car door, walking over to the trunk of the car, opening it and pulling out a brown whittaker basket. 
“You going to join me? Or are you just going to keep staring at me that whole time?” 
Closing your mouth and taking a deep breath, you opened up the car door, finding yourself once again, doing whatever Jake wants you too.  As you got out of the car you couldn’t help but to admire him in the sunset. The way his hair was laying messily on his shoulders, he couldn’t stop running his fingers through his locks - a nervous habit that he had, the way how the orange glow was radiating around him, making him look more like a God. 
Fuck, how is that even possible? 
It was almost as if he could feel your eyes on him. He turned his head slightly to you, giving you one of the softest smiles you’ve ever seen grace his features. You knew that you were slowly falling for him, but this? This right here could be your downfall.
“Can you help me with the blanket?” Jake’s voice cracked as he turned his head to face forward again. 
No, he can’t be nervous, could he? 
Instead of responding, you made your way over to stand directly in front of him, just a couple of inches separating the two of you. Your eyes locked as you knelt down to grab part of the black blanket that was almost touching the ground, noticing how Jake’s breath caught in the back of his throat as you slowly made your way back up - making sure that your face would purposely be by the crotch of his jeans.  
“Stop that.” 
“Me? I’m not doing anything?” You exclaimed as you brushed your knuckles against his, before stepping away from him completely, letting the length of the blanket separate the two of you. 
“You know what you’re doing. Stop trying to wake him up.” 
“Him? Don’t tell me you’re the type of guy who names his dick.” 
“So what if I am?” 
“What’s it called? Anaconda? Your sword? Mini Me?” 
“Shut up. Lay the blanket down.” Jake mumbled - avoiding your eye contact as he lowered the fabric to the ground and sunk down to his knees. 
“Shut up. Lay the blanket down.” You parroted back, watching in amusement as his cheeks flushed a light pink.
“Quit that.” 
Rolling your eyes, you followed his actions of sitting on the blanket, putting a couple of inches in between you two. Everytime Jake would lift something out of the basket, you would grab it out of his hand , trying to ignore the little fire that would ignite in your stomach everytime your fingers would brush. Once everything was laid out, you watched as Jake let out a soft sigh and moved himself to the whole other side of the blanket - turning himself so he was staring directly at you. 
“What?” Jake asked innocently as he tilted his head. 
“The sunset’s that direction.” You let out a soft giggle, raising your hand and pointing directly behind him. 
“I know.” 
“So? You’re not going to watch it?” 
“I’d rather look at you if that’s alright.” Jake shrugged, opening a bottle of water, giving you a tiny little smirk as he brought the bottle to his lips.  
You could feel a tiny blush rising across your cheeks and your chest - you absolutely hated it. You already were trying to get accustomed to the fact that you were pretending to be a man’s girlfriend for money - but the last thing you wanted to do was start to develop feelings past platonic with him. It’ll complicate things. You can’t even count how many times you have had to tell yourself that within the past month. Constantly having an internal battle between right and wrong. 
“Judging by how red you’re getting, I would say it’s more than alright.” 
“Shut up.” 
“Shut up.”  You shot him a glare in hopes to get him to stop talking. 
“Doesn’t feel so good when someone mocks you, does it?” Jake spoke with a little giggle, as he reached forward to grab a grape. 
“You think you’re so funny, don’t you.” 
“Well you don’t make me laugh, so I gotta make myself do it.” 
Your mouth opened in a gasp as you registered what he said, finding yourself blushing even more - a steady heat starting to ignite all over your body. 
“Close your mouth. I’m not in the mood to fuck your pretty little mouth right now, I’m trying to be romantic.” 
“You? Romantic? Don’t make me laugh.” You rolled your eyes at the long haired man in front of you - you had to at least play hard to get, you didn’t want him to know that you have been swooning on the inside since he chose to face you instead of the orange painted sky. 
“Fine, this isn’t a date. It’s just a sugar daddy getting to spend alone time with his sugar baby.” 
“Good.” 
Damnit. You thought to yourself as Jake broke out into a toothy grin, removing his sunglasses and hanging them off the collar of his shirt. 
“Here.” You were snapped out of your little daydream to find Jake holding out a container of Granny Smith Apples with a small round black container sitting on top of it. 
“What’s that?”
“Oh, I thought these were your favorite apples.” Jake’s voice almost disappeared as he finished the sentence. 
“No. They are my favorite. I just meant what’s in the black container.” You stopped him from pulling back the container by putting a hand on his wrist - holding him delicately in place. 
“It’s peanut butter and honey, you said that was your favorite to dip it in, right?”
He remembered, you could feel your heart swelling at the tiny action. 
“Yeah, it’s my favorite.” 
It grew silent between the two of you as you sat there and picked at all the snacks Jake had packed. Every so often, you two would make eye contact, staring softly at each other until the other would break away and look down at the ground.
“20 Questions?” 
“Huh?” Jake lifted his eyes eight from the slices of mozzarella cheese to meet your line of vision, blushing lightly when he noticed you were already looking at him. 
“20 questions? You know, the game where you ask the other person questions to get to know them more?” 
“I know what it is. I just wasn’t sure if I heard you correctly. Ask away.” Jake rolled his eyes at you in a playful manner. 
“You go first. I suggested the game.” 
“Okay……are you a virgin?”
“Jacob…” You scolded him in a teasing tone, knowing that of course, he would poke fun at your suggestion. 
“Alright, alright. Let me think for a second..” The long haired man trailed off, looking out towards the sunset in a trance, him pushing his tongue into the side of his cheek. 
“Favorite color?” 
“That’s the question? That’s all you came up with?” You looked over at him, raising your eyebrows, feeling a little shocked that was the only thing he could come up with to ask you. 
“Yes, that is my question. I think it’s important that we get to know the little things about each other, before we know each other’s deepest darkest secrets.” Jake leaned forward, squinting his eyes at you speaking as if he was stating facts. 
“Why do you think that’s important?” 
“Excuse me? It was my turn to ask the question, not yours. Don’t be rude.” Jake sucked his teeth at you. 
“Maroon. Now answer my question.” 
“You don’t care to know mine?” Jake let out a short breath, placing a hand over his heart like he was wounded by your words. 
“Jake, I would love, if you would do the honor of letting me know your favorite color.” 
“You sure know how to capture my heart, don’t you? Emerald green.” 
“Green?”
“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” 
“Is that why you were so adamant on me wearing a green dress the night we met?” 
“No…well kind of. Deandra sent me a photo of you, and I knew since the moment I saw you that you would look good in green. Nothing wrong with wanting to see a beautiful lady in my favorite color.” 
You couldn’t find the words to say, feeling dumb founded at this exact moment. Your insides were practically turning as you processed everything Jake was saying, maybe he was trying to be serious about the romance. 
“Don’t get all shy on me now.” Jake smirked, looking over at you, his eyes getting bigger in size as he took in how nervous you looked all of a sudden.  “Are you going to ask me a question or are you going to keep looking at the grass? I promise it’s not going anywhere.” 
“Favorite food?”
“Italian. You?” 
“Probably Spanish, there’s nothing better than going to XOCO, sitting on the patio outside, sipping a margarita, and watching the sunrise.” You hummed out to him, reminiscing on all the afternoons you spent at the table in the back of the patio watching the sky turn different colors until nightfall, something about it was so peaceful to you. 
“I’ll take you to Mexico one day, you’ll love it.” Jake spoke absentmindedly. 
“You’d want to take me on a trip?” You choked out, reaching over to grab the bottle of white wine, he had just removed from the basket. You audibly gulped as you looked at the bottle weighing heavily in your hands -  Chateau La Mission Haut Brion - Blanc. 
White wine, but the thing is, this just wasn’t an ordinary bottle of white wine - this was the wine that your parents had gifted you when you completed law school. They told you to make sure to save it for a special occasion, and you did just that. The bottle sat firmly on top of the black cabinet in your kitchen. You told Jake this story during a late night conversation, complaining to him about how you were tempted so badly to open it and pour yourself a glass, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. 
“What’s this?” 
“Just a random bottle I had lying around my house.” 
“Jake.” 
“I may have sent Josh out to get it this morning when you were sleeping.” 
“How did..” You trailed off, trying to find the correct wording for the sentence, you didn’t want to assume that he remembered this minor detail.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I pay attention to everything that you tell me.” Jake rolled his eyes playfully. “Besides, I’m not a huge fan of white wine, but this one’s good and I figured this is kind of a special occasion. 
You weren’t sure how many questions were asked between the two of you - but you were positive that it was more than twenty. The air around the two of you felt different. You tried finding the words to describe it, but you couldn’t. You weren’t sure if it was because the questions turned from getting to know the small things about each other to getting to know big details about each other’s lives. He had asked you about your childhood, wanting to know every little detail about your family and you did the same. If you were lying to yourself you would say that Jake wasn’t letting his guard down around you - but he was. 
It scared you more than you wanted it to. Somehow throughout the conversations, you two had all but finished the bottle, giggling at each other from the top of your glasses, holding eye contact for  a couple of seconds before one of you would have to look away from the intensity of it. You weren’t sure how late it was, noticing how the sky had lost the orange hue and turned black, with only the light from the moon shining down upon you. 
You hated yourself for it but you had one question that kept popping up in your mind relentlessly. 
“So can I ask you something?” You looked up at him timidly. 
“I thought that’s what we were doing all along.” 
“Shut up.” You found yourself chuckling as Jake busted out into a contagious fit of giggles. His cheeks turning rosy from the mixture of alcohol and the laughter. 
“Ask away.” 
“Did you…did you k-” 
“Did I kill Koszak?” Jake turned dead serious as he took the words out of your mouth. You were positive that he could hear you gulping - trying to swallow down your nerves. 
“You really think I’m capable of doing that?” Jake shook his head, looking up at the moon, staring at it lost in thought. 
“Well, I have been warned about y-” 
“So you decide that those rumors are true? Unbelievable.” He scoffed “I know I have a temper and I don’t always know how to control it. Yes, I can be merciless to some people. But, to accuse me of murder? What the fuck? You really think that low of me?” 
“Jake….I don’t think you are capable of doing it, but it just scared me. You were pissed off at the whole situation, you had Josh stalking my every move and then you come walking into the bedroom with blood covering you! What am I supposed to think? Please tell me!” 
The tones of calm in the air quickly turned into anger as you both sat up on your knees, staring at one another. Neither backing down from each other. If looks could kill.
“That’s when you trust your fucking gut and trust that I’m not that type of person.” 
A couple of minutes had passed between the two of you - both of you just continuously staring, trying to think through the thoughts that were bombarding your mind. 
“Look, I don’t want to fight with you.” Jake spoke softly, reaching out and grabbing your hand, softly pulling you towards him. “You want the truth?” 
You nodded sheepishly at him as you crawled your way over to him. The coldness of the night started to fade away as you were surrounded by the warmth that radiated off of him. 
“Yes, I do work for some dangerous people and yes, I am on their defense team. That’s how I made all my money. Yes, I was extremely angry with you when you went against my word and got on that fucking airplane alone with Koszak. I was trying to protect you. I don’t think you understand how dangerous he was.”
He paused briefly to look down at you - taking a deep breath preparing himself for what he was about to say next. 
“I don’t know what it is about you…but I feel the need to protect you. Just let me do that y/n. I know I can be controlling but it’s because I’m worried about what could possibly happen to you.” 
Fuck. You felt as if he had punched you right in the stomach, making all the air leave your body.  
“I was pissed, I was - no I wanted to kill him. But I could never do that. I called some of the people I worked for and cashed in on a couple of favors that they owe me and I did what I had to do to make sure he would never lay his hands on you again.” Jake puffed out his cheeks and slowly blew the air out, trying to calm himself. “Baby, you’ve got to believe me. I would never kill him.” 
“But you organized his murder.” 
“I don’t want to go into too many details, but the world is better off without him in it.” 
“Okay.”
“Okay? I just admitted something major to you and you just go ‘okay’?” Jake brushed a piece of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ears as he searched your eyes back and forth, trying to read your mind. 
“Okay, I believe you.”  You breathed out, not finding it in yourself to break away from Jake’s eyes. 
“Thank god.” Jake chuckled, moving his thumb in a soothing motion against your cheek, pulling your face up to meet his and placing a soft kiss against your lips. 
You made a move to deepen it, but Jake wasn’t having it - pulling away slowly to rest his forehead against yours. 
“I don’t want to fuck tonight. I just want us to enjoy each other and watch the fireworks.” 
“Fireworks?” You question him as a loud boom sounded off behind you - streaks of red painting the sky. 
“Perfect, just in time.” Jake then sat on the ground, parting his legs and beckoned for you to sit in between them. 
You complied, smiling to yourself as you turned your back to him, feeling his arms circle around either side of your waist, pulling you tightly against his chest. You could feel him smiling too when he placed his chin into your shoulder, nudging his cheeks against yours as you watched the colorful display. 
“See that one right there?” Jake lifted a finger pointing to the sky, looking at the Weeping Willow. 
“Those are my favorite.” You spoke in a meep voice, snuggling yourself further into his soft chest , enjoying the clunking noise his necklaces would make. 
“Really? They’re mine too.” He leaned down to whisper into your ear, his nose nuzzling into your hair. You could’ve sworn that he inhaled your scent at that moment. 
“My grandparents had a cabin in the woods, it was behind the pond that I told you Josh and I used to fish at. My grandma told my grandfather that weeping willows were her favorite, when she was a little girl she used to dream about having them planted everywhere in her yard - grandpa made it his mission that summer to plant as many as he could around the pond. They would wake up and just look out at the trees as the sun would rise.” 
You felt your heart swelling as he spoke. You turned your head to face him and you were met with surprise to see him staring at you already - studying your face in the glow of the fireworks.
“Looks like your grandma and I have something in common, it’s my dream to have a house surrounded by them too.” 
“What about one in the front yard with a swing? I’ll push you on it whenever you want.” 
“You would plant me a willow?”
“I would plant all the willows you want.” 
Taglist : @heykoonsy @dannythedog @joshkiszkatoothgap @milkgemini @gretavanbear @sacredjake@chmpgnnlace @objectsinspvce @poofyloofy @saaoko @twistedmelodies @cal-a-bungaa @writingcold @sarakay-gvf @gretasmokerising @lunaindigoraven @gvfpal​ @brokenbellsgvf​ @josh-iamyour-mama​ @shesawomaninadream @gretavangroupie @kleogvf @jakekiszkasmommy @jakekiszkabf @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface
@whiterosekiszka @laneygvf
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lynnlovesthestars · 5 months
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"I wandered lonely as a cloud"
Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader (afab for eventual smut) Genre: hurt, comfort. Angst, smut eventually. CW: gore, past trauma, abuse, reference to SA, ptsd, ocd, feeling of inadequacy, fear of rejection, fear of loneliness, anxiety, depression, intrusive thoughts[...] Setting: Act 2. Synopsys: "let's pretend we are not alone"
AN: Hello my stars, I haven't wrote a fanfic in a while, though this is a mix between a fic and a collection of one shots. The story is introspective, as we dwell in the story, our focus will be on two lonely souls that find solace in each other's touch. It will not be an action driven story, but fear not, It wont just be cuddles and kisses! (Though we'll have plenty of that) Anyways i hope you'll enjoy this, and you'll find comfort in it.
I'm also going to open a tag list, in case someone is interested. (if the taglist flops, you didn't see it) I'll link the form here so you can avoid leaving it in the comments if you prefer!
Form.
Playlist.
Masterpost.
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Loneliness was a strange feeling, sometimes it sprouted when you least expected it, but it hit you the worst at night. It was a feeling you grew accustomed over time, it coated your days, your food, your eyes. In a way it became your way of knowing you were alive, that deep down that emptiness you felt, something akin to a heart was beating, though lonely.
Everyone could see when loneliness was hitting you the worst, cause in the morning you would be more tired, eyebags would sulk your face and you would be avoidant.
The Last Light Inn was finally in sight as you descended the dark and shadowy path that the group of harpers pointed to. The bright glow of encircling the area was the only sign that could point at your way.
Despite the rough welcome from Jaheira and the harpers, they offered you a few rooms so you could rest while you planned your next moves. Jaheira took it on herself to give you a briefing on all she gathered in the shadowlands, but she could clearly see the dark circles under your eyes, and she knew them very well. The eyebags of a leader that needed rest and a warm soup. Little did she know that whatever you felt inside, it was much more than that. It was the thug you felt in your chest, the yearning for even the smallest touch. The need of closeness, like a body pressed against your skin as you dozed asleep. It was the daydreaming of respite in someone else’s embrace, safe and tucked away, though in that moment you wanted to concentrate more on the situation at hand: looking for the beds, cause for once in the past weeks, you didn’t need to set up camp or gather wood, or even sleep on the floor.
The group was directed towards the hen, where the strange ox from the emerald grove was moo-ing about its food. Jaheira gave you a key that would open a hatch where extra rooms would be tucked away. As you descended down the staircase, a soft light glimmered at the center of the space, where four doors were scattered around the empty communal area. A small kitchen sat on the side, while a fireplace was opposite to it. 
Whoever resided here before the darkness hit this place, was probably the owner of the inn and their family. The space was left clean, the harpers kept it in good conditions as they took over the perimeter of the inn.
You dropped your backpack near a door as you took a glimpse of the rooms: all of them had a poster bed that could easily hold two people and a partition to hide a bathing corner.
You opted to divide the rooms with the support of a coin flip. It was nothing against Lae'zel, but when the coin fell and it assigned you to her, you contemplated if you could have set a tent in the middle of the road. Your brain started churning ideas as the rest of the group was knees deep discussing on the beds.
"Oh don't sulk, Astarion" Gale played with the elf as he shoved his elbow in his hip. "I'm not an awful bedmate" 
"There's no way, I'm sleeping in the same room with you again" Astarion whined as he turned his head the other way. Then it hit you. 
Astarion.
Lae, do you mind sharing a room with Gale?" You asked, lowering your tone.
"Tck, are you trying to bed me and Gale?" She shot you a cold glance as you feing ignorance. 
She could think whatever if it meant you wouldn't hear her complaining every night. If you had to share a room with someone, you were oddly more comfortable with the idea of sharing your space with Astarion, and maybe it was for the fact that you were already closer. Feeding him every night meant learning how to share a small space and a closeness you were not willing to share with much people. Then in those nights you couldn’t rest, you’d sit together in front of the fire as you opened up to each other. It was a slow process for both of you, a little at a time you’d feed each other with bits of your hearts. You even mentioned a few times about that loneliness that was always devouring you, though you made sure to sugarcoat it a little, and he was very understanding of the bits you gave him.
You felt that you'd be more at ease with someone that understood loneliness the way you did, someone that wouldn't cross the boundaries unless you allowed him, cause if there was something you liked about him, it was the work he was doing on himself, relearning behaviors he couldn't claim before. Like the meaning of the word 'no', and how to trust, though he still pretended he didn't like anyone.
It was a shield he would put on, so that he couldn't get hurt or worse, rejected. He shared it with you in another sleepless night.
Though elves didn't need to sleep, during meditation something very akin to dreams was happening: your mind would focus on events of the past, over and over again, and you weren’t fond of your past crawling out again unwanted. Nevertheless, you both enjoyed sleep, there was something about those hours of nothingness that it made you breathe. 
Your attention was quickly drawn back to the room when Astarion and Gale were still bantering when Lae'zel lost her temper. "I'm done with you" She pulled out her knife menacingly, a good way to keep Gale in check when he would cling.
She pointed the knife towards Astarion first. "Tck, you take your stuff to Tav" She ordered, everyone's eyes were wide as they witnessed how she put them in check. Then she pointed the blade towards Gale, not a second of hesitation in her voice. "You sleep with me. You take the bed, I take the floor." She didn't wait for anyone's opinion, she picked up her belongings and disappeared behind a door.
You could still hear her complaining through the closed door. "Tchk, I don't like beds anyways, they are too soft"
Deep down you appreciated what she did, she understood more than what she gave away, and you would have to thank her one of those nights.
Everyone looked at each other speechless, before taking their turn to leave. It was an odd silence, a rare occurrence in your not so little marry-band. 
The room was definitely better than what you could see from a glimpse. It wasn't big, but the bed was big enough to fit you and Astarion comfortably, while the partition was just enough to create a nice bathing corner.
The bed was made with a set of linen sheets, and covered with a thick duvet to fight the cold of the shadow-cursed lands.
You dropped your bag on the right side of the bed before making a beeline to the tub. You spent a solid two weeks only in the underdark, the lack of water to wash you was agony.
You made good use of your magic by filling the tub with it, and keeping it warm. You labeled create bonfire useless a long time ago, when you noticed it was not enough to even roast a goblin, but it worked wonders for baths when you were short on time.
You were quick to discard your clothes and sink in the hot water, the steam coated the mirror in the room, as you allowed the water to caress your body.
Only a few minutes in the water passed by, and you realized how exhausted you were. Your movements were slow as you scrubbed away the dirt and sweat from your skin. You untied your hair, finally relaxing your sore scalp as you took your time massaging in your shampoo.
You wanted to go out for dinner, but when you put on your clean clothes, and tucked yourself under the comforter, that inevitable loneliness started growing thick on your body.
You wrapped your arms around your pillow as for a moment you wanted to disappear. Though you didn't want to move from there, you grabbed a book from your bag, your mage hand opening it and holding it for you as you tried to get distracted.
What was worse than being touch starved and in severe need of affection? Picking up the wrong book.
A fantastical love story between gods. If the book could make Umberlee and Valkur fall in love and find balance then why were you still alone?
You wondered if your parents angered a god when they were younger, and as a curse you ended up being shadowed by the incessant feeling of loneliness. 
As Umberlee cradled against Valkur's chest, you couldn't take it anymore. You dispelled the hand, letting the book drop down on the bed, careless if you lost the page you were at.
Your eyes pooled with the familiar salty tears, that night in particular it felt harder to shield yourself from the pain. So before you could fully have control of your body, the warm tears were flowing out like a river. 
It was your routine, in a way, to just let everything out at night instead of bottling it up, though the warmth of the comforter was not enough to satiate the warmth you wish hugged your body, yet you still tried your best to imagine it was a warm body that was pressed against yours. A soft hug that was trying to shield you from the outside. A whisper that reminded you it was okay to feel like this. Yet at the end of the day, you simply hid behind the delusion.
You didn't know how long you stayed there, in that fetal position you couldn't help but ball yourself into. Even after you finished all your tears and all that was left of it was the stains on your cheeks and your wet pillow, before Astarion appeared from the door, you were still cradled in that position.
You didn't speak or move, you just sunk a little more under the duvet.
"I noticed you didn't join everyone for dinner." He walked to your side of the bed, you couldn't see him but you could follow his footsteps before feeling his cold hand tap on your shoulder. 
"So I brought you some food" His voice was a whisper, as he slowly looked around the room, and then to you. Trying to catch what was going on. Insight check: succeeded.
"I know you are not feeling well, darling." He sat on the side of the bed, his hand gently swiping away a lock of your hair so he could catch a glimpse of your face. "But you need to eat something" This was a side of Astarion which you rarely had the chance to see, it was reserved for those nights where you allowed him to drink from you: the ever so soft touch and a voice that felt raw, more.. intimate. It was something that always made you cry later when you'd be alone, the closest you've been to that kind of physical touch you missed so much.
So many nights you wondered if he would be this soft with everyone he'd bed, until he admitted he didn't know how to be kind, caring, sweet, if not for show, and he wanted to give you some kindness back. 
You risked so much for him, including your neck, so he wanted to give you back at least a soft touch before leaving you to sleep, or the closest thing to some affection that he could manage.
So whenever he'd give you even the smallest of touches, you'd bask in it, taking as much as you could even from those small interactions.
His voice shook you from your thoughts again, his thumb swiped away a tear you didn't know you were shedding.
"My darling, what's going on?" You could feel the concern snicker between the honeyed words, trying to coax an answer from your quivering lips.
You wanted to find an excuse, something that would be much more serious than feeling lonely, yet all you said was that last word, a pained croak that escaped your lips.
Your heart clenched tightly as he hesitated just for a moment, wondering how much he could do to help you, without scaring you away.
But then he sat up, he took off the outer layer of his clothes, almost making you wonder if he already brushed your pained confession aside. He quickly reached in his bag for his nightshirt and made his way under the duvet.
He didn’t forget, at all.
With his face to yours he leaned forward, his palm touching your warm cheek as he finally could see you better. You tilted your head, almost silently begging for that innocent touch. Yearning for it.
His thumbs slowly dried your skin, catching the tears that would spill.
You both laid there in silence, you closed your eyes to avoid his stare, which was concentrated in taking in your shivering body.
"I understand," He whispered, almost as if they were hiding from someone. "I feel lonely too, every night" His voice was just like a caress against your ears, though it hid your same pain.
You wanted to say something, but no words would come out. The tadpole in your head squirmed, reminding you of its abilities just for a second.
Astarion didn't hesitate nor forced you out as you probed his mind, and when you were safely tucked in there, you just allowed your thoughts to flow free. Your every emotion spilling like a cup of coffee on the floor, even- accidentally- some of those memories of the loneliest nights where you just wanted to give up.
As soon as you slipped out from his brain, you sunk your head in your pillow, trying to hide those tears that you were starting to hate so much.
You couldn't comprehend what was happening at first, until your warm skin met with Astarion's cold chest. His arms held you close as he waited for you to raise your eyes to his.
He didn't know what he was about to say or do, he just allowed his dead and touch-starved heart to take control. 
Your gazes mixed in the middle, the veil that usually covered his emotions was pulled away, exposing his own hurt, his own need for affection, before his words struck you.
It was the occasional broken syllables that caught your ear, the way his mouth twitched and twisted before finishing a sentence, and the way his body would stiffen as he'd almost felt like a plea. It was not just to comfort you that he did whatever he did, it was for him as well.
He needed it just as much as you did.
His words would still echo in your brain whenever he'd caress your cheek. 
"Let's pretend just for a few hours that we are okay, that we fell in love. Let's pretend to be vulnerable. I'll be here pretending until you need me to, cause at the end of the day, we both deserve to feel loved, even if only for a split second. Let's pretend we are not alone." It was something between a hopeful proposal and a sad begging, something that reverberated through you like nothing has ever done before. His eyes were barely open as he still held you, you could tell from the way his fingers lingered on your exposed skin that he was taking the most out of this, for the eventuality that you'd move away from your grasp.
Instead you leaned completely against him, your head resting against his chest as you nodded.
His body softened around yours, his legs intertwining with yours as he'd place a kiss on your head.
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dumbcowcunt · 4 months
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God you’re such a pretty cow slut. God what I’d do to you if I got my hands on you. You’d never walk again. I’d force you to crawl on all fours like a good cow to get around while you still can before your fat gut drags the ground. I’d stuff you full of high calorie slop every single day, with fertility and lactation supplements mixed in. Watch your belly stretch past it’s limit as you whimper and whine around the tube down your throat as you endlessly chug until *I* think you’re full enough. Stupid fat fuckcows like you aren’t smart enough to know what full is. After each breeding session I’d put you back in your breeding stall. Give you your weekly estrogen and progesterone fertility shots. They’ve made your hips and tots swell amazingly. You’re glowing with fertility and I know it’s prime time to impregnate you, my cow. I’ve been tracking your ovulation cycles. I put your fat engorged breasts in the milker as they leak in anticipation. Milk steadily squirts and then flows in as you moo in relief at the pressure in your fat swollen tits. I finger your breeding cunt. Sopping wet. I whip out my bull cock and slam in to the hit, hearing you moo out in pleasure. The slapping gets louder and wetter as it continues. I thrust as deep as I can when I cum in you to ensure every drop gets in before pulling out, slamming a huge knotted dildo in you, and locking you in a chastity belt until your next breeding. That would be your life with me, cow. Day in and day out over and over getting bred and fattened for me.
oh fuck moooooo
please make me. fat dum breeding cow
dum fat fuckcow crawlina and mooing
breed me abd stuff me moooooo
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murfeelee · 2 months
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BG3 Durge & Hellspawn Set
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This set includes 4 CAS items and 2 Buy Mode items converted from Baldur's Gate 3:
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Dark Urge Sorcerer Robe AM
Dragonborn Tail ACC (found under Socks)
Cambion Horns & Wings ACC (found under Necklaces)
DAO Rune Sword ACC REDONE (Glowing & Flames) (found under Rings)
Bhaal & Hellish Glyphs as Floor Light
Imp as Decor (10k HIGH POLY) (found under Sculptures)
Enjoy!
Download (package files): Mediafire, SimFileShare
Descriptions & preview pics under the cut:
Durge Sorcerer Robe
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Y/A - AM, Everyday - Outerwear, fully recolorable, fit/fat morphs, etc.
Dragonborn Tail ACC
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Unisex, Teen - Elder, Naked - Outerwear, fully recolorable. Found under Socks.
Bhaal & Hellish Glyphs as Floor Light
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With the blood circle and Bhaal's daggers you can use MOO & OMSP Resizers to layer them.
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Imp as Decor | Cambion Horns & Wings | DAO Flaming Sword (Glows)
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Imp as Decor: Recolorable variation included, found under Sculptures.
Cambion ACC: Unisex, Teen - Elder, Naked - Outerwear, fully recolorable. Found under Necklaces.
Flaming Sword ACC: Unisex, Teen - Elder, Everyday - Outerwear, fully recolorable. Found under Rings.
And that's that!
Enjoy!
Download (package files): Mediafire, SimFileShare
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canarydarity · 3 months
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(haha happy new year! Heres 6K words of DL ranchers fighting 🤩 [ao3]) dull&slow
There was no feeling like a respawn; it was like jumping off of a building with nothing below to catch you, only to discover you had in fact been fastened into a harness when the bungee cord snapped taut. Except, it also wasn’t like that at all, because the mechanics of respawning—regardless of permanence—did nothing to curb the feeling of death, the actual sensation of dying. All it really did was remove the relief that one might experience had death been final, for what is death but a merciful release from pain? 
Jimmy imagined that there were few things that could even begin to feel like what a respawn did—the simultaneous cracking of all your joints at once in a manner akin to a human glow stick; ice cream that had been left out on the counter to melt but was then shoved back into the freezer again after only making it to that indescribably viscous stage between solid and liquid; a jam in a paper shredder—the kind where half of the page is relieved and sticking out of the top, completely intact and fine, while the rest is in ribbons below, still warm to the touch at the recent dismemberment. 
And that was only the physical aspect—the violent draw of your subconscious from the brink of death to perfect health mid-panic was something else entirely. It never got any easier, no matter how many times he did it (and Jimmy did it a lot). 
This was their second respawn, but it was different in the way that it happened unlike it did the first time: together. It was new but not unexpected to shoot up in bed at the ranch, cows mooing to his left and moonlight peaking through the window to his right. Jimmy heaved some breaths in and out; logically, he knew he was fine, but his body remembered the vertigo of falling. 
Tango was next to him, still lying back in their small bed staring at the ceiling. 
For a few beats, they were quiet, they caught their breath. The buzz of the cicadas outside was heavy in a way, droning alongside the cacophony of cows and the muted clucks of chickens from below ground. 
When his eyes began to itch and dry out from staring at nothing and his heaving sounded more like huffing, Jimmy broke the silence first. 
“I was leanin’ over the edge…why was I leaning over the edge?” His words were incredulous and barely there, only formed enough to actually get them out of his mouth but not any further. Had Tango not been right next to him, he probably wouldn’t have heard. 
Tango sat up, “Jim, hey–hey!” One of Tango’s hands reached behind Jimmy and settled on his shoulder, the other moved across himself to settle on Jimmy’s arm. “It’s okay! It’s only our second life, it was bound to happen sooner or la—”
Jimmy blinked out of his daze to realize Tango was soothing him; It was not shocking in the way it hadn’t happened before—it had actually, in fact, happened quite often—but in the way it was happening now. the combination of noises pushing in all around the ranch, having just lived through dying, again, and Tango’s warmth that he would’ve appreciated any other time, made it all immediately too much. Tango was soothing him—Tango misunderstood. 
It was instinct to throw Tango’s arm off of him, to scatter, to stand and create distance, and had Jimmy been in the right state of mind he would’ve explained that and apologized, but Tango’s shocked offense was the last thing he was focusing on. 
“No, you—why was I leaning over the edge?” 
It was the only thought that had run through his head since he’d woken up and stopped feeling like an egg mid-scramble. Not worry about being on red life, not concern about having been the one to return the favor of killing Tango this time, not upset that things were shaping up like they always did. 
Tango wasn’t necessarily wrong to assume that that’s where Jimmy’s thoughts had gone, as that’s usually where they would have. But this was not Jimmy when he was anxious, when he was guilty; This was Jimmy when he was mad.
He was pacing, but he wasn’t aware when it had started. He was just—he couldn’t stop thinking about fish. Or—no, not fish, parasites; there was this parasite he’d heard about that matures in the eye of a fish but reproduces in the belly of a bird. Jimmy had heard this and thought what a stupid, impossible thing—and he’d thought he had shit luck.  
That was until he’d heard the rest. Under control of the parasite, infected fish swim closer and closer to the surface of the water, leading it to be spotted and picked up by a bird; the parasite ends up where it needed to be all along, and that damned stupid fish is what gets it there. It doesn’t know what it’s doing, it’s not choosing to swim near the surface—by that point, the parasite is choosing for it—but it’s still— 
It just—
The fish gets itself eaten, essentially. The scariest part, Jimmy thought, was that he wasn’t sure the fish even knew. Was it aware it had been infected? Or was it swimming up and up and up and thinking what the fuck am I doing? Was it resting precariously below the surface, watching in fear as the birds circle, knowing all it had to do to avoid being eaten was swim the fuck back down, but for some reason, it just couldn’t?
Jimmy just—why was he leaning over the edge? His hands were wrapped around his stomach, griping his sides, hard. His teeth were grinding together, or he was biting his lip, or he was mumbling nonsense that even he didn’t know what meant. 
The floorboards of the ranch creaked and groaned with his pacing, and Tango remained watching from the bed, his face still painted in confusion. 
A noise—something caught between a whine and a grumble—worked its way out of Jimmy's throat, and more words came with it.  
“I saw them with their bows and arrows out—Joel, Etho, Scott—and I—” He shook his head. “We’d have been fine if I just didn’t peak my head over!” 
Jimmy turned back to Tango and pointed at him; Tango blinked, but the accusation delivered wasn’t for him. “And they weren’t even shooting at Grian, at—why weren’t they shooting at anyone else?”
Tango shook his head a little, opened his mouth to reply, but Jimmy wasn’t done. “I don’t understand—I don’t—” he grabbed at his hair and pulled; he bit into his lip again, not stopping when it started to hurt even though he knew Tango must’ve felt the ghost of it too. Jimmy rocked in place, “I even thought it. I thought ‘what are you leaning over the edge for, idiot!’ And then!” 
Jimmy spun, but no form of movement could match the direction of his thoughts, the restlessness of his mind. He felt like he was malfunctioning, every action begun and then subsequently aborted in favor of another; as if he could stop it all if he could just get himself to feel physically how he felt mentally, equilibrium a sort of saving grace. 
Jimmy hit himself in the head once like he could knock things back into place, fix whatever was loose in there–get the paper to start shredding again; in pieces, maybe, things would be okay. There was a call behind him of stop that, hey, none of that! and the bed creaked as Tango finally made the move to stand. 
“I don’t understand,” Jimmy mumbled again. They were inside, but his hair still felt the wind ruffle through it as though he were at high altitude; his hands touched nothing, but he could grip the hardwood of the defense tower all the same, rough and splintering. Joel and Etho had stood so far below, looking up, each with a hand up to their eyes to shield them from the sun. Jimmy remembered every detail about that moment—Grian had been leaning over right next to him. “Stupid parasite and it—why weren’t they shooting at anyone else? All I had to do was not lean over…”
Jimmy startled when Tango spoke again, he’d forgotten for a moment he wasn’t alone. 
“I don’t follow—parasite? What pa—”
Right, he wasn’t alone. 
“Gosh, and I’ve killed you, too, we’re–we’re red!” Jimmy said, facing Tango again. “And we’re back to nothing, we’ve lost everything—the horns, they’d have taken them by now, surely.” The anger from before seeped back into his voice, and Tango kept his space; a part of Jimmy felt bad at that, but he mostly felt validated. The guilt would come later, his chest didn’t house the room to feel so many things at once. 
Though space didn’t mean Tango was willing to stay out of things completely. 
“Jimmy, just hold on, I can’t keep up.” Tango was clearly still thrown by the direction things had gone in—he’d been expecting to reassure, not pacify—but Jimmy didn’t have it in him to stop and explain. His hands out like he was corralling a feral animal, he said, “What are you even…? Slow down, alright.” 
And maybe that was the last straw—his soulmate, known for his rage, asking him to calm, to slow down; the stark contrast between the Tango standing in front of him—hands splayed, face confused but determined—and the Tango who’d needed to be restrained as the ranch smoldered behind them; the fact that it was Jimmy who was being looked at like a time bomb with not even 5 seconds left to spare. 
This time, the accusation was meant for Tango, and Jimmy watched him stumble a little in shock when he received it. He threw his hand out like he’d needed that extra strength to pull the question from him, like his throat wasn’t up for the challenge alone, like he had to prove this was something he wanted to start and start now.  
“Why aren’t you mad?”
Tango’s face wound up with disbelief. “What?” 
Jimmy’s voice wasn’t made to be raised, but he gave it his best effort. It hurt, in a way—his throat not used to the coarse delivery; it hurt more for the fact that he’d made Tango the object of its direction. 
“You’re sitting here, and you’re calm,” he spat. “And—and you’re telling ME to be calm! Me!” Jimmy huffed again at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. “Why aren’t you mad?”
This time as Jimmy spoke, Tango wound down; he visibly CTRL+ALT+DLT-ed, a total system shutdown reboot. His hands dropped back to his sides and he stood up straighter. His face reset until he was just blankly watching Jimmy sputter and steam. He was still in a way Tango rarely was.
Jimmy thought it was the most un-Tango-like thing he’d ever seen, and that just made things worse. 
“Because it was going to happen either way, I could’ve just as eas—” its delivery was flat, like Tango knew he was stepping off of a bear trap but onto a landmine; though he did it anyway, and in most circumstances, his dedication to the idea of if at first you don’t succeed! was something Jimmy found endearing. If it wasn’t clear enough already, this was not most circumstances. 
Jimmy made a noise of dissent. This wasn’t—
“No, not—that’s not what I meant.”
A few beats of silence. They argued with the awkward hesitation of two people who’d never fought before and therefore didn’t know the procedure; neither of them had had time to memorize their lines. Fight was something they didn’t do—partially because they hadn’t been together long enough to garner the need, and partially because they got along with a simplicity they hadn’t expected. There was a question in this lapse between one comment and the next, an are we really going to do this?  
Tango blinked at Jimmy. “You don’t mean why am I not mad at you?” 
It would’ve been an easy out if he had. A way to walk them back to familiar ground—the kind where Jimmy was apologetic and guilty and anxious and Tango was steady and reassuring and kind. 
He couldn’t lie and say that wasn’t part of it; he was a liability, and he would never be over Tango being his collateral damage. 
He looked away from Tango, “Well—”
“Jimmy…” Pity was such an ugly, regretful thing. 
“No! No—yes, that’s not what I mean.” And it really wasn’t—at least, not at first, not completely. That was the undertone that would drive all his decisions and thoughts and feelings, it’s true, but this was different. This was—they’d died, Jimmy killed them, and Tango wasn’t upset about it; moreover, Tango was docile, passive. He was—
“Then I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”
—resigned. 
Jimmy didn’t yet look back, because he knew it would be his turn to talk when he did. All that he had to explain lacked the rationale to be said aloud; simply put, he was mad because Tango wasn’t. 
“You’re gonna have to give me something to go off of here, Jim.”
Eyes still fixed resolutely on the wall, Jimmy repeated the only sentiment he really could express at the time. “You’re not mad…” He let the end trail off, embarrassed it was all he had to offer, knowing it was unfair to Tango, knowing a normal person would’ve been able to voice more; just another way Jimmy fell behind. 
“At?”
“At anything!” He was discovering that when he did yell, his voice got high, and he tended to cut off the ends of his words. They shortened, got sucked up into the emotion until they weren’t letters anymore but sounds. “You’re—I had to restrain you, practically, after Scar burned down the ranch! And I wasn’t there, but I heard about last life and I—”
He felt like his sentences were being recorded in takes; start and stop, start—stop, mark! He would sound so much better edited together. He needed a script, surely he’d be able to say the right words had someone else given them to him. He’d do it right then, he knew. Of course arguing, too, was something he wasn’t good at.
Jimmy gestured at Tango, “You’re not mad, at anything, you’re just standin’ here! We’re going to die and it’s like you don’t even…like you’re not upset.” The final clause came out dejected and unsure; it sounded like it belonged to a completely different conversation. If he were reading lines, he’d likely receive notes about consistency and remaining in character. It was hard to do that when he wasn’t sure who he was or was ever supposed to be.
Tango looked no less confused. “That’s how the game works, Jimmy—we’re all going to die at some point.”
“I know that, Tango, I know.” Jimmy bit his lip. “How are you just okay with it?”
Tango’s eyebrows raised in shock, the kind that spoke to his questioning the audacity of something. “Well, I’m not happy about it, bu—”
“You are, though.” 
Eyes narrow, frustration finally starting to seep in, Tango said: “No, I’m not.”
“You are!” This felt more tantrum than argument; more whining about not getting his way than making a point about having been wronged; he wasn’t really sure he had been wronged. At least, not by Tango. But he didn’t know how to rewind, he didn’t think there was a going back. 
“Damnit, Jimmy, I’m not. You think I want to lose this?” 
No, Jimmy didn’t—and that’s why he was so confused. 
“Then why aren’t you angry that’s what I don’t…” This line of questioning wasn’t going to work—he’d already discovered that again and again. He needed to figure out a different direction to head in. “Even now I’m yellin’ at you and you’re just there.”
“So now you’re mad because I’m not yelling at you?” Annoyance, frustration, irritation—they were close, but none of them were what Jimmy wanted. Or—not what he wanted but what he needed. People were mad at him far too often for him to crave it in this uncommon time when no one was, but he needed to know Tango was with him on this.
“No, Tango!” Jimmy whined.
“Well you’re not explaining anything, what am I supposed to think? That’s what it sounds like you’re saying to me!” His voice finally at an above-normal volume, Jimmy shrunk; reality wasn’t ever quite like expectation, was it? The simultaneous relief mixed with the guilt, and everything got worse; he thought maybe that’d been his goal all along, he could see it now that it had occurred. And yet, it wasn’t right; sure, Tango was mad—but he still didn’t get it. Tango kept rambling.
“You’re mad that I’m not mad, and you say it’s not about you, but then you’re also mad I’m not yelling at you—which I have yet to figure out, by the way, and—” 
Following Tango’s wild hand gestures, Jimmy’s eyes landed on their wall of chests, and he knew what he needed to do. He scooted past Tango, who turned to keep facing him, and started rooting around until he found what he was looking for. 
“Oh, and you’re ignoring me too, now, which is neat,” Tango said to his back.
He’d wrapped it in a bundle of spare wool hoping that bed made they wouldn’t need much else and Tango wouldn’t find it on accident, but he pulled it out now and turned back to face Tango gripping it in his hand.
His soulmate shut up immediately, his gaze first on Jimmy’s hand, and then up at his eyes. 
“Where did you get that.” The anger was finally there, but Jimmy didn’t immediately respond. “Why do you have that?”
The golden apple was cold in his hand, colder than he thought it should have been. It glowed slightly in the darkness of the ranch, a yellow hue that spread out in a dim radius; he had the bizarre thought that it would've made a good nightlight had it not been illegal. Jimmy had always been a bit scared of the dark (he’d been pleased, then, when the game had started and he found that his soulmate glowed just the same). He didn’t need the apple sitting on the lid of their chests to provide light—not so long as he had Tango; how ironic then that he only got both or none, that consuming—and therefore getting rid of—the apple would rid him of Tango, too. 
Jimmy didn’t want to be left alone in the dark, but that was sort of why he looked back at Tango and he said, “I think you should eat it.”
“No.” It was both a response and an expression of disbelief rolled into one; a no, this conversation is not happening, not now, and a no way in hell is that thing getting anywhere near my mouth. The stillness was back, but it was more dangerous this time; less resigned, more preparing to strike.
Jimmy repeated himself, lifting his arm and holding the apple between them as he did. “Tango, you should eat it.”
“No.” Tango shook his head. “Jimmy, I said no.” 
“Why not?”
“Why not?” A sardonic, humorless laugh made its way out of Tango, and Jimmy flinched at the sound; a broken echo of their usual selves. “This is a joke, right? There’s something here that I’m missing that makes this all super-happy-funny and we’ll laugh about it in 5 minutes.”
“I’m serious, Tango.”
His hands on his hips, Tango nodded at Jimmy as he said, “you are.” It was deceptively compliant, mockingly understanding. Jimmy was misled often enough in conversation to recognize when he was being set up, but he hadn’t quite yet learned the skill of letting things go; he walked again and again through a door labeled trap! which was how he knew he was doing it now. 
“Yes...” 
“Serious-serious, you’re seriously asking me why I don’t want to eat a golden apple.” Tango doubling down, Tango continuing to misunderstand, the fact that Jimmy couldn’t blame him for any of it, the feeling of everything at once, and the knowledge that all was out of his control; he felt his eyes well up with tears of frustration. 
“That’s what I just said...” Dejected, a clown waiting for the punchline—waiting for others to laugh at his expense; setting up joke after joke, forgetting what it was like to not provide the entertainment. 
“Well I just wanted to confirm before I informed you that that’s the stupidest question I’ve ever been asked in my entire life.” It was at this point that Jimmy let out a breath, and a tear fell with it. “Like, wow it’s almost an accomplishment how stupid that question is.”
“Tango…” He’d plead but he knew he didn’t have the right—not in this conversation of his own devising. It wouldn’t be a lie to say he didn’t know how they got here, but it wouldn’t be the truth either. 
“Really! I’d make you a ribbon to commemorate and everything if we had literally anything to our name at all.”
Catching the opportunity to jump back in, Jimmy took it. “Okay, that—that’s my point.” 
“That I haven't offered to make you a rib—” 
Jimmy cut Tango off again before he could stuff the conversation with more nonsense in defense. “That we have nothing—have had nothing since we started!” 
It was more than just luck—it was design. There came a point where chance ended, a place coincidence didn’t reach. Jimmy had dwelled long enough in the space between unlucky and doomed to know that one was cyclic, intermittent, while the other was ceaseless, fixed. Luck would come and go, but damnation? That kind of fate had been here since before all of them, and would remain long after. 
The subject was taboo, but there wasn’t a single person on this server who was unaware that Jimmy was ill-fated. They poked and prodded him about it, but any level of seriousness to the conversation was buried under veiled laughter and slightly glassy eyes; the kind of sheen to a stare that said even if they tried, they couldn’t know what it was they talked about. To everyone else, Jimmy’s “curse” was a bit they’d overindulged in; to Jimmy, it was a burden he wasn’t allowed to acknowledge. They didn’t let him. 
He’d thought maybe…Tango was being forced to share it; maybe something would click; maybe they’d let him have this for just a few weeks. 
Jimmy didn’t think he could get any more stupid. 
The sarcasm remained equipped, defenses high. “Well, I’m sorry that you think I’m not doing enough to provide for you, Jimmy, bu—”
Jimmy groaned again. “Tango can you be serious for 2 minutes! 2 minutes, please!” 
“No!” Tango was looking at him in a way he never did; a look that conveyed I cannot believe you, the underlying sentiment of dismissal that hurt more for it coming from the only person who’d ever really listened to him without reservation.“You know what, no, I cannot. If you’re going to start a ridiculous argument you’re going to get ridiculous responses—you don’t like it, too bad.”
Jimmy had been involved in a lot of ridiculous arguments before—it came with being a reactive person; he existed with defenses always already half-raised, on high alert for anything that might make him the center of negative attention. 
But this wasn’t one of them. The ranch, Tango, soulmates—they were easily the most valuable things he’d ever had—and that was why he couldn’t have them. He was going to lose it—he was already losing it; it never hurt so much when he was the only thing he had. “Gosh, dont you get it?! There’s nothing we can do—nothing! I’m gonna kill us, you understand?”
It felt good to say it out loud, to watch Tango blink in the face of such bluntness. Somehow his shock betrayed his lucidity, and proved to Jimmy what he’d feared all along: Tango felt it too. 
And that made him circle all the way back to the beginning of this stupid roundabout conversation. Maybe he didn’t know it in so many words, having less time to experience it than Jimmy did but Tango knew—their time was running out; running out in a way it didn’t for anyone else playing these games; running out in a way Jimmy had—until now—never before been allowed to acknowledge. Tango knew. 
And Tango wasn’t mad. 
“Ugh, this is—this is childish, is what it is! I don’t…I can’t believe this is happening. This is—it’s madness.” What did they bother going in circles for if they were just going to end up right where they’d started?
“You’re the one trying to force feed me a golden apple,” Tango grumbled, eyebrows raised and face mocking as he looked at the cows. A few of them were standing against the fence staring back, mooing insistently; a strange audience for a strange night. 
“Because I’m sick of it, Tango!” He was, once again, not the right recipient of this complaint, but what else was Jimmy to do? Seasons of grief built up in one desperate conversation, it was becoming more a list of grievances than a call to action. “Of all of it! Of the jokes, of losing, of—of not being in control of anything, of dying—and you—”
“Me?” Tango huffed, interrupting. “Wow, tell me how you really feel, Jim.”
Jimmy shook his head and looked down, a dismissal; his answer immediate and unhesitant. “No, that’s not what I—” 
Sick of Tango—it wasn’t possible, but he saw in his hands that he still clutched the golden apple, and he was reminded again of all the ways in which he was dangerous; of the ways in which he was the heavy rock tied around Tango’s ankle, sinking slowly despite all efforts. He closed his eyes, tight, hard enough to hurt, and swallowed the bile in his throat. “You know what, yeah. I am.”
He looked up again to look at Tango, forcing himself to look determined, sure. “Yes, I’m sick of you.”
“Jimmy…” There was a warning there, but following warnings was never Jimmy’s strong suit. 
“I am!” He didn’t think there was much of a chance Tango would believe him, but he loved Tango enough that he owed it to him to try. “I’m sick of you and how calm you’re being. We’re losing everything, again, always and you’re just standin’ around and I’m sick of it, Tango.” 
Tango refused to answer, and Jimmy knew to be any convincing at all, he had to commit. 
“I’m sick of this place,” he gestured around the ranch, rebuilt since the fire but still nowhere near as advanced as the other bases on the server; they could try and try and try but they’d never reach that level; they couldn’t be allowed to have an actual chance. “and—and how we built it from nothing and it still didn’t matter. We weren’t even doing that bad, and we’re still losing, and I’m sick of that, too!” 
Tango standing still, Tango with his hands on his hips, Tango refusing to rise to the bait in Jimmy’s words. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t believe me? Fine, I’ll just keep going then.” He shrugged, undeterred, glancing around as if he wasn’t bothered—and his eyes landed on the cows in the corner, still watching them as if simply their being awake meant they’d be getting fed. Jimmy raised the arm with the golden apple, using it to point at them. “These stupid cows mooing all the time—the chickens—might as well just kill ‘em all now, 'cause they’re not going to matter either, are they? I’m over this place, and—and everyone else treating us like a joke.”
He looked back at Tango when he’d finished. “And I know you’re sick of it too, you are.”
“I’m not.” This, finally, was familiar ground—Jimmy projecting, Tango reassuring—but for once, Jimmy wished his anxiety proven right, he wished Tango would give in and admit that this wasn’t what he wanted—that Jimmy wasn’t what he wanted; not if it meant the absence of a fair chance.  
“You are, you have to be.” And it was somewhat like begging. Jimmy’s never begged someone to be sick of him before—he was usually pleading for the opposite; how backward, how wrong, everything in him screaming what are you doing?! No one else had ever treated him like Tango did. 
He sniffed once—as he was still crying—and kept listing things; the sort of fears it would kill him if Tango validated, but he said them anyway. If there was any chance it’d get Tango to eat the apple and be safe. 
“You’re sick of having to cater to me, right? Of having to answer a million questions and reassure.” Tango began to shake his head, but Jimmy ignored it and kept going, stepping closer to his soulmate. 
“And I bet you’re sick of losing, too. You don’t want to lose, Tango, not again, right?” It was a low blow, but Tango didn’t look hurt so much as he looked sad; he accepted Jimmy’s meanness as a product of his fear, and he curbed his offense to make room for the heartbreak. 
Figures that Jimmy starts a needless argument insulting Tango endlessly and was still the most pitied in the room. He didn’t know if it was a product of his selfishness or Tango’s altruism, but the effect remained the same. 
Within arms reach at last, Tango raised a hand but stopped it midway between them, unsure if breaching this distance was yet allowed. When Jimmy didn’t do anything about it, Tango lowered his hand until it rested on the front-facing part of Jimmy’s shoulder, eyebrows furrowed, not trusting that this was over.
Jimmy mirrored Tango with his own hand, feeling the warmth of Tango’s vest and above-average temperature below—the heat that’d been keeping him warm at night when they couldn’t splurge on extra blankets or were sleeping in a half-burned-down building or just because. He only allowed himself to feel it for a second before he pushed—not hard, but enough to make Tango take a step back, more because he wasn’t expecting it than due to force. 
“Come on,” Jimmy pled. “Fight back. Get mad, hit me.”
“I’m not going to hit you, Jimmy.”
Jimmy stepped forward and pushed again, both hands; not harder but more firm. “Fight back, Tango, come on.”
“No.” Tango’s face was scrunched together in the most vehement disagreement he could give, and, out of options—out of energy—Jimmy made another noise somewhere between a whine and a groan and raised his hands again, only for Tango to catch them this time and drag Jimmy closer; dropping his hands the second he was within holding distance, one of Tagno’s arms wrapped around him and the other cradled the back of Jimmy’s head as he pulled it down towards his shoulder. Their height difference made it difficult at first, but they’d been practicing for weeks. 
Jimmy went without protest, arms at Tango’s waist, screwing his eyes shut tight enough that he could almost pretend he didn’t hear the I’ve got you’s that he didn’t deserve but Tango was nonetheless whispering to the side of his head. He wanted to protest—or, no, he wanted to want to protest; to keep trying until Tango understood, until Jimmy screwed up enough that Tango got fed up and left the way anyone else would’ve done weeks ago, possibly just upon finding out they were paired. 
“You’re okay—we’re okay,” Tango said. “I’ve got you. We’re going to be okay,” hand steady on the back of Jimmy’s head, holding fast when he tried to shake it and express his opposition. Jimmy didn’t think that ‘okay’ had a place here, not for them, not anymore. 
They were on their last life now, he could feel the effects of being red thrumming through him, though they weren’t as much to blame for the damage he’d caused as he wished; this disaster, like most, was entirely Jimmy’s own. 
Still murmuring and offering reassurance, fingers of one hand still scratching through Jimmy’s hair, Tango used his other to gently pry the golden apple from Jimmy—no longer putting up a fight—and toss it away without looking until it rolled on the wood flooring through the gate of the cow pen. Jimmy watched, head still on Tango’s shoulder, as the cows shuffled around for the lobbed apple, mooing increasingly louder until, after a crunch or two, it was assumed no longer there. 
He felt more so than heard Tango clear his throat, the motion vibrating through Jimmy like a warning. “I am mad,” Tango whispered, voice only half-formed at the low volume. “I am,” he repeated, “don’t think I’m not.” His tone the kind of calm that only gave way to true anger. “But what can we do?”
Jimmy closed his eyes. He didn’t know. 
~-~-~-~-~-~-~
They’re in bed after, facing each other in the dark; Tango watching Jimmy, Jimmy watching their clasped hands between them. Tango’s thumb ran along the ridges and valleys of his knuckles, waiting for something, though he didn’t know what. In his mind, Jimmy was running through all he had to offer—the things he should say, the things he couldn’t voice—but what he kept getting stuck on was:
“I didn’t mean it.”
“I know,” Tango said; not exasperated, not upset, just matter of fact. 
Jimmy raised his eyes to Tangos, shaking his head as much as he could while lying down, not willing to risk any more miscommunication, “I’m not sick of it here.” 
“I know, Jimmy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Shhh,” Tango pulled their joined hands until Jimmy scooted forward, head under Tango’s chin, all not forgotten but, at the moment, behind them. They were on their red life, after all—there were other things to worry about. 
Jimmy knew that the fact that Tango loved him shouldn’t be one of them, but when it was more than he wanted to live, it was. There was nothing he could do about it now. They would wake up in bed tomorrow and, maybe if they were lucky, the day after that—but there wouldn't be another respawn. They were out of time, out of options—this was it. 
Tango loved him, Tango wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t need to press his ear further into Tango’s chest to hear his heartbeat—not when it was an echo of his own—but he did it anyway and tried not to number the beats like a countdown, to assign them values and limitations. 
He squeezed Tango tighter, comfort disregarded; it was an offering where words had previously failed him, though there was no guarantee that his message would translate this way either. Physicality was another language Jimmy had never gained proficiency in—pretty much any method of communication verbal or non-verbal was—but he owed it to Tango to try. The trace of his fingers along Tango’s spine said I’m sorry, his breath on Tango’s chest whispered of how he’d spare Tango’s heart from his if he could; forehead to collarbone asked if things could still be normal tomorrow, since there was now a very real possibility that tomorrow was all they had. 
He didn’t bother interpreting the response, focus lost as Jimmy tried and failed not to drift away on the subliminal messaging of his own; that this was his loss, his failure, his fault. 
If he’d tried, maybe he’d have read the brush of Tango’s fingers through his hair as I don’t mind, the press of lips to the top of his head as reaffirming the deliberate choice being made—the decision to stay, to be a part of this. 
But he didn’t. Jimmy was stuck, and not at all like he had thought. Maybe he wasn’t the fish, maybe he was the parasite; the birds were circling and Jimmy could beg all he wanted, but Tango loved him. Tango wasn’t going to swim down. 
Tango wasn’t going anywhere.
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capt-mactavish · 1 year
Text
Teeth
I've been sitting on this messy werewolf!soap ghostsoap drabble for awhile and I'm tired of looking at it in my drafts so I'm just gonna post it.
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Something was wrong with Soap.
Well, not exactly. 
Not wrong. 
Off, maybe.
Specifically with his teeth.
It sounds absurd, but really, Ghost is very observant, and there was something peculiar about Soap’s teeth.
Ghost had only seen it a handful of times. But he was sure of what he saw.
Canines that were just a bit too long to be normal. A bit too sharp. Not overtly so, but enough for someone who was paying attention to take notice.
Not that Ghost was paying closer attention to Soap than anyone else, no! 
It was just that…
There was something about the way, that when the Sergeant would smile, lips pulling back to reveal the pointed pearly whites, that Ghost’s heart would thump just a bit harder, fluttering inside his chest. His fists would clench tightly, as if aching to touch, sometimes to the detriment of whatever happened to be in his hand, such as newly wrinkled paperwork. 
It was a curious thing, how something so mundane could pull such a visceral reaction from the hardened soldier. And yet, he found himself enamored by it, seeking it out instead of trying to bury it down like he’d do any other time. 
He’d tell himself it was Soap’s fangs that had him so captivated by the Scottsman, beguiled by their origins and… implications. 
He’d tell himself that, but deep down he knew it wasn’t just his teeth Ghost had taken a fascination to. After all, there were other peculiarities surrounding Soap that Ghost had taken notice of as well. 
Like the fact that he was so much warmer to the touch than anyone else.
Ghost remembers the first time he had experienced it, grabbing Johnny by the forearm to hoist him up after getting knocked down in the field. His skin so hot, feeling it even through his gloves, Ghost had thought the Sergeant had broken out into a fever.
“Christ, Johnny, you’re burning up!” he had said, ready to fall back with Soap in tow and get him to the medic asap.
But Soap had just waved him off, “‘M fine, sah. Really. No need ta worry.” 
And so Ghost had let him go, and Johnny was fine as he had said. No sign of a fever or illness whatsoever as the Sergeant carried on as usual. 
Nothing except for the lingering heat on the Lieutenant's gloved hand. Like a burn, singed into his skin. 
Of course, when they got back to base, Ghost had tried to insist that Johnny be checked out anyway. But the Scot refused, swearing there was nothing to worry about. Even Price had dismissed him, which Ghost thought odd, but eventually he let it go. 
And Johnny was, indeed, just fine.
Another was the sheer amount of meat that Johnny consumed, and his apparent preference for it to be concerningly rare.
Only this time it was Gaz who had noticed first.
Soap had sat down at their table in the mess with his plate, the only contents a thick cut of bleeding steak and nothing else. 
“Where did you get that?” Gaz had exclaimed indignantly. “How come you get steak? I wouldn't mind a steak!” 
But Johnny just winked and replied, “Go’ a special arrangement with the cook.” Before cutting into his meat, so red it was practically still mooing. 
“That’s going to make you sick, Johnny,” Ghost had said, his morbid curiosity making it difficult to look away.
“Stomach o’ steel, L.t. Dinnae you worry,” was the response from Soap.
Gaz grimaced at him, but nothing else was said, and it just became the norm.
And then there was the fact that about once a month, Johnny would simply just disappear for a day or two at a time. 
A solo operation, Price had explained, and that was that on the matter as far as he or anyone else was concerned. 
But Ghost wasn’t so convinced. Especially when Soap would come back looking better than before he left. Practically glowing, like an immense weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And especially since Soap seemed to always be a bit on edge, aggressive, just before leaving on one of these “missions.” 
There was also the fact that the Sergeant possessed a strength Ghost had not imagined the Scot capable of.
The first time they had spared, he had pushed Soap to his limit, testing him. 
He succeeded in that, managing to rile Soap up to the point of fury.
And when Soap had pinned him, slamming Ghost’s wrists into the mat on either side of his head, he was surprised to find that he had been rendered completely immobile. 
Flexing his arms did nothing, there was no budging as Soap held firm. Even the body sitting atop Ghost's chest seemed impossible to move.
The Lieutenant even thought he had heard an inhuman growl come from the man as the back of his head hit the mat, but at the time it had gone unnoticed, too stunned by his immobility and how Soap had gotten the upper hand so quickly. 
“Soap!” Price had shouted, an edge in his tone, sounding much like a warning.
“Sah!” Soap responded, releasing Ghost immediately and letting him up.  
Ghost had stood, rubbing his wrists as he watched Soap and Price speak hushedly to each other for a moment before the Scot returned, looking very much like a scolded pup despite his victory over the Lieutenant.
After that, Soap had not pinned Ghost again. Not even as Ghost did his damndest to provoke him into doing so. 
It frustrated him, his interest piqued and curiosity left unsated, but it was another one of those things he had to just let go. 
Another of Soap’s peculiarities was that Ghost had noticed that the Sergeant had a almost supernatural sense of hearing. 
At first he chalked it up to nerves and Soap’s own imagination, but when Soap’s acute hearing had saved their lives, more than once, he was quick to become convinced of the man’s abilities. Putting absolute faith in him from thereon out when he said he heard something.
With Ghost leading, all Soap had to do was silently take hold on the Lieutenant's shoulder, and he would have Ghost’s undivided attention.
His face would say it all. Eyes unfocused, listening. And Ghost would listen too. But he never heard what Johnny could hear. 
And then the Sergeant would come back to him, signal, and Ghost would nod and let Johnny take point. 
All of those things were extraordinary in their own right, but Ghost kept coming back to Soap’s teeth.
Of all Soap's attributes, they were the only tangible thing Ghost could see and confirm with his own eyes. And he would be lying if he said he wasn't just a bit obsessed with them.
He wondered if they were as sharp as they looked, and how easy it would be to break skin and draw blood. If he’d even feel anything at all or if having Soap close enough to sink his fangs into Ghost’s flesh would numb him to it. 
Or maybe, he might even like the pain.
Ghost sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. The clock on the wall read two in the morning, and the report he’d wanted to finish before lights out lay on his desk before him, unfinished, mocking him, as he had descended into his daydreams.
It was no use, and the Lieutenant was tired. At least in his cot his mind was free to wander before sleep would eventually claim him. 
But now staring up at the ceiling from his cot, fighting to close his eyes and rest, all the thoughts come rushing back to him, and suddenly Ghost is hit by a thought he hadn’t yet considered. 
He can feel his heart rate quicken, a flash of heat running through his body as the realization dawns on him, only now putting all the pieces together.
Soap was something else, in a very literal sense of the term.
He wasn’t human.
So... what was he? 
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undead-merman · 1 year
Text
This was a Patreon request from Usotsu: “I remembered you once wrote about Bullboy Kylar and a vet pc, may I request a continuation to that, if that's ok? Maybe with the pc having to keep him without much of a choice since Kylar isn't being productive anymore and he also has become violent towards everyone in his farm but it's just a little calmer with pc's presence? Bonus points if pc brings Kylar to Alex's farm and everything gets even worse, lmao. I don't mind if it's goes more towards SFW or NSFW. Thanks in advance.”
The original post
Bullboy Kaylar Moving to Alex’s farm with Vet GN-Reader SFW & NSFW
Taking him off Remy’s hands
It was during your last visit did you hear Remy tell you that they were looking to re-home Kylar. It was too much work and he wasn’t providing enough to stay on the farm. He was running a business, not a charity. Not to mention the little shit had caused a handful of injuries that had some farmhands in the hospital for goring.
You felt bad for the little guy. Constantly nursing some kind of injury, and the farmers were never gentle with him. Harsh and somewhat cruel, you couldn’t just let him leave. You talked with Alex, and they agreed. They were looking for another bull and even if he didn’t give milk he would be cared for at this farm and give the little guy the life he deserves. 
There was a heavy tension between Remy and Alex and you knew that just moving Kylar wasn’t as simple as asking. You had to strike a deal. You had to do some things you weren’t proud of and you would have had to do worse if you weren’t their vet. 
But that day game where Alex grabbed a trailer for him and when he ran into your arms and took him outside of the fence Kylar’s eyes when wide with wonder. His face just right now was worth the trouble you went through. 
You had to sit with him in the trailer he kicked and panicked otherwise. He held onto you so hard, not understanding you were taking him to have a much better life. He was trembling against you, and you certainly noticed his cock poking against you even with how high stress this was. Kylar would be Kylar even when stressed. Your touch did help calm him down a bit. 
You and Alex lead him to the pen for him, lined with extra soft bedding. Kylar was blown away by it and fell asleep almost instantly. Both you and Alex couldn’t help but smile at his sleeping face. It was heartwarming and Alex ruffled your hair and made a nice dinner for the both of you that night. A little bit of both of your favorites.       
Adjusting To The Move
Kylar was shy and meek at first. Only really perking up when you were around and with you appearing every day his mood improved faster than you were expecting. His blood pressure was at an all-time low and he was gaining weight.
He did have that habit of humping you when you did medical checkups on him and they looked painful sometimes. All flushed and painfully hard with precum almost gushing from his slit.
The stones in his hooves gradually got less and he was careful with the bandages. He has gotten a little glow to him, looking so much healthier in this new environment. 
When you finally introduced him to the fields he still seemed rather happy despite it being a smaller plot of land. Though he didn’t seem to get along with any of the others. A little bit of a loner, though you hoped that would change.
After a month or so he finally seemed ready to produce and as both you and Alex stood there attaching the milkers Kylar didn’t take his eyes off you. Mooing and trying to fuck the machine. Even with his smaller testicles and prior neglect, he spewed so much. Even Alex was impressed that this little guy could make so much. He compared to your finest and biggest girl.        
The Quirks Of The Bull
He grew slightly more comfortable around the farm and while he was still a loner, he did always come up to the fence line and wait for you to come out before work. He leaned into the pets you offered and always waited for you to come home. Alex made a joke that he made a little ditch from pacing around the fence waiting for you. 
Kylar did have attachment issues. He was overly possessive of you and would headbutt the other cattle when you did checkups on them or push them over when they were coming to get pet. Though you noticed Kylar always acted pathetic when you or Alex went to scold him. 
Speaking of Alex, he never seemed to like them. Tolerating them was more the word for it. His face would drop when Alex came in and would huff when you and Alex chatted. If you weren’t separated by a face or gate by the time Alex left he’d knock you over and grab your hips to grind his bare cock into your ass. The precum drenches your pants and his cum coats you, even reaching the back of your neck. 
If you did ever end up bottomless around him he’s on your like glue. Mouth right on your genitals and feverishly shoving his face as close to you as he can as he devours you desperately. Drinking every little drop of fluid you secrete. Or if he hadn’t seen you all day his cock was pressing right at your rim, Pushing in without prep. It would always hurt like hell and it was like he was trying to make up for it with gentle licks of his long tongue, though it never helped as he brutally ruined your hole and stuffed you so full of cum your stomach bloated and it gushed when he popped himself out. 
Should you have ever let him do it willingly, he was gentle. Hands shaking as he held your hips as his cock slipped into you. Both of you are grateful for the lube you used beforehand. His fingers fumbling on your tummy and trying to find his cock inside you and every time he found it he pressed down and mooed so happily. 
He was one to pass out right after cumming so if he ended up catching you bare you were able to squeeze by him without a fuss. 
Alex did seem to like him even if he was a troublemaker. He made some profitable milk. Alex often talked about finding him a nice breeding partner. If only Alex knew.
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mac-and-thefox · 6 months
Note
Mackie Moo. I am in hella pain so Ive come to bother you with a request of Amaryllis getting pampered and comforted by Mountain, Swiss and Dew pls ty ilysm mwah mwah
Amara my love 💙💙 I'm so sorry you're not feeling well. I hope this helps a little bit💙 (I'm sorry this took a minute...and that its so fucking long 😅)
I hope I do your OC and their dynamic justice
CW: hurt/comfort, lots of feels, vaginal fingering
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Petal
Amaryllis had not been having a good day.
The fire ghoulette had woken up with a pounding headache, and a burning in her gut that was indicative of her heat starting in the next few days. Her joints were sore and things just couldn't seem to go right today.
She hadn't felt like fixing herself food, and as a result had tripped and spilled her lunch all down her front in the middle of the dining hall. She had stabbed herself with the massive leather-working needle she was using to reattach the soles of Rain's boots (she swears to Satan...if Bambi would just manage to stay on his damn feet during Rituals her job would be so much easier).
To make things even better, Primo was currently not at the Abbey, having been traveling for a personal sabbatical for the last week or so, and Amaryllis had been stuck assisting Sister Imperator all afternoon, which had resulted in Amaryllis leaving the office holding back hot, angry tears.
She stalked down the hallway, fatigue and irritation radiating off of the small fire ghoulette in waves, permeating her scent of clove oil, chestnut accord, and vanilla with the smell of charcoal.
At one point a sibling of sin came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. The look on Amaryllis' face as she whirled around snarling, blue flames dancing in her eyes and hair, her sprite Mango jumping out from her blue tresses emitting sparks, tiny puffs of blue smoke and angry "Eep!!"s, had sent the sibling stumbling backwards, stammering garbled apologies as they turned heel and ran the other way.
**
Down the steps to the ghouls' den she went, her feet and tail dragging as she nudged the door open with her horns, arms too tired to do their job, and stepped inside.
Mountain looked up from the book he was reading in his chair, alerted by the charred wood smell on his mate's scent as she entered the room. Amaryllis trudged over to the earth giant, slumping between his knees and dropping her head to rest on his shoulder, whining quietly.
Mountain leaned forward to recieve his mate, wrapping his arms around her small frame and nuzzling her hair between her horns. Mango revealed herself from her hiding place in her ghoul's hair, climbing up Mountain's shoulder and settling between his ram's horns, chirping and chittering sadly.
"What's wrong, Little One?" Mountain asked in his deep baritone, stroking her back softly.
Amaryllis flinched, whined louder and buried her face in his chest, tears staining his shirt as the stress from the day brought her headache back to the surface.
"Oh Petal, I'm sorry, was that too loud?" Moutain whispered as he cupped her small face in his massive hand and tipped her head up to look at him.
He gave her a small kiss on the nose and drew her up to sit in his lap, holding her close against his chest as he rubbed his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp.
Mountain reached up to his horns, letting Mango step into his palm, before bringing his hand down to deposit the fire sprite in her ghoul's lap, the little blue salamander curling up on Amaryllis' tummy and kicking up her ember-like warmth and glow.
Amaryllis wrapped her arms around her mate's neck, burying her face in his calming scent as he began emitting lavender and eucalyptus in an effort to calm her down.
He rocked her softly, gently and quietly coaxing words from the fire ghoulette as she tearfully regaled him with the events of the horrible, awful day she had been subjected to.
A loud bang from the doorway signaled Swiss and Dew barging into the room, laughing and shoving each other as they taunted who was going to be the winner of the upcoming Mario Kart marathon they were planning on. Amaryllis shuddered and hid deeper into Mountain's chest at the sharp noises, the tears returning and turning into full sobs.
One sharp glare from the earth giant and a hiss from Mango sent Swiss and Dew into immediate silence, mumbling sheepish apologies as they padded over to the couple in the chair and knelt down at Mountain's feet.
"Hey hey, none of that now, Babylove...what's the matter?" Swiss murmured as he brushed the hair out of Amaryllis' face, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.
Dew, after a nod from Mountain, climbed into the other side of the earth ghoul's lap and wrapped his arms around his best friend's shaking form. Mango squeaked out a small protest at being squished between them before moving back up in between Mountain's horns, eyeing the fire ghoul suspiciously.
"Mara...please don't cry...we're sorry we were loud..."
Amaryllis sobbed harder, shaking in Dew's embrace as she re-purged her pain and frustration about the day.
"It's just...e-everything hurts and...I-I embarrassed myself in front everybody...just a shit day...Imperator is such a heinous bitch," Amaryllis blubbered out.
"I-I'm sorry...ge-getting your shirt a-all gross and snotty...I don't know why I can't stoooppp..." she wailed into Dew's shirt, wiping tears and snot off her face onto her sweater sleeve as the tears just kept coming.
Swiss pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, sitting up on his knees and gently cleaning off Amaryllis' face as she sniffled and looked up at the Multi Ghoul with big, sad, red-rimmed eyes.
"Amara, we're so sorry you had such a bad day."
"Please baby, it's time to stop crying, you're going to give yourself a headache if you continue like this, love. There's our good girl,"
Swiss gave her a kiss on the forehead and smoothed her hair in between her horns as the fire ghoulette's sobs subsided to little sniffles and hiccups. He rubbed his thumbs over her temples and under her eyes, willing his bit of quintessence to wick away the pressure undoubtedly building from the intense crying.
Swiss glanced at Mountain, communicating silently through their bond. Mountain nodded, gently turning Amaryllis' face to look at him.
"Petal, why don't we go take a soak, hmm? Let's go take a long bath together, that will help your aches and help you relax a bit, yeah?"
Amaryllis peeked up at her mate's face. "I-I want Dew and S-Swiss to come with us, is that okay?"
Dew wrapped his arms around her again, bumping their horns together softly, affectionately.
"Mara, of course that's okay. Swiss is gonna go get the bath ready. Me and Mounty are gonna help you get undressed and relaxed, okay?"
Swiss leaned forward to give Amaryllis a soft kiss on the forehead before standing and slinking out of the room, heading off to make preparations. Dew began removing himself from Mountain's lap, until a whimper from Amaryllis and a rumble from Mountain's chest in response had him wrapping himself around his friend once again.
"Okay, okay, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere. I can stay right here with you. Mounty can carry us both, right Mount?"
Mountain let out another deep rumbling affirmative before standing slowly, both fire ghouls nestled securely in his arms. The earth giant lumbered down the hall to his bedroom cradling Dew and Amaryllis gently, trying not to jostle them too much. Dew kept his arms wrapped around the fire ghoulette, purring and chirping softly as she nestled her face in his neck, slowly relaxing with the scent of cinnamon and spices.
Mountain entered his bedroom, closed the door, and softly deposited Dew and Amaryllis on his bed, Mango hopping down from his horns and curling back in Amaryllis' lap. The three of them could hear faint splashes coming from the bathroom; Swiss drawing and preparing the bath for the four of them.
Dew helped Amaryllis out of her clothes. He gently pulled her tear-stained sweater over her head, mindful of the horns, while Amaryllis held and played with his tail, fiddling absent-mindedly with the spade. Dew leaned into her, grooming Amaryllis and giving her soft kitten licks, cleaning her tear-stained face as she closed her eyes tight and leaned into the loving attention from her best friend.
Mountain approached the bed and knelt down at her feet. He gently lifted her hips, slipping off her pants and discarding them on the floor. Dew shifted to sit behind Amaryllis as the earth ghoul leaned in, joining Dew in grooming his mate as he licked up her neck and across her shoulders, lovingly, reverently. Mountain, sensing that words were still too much, tried his best to convey his devotion to the fire ghoulette through gentle touches and caresses, purring a deep rumble in his chest, his tail winding up her body to caress her cheek with his spade.
A soft touch on his shoulder from Swiss alerted Mountain that the bath was ready. He reached up to give Amaryllis a soft kiss on the lips before picking her up and carrying her bridal style into the bathroom, Dew following close behind the couple.
Amaryllis' eyes grew big at the sight in the bathroom. Soft, golden light from candles lit on every surface, making the tub in the center of the room practically glow. Fairy lights were strung around the ceiling, giving the room a comforting ambiance. Mountain approached the tub and gently set Amaryllis into the warm, bubbly water.
She looked up at Mountain as he slowly lowered himself into the tub and drew her into him, hugging her tightly to his chest as he buried his face in her hair.
Amaryllis felt a disturbance in the water, Dew and Swiss slipping into the tub and cuddling around her.
Mountain looked down at his mate and sighed into her hair.
"Petal, you are our heart. We're so sorry today was so hard. Let us make it up to you and help you relax, hmm?"
Mountain cupped her face in his hands, threading his fingers through her cyan blue hair as he brought his lips to hers and kissed her deeply. Amaryllis wound her arms around his neck, opening her mouth and letting their tongues dance together, deep but still sweet.
Dew and Swiss moved in closer, running their hands up and down her body, mouths seeking skin to touch, to kiss.
Mountain lifted the fire ghoulette and turned her in his lap to lean against his chest, hands roaming up and down her sides, grinding her down softly on his slowly growing cock.
Amaryllis moaned quietly and leaned back against him, closing her eyes and succumbing to the feeling of hands roaming her body.
"You're so beautiful, Little One," Mountain sighed as he moved his mouth over her mark, licking and nibbling at it, causing a shiver from his mate as she let her head fall to the side against his broad shoulder.
"We're so lucky to have you, Mara. So grateful that you're ours," Dew groaned as he ground against her hip, his head coming down to mouth at her nipple, suckling gently, one hand coming up to caress the other tit.
He teased it, rolling the rosy bud between his nimble fingers, earning a soft cry from Amaryllis as she arched her back, pressing her perky tits more firmly into his mouth and hand.
"You're being such a good girl for us, letting us take care of you like this," Swiss murmured.
He let his fingers trail teasingly, taunting, up and down her thighs before finding their home in between her legs. His thumb teased her clit as his fingers sought out and circled her entrance, already growing slick from the silky water and from the attention paid by her ghouls.
Swiss sank two fingers slowly into Amaryllis' body, eliciting a moan from the ghoulette as he stroked inside of her with that wicked come hither motion.
Amaryllis brought her arms up to wind behind Mountain's neck, her breathing growing heavy and mewling softly. Mountain ran his nose up and down the soft skin of her arm, kissing and nibbling gently at the soft flesh.
"How are we feeling, Little One?"
Amaryllis gasped and rolled her hips into Swiss' hand, seeking more pressure from his thumb on her clit, his fingers moving more quickly as they pumped in and out of her pussy, finding that ridged spot that made her see stars.
"S'good, Daddy...making me feel so good,"
Amaryllis brought a hand down to stroke through Dew's hair. The fire ghoul came up for a kiss, licking across her fangs and possessing her mouth with his tongue, moaning as he rutted more insistently against her hip. Dew gave her a quick nip on the lip, causing a squeak from Amaryllis as he returned to his post at her tits.
Oh...someone liked that," Swiss chuckled, feeling her walls tighten around his fingers from Dew's little surprise nip. He circled her clit, pressing firmly with his thumb as he increased the speed and pressure of the fingers buried firmly inside her desperate cunt.
Amaryllis squirmed in her mate's lap, feeling herself being pulled into that sweet, delicious place by the ministrations of her ghouls, the heat in her tummy coiling tightly, on a hair trigger, ready to snap.
"Daddy, m'close. Let me cum, please Daddy,"
Mountain lowered his head to lick along the shell of Amaryllis' ear.
"Whenever you're ready, love, cum for us. I love you so much," he whispered into her ear before biting down into the skin of her neck that proudly bore her mark to him.
Amaryllis went rigid as her orgasm ripped through her body. Eyes closing tight, mouth open, cries escaping from her throat as her toes curled and her thighs shook before collapsing back against Mountain's chest, boneless and spent. She let her mind float off into the ether, half listening to the soft voices of the ghouls she loved most dear before drifting off into comfortable nothing.
**
Hands roaming softly up and down her back brought Amaryllis back into her body. She realized she had been turned around and she purred as she nuzzled into the chest of the earth ghoul below her. Amaryllis wrapped her tail around Mountain's waist and sighed contentedly.
Mountain looked down at her as she stirred, smiling and purring that deep rumble in his chest as the fire ghoulette peeked up at him though her long lashes.
"Welcome back, Petal. How are you feeling?"
Amaryllis let out a deep breath before melting back into her mate's arms.
"Much better, Daddy. Thank you for taking care of me. I love you,"
"I love you too, Little One," Moutain whispered, pressing small kisses to Amaryllis' horns.
"Swiss and Dew went to fetch us some water and snacks. They'll be back soon. Just relax and rest, my queen."
They laid in the warm water together, waiting for her other ghouls to return. Amaryllis reached up to her mate, kissing him softly and caressing his face in her tiny hands. She ran her fingers through her love's hair and gently plucked the flowers that had sprouted behind Mountain's ears and rams horns, setting them into the water to float and filling the tub with her favorite blooms, fragrant and beautiful. Miniature sunflowers, tiny orchid blooms, hyacinth, and of course, Amaryllis.
@sovaghoul @dewedup @kamonart @jimothybarnes @jesusbutbetterrr @littlemoon-beam @iamthecomet @sphylor @jazz-bazz @relentlessmoon @spoiledleaff @criticaloser
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chrissymorgan9700 · 8 months
Text
Once I Called You Lover
Luigi franticly palmed his way through the unusually darkened Koopa Kingdom and toward Koopa Castle, determined to see the king, plague of darkness be damned. Potholes the size of washtubs pitted the ground around him, nearly causing him to trip over as he grew ever closer to his destination.
Bowser was going to listen to him this time, he will make sure of it!
He just had to.
There was too much at stake if he refused now.
For him and Luigi both.
He sighed as he felt his way towards the main gate. The Koopa guards had long abandoned their posts when the fourth plague came in the form of a swarm of flopters, so there was no fear of being stopped for trespassing. Luigi knelt down and felt around the ground before finding an abandoned torch before venturing closer to the lava moat and dipping one end, lighting it. Though the darkness still obscured his view, the glow of the lava moat and his new torch allowed him to make out the extensive damage the castle took from the bob-omb sized balls of fiery hailstones from two plagues back. Chunks of obsidian stone were missing from the castle's battlements, dashed to pieces by the fiery balls of ice. Stone statues of the gargantuan Koopa we're missing limbs if not completely smashed all together. As he turned his gaze from the building, he felt his heart constrict with sympathy. Whatever damage Bowser's castle had sustained was nothing compared to the absolute devastation that his citizens' homes endured. The few he was able to see had irreparable damage, ranging from nearly being burnt to the ground to being almost crushed by an giant hailstone, or both. Many of the citizens who lost their homes had to take shelter in one of their gaming arenas, leaving the streets completely empty.
So much destruction. And for what?
He placed a hand over his face before taking a shuddering breath.
How did it come to this? He thought to himself.
What was supposed to be a simple plumbing job with Mario to "save Brooklyn" had turned into a few months of a dream turned waking nightmare. And all because of a certain king whose selfishness was going to get others even more hurt.
Including himself.
Suddenly, the castle gates were opened, causing the timid man to jump. He looked down as Kamek, the royal Magickoopa and one of Bowser's closest advisors, glared at him through his thick coke-bottle glasses.
"What do you want?" He sneered, his beak turned up in a snarl.
"I... I need to speak with Bowser," Luigi stammered, holding the light closer to himself.
Kamek scoffed, "Oh, do you now? What else could you possibly have to say, hmm? What? Was turning our only water supply into lava not enough? What about the frogs? Or our moo-moos dying? Hmm, maybe when you gave everyone shellpox?"
"Kamek-"
"Oh wait, maybe it was last time when the swaphoppers destroyed the rest of our crops after the flying balls of fiery hail burnt most of it to a crisp?"
" C'mon-"
"Let's not forget about the skeeters and flopters! Although, I might be speaking to someone else entirely, considering it's so dark here lately, I haven't been able to see my own beak in front of my face!"
Luigi went silent for a moment. He couldn't blame the elderly mage in the slightest for his anger. But the more time he spent with Kamek, the more time was running out.
"Please, Kamek," Luigi begged, "He needs to hear this. If he doesn't, this next plague will destroy us!"
Kamek paused.
He very well knew what Luigi meant by "us".
He growled.
"I swear, if any harm comes to my grandson-"
"That is what I'm trying to prevent!"
Kamek stared at the young human. When he first arrived in the Darklands, his son had just finished conquering almost all of the known kingdoms after Princess Peach rejected his marriage proposal for the last time and fled to Sarasaland, which was currently under siege. He remembered the way that Bowser's obsession of the Princess seemed to melt away in an instant after locking eyes with this green plumber. The two of them connected in a way that he had never seen before, and he could see just how much his very presence brought out the best in him. He was able to make him laugh (and a real laugh, not the hollow-sounding cackle that he adopted during his conquest), he would stay in the library and learn everything that he could about Koopa culture in order to better understand the things that Bowser held near and dear to him.
But what had really won him over was the way Luigi bonded with the Crown Prince.
If Bowser was in love with Luigi, then Junior seemed to worship the ground he walked on. Every waking moment of the day, Junior wanted to spend it with the green clad man, no matter how boring the task. And who could blame him? In the few times that Bowser kidnapped the princess, Peach would sulk in her room and refuse to let anyone inside, even to give her meals. And though she was never cruel to the poor boy (at least not intentionally) the few interactions she did allow were filled with an apathy so palpable that after a while, Junior stopped asking for her altogether.
But then Luigi arrived.
Soon, the halls were filled with the little prince's laughter as the two of them drew together, played video games, went karting around the castle courtyard, and baked delicious treats together. And with the happiness of the prince, the king's happiness was doubled.
Happiness that the scrawny human brought.
It wasn't very long until Bowser was writing love poems and ballads dedicated to literally sing his praises and three months in, he had commissioned an engagement ring for him.
What a shame that it didn't last.
Without another word, he opened the door wider for his supposed-to-be son-in-law to let him in.
"Thank you." Luigi whispered. The elder nodded his head as he passed, but not before calling his name.
"Luigi."
The green plumber turned around to face the elderly Koopa once more. The weariness from the plagues caused him to slouch and lean against the heavy door.
"Convince him. I don't know how much more of this we can take."
With a nod, Luigi ventured further into the castle, the atrium growing darker as he carried the torch inside.
Luigi breathed in the familiar scent of smoke and brimstone that permeated the castle, his heart aching. This was his home. All he had ever wanted was right here. The man of his dreams, a child to call his own. Everything that his heart desired was right inside this castle.
But the ends can't justify the means.
In the absence of the normal hustle and bustle that used to echo in these halls, the sound of a mournful piano concerto filled the air.
Bowser.
Following the sound, he walked the empty halls as memory after memory played like a broken record in his mind.
The awkward first meeting, when the Koopa spun him around in an attempt to interrogate him.
The room he was given after staying in the dungeon for all of 30 minutes before the little prince came and broke him out in order to play with him.
Their talks in the library.
The first dinner date where they talked long into the night and into the next morning.
Bonding with Junior.
Their first kiss.
The proposal.
The night they shared after.
He stopped outside the music room door, the piece nearing its end as he tried to quietly open the door to not disturb him right away. Bowser poured his heart out over the music willing the plumber to both stay rooted to his spot on the floor and to run into his arms as the crescendo rang out of the instrument and slowly began to fade, much to his dismay.
"Bravo, mio Re. Bravissimo." Luigi whispered.
The Koopa king was startled, his claws causing the piano to create a cacophony of mixed up notes. Luigi had ended up right at the base of the floating stage. He growled as he caught sight of his former lover.
"Oh, let me guess. Greenie wants me to 'let the kingdoms go'?" Bowser spoke, sarcasm lacing his words.
In the poor light, Luigi was still able to make out the king's hulking frame as he hunched over the piano keys. A golden goblet sat right on top of the piano as he paused to take a gulp from it.
"I... I was hoping to find you here."
"Get out!" He barked, chucking the half-full goblet at the voice.
Luigi quickly dodged as the cup shattered on the floor next to him, the sheer force behind that throw causing a dent in the obsidian stone floor.
"Bowser, we need to talk."
He slowly inched his way closer to the piano before Bowser let out another snarl.
"Oh really? What else do we need to talk about that we didn't discuss the last nine times you were here?"
With a heave, he got up from the piano bench and stomped past him, nearly toppling Luigi over with his spiked tail.
"Now leave. And don't let the door hit you on the way out."
Luigi breathed out a sigh as he tried to keep up with the fleeing Koopa, his gigantic strides causing him to jog to the throne room after him, torch in hand like he was in the opening ceremony for the Olympic games.
If it weren't for the situation, Luigi would have chuckled at himself.
Bowser, meanwhile, was getting agitated. The green man was the one person he most definitely didn't want to see right now. Or ever again, for that matter.
Liar. His heart seemed to reply.
He finally got to the throne room doors and tried to quickly open and close it before Luigi could follow him in. He didn't care if the room would be pitch dark. In fact, he would actually prefer it at the moment. But the presence of a tiny glow of firelight that lit up the dark room made him aware that his efforts of keeping him away were in vain. Luigi had already found a fire pit nearby and threw his torch into it, lighting the pit into flames for the both of them to see each other better.
With a defeated sigh, he stumbled his way towards the throne, slouching and folding his arms with a pout. It took all of Luigi's willpower to not just go up there and kiss that pout away, just like they used to, but there was too much at stake now.
"Well? Get on with it! Tell me how awful I am and how I am such a monster." Bowser interrupted his thoughts.
The human glanced at the Koopa, a hurt expression on his face.
"You're not a monster."
Bowser scoffed.
"Oh really? Then why did you leave, huh? I get the fact that you would have been startled by my plans for world domination, but to up and leave like that?"
Startled? Luigi thought, That was an understatement.
"Did you know that I had to try and explain to Junior why his Mama was missing? Why every time I looked for you, I could never find you? He was crying every night for two weeks straight!"
Luigi was stricken dumb as his heart sank. He never intended to hurt the little prince. Junior might as well be his own heart, he loved that little boy as if he was his own.
And that's why I got to convince him!
"I-"
"And then, you just decide to show up after abandoning us!"
"I didn't -"
"And then-
"WILL YOU JUST LET ME TALK?!"
Bowser jumped in shock, shutting up immediately. No matter how angry he was, Luigi had never yelled at him like that.
He didn't know whether to be scared, pissed, or aroused.
And he didn't know which one he wanted to feel more.
"Bowser, we both know there is no other option. Your people are suffering; the plagues are not going to stop unless you do what's right and let the other kingdoms go."
And... The feeling's gone.
Bowser huffed at that.
"If that is all you have to say, then you might as well see yourself out. I'll take my chances with the plagues."
Luigi growled in frustration. If he had the power to yank this Koopa around and shake him until he had some common sense, he most absolutely would.
"Stars! Why must you act like such a-"
"Like a what?! Go on, say it!"
After a moment of silence, Bowser huffed again, deciding to be petty.
"Well, at least I am not someone's pawn!"
Luigi felt his blood boil at that.
"You take that back!"
"Why?" Bowser sneered, " Does the truth hurt?"
"At least I actually care about what happens to your citizens! You're so willing to let your people get hurt 'cause of what?! Some... stupid sense of pride?!"
"Do you think I like this?! That I like to see the people I love so much suffering?!"
"Then why don't you just let the other kingdoms go, tu... tu esasperante tartaruga?!"
"Because I will not allow myself to be weak again!"
Luigi was stunned into silence. Bowser slumped back onto his throne, emotionally exhausted. It was no secret that Bowser was a very passionate king. It was regarded as his best (and worst) quality, as Princess Peach had attested when he ran to Sarasaland. His love was just as deep and consuming as his rage and both resulted in something breaking.
Or someone.
Luigi sighed. This was getting nowhere, like the other nine times. Suddenly, he had an idea.
"Why don't we just...talk?"
Bowser did not reply, avoiding eye contact with him.
"No arguments, no fighting, just a regular conversation."
Silence. Bowser was not going to budge, not one bit.
Nope.
Not by a long shot.
Let him stew in his-
"I'm sorry for not saying goodbye."
Bowser looked up at that. The plumber stood still, green cap in his hands, his eyes casted towards the floor as he spoke.
"I'm sorry for hurting you like that. For hurting Junior like that. No matter what I saw, what I heard, I should have at least left you a note. But I... I knew that if I didn't go then and there, I would never leave."
Bowser still didn't reply.
Luigi sat down at the foot of his throne, his back turned to the Koopa before he heard him grumble.
"I didn't know where you were. I thought something bad had happened to you and that you were gone forever. And when you came back, I was so relieved. But then..."
He stopped talking, unwilling to speak on that moment.
The day his world seemed to crash and burn.
He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he himself had spent many a restless night sobbing his eyes out. He never had romantic feelings about anyone in his life. Even with Peaches from before his takeover, which he had now understood as an obsessive infatuation. But Luigi was different, even now.
Luigi was the first and only person he had ever truly loved that wasn't his adopted father or his son.
And the first and only one who truly loved him back.
I highly doubt he loves me now, the Koopa King thought.
Luigi felt his eyes well up with tears of shame. He truly didn't take into account just how much his disappearance affected them. Sure, he knew that Bowser would be upset, maybe even feel betrayed, but he didn't mean for him to worry.
"I meant what I said, y'know. When you first came back."
Luigi looked up and met the king's amber eyes as he stared directly at him, watching his every move before he continued.
"You were my everything. The best thing to ever happen to me. And, to be honest, you still are. Even if you don't love me anymore, I still love you. And whatever I did to loose that love, I'm sorry."
The silence was deafening as Bowser laid his heart bare for the plumber. Luigi's own heart seemed to mend and break as his feet seemed to take a mind of their own. He sprinted up the throne steps, climbed atop the throne armrest and hugged him as best as he could before speaking.
"But that's the thing, amore. I never stopped loving you."
It was then that Bowser felt it.
The fluttering of his heart that he tried to ignore as he took Luigi and held him closer.
"Just as beautiful as the day I lost you," Bowser whispered as he cupped Luigi's face with his paw.
He closed the space between them in a kiss. Time seemed to melt away at that moment and it was just the two of them and eternity. The weeks of pain that they went through was inconsequential, it was just them, that moment, forever.
The kiss broke all too soon as they touched foreheads, their eyes closed.
"I love you, mio Re. Tu avrai il mio cuore per sempre." Luigi whispered.
He felt Bowser set him down on the floor him as he opened his eyes, gasping at the sight before him.
"Then stay. Please."
Bowser was on one knee, a heartbreakingly hopeful expression on his face, and in his claws was a golden ring set with emeralds and a large ruby in the middle.
His engagement ring.
The same engagement ring that Bowser proposed with all those months ago in the castle courtyard.
The same engagement ring that he wore when he ran to Sarasaland to meet up with his brother and Princess Peach.
The same engagement ring he wore when Rosalina, Princess of the Lumas, commanded him to go to Bowser and demand for the freedom of all of his conquests.
The same engagement ring he gave back when he returned the first time.
"I-"
"Mama?" A small voice interrupted.
The couple turned around to see a little Koopaling carrying a flashlight in one claw and a teddy bear in the other.
Junior.
Junior couldn't believe his eyes. His Mama was back home where he belonged. Dropping the stuffed animal at the door, he took a running start at the plumber before taking a flying leap into his arms. Luigi caught him and twirled him into a bear hug.
"I missed-ed you!" The little boy sobbed, dampening the front of his denim overalls.
"I missed you too, il mio Principe." He nuzzled the Koopa prince's fiery locks as he held him closer to him.
Bowser looked on as his two greatest joys reunited, his heart ready to burst. Junior had most definitely taken Luigi's disappearance the hardest. His crying and tantrums were loud enough to tear the paint off of the walls, and he even resulted to that when he learned that his Mama came back, demanding his father to let him see him.
And now his wish has come true.
Settling himself into Luigi's arms, Junior nuzzled his face into his shoulder, taking in his smell.
"You're home! I missed-ed you so much and I don't want you to go again! We can go see the new artwork I made for you and Papa and go round on my clown car and...and..."
Bowser laughed, ruffling his boy's head.
"One thing at a time, Junior. Mama just got back, but you have plenty of time to show him everything once he's all rested. Right, Luigi?"
Luigi's smile slowly began to fade, regret shining in his sapphire eyes. Junior, sensed his Mama's hesitation.
"You are staying this time, right Mama?"
With a shuddering breath, he hugged him closer.
"I'm sorry, tesoro. But I can't stay... Not this time."
Bowser felt his mind do a record scratch halt.
After all of that, after he had handed the plumber his battered and bruised heart once again, even after their declarations of love, Luigi had crushed it in his hands, like it was nothing. And now he has broken their son's heart in return.
"B-but, why?" Junior cried, tears forming in his crimson eyes.
Luigi was silent as Bowser gave a mirthless chuckle.
"Y'know, Luigi? You really had me there for a second."
"Bowser, I-"
"All those declarations of love you just spewed out, just gotta hit 'em where it hurts, right? So go ahead Luigi," Bowser baited, "Tell us. Why?"
"Because... because what you're doing isn't right and you know it, Bowser."
"Right? And what is right? Before I took over, those kingdoms were rife with war and famine, both with us and with each other! The citizens of those other kingdoms were treated unfairly, their leaders did nothing to help the poor and marginalized, so I instilled order by dethroning their corrupt leaders. And I don't know what "Princess" Peach or your nuisance of a brother tried to sell you about what the Mushroom Kingdom was like before, but it was not some happy-go-lucky utopia. In fact, her forefathers had once enslaved my entire kingdom for centuries. Enslaved, Luigi! Treated us like the scum of the earth! Made us fight to the death for their own wars and amusement!"
"And how is that any different, Bowser? How is taking over kingdoms by force any different from what the Mushroom Kingdom did to yours?"
"Because at least I can protect them just like I protect my own kingdom! Or at least I did, until you came along and brought these plagues down upon us!"
Here we go again! Luigi mourned.
"I'm not, Bowser. You are. The more you resist, the worse the plagues will be. If you would just please listen-"
Luigi reaches out his hand to touch his golden scales, but the king flinched away, his temper growing less and less restrained.
"I will not be dictated to. I will not be threatened. I am the morning and evening star. I am Bowser! King of the Koopas!"
"Something else is coming, something much worse than anything before. Please, let go of your contempt for life before it destroys everything we hold dear. Think of our son!"
Bowser looked down as Junior clung onto Luigi's overalls, terrified but unwilling to let go of his Mama as he placed a gloved hand on his tuft of red hair. A moment ago, Luigi's claim to his little boy would have softened his heart, but now all he felt was rage. With a roar of betrayal, he punched his throne, hearing the distinct sound of metal being snapped in half and gems crushing under his palm.
"I do." He growled at last, "And fuck me for not doing this before."
Luigi felt his breath hitch in fear.
"Bowser? Bowser, what are you-?"
"Kamek! Get in here, now!"
With a pop, Kamek appeared on his broomstick, a worried look etched into his face.
"Yes, Your Wrathfulness?"
"Call the troopas! Tomorrow, we attack Sarasaland and destroy all who stand in my way, once and for all! Starting with Mario!"
He turned to the love of his life, a hateful sneer gracing his maw.
"And there will be a great cry throughout all the kingdoms, such as there never has been or ever will be again!"
Luigi's blood froze in his veins as he felt his knees sink to the floor, his grip on Junior growing tighter.
Bowser briefly stole one last glance at his family before glancing down at the crushed ring in his hands, a flash of regret and pain shining in his eyes before stomping past them as he and Kamek made preparations for a full-on ambush. .
The elder mage and the young man gave each other a horrified, knowing glance before the plumber broke down into sobs as king and advisor left.
He was right about one thing: tomorrow, there will be a great cry throughout the kingdoms.
But both his and Bowser's sobs will echo the loudest of all.
You failed. The words buzzed around his mind like an angry swarm of hornets.
"Bowser," He whispered sorrowfully, hugging their scared son for what would be the last time, "You have doomed us all."
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