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#this was bitter sweet to write
nona-gay-simus · 21 days
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Some days I truly feel like TLT has ruined... books for me. Like, I don't even like ACOTAR but I can think of at least four series that are basically ACOTAR with dragons, ACOTAR with gods, ACOTAR with vampires, ACOTAR with witches, and that's just off the top of my head.
But there's truly nothing out there that captures all or even some of the elements that enthralled me about TLT. The characters, the character dynamics, the magic system, the voice, the mix of science fiction and fantasy, the prose that knows exactly when to be funny and when to be serious, the queernorm world-building and variety of lesbian genders... It does not exist. Even if I find something with similar themes it will be bland fantasy voice and (most likely) boring straight ship of fem4fem.
It's even ruined audiobooks narrators because no one can compare to moira quirk and her sexy accent and wonderfully animated narration that makes the characters come to life.
And it makes me really sad to think i might never discover another series I love as much as this one. Not even close.
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dreamerinthemoonlight · 3 months
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How they Show Affection Part 3: Dainsleif, Diluc
And last but not least, Dainsleif and Diluc
CW: Fluff, Dains gets a little angsty, I think, No pronouns
Dainsleif x gn!reader, Diluc x gn!reader (can be read as gender neutral reader
Dainsleif
At first, Dain is kinda at a loss as to how to show you affection
Yea, Zhongli is old, but he’s had people around. Dain hasn’t. Not really
In the end his language of affection is time. He spends as much time with you as possible, even letting you in on his adventures. Hell
Granted, even if he doesn’t say it, he really enjoys it when you touch him. He loves it when you touch his face and his hair, smoothing away his frowns and his sadness. It’s only when he finds joy in your presence and touch that he realizes that he’s fallen so low into despair. And so he wants more. More of your presence, more of your touch. And he makes an effort to give back in full measure what you give
it doesn’t take you long to realize that when Dain touches you, he touches you with reverence and gratitude, touching you like you’re the most precious thing in his world. And you are. He’s lived a long time without sun, sometimes literally, sometimes metaphorically. You’re his sun, now. No matter where he goes, he’s found light.
Diluc
Once again he’s a mix of quality time and physical touch
If he’s free he wants to be around you. And he actually bothers to take time off so he can be around you. Everyone Adelinde was shocked when Diluc started taking time off to spend it with you instead
When he’s around you, happily doing whatever, though I think sitting on the same couch reading would be very satisfying
He also asks for your input a lot. What do you link of this wine or that juice. That sort of thing. And I’ll be damned if he doesn’t cook up some drinks just for you
No matter what, he just likes being around you. Though he couldn’t deal without Kaeya’s teasing
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plutonicbees · 9 months
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so I'm obsessed with this scene from across the spider-verse
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and I was looking through some saved panels of miles and kamala and noticed some familiar wording and visuals..
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the "we're the same" line. the shoulder lean. the sitting somewhere up high where no one will see them :')
whether or not this parallel was intentional, and although the situation at hand is different, I still think it's sweet <3 miles and kamala are one of my favorite dynamics in the comics and I really enjoyed the gwen & miles pairing in this movie. this scene was a lot of emotions in both mediums.
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swampstew · 2 months
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Choke and die on my dick, kellyanne
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imfinereallyy · 9 months
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Placeholders
another birthday bit, unrelated to earlier, but something I wrote on my birthday. it’s a bit sad, I’m sorry.
There is an empty space on the couch.
There is an empty space on the couch between Dustin and Mike. The light from the window touches it gently. Making the Byers-Hoppers worn leather couch glow a soft brown. The house is filled with noise and chatter; a happiness that was once lost resides here.
Steve Harrington turns 24, and there is empty space on the couch.
Steve knows Max wouldn’t have sat there. That spot is not reserved for her. She would have sat on the floor between El’s legs while El brushed her hair softly with her fingers, or she would have draped herself over the edge of Lucas’ chair, teasing him with her head hooked on his shoulder.
Steve aches. He sees her in the missing pieces sometimes. A space in the car, a hand grasping at nothing, a laugh when there has only been silence. As if they are all moving in the same ways they did years before, not filling in the holes, just moving forward with gaping parts of themselves.
The house is full of noise, and love, and laughter. Robin leans her head on the tops of Steve’s knees, her hand braiding away at the new friendship bracelet she’s making him. He gets one every birthday. Will and El are drawing on a giant birthday card that Steve knows he’ll hang in his dingy apartment. Nancy and Erica are chattering away in the corner about something that will make Steve’s head spin, he’s sure. Everyone is here; everyone is safe. Steve thinks sometimes he will lose this; they will all push him away. But they come back time and time again. Except…
It’s Steve’s 24th birthday, and there is an empty space on the couch.
Steve Harrington is 24 years old, and Eddie Munson never makes it past twenty. And there is a space, that really isn’t his, but is there for him anyway.
Steve grieves.
He knows it’s unfair. Steve didn’t really know him. They were only ever sideways of each other. Paths crossed one another but never at the same time. A distance in a small place.
Steve feels bad at times, knows they could have done great things. Lead their friends on their strange journeys. Made each other better. He believes that they were more similar than they once thought. Different sure, but would have understood each other somehow.
Steve thinks they were kinda like stars in the same galaxy. Both shine brightly, both guide the way, but too far apart to say goodbye when the other burns too quickly.
When Steve had known him, it was temporary. Eddie had been a temporary person in the life of Steve Harrington. It isn’t a bad thing per se, but an unfortunate truth. Their time together was, although not very long, is held closely to Steve. It was important.
Steve thinks it’s unfair that he gets all the time; he gets all this time to waste, and be happy about it. Angry. Sad. Steve gets to feel, and Eddie gets an empty space.
Steve hears someone’s laugh from across the room. He wants to hold it in his hands and bottle it up, put it on a shelf for safekeeping. It’s not as rare as it used to be, time heals some things, but he finds it makes him want it more. Keep it close. The kids, who are not kids, shout and scream and yell, “Steve, you be the tiebreaker!”. There is never silence, only sounds, so they never really see the gaps that remain.
But Steve thinks about the smile Eddie had once sent his way. The slight tick of the lip into laugh lines. Steve craves for that moment again. Not because it meant anything, not because it held some secret. But because it was good, and Steve at the time didn’t really know much of that.
Steve knows, if the space on the couch was filled, Steve would be in love.
Their time together doesn’t prove this, he knows and is not delusional, but Steve can feel it in his gut.
At times, you meet a person and realize they are going to stick around for a while. And other moments, you meet someone and don’t notice that you were meant to know them until your chance has passed.
There are instances you meet someone, and you feel as if you should say “Hello again.” Even though you are meeting for the first time.
Steve can’t help but notice more time has passed since he left, then the the amount of time he knew him.
Steve knows it’s selfish. It’s selfish to grieve something that was never his, to grieve the idea of a person. But he can’t help the mourning that comes when he wakes. He can’t help but think there is a laugh he is supposed to know, like his favorite song. He can’t help but think, Eddie Munson should have made it to 24.
Steve can tell the rest miss him, even the ones who didn’t know him. There was a role Eddie was supposed to fill, a balance thrown off by his absence. Steve sometimes catches them all trying to put the pieces back together of a ghost. They’ll take his old clothing from Wayne, read a book left on his nightstand, and tap their fingers to the beat of a song Eddie once knew. It feels like they are all trying to build him from scratch.
The party sings Steve happy birthday; they try to squeeze all the candles on it. Hopper yells at them, tells the kids it’s a fire hazard, but makes no move to stop them. The boys are yelling to wish for things they want. The girls, El, tells him to wish for love. Jonathan takes a photo of him blowing out his candles. Robin squeezes his hand.
I wish I could have known.
They cut the cake; they spread out again. This time Lucas sits on the edge of his chair, like he’s leaving space for only one person to come back and sit. No one makes a move to share with him. There is an empty space on the couch. The sun no longer touches it; only the warm lamp light reaches its corners.
Steve doesn’t think he knew Eddie Munson very well, but he likes to believe that Eddie would have liked this. He would have liked the noise. He would have liked a mismatched family. He would have liked celebrating a meaningless birthday of a friend he didn’t have. Steve likes to think they wouldn’t have been friends for long. He knows, somehow, Eddie would have loved him too.
There is an empty space on the couch. Steve doesn’t plan on filling it anytime soon.
***
Sorry for any of the tense changes or mistakes, this was more of a stream of thought piece. It’s bittersweet.
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littencloud9 · 3 months
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no way i see a hate comment on someone’s ao3 fic in our year 2023 😭 have we not been through this! ao3 writers owe readers absolutely nothing and also nobody’s forcing you to read a fic. i’m biting somebody
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acescorazon · 4 months
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Title: Sweet Dreams
Rating: E
Pairing: Shanks/Buggy
Word count: 2733
Summary:
The small bar is packed, almost uncomfortably so, filled with loud, chatting, and dancing people who are enjoying themselves as a soft song plays throughout the building. Shanks knows the song, but he can’t for the life of him remember where it’s from or what it’s called, but it reminds him of his youth and that alone is enough to comfort him. He finds himself in the company of a rather notorious pirate, one that he’s spent many, many years with, and misses every day of his life. They enjoy a round of drinks with each other, finally getting the chance to catch up after all these years apart. 
Roger downs his drink in one go and then laughs, and his loud, boisterous cackle is one that is engraved into Shanks’ head. He doesn’t think he could forget it even if he tried. Even if he was old and gray, even if he caught a case of amnesia, this one thing is something he would never in his entire life be able to forget. He won’t allow himself to, he has to remember him no matter what. Roger asks him how he's doing and how he’s enjoying his emperor status, and of course, Shanks leaves it at, 'Good, good…Everything is fine!' And doesn't say any more than that. He doesn't want to bother his captain with any silly worries he may or may not have about life now that they’re finally able to sit down and talk. Instead, he wants to show him that he's fine and healthy, and grew up to be strong and independent just like he wanted him to be, 'The important question is…how are you these days, captain?' He asks, smiling at the king of the pirates himself. 
Roger of course gives him that same bright grin that he used to give him all the time when he was just a child, but instead of telling Shanks how he's doing, his voice suddenly changes, morphing into another familiar yet very different one, 'Shanks…?' Roger calls out, but his voice is a lot higher now, and even a little nasally… and he kind of sounds like…Buggy? 
"Hey, idiot, wake up!" 
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dark-elf-writes · 2 months
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Anyway now that I’m sobbing I keep thinking about young Genesis and Angeal before Shinra and everything being so sweet and innocent and teetering on the edge of friendship and romance.
Thinking about Angeal smiling dazedly at Genesis as he reads poetry to him in the shade of their favorite dumbapple tree. Thinking of Genesis losing his place when sunlight breaks through the leaves and guilds Angeal’s face. Thinking of the two of them sharing shy kisses (“practicing” or so they both claim with red cheeks and nervous laughs) under that tree that taste of apples and sunlight and summer and knowing deep down that this is their forever.
Thinking of how forever was never meant for them.
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rykno-j · 8 months
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What it means to be the Strongest (j/jk)
Again writen with s/atos/ugu in mind, but unestablished, though definitely in love.
Summary: So my previous fic, if i remember correctly, had a line like:
["S/atoru, you've been too strong for too long. Let me take over, even if just for a little while."]
and then i realised i have something like that in my drafts, so why not i just develop the thought a little?
Notes: the timeline for this would be set before my previous fic [here] but reading it it isn't required to understand this one.
possibly written in the context of pre-RCT g/ojo? because i didn't want him to have the ability to replenish himself in any way. cue "Domain Amplification": Exhaustion.
there's also a point in the fic i used single inverted commas, like this: '[text]'. js to clarify, those are not actual dialogue but just g/eto's thoughts. uh.. it will make more sense when you reach that part..
And finally, to cope with the month of wait before Shibuya, I present to you..
3.4k words
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"Satoru, you've been specially requested."
"..Specially requested."
"..Specially resquested."
Geto watches as Gojo visibly deflates, before he shakes his head, expression changing as he stands up with that same bravo as ever.
"Right!! I'll prepare to leave immediately!"
The quiver in his legs don't go unnoticed by Geto.
This has been been happening for the past month. Don't they have other sorcerers that they can send?
The answer to that was obvious.
Of course there was. But who in the right mind would call on someone who was below 'the best option'?
Mission after mission, Geto finds himself missing the company of his friend. Normally, they would go on them together, but the recent spike in cases had left him with barely any space to breathe either, though he was relatively sure they were easier on him compared to Gojo.
He swears the other hadn't slept in weeks. Geto would return to their dorms, and the bed would still made the way he left it in the morning.
The few times he had tried to look under Gojo's sunglasses for eyebags, his hand had been swatted away, either physically or stopped with Infinity.
"Suguruu- I'm fine, don't worry about me."
"..Then look me in the eyes and say that again."
Gojo would laugh in response, waving his wrist dismissively in Geto's direction. "Of course I'm fine, we're the strongest, remember? It won't be fair I claimed to be tired now would it? Not that I am, of course."
Yes it would be, it would be fair. You need breaks too, Geto wanted to say, was going to say, if not for another interruption, this time from Gojo's phone.
It lit up in his lap, before the screen was raised to eye level. Geto watched as Gojo's eyebrows furrowed, shoulders slumping almost unnoticeably in disappointment.
He has seen this play out a thousand times before. As much as Geto wanted to reach out to drag Gojo back down next to him, his hand was frozen to his side.
"Another special request.. ahhh- I guess I better go get ready."
Geto watched silently as Gojo sauntered away, as if he was about to leave for a party, not a possibly life-threatening mission. Seriously.. he was forever taking things too lightly.
Geto wanted to do something, anything. Maybe file a request to give Satoru some space to breathe? Possibly even an argument that allowed him to join in the missions as backup?
Anything.
But there was always the possibility that Gojo would turn down rest, no matter how desperately he needed it. He was wearing himself dangerously thin, like a thread about to snap. All he needed was a little tug to break.
Break.
___
Days later:
"Satoru- want to go get a drink? I just saw the workers leaving, I think they got the machines refilled."
When met with no reply, Geto turned back, only to see Gojo spacing out a distance away.
"Sa-to-ru. Satoru- are you there?"
He walks up to the other, waving an open palm in front of the bowed head.
Behind the sunglasses, Geto sees Gojo's eyelashes flutter open before a finger came up to push them back into position, covering his eyes from view.
"Ah- yeah I'm here. Sorry, what were you saying?"
There he went again, dozing off at every chance he got. Geto noticed that had started happening two days ago. In class, during training, while queuing for food, while standing. And now, even while walking.
"..hH'!! ..hAH'sHHiew!! hh'..heH'tchH!!"
And there was that too. Something was definitely wrong.
"Satoru- when's the last time you slept?"
"I was just sleeping, hahaha-! Didn't you see?"
"That's not-"
"Suguru, if you're going to chew me out for not resting again, I assure you, I'm perfhH'.. perfectly.. fhH'.. fine-"
Geto shot him a look that screamed "Really??", and Gojo would have seen it, if not for the fact he snapped to the side violently, bending over as his breath hitched desperately.
"..hh'-hIH-tcHH'iew!! ..hAH'zZchHiw!!"
"Sa-"
"Dhh'..Don't worry abou'uhH'- hhH'!! hiH'zZchh!! ..hAH'DzZsh'w!! ..a-about me."
With the way he was swaying at the moment, Geto was sure a light breeze could knock him over.
What more, with the way he was standing, slouched over, a passerby would never be able to tell that Gojo was the taller of the two.
Hence, while Geto wouldn't consider himself to be one who actively sought after physical contact with Gojo (that's a lie though), he couldn't help but inch closer to the other, putting a comforting arm around Gojo's waist.
Geto then stared at the top of Gojo's head. Did his hair always look this messy? Surely not. Satoru wasn't one who paid too much attention to appearances, but this was taking it to an extreme.
"You look like you're going to collapse. Seriously. Tell me what's wrong."
"..Maybe- maybe.." Gojo mumbled as a response to Geto's earlier statement. "..Maybe I'm not feeling as well I thought.. haha-"
Geto sighs. "Took you damn near long enough. Come on, let's head back to our dorm. The drinks can wait."
Gojo whined something incomprehensible before he reached out a shaky hand to grab the arm supporting him from behind. He tilted his head up at an angle to shoot Geto a playful yet tired smirk. "Wait.. ahhh- Suguru.. s-sorry- I think.. I think I'm gonna to pass out right now."
Of course. Of course he could still find the energy to fool around in such circumstances. It was one of Gojo's character traits that Geto never understood.
He had half a mind to ask the other to snap out of it. But upon further inspection, Geto watched as Gojo's pupil glazed over with a hazy, faraway look, before it shrunk, eyelids sliding shut as Gojo went slack in his arms.
Seriously. Jokes like these should really be saved for less dire situations.
"..Satoru.. come on, let's go back."
No response.
"..Oi- Satoru.. you can't be serious. Quit fucking with me.."
No response. It's fine. Gojo liked messing with him after all.
"..S-Satoru.. oi Satoru!"
"..Fuck."
"..Fuck Fuck FUCK-! You can't be serious-"
He wasn't joking.
Forgetting that he could always manipulate his curses to handle Gojo's weight, Geto slipped his free hand under Gojo's knees, hauling him into his arms, bridal style.
"..Asshole! You're such an asshole."
'Your asshole though, right?' Geto could hear Gojo's teasing voice in his head as he made his way quickly through the hallway, his pace bordering a sprint.
That's right. My asshole.
Geto placed Gojo gently on the freshly made bed. It was probably the first time in weeks he had laid there. A soft groan escaped Gojo's lips as his head made contact with the soft pillow.
Good. He wasn't dead yet.
However, a quick touch to his cheek made Geto question his previous thought. With a fever like that, how was he not dead?
Quickly grabbing a small towel, Geto soaked it with water from his bottle, wringing it onto the floor before he brought it to the other's forehead. The mess of water puddles could wait. He had more important things to tend to.
Geto carefully folded and set Gojo's sunglasses aside, gently brushing away the strands of hair covering his face. The wet cloth was then put on his forehead.
It's not much, but it should help.
Knowing Gojo, he probably didn't take any medicine since this started. Speaking of which, Geto made a mental note to ask when it did. Gojo had been busy with a mission for the past few days, so it probably meant he was working through whatever this was.
Probably a cold.
The sneezing earlier should have been an obvious indication, but the fever he was currently running sealed the deal.
Geto knew exhaustion would eventually catch up to him. To be completely honest, he had thought Gojo would give in earlier. He must have been holding out way pass his limits.
It was alright to be weak at times, even for the 'Strongest', a concept that Gojo never seemed to understand. Either that or he did, but chose to ignore it in place of his ego and the fact that he didn't want anyone else to get hurt in his place if the curses turned out to the stronger than reported.
Geto suspected the reason leaned more towards the latter. Gojo had always cared about others in his own way, whether he considered them weak or not. Although.. with the way he openly made fun of people around him, it would cause others to beg otherwise.
Geto knew him better than that.
A soft whine drew him back into the present. Geto turned to focus his attention on Gojo. Even in the dimly lit room, his brilliant blue eyes were hard to miss, hard to look away from, no matter how dulled they were from the haze of the fever.
"Suguru.. Suguru-"
"Shh. Rest. I'm here."
"..You carried me here?"
"Mm."
Gojo let out a laugh that looked like it took all his effort. "You're stronger than you look then."
"You're just lighter than you look."
The small exchange put Geto slightly more at ease. If Satoru could still make any conversation into a joke, he was fine. Well, it at least meant his brain wasn't fried yet.
A sharp, feathery inhale dragged Geto's attention back to the bed.
"..hih'tchh!! hh'..hah'tchiw!!"
"Bless you." God. Even his sneezes sounded tired, a complete difference from his normal, over exaggerated ones.
"snff'- ..thanks."
Gojo looked seconds away from passing out again, his fist closing around the soft blanket. Sighing, Geto stood up.
"Alright, that's enough of being awake for you. Go back to sleep, okay? Let yourself rest for once."
"Hah.. so reluctant to talk to me?"
Quite the opposite, actually, Geto wanted to say. Instead, he reached over to straighten the cloth. It had fallen over to cover one of Gojo's eyes, making him look a lot more endearing than Geto would ever care to admit.
"Of course not. I just have something I have to get done, so I'll be leaving for a bit."
Geto turned away right as Gojo's frame sunk into the mattress in disappointment. If he had seen it, there was no way Geto would have left his side for another good year.
"Mm, okay."
Geto was careful not to open the door too wide. It was early in the evening, and he wanted to let in as little light as possible. Satoru had always been sensitive after all.
Behind the closed door, Gojo turned to the side, snatching Geto's pillow into his chest, pulling it into a tight embrace. He was sure the other wouldn't mind.
__
Getting pissed won't help anybody, Geto knew that, he really did. But with Gojo practically forced into bed-rest for at least half a week, he needed to raise some of his concerns to his teachers, at least.
He pulls the classroom door open.
"Sensei-"
"Ah, Suguru. Right on time. I've got a new mission file for you."
"Right. That's exactly what I've come to talk to you ab-"
"Satoru has been specially requested."
"..See that's-"
"But I've written in to specially request you to follow him."
"-exactly what I've been.. huh? What?"
The teacher gave him a knowing smile before sliding a file over the table. Of course. Always doing things in a roundabout way. He's seen that before.
"..Thank you."
He takes the file, quickly leaving the classroom afterwards, his legs taking him subconsciously back to where the dorms where as his hands occupied themselves with flipping through the documents.
Halfway through the mission file, Geto feels something slip out from between the pages. He leans forward to pick it up, a knowing smile flashing across his face.
A small packet of fever medicine.
Seems his teacher had the same idea, that Gojo would never go out of his way to get supplies, if at all, when he fell sick. Well, that saved him half the trouble.
And here came the other half.
When Geto returned to their dorm, he noticed the aura of Gojo's technique surrounding himself. It shocked him at first, but Geto figures that in his vulnerable state, Gojo's mind subconsciously casts infinity to keep him safe.
Though.. it could also have been a side effect from all the dangerous missions that they had put him through for the past month, such that his body was on heightened alert even during rest.
Well that's a first.
He hadn't really been around Gojo while he was sick before, especially not to the extent of passing out like that.
Surely this continuous usage of Infinity counted as over-exertion, evident from Gojo's slightly furrowed eyebrows despite him being asleep. His breathing was also choppier than usual, either due to the congestion or disturbed rest.
Surprisingly, Geto noticed that Infinity seemed to thin out as he approached the bed.
He remembers Gojo telling him, "Suguru- you know, I can totally tell apart your cursed energy from others!"
Was Satoru's body really recognising him and relaxing because of it? Guess that whole 'telling apart' thing wasn't a lie after all.
Geto reaches out a palm and presses it against Gojo's forehead. His hand easily passes through the barrier, making contact with the other. The damp cloth lay uselessly by the side of the pillow, having fulfilled its purpose.
Still warm, but cooler than before.
Gojo whines against the touch as he slowly stirs. "Suguruu- you're backk.."
"Mm." Geto hummed in reply, sitting himself by the edge of the bed. "Did you sleep well?"
"Ah.. not really."
The raw honesty catches Geto off-guard, especially compared to the previous few days, where Gojo would wave him off for being too worried, right up till the point he collapsed.
He supposes that upon admitting "I'm not feeling well", Gojo's walls simply crumbled, leaving him in Geto's care.
The mattress shifted as Gojo turned to the side, a wrist coming up to rub at his nose.
"S-Sorry.. I- hh' have t'hH-!! hih'tchh!! haH'zzchh!!"
He sniffles against his wrist, watching with teary eyes as Geto pulls out a small pack of travel tissues from the drawer before handing it to him.
"Th'hH-!! ..thank y-you.. hH'hihchH'iw!! hah'zzdchH!!"
He pulls out a piece, pressing it softly against his nose. Outside, the sun had barely start setting.
"..snff'.. Suguru- why are you here anyway? Don't you have better things to do?"
Better things to do than look after you? Unlikely. And your Infinity will just go up again once I leave. But of course Geto doesn't say that.
Instead, he raises the file in his hand. "Background information on a mission. I'll have to read it eventually anyway, I can do it here, I've got time."
"..A mission?"
"Yes. For the two of us, actually."
"Really?? I get to go with you this time?" Happiness seeped into his words, bringing an unconscious smile to Geto's face.
"Mm, but I doubt they'd let you go in this state."
Without even looking over, Geto swore he could hear the pout in Gojo's voice.
"Aw.. b-but I wna go with you."
"..Then get better. Quickly." Because I don't want to leave without you either. I'm never leaving you alone again if I can help it.
"Sigh- alright, alright.. I'll get some rest."
"Before that.." Geto suddenly remembered, rising to his feet to retrieve a mug. He should probably get Satoru to take the medicine as soon as possib-
Geto hears a crash behind him.
"SAtoru!"
On the floor, Gojo laughs softly at himself, hanging half off the bed.
"S-Sorry-"
"What were you doing?"
Gojo looked almost embarrassed. "Ah.. nothing, honestly.. I just.. I guess I just.. panicked when I saw you get up.. that's all. I thought you were going to leave again.."
Again? ..Oh, right. He had left for the classrooms earlier. Why didn't Satoru just say something before he did? Forget that. Why didn't he notice?
Geto quickly grabbed a mug, filling it with water before he returned to the bedside.
"I'm sorry."
"Hm? Ahh- it's okay, it's okay.. I was just saying silly things."
"No. Don't say that. It's okay to want company, to need company. That's why I'm here, right?"
"Mm, yeah."
"..Why do you sound so reluctant to admit it?"
Gojo shifted again, this time tilting his head away from Geto.
"..Suguru. Am I'm strong?"
"Mm, why the sudden question?"
"..Am I still considered strong if.. if something as simple as a cold can.. can.. hH'..hih'DzchH!! haH'tchHew!! ..snff'.. fuck. I can't even control those."
"I'd honestly be more surprised if you could." Geto replied, bringing the mug up to Gojo's lips. His voice sounded harsh, and the constant sneezes were not helping. "C'mon, look over here, you should drink something."
Gojo sighed, shifting the tissue away to drink from his mouth.
"Take these too."
"..Medicine? Where did you get those from?"
"Sensei."
"Ahh- damn. He really knows everything doesn't he?"
"Anyone on the outside could tell that you were wearing yourself thin, not just him. Shoko had her fair share of worries for you as well."
Gojo remained silent upon hearing that, seemingly very interested in the cup he was drinking from.
Geto felt his heart skip a beat. Had he said something wrong? Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that fact it was obvious.
The silence lasted for a few moments, before Gojo inhaled sharply, turning to the side.
"..hH'-aH'zZchH!! hah-hH'tcHHiw!! hiH'dzZch'w!! hH'!!-..snff- hehh'tchhiw!"
Geto startled at the fit, though he quickly collected himself, eyes focusing on what appeared to be an extremely sorry Gojo.
In his hand was the empty mug, its contents having been spilled all over the blanket from the violent jerks, a side effect of the sneezing.
"..I'm s-orry.."
Geto paused in his actions of retrieving a cloth for the mess. Something was wrong. Satoru had a voice break? No matter how cute it was (god forbid he admit that), he had never heard the other say anything with such a broken tone before.
Forgetting the cloth, Geto quickly returned to Gojo's side, wrapping his arms around the shivering frame of Gojo's body, head resting above his.
Gojo froze in place, shocked at the sudden but welcomed contact. The mug in his hand slowly slipped off his fingers, falling onto the covers. A small whine escaped his lips yet again as Gojo's fingers repurposed themselves with grabbing gently at Geto's arm.
He found himself leaning into the warm embarce, turning his head slightly such that his cheek could rest against Geto's chest.
Gojo had longed for this for days. Days. Days. He could feel tears starting to form at the corner of his eyes. From the cold or from his overflowing emotions? He had no idea.
"Suguru. Come lie down with me, please?"
He didn't need to be asked twice.
Within seconds, Geto had climbed onto the bed, getting comfortable under the covers as he extended a hand to Gojo.
"Come. Leave that side. It's wet." An excuse to get Gojo into his arms.
Gojo crawled over to where Geto was waiting, instantly latching onto the other the moment he got close enough to do so.
As Geto's arms close around him once again, Gojo realised that he had never felt so.. so safe, so.. comforted, before. It was a new feeling, one he was afraid of yet welcomed.
He had only known Suguru for a year, but damn was the guy making him question his own feelings left right and center.
A hand found itself on the back of Gojo's head as he snuggled closer into Geto's chest, burying his nose into the folds of Geto's shirt.
Drowsiness slowly started to take over as Gojo felt like this was the first time in forever he was truly allowed to relax. Was it from the medicine? Or was it from Geto's steady heartbeat that was lulling him to sleep? In all honesty, it didn't matter.
Geto felt Gojo relax in his embrace. Once the stuffy soft snores started to slip into a rhythm, he tilted his head downwards, whispering in a low, soothing voice.
"Satoru, you've been too strong for too long. Let me take over, even if just for a little while."
That was the last thing said for the night, as Geto himself started to drift off into sleep, the sun setting behind him
Unknown to the other, Gojo's lips curled into a smile.
Really.. the things Suguru says when he thinks no one is listening. It was going to be the death of him one day.
-end-
----------------------------------------
Finishing notes:
this fic actually stemmed from the phrase "what if Gojo's Infinity came up by itself when he's sick?" then it.. became.. this.. somehow..
decided to change their roles here ahhh- caretaker Getoo-
maybe i wrote Gojo a little out of character with the amount of clinging he did to Geto (also the whole DON'T LEAVE ME panic of a sick person in bed), but hey. i'm a strong advocate for clingy sick Gojo, sue me.
i also wanted to keep up the soft Gojo writing, soo i tried the whole "strong character falls weak to a cold" trope thing
BUT i also know for a FACT that i was NOT going to be satisfied if i just let Gojo go out like that, so i tried making his collapse scene exclusively *him*
by that i mean i tried making it slightly humorous. ahh well if it ended up not coming out like that.. it's still fine
also wanted to write a whole "Gojo pretending he's alright when he's not" fic, and was trying to capture the whole "once he admits he's not okay, everything comes crumbling down and he's a mess" thing
i feel like a lot more could have been written in this fic.. but the problem was i didn't know how to.. shshhdhshds im getting better i swear (abit more of this in the tags)
i hope the final scene read as soft as i was hoping it would. just picture Gojo sinking into Geto's hug, smooshing his face against Geto's chest, whining a whole bunch, breathing in his scent
..or maybe scratch the scent part, since Gojo's nose is a little congested//
anyway, hope it was a nice read and thankyou for stopping by!!
▪︎•▪︎
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merriclo · 1 year
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hey. fierce deity but it’s a jekyll and hyde situation. fierce���s personality takes on whatever traits that Time tries to bury and ignore. however violent or benevolent he acts depends entirely on what Time is suppressing.
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subzeroparade · 8 months
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Bloodborne (Video Game) Rating: Mature Relationships: Laurence/Ludwig (Bloodborne) Additional Tags: Vignette, oops no plot only vibes, domestic intimacy, dangerously close to fluff despite the underlying toxicity of their relationship, Gift Fic, Not Beta Read 
Posting this here against my better judgement. People who come by to read my writing instead of looking at my mediocre art and shitposting - I am sorry in advance for this fluffy drivel; it was done as a gift for a couple of kind souls in the wake of Feast. It (fluff) will never happen again (•‿•)
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parachutingkitten · 10 months
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[distant future pixane angst]
The dim space between us felt like a mile, but as we stared into each other’s eyes I swear I could read his thoughts exactly. His somber expression remained stuck on mine as I opened my mouth to speak, but my lips wouldn’t move. A number of different words crossed my mind, but as I tried to justify speaking any of them, there was simply no combination worth expressing. My vocal processors simply descended into hysterical laughter as my hands rose to grip my forehead. 
“Will you please speak to me,” Zane pleaded, taking a step closer.
“No! It’s no use!” I insisted, my desperation still mixed with laughter. “Because I know exactly how this is going to play out! You’re going to leave through that door, and step through that portal and I’m never going to see you again. And no matter how much I yell at you, how earnestly I plead with you, there is nothing I can do that will convince you not to!”
His chest retreated, his hands gripping his newly dawned satchel. 
“So just go.” I sighed. “Go be the self sacrificial hero. Take the suicide mission. It’s practically already done, so just do it!”
“Pixal,” He took his steps deliberately, very carefully taking my hands into his. “Somebody has to do this.”
“Why does it have to be you?” I demanded.
“Because it’s my job.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“But it is,” he pressed. “Look, you don’t need to worry about me, I’ve already come to terms with-”
“I know!” I broke away from him again. “But I haven’t, Zane! I’m not okay with this! You’re the only thing I still have!” My eyes strayed to the monastery around us. “There’s no one else left. If you leave, It’s only me up here.”
His hands reached toward me again. “Which is why I need you to stay-”
“Don’t-” I jolted back. “...patronize me.” He let me take a few steps away again, my arms firmly crossing. “Like you haven’t left me alone to deal with things myself hundreds of times before.”
“What else would you have me do?!” Zane asked, the first hint of frustration entering his tone. 
“Let someone else do it!” I turned back to face him. 
“I can’t force this on anyone else.” His eyes were so earnest. So open. It hurt me more than anything else ever had. 
“Of course not!” I backed away, my emotions again sending me into hysteria. “Because I’m not a good enough reason for you to stay!” The tears finally collapsed onto my cheeks, his arms quickly surrounding me despite the distance I had attempted to put between us. 
“Of course you are,” he whispered in my ear, my head now resting on his shoulder. “I love you. I love you more and more every single day, you are the best reason I could ever have to stay.”
The pain in his voice only served to strain my breaths further. He pulled back ever so slightly, his fingertips cradling my cheek. 
“But this isn’t about me.” His icy blue eyes were layered behind tears of his own now. “This isn’t about us. It can’t be.”
His words were true, but my mind refused to process them. 
His hands once again slid down to meet mine. “Pixal, you are the strongest person I know.”
My head instinctively began to shake. “I’m not strong enough for this.”
“You’re going to do so many amazing things once I’m gone.” His grip got tighter.
“I can’t-”
“I know our souls will find each other again someday.”
I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, my vision now completely drowned.
“You should go.”
“I’m not leaving you while you’re so unsettled,” he insisted. 
“It’s only going to get more difficult the longer you wait.” I closed my eyes in defiance. “Just go already.”
There was a moment of stillness before I felt his lips grace my forehead. “Thank you for sharing your life with me.” 
My eyelids grew tighter as more tears slipped through. There was another still moment before his touch fully receded and his footsteps slowly left the room. My eyes remained closed for several more minutes, refusing to open up to a reality without him. I could almost imagine that he was still there, that I would turn around and he would still be waiting in the doorway. 
But when my eyes finally opened, and the tears finally faded, I was only met with his absence.
The doorway was empty. The monastery was empty. My heart was empty. The only thing he had left behind was a cold chill in the air.
He was gone. 
And I had let him go.
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Text
The Agony of Desire
Part 10 // Masterlist
Warnings: Smut (18+), mild CNC (consensual non-consent), bondage, mean Billy, choking, spitting, rough oral sex (m receiving), oral sex (f receiving), pseudo- public sex (there's no one around but it's technically a public space), boat sex, shower sex, come play, public nudity (again, no one around), Captain kink 😌
A/N: I based this boat on the Sunreef 80, a beautiful luxury catamaran and there are virtual tours on their online website that I enjoyed looking through while researching for this chapter. Enjoy!
For @idaofinfinity
~
Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great.
- Roger de Bussy-Rabutin
~
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"Yes, oh god, yes. Please, Billy, soo good."
He hums in acknowledgement.
You groan even more as his hands move from kneading your shoulders to slipping into your hair to massage your scalp.
"Oh fuck that's amazing." You gasp.
You can't see his grin.
"You don't moan like this when I'm inside you, that hurts my feelings, baby."
Your eyes peek open to look out at the ocean from the comfort of his boat, a luxury catamaran this time, made for easy cruising and stability.
"It doesn't feel this good when you're inside me." You lie.
You hear his angry huff.
"You're going to pay for that comment. I hope your little cunt can handle it."
"Oooh, I'm quaking in my imaginary boots, Russo. As if you have the balls to-" your words are cut off by his hand, dropping down to cover your mouth. You wriggle in response which only makes his grip that much tighter.
His laughter is downright sinister.
"Oh I have been waiting for an excuse to punish you." You jerk when you feel his other hand reach around to pinch your nipple through your bikini top almost painfully. You squeak behind his palm.
"I figured I wouldn't have to wait long for you to say something to piss me off."
You try to shake his hand from your mouth, reaching up to pry his hand away but you squeal again when the front of your swimsuit falls free. He finally pulls his hands away to use the strings of your bikini top to tie your hands securely behind your back.
"What the fuck?" You ask, trying to figure out how you just went from getting a nice shoulder massage to being topless on his boat. Being exposed to the air, out in what feels like a public area makes you so aroused, to have the sunlight dancing on your naked skin through the windows of the main deck salon.
You pretend not to enjoy the way he roughly gropes you, squeezing your skin under his palms, flicking gently at your nipples.
You gasp when you feel his hands reach for your bottoms, and you shoot up, arms still fixed behind you as you back away from him, moving toward the helm.
He gets to his feet, grinning.
"Where're you going? You're trapped here all alone with me, baby. Nowhere to run."
God, why did his dark side have to be so hot?
"Fuck you, Russo." You spit at him.
He chews on his bottom lip for a second before taking a step toward you.
You squeal, turning away, trying to navigate to the front of the cabin, knowing that Billy loved to chase.
Like Santorini, all over again.
His hands grab your hips, and you gasp in surprise when he pushes you to one of the soft couches.
You wriggle, gasping when his tongue slips over your ribs, laves over your nipple and then trails all the way up to your cheek.
He laughs at your faux disgusted expression.
"Don't pretend you don't like it, baby." His voice tickles your ear, "I know how much you love to feel like my filthy little girl."
You whimper in protest, your clit throbbing and aching in objection of your actions.
His tongue licks over your lips next, and you can't help the little moan you make.
He smiles, and your cover it up by wriggling in his arms.
"Untie me, Billy." You protest weakly.
His eyes widen, as if he's coming to the realisation that you don't want this.
"Oh, of course!" He says, reaching down to tug the knots on either side of your bikini bottoms loose.
"Not- no-" You scooch away from him, but he holds firm to the bottoms, tugging them free from your skin.
He grins up at you, raising his hand with the fisted material and chucking it towards the back of the boat, to be blown off into the ocean.
Your mouth drops open.
You're now stark naked, in broad daylight. The thought that anyone could pass by on another boat and maybe see you absolutely nude, makes you squeeze your thighs together. The knowledge that Billy, who would never let another person look at you in such a state of undress, reclines comfortably in his seat, makes you even wetter. He wears his confidence beautifully, like a second skin, and he silently dares you to say a word.
And you, who loves seeing that fire, spark in his eyes, you open your mouth to speak.
"Is that it?" You ask, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, tugging at your restraints, "Is that all you've got, Lieutenant? Some fancy knotwork and empty threats?"
His jaw tics.
"Boring." You sing, completely ignoring your state of undress, walking around as if you mean to be this way.
"That's not my title right now."
"What?" You ask, turning to him.
"Lieutenant, that's not my title right now."
You tilt your head in confusion.
He smiles gently.
"What do you call someone commanding a ship?" He asks slowly, rising to his feet.
You clench when the answer comes to mind almost immediately.
"I am not calling you Captain." You emphasise.
The smile is slow to rise on his face, he approaches you with calm movements and though you try to back away, you end up cornered, naked back pressed to one of the walls of the salon.
His hand drifts into your hair, gripping it hard and you make a small sound of discomfort, looking up at him. A shiver moving from where his hand grips your hair, right down to your aching clit.
"You're not going to have much of a choice." He whispers against your lips before he's kissing you.
You respond eagerly, pressing your body against his, tilting your head whichever way he pleases to let his mouth devour yours. He makes it sloppy on purpose, shoving his tongue deep into your mouth, licking over your teeth, and the roof of your mouth, no doubt making your lips red and kiss-swollen in the process.
His other hand slips down between your thighs, a single finger prodding between your legs.
He groans when he feels how wet you are.
"Such a desperate little thing, hmm? Needy for her Captain?" He asks, kissing your neck.
You suck in a slow breath before responding.
"You said it yourself, Captains command ships, this is hardly a ship, and you're not my Captain."
"It counts." He argues softly into your neck.
"Not to me, Billy. You're just my needy ex-boyfriend."
He stops. Raising his head to look into your eyes.
There it is. That spark of anger, ripping into him and burning him from the inside.
He places his hand on your throat, thumb running along the edge of your jaw. You gulp, looking into his eyes, knowing exactly what was coming.
When his grip tightens on your neck, you can't help pressing your thighs painfully together. Your head bumps the wall and you let out a small sound of pure arousal.
"Ex?" He asks slowly, as if he doesn't have you pinned at his mercy.
"Baby," he says softly, "I came inside you three times yesterday. Once on that dining table, once in my bed, and once in the bath. Exes don't do that. Boyfriends do."
You try to speak, but you can only let out a strangled grunt.
His grip loosens, and you take in a breath.
"Coming inside me, doesn't make you my boyfriend, just like driving a boat doesn't make you a Captain." You whisper hoarsely.
He smiles in amusement, leaning in to kiss you softly, his hands reach down behind you, kneading the globes of your ass in his hands, you sigh in pleasure at the feel of his rough grip. He moves to kiss your neck, his fingers just grazing the crease of your ass, making you suddenly crave the dirtiest of touches.
"So then," he says suddenly, gripping your upper arm and pulling you along.
You follow helplessly, still unable to free your arms from their bindings.
"What's it gonna take to make me your boyfriend, hmm? How many times do I have to come inside you- on you, before you're mine?"
He tugs you onto the bow, with wooden slats beneath your bare feet. The wind races over your body, spraying you with the gentle sea air. Your nipples stiffen permanently, cold in the wind and the waves, even though the sun warms you.
"Well?" He prompts, a hand on your shoulder, pushing you to your knees.
It takes you a moment to remember the question.
What's it going to take to make me your boyfriend?
God, the way he wanted you after all this time makes you dizzy with affection. You barely remember how you formulate words.
"Well- you- you have to ask."
He blinks down at you.
"Ask?"
You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding your head.
He bends, gripping your jaw in his hand, digging his fingers into your cheeks until your mouth parts for him. He presses his fingers into your bottom row of teeth to pry your mouth open.
He lines his mouth up with yours, and you know what's coming next, closing your eyes, and extending your tongue.
His spit is slightly chilled when it hits your tongue, only enough to recognise that it's not yours.
You close your mouth, opening your eyes to look up at him. He watches you swallow his spit and he gives a smile of satisfaction. His thumb brushes gently over your lips.
"Baby," he says slowly, drawing out the word, "Can I be your boyfriend?"
You blink, giving him a little smile behind his thumb, before nodding.
His smile is dazzling in response, your heart hammers in your chest.
He says your name on a breath, dropping to his knees to kiss you passionately. You sigh into his mouth, delighted and aching, almost certain that your arousal has coated your thighs by now.
His hands reach behind, to pull the bindings off your wrists, you moan, relief washing over you, as your arms are freed. You rub your wrists, your mouth still pressed to his. His hands also reach to rub at your arms, easing the soreness with a couple of generous squeezes.
Your hand sinks into his hair to keep his head in place while the other slips between your thighs to give your aching clit some relief. But you barely graze your swollen bud before his hand wraps around your wrist.
"Please," you gasp into his mouth, "Please, please, please, I need it so bad."
"Poor baby," he coos, pulling your hand away from your thighs and up to his mouth to suck the wetness from your fingers.
"If you don't behave, I'll tie your hands back together."
You pout at him.
He clicks is tongue in sympathy.
"Be a good girl and I'll give you what you need."
You hate being denied, even after you begged so nicely, and gave him what he wanted, so you're not thinking when you roll your eyes.
"Well now you've done it." He says getting to his feet.
His hand grips your hair, and you're forced to watch him unlace his shorts with one hand.
His thick cock is pressed to your cheek the instant it's freed.
Billy groans above you, rutting his erection against your cheek for a moment, you can feel a drop of his precum slide against your face, before he's tapping the head of his cock against your lips.
You're too much at his mercy to resist him, naked on his catamaran in the open air, your knees ache from where you're kneeled on the bow.
Your mouth opens reflexively, and his cock is slipping into your mouth in the next moment.
You moan around him, mouth open to take as much of him as possible. He only gives you a few inches, enough to keep your mouth full, but not to choke you.
You suck and lick at him when you can, kissing his tip when he retracts all the way, and opening your mouth easily for him to stuff his cock into your mouth.
Your clit throbs, begging for a single touch to relieve the ache inside you, but you know that pushing him any more would mean that you get denied for longer, so you try your hardest to ignore your body's begging.
It's easy to do with his cock in your mouth. The salty taste of his precum spreading intermittently on your tongue. He takes his time, slow and steady, filling your mouth, going just a little deeper each time.
"I bet you love this, baby. Bet you're dripping onto my boat, making a mess down there."
He grunts a little.
"I should make you clean it up after, make you bend over and use your tongue."
You moan around him.
"I know you like the thought of that, maybe one day I'll make you lick your own come off my cock," he smiles down at you, "My filthy little girlfriend."
Fuck, you press your thighs together, desperate for him.
His cock feels amazing in your mouth though, and it's easy to distract yourself when he begins to push in deeper.
"That's right baby, take it all, I wanna hear you choke."
Which is exactly what you do, gagging when his cock hits the back of your throat, forcing you to fight his grip and pull away with a gasp.
It takes you a moment, swallowing, before taking him back in.
You push yourself this time, determined to press your nose to his abdomen, holding your breath, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your body to relax and let his cock in.
Just like when he's inside you, your throat feels filled as much as possible. You only stop when you can't go any more. Mentally preparing yourself, you swallow around his cock.
The discomfort is worth it when you feel his body tremble, his moan is loud and unhinged, and you simmer with delight, pulling off of him to breathe.
You're clit is still begging for attention, but you can easily forget about it by focusing on his pleasure.
How mad would you have to get him for him to fuck your mouth? God, the idea of him angrily rutting into your mouth makes you so excited.
"Like I said, Lieutenant. Boring." You rasp, looking up at him with a mischievous smile on your face.
The muscle in his jaw tics for a moment, looking down at you.
"I'm your Captain." He corrects.
"No way, that title is earned through respect."
"You don't respect me?"
"Not for a second." You say  with a devious smile.
His hand grips the back of your head firmly.
"I can fix that." Is all he says before he's pulling your head forward. You open your mouth to take him, excited to get what you want.
He's gives you no mercy, pushing and pulling your head like you're his own personal toy. Your eyes are closed, your hands are clenched into fists at your sides as you try to relax your mouth as much as possible.
The sounds he makes are pornographic, little grunts and moans as he fucks your mouth with abandon. Your knees hurt, and your eyes water, but you don't fight his painful grip on the back of your head. It all becomes... irrelevant, each protest your body makes goes ignored, replaced by uninhibited delight whenever you hear a sweet sound from Billy.
"Who's your Captain now, baby? Hmm?" He asks, as if you have any faculties available to answer.
You whine, when he pulls you off his cock, gasping for air, yet still leaning forward to take his erection into your mouth.
He keeps your head in place, and you look up at him desperately.
"Am I your Captain?" He asks.
You blink, trying to resist him, trying to lean forward again to take his spit slicked cock back into your mouth.
"No," he says, pulling your head back once again, "focus on me you desperate little girl."
You whine, looking up at him, and then down to his cock, and then back up to him.
"Captain." You say hoarsely.
He looks smug.
"Yes, baby?"
"Want your cock, Captain."
"Really? This cock?" He asks, bringing your head closer until his tip just brushes your lips. You try to lean forward but he holds you firm. You can almost forget that you're naked on your knees in the shade of the midday sun.
"Captain Russo." You murmur, looking up at him demurely,  "Please."
He tuts affectionately at your pleading face.
"Oh baby," he hums, wiping at some of the spit at the corner of your mouth, "Cockdrunk little thing, hmm?"
You nod your head, and thankfully you don't have to beg any more because he's pulling you back onto his cock.
He moves slower this time, giving you time to breathe with every couple of thrusts.
"Gonna come in your mouth baby. Would you like that? Wanna swallow all my come?"
You hum eagerly and he chuckles.
"Of course you do." He says, which is all the prelude you get before he's fucking your mouth again.
He doesn't slow down, pistoning his hips, grunting and groaning and you know instinctively that he's on edge, and he's going to come in your mouth any second, and you have to be mentally prepared for the taste, that admittedly wasn't your favourite but that's okay.
You hollow your cheeks a little, and Billy moans loudly, pushing his cock all the way into your mouth. He holds you there as he orgasms with a loud groan, spilling the first wave if his come down your throat, but pulling out of your mouth in the next moment, to your surprise.
His fist is tight on his cock as the second and third wave of come splashes onto your cheek and chin, and then the final bit hits your chest.
You look up at him, feeling his warm come slip from your face and down your chest.
His breathing is sharp and heavy, and you marvel at his ability to stay on his feet when he orgasms, because you know it's a skill that you don't have.
He swipes at a droplet of come lingering on his cock, and pushes it into your mouth. You accept it eagerly, cleaning his thumb and smiling when he pulls it away.
He studies you for a long moment.
"You're so pretty. Do you know that?"
You give him a shy smile followed by a shrug of your shoulders. He tucks himself back into his pants, before refocusing on you.
"Up," he says, reaching out to grip your shoulders and pull you to your feet. You barely put weight on your legs for a second before your knees crumple, and Billy reaches out to catch you, one arm sliding under your knees to lift you into his arms.
"Sorry, legs forgot how to work."
"That's okay baby, I'll put you in a nice comfy spot before I get my tongue on you."
You begin to tingle again, smiling to yourself as he takes you below deck, into a spacious bedroom.
You hum in appreciation, the walls are white with dark wooden inlays and concealed storage places all around the room. The bed is large, round, covered in grey sheets and a mountain of pillows.
He places you down, and you hum at the smooth, silky feel of the sheets on your bare skin. The bed is soft, and encourages you to relax.
Billy guides you to the centre of the bed, placing pillows under your head and around your body to keep you nice and cozy. You try not to move too much, you don't want to get any of his come, still lingering on your chest and collarbones, on the bed.
He watches you for a long while, kneeling beside you in his tight fitted black shirt and board shorts. If you knew anything about him, you knew that he wasn't done with doing filthy things to you just yet.
He leans over you to kiss you gently, avoiding the remnants of come on your face.
"You look so beautiful, covered in my cum." He murmurs, swiping the bit on your cheek and pushing it into your mouth. You clean his fingers eagerly, even though his come has a bitter and mildly unpleasant note to it.
He catches some on your collarbone next, swiping a single finger through it, before pressing it to your nipple. You hum in delight and arousal, his come is slick and slippery and it swirls around your areola easily. He copies the same movement with your other breast, and you can't help wriggling, too worked up to stay still.
"Billyyyy," you complain, hoping he takes some pity on you.
"Hush, baby. Let me enjoy rubbing my come into your skin."
You watch his hand swirl a fingerpainting of his spend over your body, making lazy circles on your breasts, and writing his name onto your stomach with a smile. He then swipes another bit, and you gasp when he paints it over your mound.
"Open your legs." He murmurs, and you do so eagerly, just to watch and feel him circle his cum into your clit.
You feel so debauched, a dirty little thing, letting Billy Russo do whatever he wanted to your body.
Your body tingles, eager and excited for whatever he gives you next.
He chuckles when he looks at your face.
"You really like this, don't you? I wrote my name in cum on your skin and that gets your pussy all swollen and needy."
"Yes, Captain." You mumble softly.
He makes a low sound in the back of his throat.
"What else will you let me do to you?" He ponders, moving to settle himself between your thighs. You sigh blissfully, thanking whatever deity is out there that he's finally going to give you some relief.
"What if I wanted to roleplay things with you? Would you do that for me?" He asks, head dropping to your thighs, an explosion goes off in your head when you feel his thumb press on your clit, his arm circles around your thigh, forcing your leg to be draped over his back.
"What- mmm- what kind of things?" You ask, your skin tingling with the scratch of his beard and the softness of his lips as he kisses your skin.
"Dark things, wicked things, being taken advantage of type things." He says to you, circling his thumb slowly.
You mewl, ideas spinning in your head.
"Yeah?" You ask, eager to keep him talking, even though it stops his mouth from being where you need it, "Like what?"
He seems to think for a moment, you feel a soft kiss on the softest swell of your inner thigh.
"What if I find a lost little girl, and I help her get home, and I make her thank me?"
You gasp, nodding at the thoughts, glad to see that your ideas and his are aligned.
"I'd like that a lot." You rasp, "I want to pretend with you."
"Good girl." He hums, before his lips seal around your clit.
You swear you could come from the sensation, after being tormented by him for so long, your back lifts off the bed for a moment, wiggling your hips, desperate for more.
He lifts his head, after sucking on your aching bud for a moment, to look up at you.
"Why don't you play with those sticky nipples for me? Go on, lick your fingers first, get them wet. That's it, good, so good for me."
You whimper, wet fingers gliding over your nipples, rubbing his come into your skin, and your toes curl when he gets his tongue back on you.
"Oh, fuck." You sigh, head exploding with the abundance of pleasure. How is he so good at this? How does his tongue know the perfect pressure to apply to make you feel so disoriented?
"Billyyyyy, oh please, right there, God- fuck-" your head is tossed back, every thought stuck on the feel of his tongue, licking over your clit recklessly.
It works you up so easily, his mouth on your pussy, and you can't warn him about your impending orgasm, too gone to speak. Your fingers dance over your nipples, plucking them intermittently, reminding you of the absolutely debauched things he's done to you so far.
Your thighs tighten around his head, and you hear him groan blissfully, tongue gliding over your clit, dipping down to slide over your entrance before moving back up.
His pressure increases just a little, giving you one harsh lick after another and it's all you need to push you over the edge.
You cry out, squeezing his head between your thighs as your fingers tangle in the sheets, gripping them as tremors flood your body. The pleasure zips up your spine, blooms on your skin, a whine on each breath as you try to wrap your head around the insurmountable pleasure rolling through you.
He gives your slit a few gentle kisses, looking up at you with dark eyes.
"Did you like that?" He asks gently, in a teasing way, as if he doesn't know the power he wields over you.
You smile at him, sitting up, to kiss him, but pausing when you feel the tackiness of his come, giving an uncomfortable feeling on your skin.
"Can we finish this in the shower?" You ask between breaths and he smiles, pulling your legs until they wrap around your hips, his hands supporting your behind as he stands.
You gasp, arms wrapping around him, feeling him kiss the top of your head as he walks you to the bathroom.
It's got one of those rain shower heads, and you marvel at it while he unfolds a small sitting area for you directly under the nozzle. He steps away from you for a moment and you watch him tug his tight shirt over his head, his shorts hitting the ground next and your mouth waters when his cock springs free again.
His fingers grip your chin the second he makes his way in front of you.
"Gonna be a good girl for me? Hmm?" He asks with his dominant and demanding aura clearly displayed in his eyes.
"Yes Captain." You say eagerly, nodding your head, stomach tightening when he smiles, mimicking your nod in a teasing manner.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Open your legs."
You do as he says, letting him come to stand between your open legs. His cock brushes your stomach and you try to look down but his fingers grip your chin firmly.
You look up at him in surprise, and he gives you a smug look before leaning down to kiss you.
At the same time, he starts the shower, and you gasp into his mouth as the warm water traces through your hair and dances down your skin.
You feel the remnants of his pleasure being washed from your body, his hands gripping your thighs to pull you to the edge of the seat.
His forehead pressed to yours, you hold eye contact as he pushes the head of his cock into you.
"Oh god." You moan, eyes falling shut as you feel him take up space inside you.
It's a new feeling, to have water cascading over the both of you as he takes his time filling you to the brim. It makes you feel touched and appreciated on every inch of your skin.
Billy watches you carefully, searching for any signs of hesitation or discomfort, aching to drink the water from your skin, leaning back to run his hands over the curves of your wet body.
He loves you so much. He feels something flutter in his chest, down to his stomach as he hears you moan on his cock.
He'd drop to his knees and spend eternity following you around like a puppy if you asked nicely.
But he knew what you needed- a firm hand, a harsh grip at the back of your head, a smile against your mouth as he gives you punishing thrusts, and he was glad to give you what you deserved.
Your ankles lock behind his ass as he gives you his first hard thrust. Water spills into your open mouth, and then drips out, and you let it, uncaring about anything else as he pumps his cock into you forcefully.
Each thrust is met with a little whimper, and you know he likes this, with the way his eyes light with amusement.
He is unrelenting, his cock touching every intimate spot inside you, he circles his hips once to make sure you feel it.
He groans in your ear, and increases his pace, fucking into you faster and faster as the minutes go by.
"Is this what you wanted, baby? Is this what you were dreaming of every night while you were sleeping next to me?"
You nod, pressing your face to his chest, digging your fingertips into his shoulders.
You whine his name, focusing on the filthy slapping sounds being made as your hips meet.
"Can't wait to fulfil your every dirty fantasy, baby. I'll make you come so hard you see stars."
What kind of man talks this way? But you knew the answer. Only Billy Russo could.
"I-m gonna come, Ca-ah- Captain."
Your hair clings to your body, you stick your tongue out to lick at some of the droplets gliding over his skin, eager to taste him.
"Yeah baby, come for me. Can't wait to fuck you full again. My favourite little hole."
You clench around him, a warning of your imminent pleasure.
His thrusts grow more forceful, and your body grips his cock hard for a moment before stars explode behind your eyes. You can barely even register that your vision goes white, too caught up in the pleasure of your orgasm, moaning loudly as your high hits you in powerful waves.
Tilting your head up, the falling water hits your cheeks, rolling down your body, he kisses your jaw, his beard scratching at your skin.
You're taken with him then, grabbing either side of his face and pulling his mouth to yours. He groans against your lips and you greedily swallow the sound.
You hair clings to his skin too, and you smile bashfully, when he takes his time to smooth your hair back, away from your face.
"I can tie it up if you want." You suggest, and he grins.
"Don't you dare." He responds, cupping your face to continue kissing you.
It's surprisingly pleasurable, with the water falling all over you, not a single thought or worry in the world except how next your boyfriend is going to please you.
He slides you off the little seat, giving one breathless kiss before spinning you around and bending you over said seat.
He gives a little kick to your leg, making you open them wider, and you lean forward a little, arching your back to put your ass on display.
His hands push your hair to the side, it stays easily with the water keeping it in place. His beard scratches at the base of your neck and you shiver, the feeling delighting you.
You feel so close to him, so in tune with his thoughts, that you already feel like one person, even before he's slipping his cock back into you.
He feels bigger like this, and you try to stop your legs from wobbling by locking them stiff.
He moans into your neck, his front slippery and wet against your back, he raises a hand to cup at your breast.
"Tell me what I want to hear. Say it for me." He grunts into your ear, and you marvel at the ways you understand him.
"I'm yours." You murmur.
His hips begin to move.
The head of his cock kisses that spot deep inside you that has fireworks going off in the back of your head. You're vaguely aware that you're moaning to high heaven.
A hand wraps around your throat, you clench hard around him in response. He lets out a grunt of amusement, his fingers press tighter into the sides of your neck.
Water trickles between your bodies, the gentle sensation feels overwhelming.
The hand on your breast slips down, he presses the heel of his palm into your lower abdomen. You gasp in surprise, at the increased sensation.
"Can you feel me here? Deep inside you?" He drums his fingers over your skin, "I'm gonna come so deep in you, right here, and you'll keep it safe and warm for me, yeah?"
"Yes, please." Is all you can say. Yes, please, as if you're his mindless little girl, privy and accepting of all his whims. And when his grip tightens on your throat, and his teeth sink into your shoulder, and his hips take on a rougher pace, your orgasm tears through you, but it's only him, and the things he can do and the way that he does it and your bliss becomes something that isn't just for you, but for him as well. A way to show him that you were truly his.
Tears spill from the corner of your eyes, being washed away in the spray of the shower, his teeth are still pressed to your skin, the grip on your throat loosens.
A few more frantic thrusts and he comes, groaning into your skin, his hips stuttering as he pumps wave after wave of come into you, his warm seed coating your walls, making you sigh in bliss.
His teeth unlatch from your skin, his tongue licking over the indentations affectionately. It hurts, but you can bear the pain with the amount of pleasure flooding your system.
His hands smooth over your skin, he stays buried in you for as long as he can before his softening cock slips out on its own.
"Was that too much?" He asks, water still pouring over you, and your heart pulls a little at the insecure inflections in his voice.
He was definitely something special. Like dark chocolate, bitter around the edges, but so deliciously addictive.
You loved his bitterness, his debauchery, you loved...him, and all of the dark pleasures he promised.
"Not at all." You finally say, turning to him, leaning up for a kiss that he returns.
He smiles, kissing over your cheeks and shoulders, scratching his wet beard over your cheek, earning a little giggle from you, before he's turning off the shower.
"We should get back, you'll be sleepy soon."
You smile, watching him grab a fluffy towel and letting him wrap it around you. You had no other clothes, and you'd have to spend the ride back as you were now.
He pats the top of your head with the towel, and you smile, moving to sit on the bed, watching him get dressed.
He takes you back up to the helm, sits you in the soft seat beside his, where the sleek black ship's wheel stands prettily in front of his seat.
He brings you a cool glass of wine, and you accept it gratefully as you sit beside him and watch him start up the engines.
"Damn, you really are a Captain, huh?"
He grins at you, his hair is slicked back and wet.
"That's what I've been saying, baby."
You chuckle, watching his focus shift from you as he begins to move.
You sip your wine, letting it relax you, offering him some every now and then and he accepts it easily.
Halfway back, he stops the boat for a second, and you gasp when he yanks your towel down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth.
You groan in unison, his mouth pulling pleasure from you as he gives the other breast the same attention, before pulling away to continue driving.
"Keep them out." He says, not sparing a glance at you and your mouth opens in protest, before you decide against it.
You liked the taste of his depravity, after all.
He's lying beside you, sharing the same pillow. His eyes are focused on your hand, interlocked with his, rubbing his fingers against yours to memorise the feel.
You're barely awake, exhausted from the heat of the sun, and Billy's sexy, yet tormenting persona.
"Would you still like me if I was bad?"
"You are bad."
His face breaks into a smile, looking at you for a brief second.
"Brat."
The silence and your shared breathing fills the space. You try not to push him, waiting for him to speak when he's ready.
"I mean, what if I was worse?"
You hum in thought.
"Would you hurt me or my family?"
"No."
"Would you hurt Frank or any of your friends?"
"Not intentionally."
"Would you hurt an innocent person?"
"Not if I can help it."
"Then, what makes you worse?" You ask.
He seems to ponder for a moment.
"I'm not.... sure."
You smile, scooching closer to him.
"I think I'll love you- like you!" Your heart pounds, chest squeezing in panic, "Like you, I think I'll still like you, as long as you stay true to who you are."
You look down at your joined fingers now, too scared to look into his eyes.
"I love, I mean like you too." He says softly, and your lip wobbles, emotions building forcefully inside you and threatening to spill out in the most dramatic way possible. Dark chocolate could be sweet too.
"You're a huge dumbass." You mutter, leaning in closer to him, pressing your face into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him.
"The biggest." He agrees, "Wanna go for a walk on the beach?"
"I can't walk," you sniffle, "My stupid boyfriend fucked me so hard I can't use my legs."
He can't help the laugh that spills from his mouth, his chest rumbles with joy. You smile into his chest.
"I can carry you on my back." He suggests.
"No, outside will be warm, and I'm so comfy right now." You wrap an arm around him, squishing his body against yours till he makes a little grunt.
"Okay, I'll hold you till you sleep. If you wake up and find me gone, I'll be upstairs making dinner.
"Mmkay." You mumble into his chest, sighing when you feel his hand circle your back slowly.
"Goodnight." You say, knowing that it's not night at all.
He huffs in amusement.
"Goodnight, baby."
~
A phone vibrates loudly, pulling you from your sleep. You groan, irritated at the incessant noise of his phone on the nightstand near your head.
You pop an eye open, grabbing his phone to look at the caller ID. Someone named James Wesley is calling.
You figure it must be urgent if they can reach him here. Wait, but, you thought the satellite had to be in range?
You grab the buzzing phone, wobbling to the elevator on shaky legs, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you press the elevator call button.
The phone stops buzzing when you step into the elevator, and you pause when you see that the call has been answered. The small Bluetooth button is lit, and you figure he probably answered the call from his watch or something.
The elevator opens to the kitchen and you hear Billy's voice, with a borderline aggressive tone.
"Tell Fisk, that I'll give him what he wants." Is all you hear him say, before the call ends.
"Billy?" You say to him, his back coming into view and he rounds on you quickly.
You lift his phone, trying to explain silently how you managed to overhear his words. Words that clearly demanded an explanation.
He takes a deep breath, looking a bit weary.
"We have to go back." Is all he says, with a small frown on his face.
.
.
.
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shesacarver · 1 month
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this still leaves so many questions. who exactly is josh in the world of trench? sure josh is the leader of the banditos but does he have a character that we’ll get introduced to? and what about jenna? she’s shown up in the universe, who does she represent?
hello ! i dont know !!!!!!!
i think its weird that I Am Clancy completely ignores josh ? sure its about clancy ( quite obvious ) but … zero josh
the things i know abt him for a fact are:
he’s the torchbearer , and functionally the leader of the banditos !!!!! obviously helps plan and participates in infiltrations / escapes . massive symbol of hope & freedom & rebellion in tyler’s eyes
he was a citizen of dema at some point ( vessel / blurryface era ?? ) . his bishop’s never been confirmed but i personally believe it’s lisden and i Do have reasons . he’s also spooky jim but brother i have zero clue what that thing is . sorry
alsoalso he’s possibly been cloned ? ? literally zero concrete proof but im getting vibes ( i Have made a post abt this im jusg too lazy to link it here )
i genuinely cant think of a reason why he wasn’t mentioned in I Am Clancy :/
now .,,.. jenna joseph .
i do think she’s involved but very minimally , not to the extent of josh + not w/ a huge impact to the lore
generally i think she’s also supposed to represent hope . dressed in yellow & flowers , tried to kill blurryface ( insecurity ) in the TIMH mv + yellow phone during the livestream + “ wife “ listed as a Good Thing in Good Day
i think she might also have a bishop ??? i think it’s sacarver and i Do have reasons .
ultimately i think tyler threw her in there jus because he loves her and not because she serves a huge narrative purpose Maybe ??????? i could be so wrong but
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cosmics-beings · 2 months
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From the same fic from before, i wanted to preview the cute moments between megatron and starscream and how megatron deals with hiding his sparkling and current condition from starscream. and also just these two being sweet
Megatron leaned into it, feeling the comfortable shift just beneath his plating; Starscream had a way of making him feel good. If it were up to him, he would’ve remained like that for an hour or so, grinding his smaller partner upon him however, there was a cramp in his forge tank, an uncomfortable, annoying kick that caused him to withdraw from the kiss.
This puzzled Starscream.
“Fuel ache.” Megatron lied, but not really. 
“The same one that’s been getting to you for what…the last six weeks or so?” Starscream hopped off of Megatron’s lap, much to the poet’s chagrin.  
“It hasn’t been that long.”
“Oh trust me Megatron, I’ve seen you rubbing your fuel tank when I’m not looking, running to purge after meals….” Placing his hands on his hips, Starscream turned to look at him. “Primus, I’d think you were sparked.”
Megatron felt his own spark thump quickly at that, so he retorted. “Hmm maybe. But you’d know, and,” He stood, gently reaching toward Starscream and taking the flier in his arms. “It’s not like it would be yours besides…we  don’t…do things that way. If anyone were to be sparked out of the two of us, it would be you.”
Starscream rolled his optics. “Clearly I am not, for many reasons and I know you aren’t. After all, you’d would tell me if you were running around, ensnaring unsuspecting bots to be your sires. It must be nice to have that option.” 
Megatron rolled his optics, pulling Starscream close. “We’ll get you a forge tank eventually, we just have to wait.” It wasn’t a secret between the two of them, that Seekers couldn’t naturally carry; they were good sires, not carrier. Subverting all expectations of course, Starscream wanted to carry and had no interest in ever siring. That was something Megatron knew , and something he had agreed to aid Starscream in after carrying himself so much in his past…and present.
Starscream however didn’t have a forge tank, at least not currently, but it was not an issue to get him one. 
Still, he liked to give Megatron a hard time. He had known that in the past, during the war and his time as a Gladiator, Megatron had carried sparklings by different sires (Tarn being a sparkling of his, though that was for another time). Megatron was a bit wilder back then, more carless with his forge tank. Starscream was aware.
Starscream however did not know of little Kaon, nor did he know of Megatron’s predicament now.
For all the jokes Starscream made, Megatron was sparked. And those sparklings belonged to Rodimus.  Primus, Megatron didn’t know how he’d begin to tell Starscream. 
So in that moment, he decided not to. He sat back down at his desk after embracing Starscream, and as he did so gazed at the datapad receipt he’d left sitting in the open, knowing it would immediately catch Starscream’s attention if he pretended to make way to hide it.
“What is that? Another poem you’ve written? About who hopefully me–certainly not about Rung, you know I’m jealous of him. Let me see!” 
Before Megatron could stuff the datapad in his desk, Starscream snatched it, holding it close to his chest. “It’s mine now.” His ruby optics gazed over it for a moment, as suddenly realization crept into his processor. 
“This is a receipt for a gown?” Starscream spoke, quietly. “A gown that you bought…a red…crimson gown?”
Megatron shrugged, a smile on his lips. “I liked the colors and the design though, it’s not for me, do you remember it from anywhere?”
Starscream paused for a moment, he gasped in surprise. “This is the gown I wanted to order last week–you…you got it for me? This is a gift, for me! How could you afford it…it is so expensive I–”
“You’re shocked, one of the best writers in Cybertron has money to buy the Chancellor a gown? Consider it a gift, for good behavior, for trying not to murder me in my sleep. It should be getting here tomorrow night I–” In the blink of an eye, Starscream was in Megatron’s lap once again, data pad discarded as he wrapped himself around the larger framed bot. Planting a kiss on Megatron’s lips, he held him close. 
For a moment, Megatron could forget about the annoying kicks in his forge tank, and he knew he could keep up this lie. He wasn’t ready to ruin this moment, this stability and happiness he’d found. Eventually he knew he’d have to tell Starscream about Kaon, about the unborn Sparklings and his night with Rodimus just a few months before he and Starscream actually got together.
Megatron knew that would end the relationship he and Starscream had. It was easy to keep Starscream pleased with flattery, gifts, affection and intimacy. But Megatron knew that Starscream had plans for his life, and what he wanted his life to be…and a sparked mech with an unclaimed sparkling on his hip did not fit his agenda.
It wouldn’t hurt so badly if Megatron didn’t actually love Starscream. He loved him. They had rekindled their relationship after the war, after his second trial, and they’d made it here. They’d forgiven each other and moved past the violence of the war, and here they were now.  Primus, Starscream had even moved from Iacon to Megatron’s home on the outskirts of the city–that’s how close they were.
And it would end. It would end soon or later, when Megatron started showing, when his coding toward Kaon could no longer be ignored. Megatron would not dare depart from his sparklings, he couldn’t keep away from Kaon for more than a few months. And when he birthed these sparklings, he planned to raise them.
Still, that didn’t make the reality of his soon to be ended relationship with Starscream sting any less.
So until then, Megatron didn’t mind these moments. Surprising Starscream with gifts, holding him in his lap, and speaking of futures that wouldn’t happen.
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sunlessea · 2 months
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from adorning lights and festive cloak to instead being decorated from ears to tail in hearts and flashy, pink-and-red fashion, elysium certainly has cemented himself in london's public as a very ... eccentric celebrator of holidays. they've only just started this eve for the feast, but one would think they'd already reached valentine's revel, how he walks around. and more importantly —
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" ... hello again, mr fires." another gift he's handed over, this time more casually, where he places the handle of a key-to-heart dagger within the master's claws, its sharp blade pointed outwards to himself. though the design is expected in shape, much like the gun he had gifted it these past holidays, it's clearly a homemade weapon, embroidered with blazing red rubies and painted with a myriad of golden oranges to simulate the colors of flame. "a gift for you, if you don't mind. simply for, uhm... for the holiday. of course."
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@londonfallen / mr fires
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