#bug daddy brain rot
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Asa Emory but he's not that bad
GN reader, sort of a crack fic cus I cant take his avocado mask seriously, sfw but really dumb lmao
notes: i wanna simp for the bug man without feeling guilty so Im gonna deviate from the 2009 and 2012 cannon slightly and defend this version of him till I die. Picture Juan Fernandez's Asa cus that's who Im talking about muah muah goodnight
So in my head, Mr. Cockroach is just a silly little nerd. A goofy fella with social anxiety. He is the definition of a poor little meow meow- smart but pathetic, a self absorbed mess
Picture a pinscher with a cold. That's him
He has managed to get himself to pretend he's somewhat well adjusted, but even tho he can make small talk, buy groceries and order pizza from time to time he still comes off as cagey and awkward
Definitely kept dead bugs in jars in his room as a kid, did not expect them to rot, learned nothing from this experience and still does it
Which means he smells bad. But purposefully now
I think Asa identifies as a bug tbh, but not literally
He loves humans like you maybe love cars, or art.
He doesn't relate to people. He doesn't get what's like to be one. But he loves us so much, he admires us so much, like you admire a vintage Lamborghini in perfect conditions.
He loves us from afar, like an admirer, an outside observer, wanting to learn everything about us because he doesn't understand but loves how strangely endearing we are, like the entomologist he is. Its almost like a fetish, but not sexual- objetification meets cold adoration in the hands of a scientist
This is specially noticeable (like another poster said) when we see various scenes where he's gently craddling his victim's faces or taking "care" of them. He looks at them in awe, like he could (cus he really could) break them, he wants to see them break to learn one more thing about them
He sees his victims not as people, not as complex universes, not as concepts, but as animals. He understands you have a life and opinions and friends, but he compartmentalizes these as normal behavior for your species
He cannot physically take his headphones off during the day cus it's so fucken noimsy outside and it hurts his ears
He likes to listen to anything repetitive and loud, nothing with discernible lyrics
His house looks like one of those ikea display rooms, except it smells faintly like formaldehyde and rot
He has a massive sweet tooth
He has a love for psychology, human anatomy and thanatology
Actually any field of knowledge that could explain human behavior is fair game to him
He absolutely hates spending money in "unnecessary" things, which is why he has plenty of diy projects around his place
He doesn't really have an opinion of people or of himself. He isn't one to judge, to classify people into groups. He thinks we're all fascinating, and he spends a lot more time trying to teach himself things about us than thinking about his own life
He doesn't have an internal voice inside his head
Absolutely has a God complex, but more in a "I Cannot Relate To Any Of My Beloved Creechures" than "my milkshake is better than yours"
Has a degree in entomology, and chose to become a certified bug serial killer cus seriously,,,,ppl will just give their house keys to a stranger for days????? how could he not take advantage of that????
100% a virgin. Does not have any interest in romance or sex, does not understand most people's need for it, could not feel more uncomfortable than when his victims offer to "help him" in exchange for their freedom
Never had any friends
Was raised by his extended family who sent him off to college as soon as they could
His favorite place in the whole wide world are cemeteries (silent, and he can spend time with his beloved lil humans as much as he wants)
Never takes anything personally and is completely unfazed by morality. Again, whenever anything happens he just sees it as part of the behavior of this particular species, like he isnt an active participant in the world, just a bystander
Hates pillows. His bed is as firm as a wooden table (might actually be one), only wears blankets when its absolutely freezing and he has no other choice
Walks around either on all fours or on his tiptoes
He doesn't? really? get? why people hate his trunks so much. He finds small spaces quite soothing and attributes his victim's screams to panic or anxiety of being caught, not also cus they're yk stuck in a tiny box with no chance of getting out
He has quite a few "animalistic" quirks, like the growling and purring thing. Some come naturally, some he picked up from his early subjects when he was a student
Knows how to crochet, and how to sew up small tears or holes in clothing
#asa emory headcannons#og asa emory#asa emory#the collector#the collector 2009#the collection 2012#asa emory x reader#asa emory x you#asa emory x y/n#bug daddy brain rot#he is so neurodivergent your honor i wanna give him noise canceling headphones so bad#slashers x reader#slasher#slasher x y/n
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Petals (Roy!Sibling x Connor Roy)
Character/s: Connor, Shiv, Roman, Logan, Willa, Marcia
Word Count: 1,315
Requested: hello! is it okay if i request more roy baby sibling and connor? i’d like to see them asking connor to dance at shiv’s wedding (or maybe even at his wedding?)! thank you :) - anon
Requested: your younger roy sibling hcs have been rotting my brain recently and now im imagining 8 year old them making a drawing for connor's birthday that is them holding hands with big hearts and "wish you were my daddy" written in big kid letters (probably with spelling mistakes) and connor just like. sobbing when he reads it. i feel like hed be such a big father role to a significantly younger sibling (i personally imagine them and roman having a around 10 year gap, so thats probably like ~35 years of different between them and connor). and we all know what a shitty dad logan is/was, so i can see younger sibling calling connor after some big fight with logan and crying while begging him to pick them up and let them live with him and it breaks his heart cause logan would never let it happen and he tried but couldnt protect ken and shiv and rome and he just wishes he could at least protect his baby sib but he just cant and it kills him. anyway happy thursday thought haha roy family brainrot - @fromirkwood
Inspired By: Petals on the Moon by Wasia Project
Tag: @locke-writes
A/N: I know the second one wasn't exactly a request, but I couldn't get it out of my head!!! Big Bro Connor is my absolute favorite!! I hope this doesn't rot in your brain too long my love lol. I just couldn't get it out of my head, especially when it was combined with the other request!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜
Time is a thief, at least that’s what he thinks when he looks at you, spinning with your sister on the dance floor. Your smile is so bright, so wide, your cheeks flushed. You drank too much, no doubt it was Roman refilling your glass without your notice. The song picks up speed, picks up in joy, and you break out into laughter, you and Shivy. It’s as if you’re in your own world and only she’s in it. You spin and jump and sing along, your niece and nephew beside you and the bride. He hasn’t seen you this electric, this alive, so much like your old self, in weeks. Connor considered himself lucky to be able to watch, to bear witness. Just moments ago you were a baby, doodling with your thick crayons, mistakenly calling him Dad instead of Logan. Only recently had he learned that's who he was in your phone, Dad, that Logan was simply Logan. Years pass, but so little changes. He still had all your fathers day cards stashed away, hidden before your real father caught what you were doing. Stick figures, one tall, one small, hand in hand surrounded by flowers and butterflies and other bugs. Happy Fathers Day Connor. Your uppercase letters always slanted, crooked, his name spelled with one N instead of two. It wasn’t long until his figure started sprouting gray hair, graying far earlier than anyone else in the family, and yours grew taller every year. Connor feared you might have forgotten about him, that you were getting too old to need your eldest brother like your siblings had, but you proved him wrong after that night.
You hadn’t even wanted to go to the wedding. It was so bad. Whatever was said and done remained a mystery. You wouldn’t tell him, tell anyone, just that it was bad. He’d gone with Willa to pick something out for you, knowing you left the house with nothing. You refused to try it on, to come out of the spare bedroom. It wasn’t until the day before when they were getting ready to leave, accepting that there was no way you were going, did you come out with your outfit packed. You weren’t going to miss Shiv's big day because of him, you declared, and it was settled. He couldn’t contain his excitement, grinning from ear to ear. Letting her down, letting him down, just because of your old man, it seemed like a cruel punishment. You sat beside him in the plane, his hand on your knee, trying to disregard the dread in your chest. They’d all heard about your big blow out, they all wanted to know, going to Connor first instead of you. You were the closest, you told him everything. When he had nothing to say, when all he could offer was a warning, it said something, something more than he was expecting: whatever happened got to you. It genuinely hurt you. They imagined the worst, unsure of what to do. He was at a loss, too. Your father could say and do as he pleased, you’d always been the best at ignoring him, especially when he was in one of his moods, but this time? This time was different. It stung more than all of the other fights you’d had with him, and there were some memorable ones. Never had you yelled back like that, never had you stormed out in a fury, never had you sobbed to your brother like that on the phone. This wasn’t the kind of thing that would go away on its own. It wouldn’t heal with time.
He could almost forget the crack in your voice as he watched you now. That sad, crying child looked so different from the young adult on the dance floor. Eventually you came over to him, asking him to dance. As if on cue, a slower song came on. This was far different than the last time you danced together. You stood on his shoes, swaying, giggling that high pitched giggle, the one that made his heart melt. You were so little then, so tiny, he was scared to let go. Now you swayed on your own, your arms around him as if you’re scared he’ll flee, your face buried into his chest. Thank you for letting me stay with you. It came out mumbled, muffled, but he understood. Anytime, kiddo. You’re a pleasure to have. Your eyes were big when you looked up at him, as if trying to decipher if he was telling the truth or not. His smile, so reassuring, told you he meant it. I’m sorry about Pops. you shook your head, not wanting to hear his name, not wanting your brother to carry the guilt for him. If he was going to apologize you were going to hear it from him. Not anyone else. Connor spent the entire night putting distance between the two of you, becoming your human shield. Logan, it seemed, had completely forgotten about the whole ordeal, kissing Shiv, saying hello to your brothers, like nothing was amiss. They each shared a glance, all looking to Connor for help, for guidance, just like they had when they were little. He knew what he had to do. How bad was it, kiddo? He asks. Bad. It’s all you can say without upsetting yourself all over again.
He called you his greatest failure. Spineless. A mistake. You don’t remember how it started, only that you were bleeding out on the floor before him and he refused to put the knife down. A plague to the Roy name, a curse, a bad seed. You never should have been born. A loser. Incompetent. He’s not sure where you came from, but you are certainly not his. You should be smarter, work harder, but instead you are nothing, you are nobody. No one has ever or will ever love you. It hits you so hard, so forcefully, it knocks the wind out of you. He means it, he means every word, but especially that. That’s what kills you, that’s what makes the tears slip down your cheeks. That’s not true, you try to spit back, but he’s not listening and you’re crying, and you’re proving him right. He keeps talking. You can’t hear it, though. You’re gone. You’ve retreated into yourself, so far back he cannot possibly get you. You stand there, unmoving, as he gets in your face. No one has or will ever love you. No one has or will ever love you. It plays on loop, again and again until you cannot breathe. Finally you back away, you run from him, slamming each door behind you. Marcia calls out to you, hearing what went down, but nothing can stop you. Through the busy sidewalks, sobbing uncontrollably, you call him. You can’t repeat what he said, you still can’t. You know that would make him furious, all of them, and it is not their burden to carry. A quiet fear has settled in the back of your mind: what if he’s right?
If he knew, if Connor knew, he would have killed his father. No one said that to his baby, no one ever dared talk to you that way. But he doesn’t, and he never will. You have vowed to yourself that neither him nor your other siblings will know, for fear that they might agree with him. That they’ll show you he’s right. Instead they watch you carefully, ready to intervene should that be necessary. You hold on to him tight long after the song ends, not wanting to let go, to be alone with Logan's words. Connor doesn’t mind at all. He’s his happiest when his siblings need him, when you need him. He’ll always be there to rescue you. Always. It’s his job, you’re his greatest love. You all are.
#requested#writing#connor roy#connor roy imagine#connor roy x reader#succession#succession imagine#succession x reader#logan roy#logan roy imagine#logan roy x reader
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What your favorite form of fanfic says about you:
(This is a joke and probably not 100% accurate, but I'm going to phsycho-analyze every aspect anyway. I am NOT a liscensed therapist, just the therapist friend of the group, and also pretty good at reading people and figuring them out. But if this is all true about y'all, please, talk to someone!)
Hurt/comfort-
Who hurt you? (your parents) Because someone did, and you're seeking the comfort/apology you should have gotten, but never received. As someone whose favorite genre is hurt/comfort, I might be projecting just a teensy weeny bit. but still, that doesn't take away from the fact that I know the majority of y'all have been hurt, phsycially and/or emotionally, by someone who was supposed to protect you. So you probably have daddy and/or mommy issues. Probably some relationship issues, too. Sorry if this is a triggering realization, just what I think. Anyways, my message to you would be STOP. 👏 LETTING. 👏 PEOPLE. 👏 WALK. 👏 ALL. 👏 OVER. 👏 YOU! 👏 I know you're either a people pleaser deep down, or it's very obvious and surface level, and I know this is hypocritical but whatever. Know your worth! Please!
Fluff-
This could either mean 1 of 3 things:
You sweet summer child, you. You've never met a day of violence and was trapped in a safety bubble all your life, and you can't even look at something awful happening in real life. Those ASPCA commercials have a target audience, and that is YOU. And does it work? Absolutely.
You've been neglected in your childhood or past relationships, so you're clinging to every bit of a sweet moment that you never got. This probably also bleeds into your relationships, so you're either super clingy, or push everyone away because you don't want to be hurt if you get neglected first. (If that is you, STOP DOING THAT! You are beautiful, loved, worth people's time, and not everyone is going to neglect you! And if they do find someone who won't. And not someone who isn't real. I know I write fanfics, but still.)
You just read the most heart wrenching, gut kicking angst of your life and you need some tooth rotting fluff to heal you because that hurted. (Why do you do this to yourself? I think it's unhealthy at this point...)
Angst/Hurt no comfort
No. Nuh uh. I don't fuck with y'all. there is some serious shit going on in that brain I'm not sure I wanna unload, but all I know is you need to seek a deeper therapy than me. I'll try to figure out what's going on, but this is gonna sound made up, and that's because I'm winging it at this point with little evidence other than a loose theory.
Ahem. You, and don't get mad at me, crave drama. And not because your a bitch who likes to see others suffer, (which you might be, but I'll just give you benefit of the doubt) and say that, once again, it leads back to your upbringing and past relationships trauma. Basically, I think that during your childhood/past relationships, there was so much drama(and trauma) going on that you can't move on, so now this hurt is normal to you, and your clinging to what is familiar. My message to you? No. NUH UH. Stop that. If your going to cling to what is familiar, try all the positive things, and not the shit that kills you inside.
Either that, or you're a masochist. JK! don't kill me!
(Bug me for part II)
-Pen, out!
#i write for you#writing for you#reader diagnosis#what your favorite says about you#fanfic#fanfiction#please seek therapy#I am not a liscensed psychologist#Fluff#hurt/comfort#Angst#hurt/no comfort
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Hi! Since we’re all here obsessing over Smother I wanted to tell you I now only measure time as it relates to Smother. There is only before and after as I am a changed woman 🧎🏻♀️Daddy Joel has taken root in the fibers of my brain 😘
Follow up to a previous ask - what do you think Joel would do if she called him by name at this stage? Even if she let it slip by accident 🥺
Anyways thank you so so much for sharing and I can’t wait until the next chapter!
eeee hello babes! that honestly made me laugh i love just how much it’s affected you, i need people going through the smother joel brain rot with me bc he’s been in there since like last year and has no sign of stopping anytime soon 😫
i think if it was an honest slip up??? he’d definitely shoot her a warning look and be like “what was that you just said?” and give her a chance to correct it. but if it was intentional, like he could see she was being bratty or doing it on purpose to bug or hurt him then yeppp she’s getting a punishment for sure! he’d be spanking that ass so hard
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IN THE PROCESS OF REDOING MY BLOG NAVIGATION, TAG SYSTEM AND PINNED POST!!
Hello there! I'm new here and it's been great so far!
Silly drawings! sometimes silly simple animations. I like to draw! NOW ALSO CROCHET YAY!
Mostly Fallout 4 at the moment
Always up for friendly interaction/asks/tag games/etc.!!
Fallout simple drawing requests: OPEN
The tag for finished requests is #typos drawing requests
Thanks for visiting!! Reblogs blog for most of the reblogs @typosandtea-reblogs
List of posts under cut :)
Newest posts added to the bottom of each list!
Various other sketches and drawings not listed here under the tag “#typos daily sketch” :)
\/\/\/ CROCHET \/\/\/
Finished objects:
Garchomp
Prototype Person 0.1, 0.2, 0.3
Prototype Person 0.4
Beotodus: keeper of the crochet
Patterns (coming soon!)
\/\/\/ NOT FALLOUT DRAWINGS \/\/\/
Tea-51b
Tea-52b (gif)
(Dwarf fortress) Raven Man swordsman stuck in a tree (Story Video)
Drawing is too slow for Brain Rot (Gif)
Dragon
Noir Coulson (following this style tutorial by Rad-Roche)
APRIL FOOLS 2024 BOOP!!
\/\/\/ FALLOUT DRAWINGS \/\/\/
Others OCs:
Henry Wilde (Fallout 4 sosu, @ Never-gonna-danse-again)
Falloutober 2023:
The Prompts
1. War Never Changes
2. Neon (gif/video)
3. Distant Glow
4. Daddy-O
5. This Thing Called Defeat
6. Monument
7. Midnight Ride
8. Faith, Hope & Love
9. Butcher Pete (tw blood)
11. Fallen Star (gif)
10. Terminal (gif)
12. Rust
13. Civilization (gif)
16. Lacrimae rerum
19. Feral
21. Mutation
28/31. Cold Dark / This Little Light (tw drowning)
General Fallout:
(Trick or treat 23) perfectly preserved pie
(Trick or treat 23) mirelurk snack cakes
Deathclaw running (gif)
X01 helmet looks like a weird bug to me
Fallout 4:
Everybody Gives Codsworth a Hat right?
Synth perspective
Knight-Captain Cade’s had enough.
Out of mr handy fuel
Vampire sole survivor (silly)
Winterised Paladin
Even Cozier Paladin
Gage’s New Year’s resolution
Let the old man sleep. Please.
The commonwealths most serious soldiers
X6 can’t find deacon, he’s too generic
If Cutler was around in 2287
Fallout 4 companions paint when I’ve reached max affinity with them:
Piper
Fallout 4 Reblogs:
Danse through the wall
Minutemen Radroach Settlers
Kellogg is the most judgemental guest
Stealth Danse
Maxon surprised by pikachu
Danse is Kenough
X6 thinks he’s cool
Danse being a menace
Val is now a vertibird decal (wastelandhell’s oc)
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we have a lot to announce yes.
tons an it starts now
-the bugs are going up to the psudeo ampire and are attacking. are up at nova scotia and maine nh vt canada and eerie and the lakes but moreso the east coast. and is a sign. they were hooked. and good. tons say it planned it and yes the morlock say it. going well. but they are deminishing but not gone. we see it too. too stupid but ok too many times. i tis on however. novia scotia they wll flow in momentarily same wiht main nh vt and upstate ny. lake superior is breached. and will fall in moments is 90 percent out. and no thiis is new.now tons say it. the next should be and no it is not . or breached. mike t holds. and tons say it justin you weak link ad ok. but it is not their ass. as he says.
-soon we expect tehm all to fall. and to be gone. and the food to run out. and the bugs to be there. and tons will fight them. and macs too. and all over if they dont go elsewhere. tons say it we have to move them but tow where. and up no. over yes. and shall they say. and nova scotia is breached falls in miutes we say. maine is breaached out in ten. minutes. now nh vt are together and have them all there. but will fall breached now just now. and in. we give it twenty minutes. an d upstate ny too just now. breached. and they knew. and we are ready and they flow up. devistate the morlock. devistate. and soon out ok. and near eerie is out shortly. it is bidens area. and he said it who. and goes. sees who. the usual no. it is a ew gang well ok same flk the morlock. runs for it and eesccapes. says this you suck you blow. and we heard our son like them and but bigger. and they said how much bigger. and prob on one of htem. and the look at the map whata a find. try . lose die and see some and died. a few got away to herer. he is right he is invincivle try for him to gab him. failed and weere killed shreaking with hatred fear and need. and would not leave. had acutlas too hit and ran this wy from teh park near the harbor. and tons saw i. what are they seeing. and tons say it brothers kids and dont care if its his. and he stoppe we did not know and ran to his cr they b locked it. took him out hit him. wher eyou going his place and gone. its over soon here. too many will come in hot. for these too.
and in the west near bc psuedo empire is under siege and bugs from teh suoth and aquifer filled. and oregon and washington. northern cali. ten bases. and ten more nea the lakes west of supieror. and out shortly. are breeeching them three states. ok canada now. and out shortly. only new england hold no. out shortly mike tew. and for a time he says.
he is tired beligared and his wife is out. gone mb. yes she is hurt. badly. wont recover he thinks. and then this dont say it but ok. it is right she was brain damaed rotting and ketp that way wont let me near and near dc. and ok. and the empire is pikcing it up to see it.
and mike t says good. and it rolls. now we see it and amazing speed really. up an at the. ou tnow the say and move.
an now this mieks areas fall. the y move and on him and he sys its ok caa and ok.
Thor Freya
and we thak you we are out there and move now and take over here we see you ok
mac daddy
and down there ok they wil regret it ok
justin
Olympus
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The Collector: Asa Emory Headcanons
I have Asa Emory brain rot, so what's better than to write about it?
These are primarily opinion (some fact), and just for fun! Requests are on. ♡
-
Asa is canonically blind(?) When doing some research on the first movie, "The Collector", I stumbled upon an interview with Asa Emory's original actor; Juan Fernandez. In it is quote;
"At what point do you think or did you decide that The Collector knew Arkin was in the house?"
JF: "The Collector ALWAYS knew that somebody was in the house. Talking blind again think of Al Pacino in Scent Of A Woman, his moves, the way he smells, The Collector was the same. The Collector was blind and a blind person knows – they have a sixth sense. You think that’s he’s going to go inside the house and he’s not going to know from the smell or the air changes that there is someone in there – then he wouldn’t be The Collector."
[I'm not sure if this carries into the second movie??]
Asa Emory has some heavy daddy issues. On his wiki page it explains how The Collector came to be; how when Asa Emory was a boy his father went insane due to digesting chemicals meant for taxidermy, killed his family, stuffed them, and placed them around the table for Thanksgiving dinner. Asa was the only survivor, however the experience warped his mind.
In the first movie "The Collector" when Asa is about to discover Hannah (the hidden child), Arkin (Mr. Badass) yells profanities/insults at Asa in order to get his attention. One slur catches Asa's attention in particular; being the "F" slur. It VISIBLY pissed him off, so it's safe to assume his father used this word often when referring to his son.
Humans <<< Bugs/Insects; Self explanatory for the most part. He will treat bugs with more respect than any of his victims.
Asa Emory taking interest in you is a fate worse than death.
Every so often he kidnaps a "lucky" lady to which he keeps around. In the sequel "The Collection" it is shared to the viewers that Asa has kept a young girl named Abby. Abby vocally expresses how she is the "Collector's favorite" and how he has taken a liking to her.
I theorize that even Asa can get lonely, occasionally seeking another person to which he has full control over. Regarding his type; I believe he likes the "pretty girls". The dolled up and innocent ones catch his eye. He most likely goes for the easier to manipulate girls, the ones without a flame to tame, and the ones who appear weaker.
"Pretty... pretty girl."
I imagine Asa's voice as being very husky and low from lack of use. It's a very demanding voice; he's able to provoke fear just by speaking, although he prefers not to around victims especially.
Regarding words, The Collector doesn't use them often. I mean, who does he have to talk to? But every so often; when he wishes to express himself verbally, the sentences may be short.
"Sit."
(Rare instance of Asa being nice)
"Sit... please."
The Collector never kills without a performance.
In the first movie, Asa's movements reminded me of a predator; a black panther to be precise. He moved in a calculated manner with a sort of swiftness. In the second movie, I feel as if we're introduced to a more brutish side.
If Asa discovered a tattoo of an insect on one of his victims I can imagine one of two things happening.
He carves the tattoo from their skin to where he dries it, preserving it similar to leather.
They strike his interest, for better or for worse. Maybe he keeps them around to replace Abby.
BONUS: Asa discovers your tattoo of your favorite insect and it becomes his new nickname for you.
"My little dragon-fly."
#slasher#slashers#asa emory#horror horrormovies headcanons billylenzheadcanon#headcanon#the collection#the collector#imagine#horroredit#horror movies#horror#thriller
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Title: Stoke The Fire
Word Count: 1984
Pairing: Bo Sinclair x female!reader
Warnings: Daddy kink, breeding, degradation, dumbification
Thanks @slasherrabbitmadness for the inspiration and the absolute brain rot that she has given me with the idea of dilf!Bo :) go check out her dilf Bo stuff because it's,,, chefs kiss.
It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend time over at Bo’s house; it became almost like a second home over the years. Your father and Bo have a relationship that bloomed from the moment they entered business together a few years back. It wasn’t easy to imagine what life was like before Bo became so close to your family.
A warm summer breeze blows past you, ruffling the soft saffron colored cotton of your dress against your thighs. Of course, you don’t miss the way Bo’s blue eyes dart to the newly exposed flesh of your thigh, but beyond that, he doesn’t make a move, just sips the beer in his hand and takes another easy drag off the cigarette.
Your dad is prattling on about this and that, talking about some jackoff who tried to rip him off the other day at work claiming that his rate was ludacris and that there were a dozen other mechanics that could do it for cheaper. And sure, that may have been true, but the quality wasn’t there. It wasn’t biased, perhaps a little, but it was still a well known fact that your dad and Bo ran the best mechanic shop in town; it’s why they got away with the rates they charged. And there was always a sense of taking care of the community, their community, that had the townsfolk whipped and willing to shell out the money.
The lively strumming of guitars swirled around you, and you bounced your leg to the steady beat of the Seether song that played over the speakers. It was heavier than the usual stuff that your dad played around the house, but then there were many things about Bo that were heavier. Perhaps that’s why they worked so well together.
Your attention is drawn away from the melodic beat and easy going conversation between Bo and your dad when a small hand tugs at the hem of your dress. You turn your head to look down at the young girl, blue eyes staring up at you with a smile that lacked a few teeth. You return the smile to her, waiting for her to speak and voice whatever thoughts swirled around in that head of hers.
You had nearly forgotten that Oliva was here with the three of you. Bo’s time with her split with his ex-girlfriend, who he had some choice words about every time she was brought up. The young girl was undeniably Bo’s child through unruly brown hair bouncing with every shift she made and blue eyes that were carbon copies of her father’s. You couldn’t help but wonder what she got from her mother; Bo didn’t have any photos of her around the house.
“Will you come play with me?” She reaches for your hands, her skin slightly sticky from God knows what, but you don’t pull away; you just give her hand a small squeeze in return.
“Olive, sweetie, don’t bug her. Go play by yourself okay?” Bo says softly, a sort of sternness shining through his words. You lift your gaze to look at Bo, and you catch a glimpse of fondness that softens the lines of his face. Olivia whines, eyebrows furrowing as if she’s about to pitch a fit at Bo’s words.
“It’s okay Bo,” You smile at him, wide and radiant as you get to your feet without letting go of Olivia’s hand. “I don’t mind.”
Bo just nods his head with a bit of a shrug before turning his attention to your dad again. However, you don’t miss the way his eyes surveil you as Olivia drags you to the small backyard park that Bo and your dad had built together the previous summer.
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It’s almost two weeks later when you find yourself bent over the laminate countertop, hands scrambling for purchase as you’re pushed forward again and again. You hadn’t even been here for five minutes, coming by only to grab some tools for your dad to borrow, wearing that same saffron dyed dress you had worn last time that you were over here. Bo’s worn trucker hat lost to the linoleum, jeans pushed only half way down his thighs, leaving his belt to jangle incessantly with every movement. The edge of the countertop digs into your hip bones saved only for the dress that’s bunched up over the curve of your ass. It does little to pad and protect you against the vicious rocking of Bo’s hips, but it’s better than nothing.
“Been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy every fuckin’ day,” Bo groans, grimey fingers curling into your hips and dragging you back against himself. He stays put for a moment, keeping your bodies pressed flushed together. “Been thinkin’ about knocking you up.”
The way your pussy flutters around his length is indecorous, the whimper you let out even more so. But it can’t be helped; hearing the filth that dripped from Bo’s lips always had that effect on you, but there was something about the way he said it that made your insides churn. The serious edge to his words that wasn’t there the times you had fucked prior, the way his words turned from a pipe dream to something that could be a reality.
“Does my baby like that idea?” Bo titters, the noise breathless and broken. A testament to the effect that this was having on him as well. “Like the thought of me fuckin’ a baby into you?”
“Fuck, Bo.” Your head drops, cheeks pressing into the chilled countertop. You don’t even pretend like this wasn’t doing it for you, hips rocking back against his to tempt him into staying true to your word. “Yeah, yeah fuck.”
He leans over you, the thin cotton t-shirt dragging along your sweat-slicked back as he pressed his lips to your neck, teeth catching the rosy skin. For a moment, you think that he was about to leave a mark to bloom against your skin, a small sign over ownership that would have you avoiding your parents’ home till the skin healed, and you could look them in the eyes once more.
“Gunna have to get you off that birth control of yours,” Bo murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek before he pulls away again, looming over you and admiring the way he has you splayed out like a wrecked mess in his kitchen. The windows open, and the back sliding door cracked so neighbors would be able to hear every little indecent noise that passed your lips like a mantra. You were glad for the arborvitae that lined the fence. It gave you some privacy, even if it wasn’t much, and it did ease your nerves considerably. “After that, maybe I’ll just keep you on my cock day ‘n night till I know it took.”
Your hands curl into fists at the thought, knuckles blanching under the force. The idea has your mind melting; nothing has ever sounded so perfect to you. It was almost insane how easily Bo got you cockdrunk, how easily he bent you to every whim that crossed his mind. But there was something about his smile, his scent, the way he could play you as if the two of you were made for each other that left you a strung out fanatic.
“Tell me how badly you want it,” Bo growls, nails cutting crescent shaped moons into your hips. If he wasn’t dragging you so perfectly through the trenches of pleasures, the pain might have brought you from the lust addled fog, but instead, it only shoves you down further. It made you feel like you were drowning, drowning in his words, the scent of sex that hung headily around you, the obscene noises that sounded like your own but were so far away, the way skin slapped against each other and the wet noises of your pussy dripping around his thick cock. It was all too much, and you knew it would only be a matter of time before your orgasm swept you pitilessly under the current. “Come on baby, if you wanna cum you gotta tell Daddy how badly you want it.”
A sob tears through your chest, thighs shaking as you’re forced onto the points of your toes with each thrust. Bo laughs above you cruelly, not once slowing down and allowing you a moment of reprieve to find your words. There was a satisfaction in seeing the way he strung you along, bringing you so close to the edge, and you knew that if you didn’t give in, give him what he wanted, he would pull away.
It wouldn’t have been the first time. There had been many times he’d pull out only to jerk himself off to completion and paint your pussy, or your panties, only to force you to wear his cum as a reminder. So you try with a renewed desperation, to try and formulate anything of sense before Bo had the chance to pull out of you.
“I-I fuck,” You stutter, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Every time the words were cocked and loaded on your tongue, the way he brushed against that spot within you had them rolling off your tongue in the form of drool. If it didn’t feel so fucking good, it would’ve been beyond humiliating.
“You look fuckin’ pathetic like this,” Bo sneers, hips stuttering. You knew he was close, his words coming out a sharp rasp as each thrust was punctuated with a guttural growl. “Just an empty headed slut made to be knocked up. S’okay baby, Daddy will take care of you.”
That’s what sends you over the edge, cunt clenching down like a vice around the cock plowing into you. It must have been good because you’re distantly aware of the sound of Bo choking on a noise within his throat. And God, do you wish that you were more aware and not floating listlessly through the waves of pleasure so you could see just how wrecked Bo was. You wanted to acknowledge the way graying brown hair clung to his forehead, cheeks flushed as he gritted his teeth. It was always one of your favorite sights. A low moan tumbles from the two of you at the feeling of warmth filling you, the gentle pulsing of his cock as he empties himself within you.
The two of you remained like that for a moment, and you silently wished it would never end as you tried to quell your racing heart and the rapid movement of your chest. Then, when Bo begins to pull out, you whine, but he only snickers, fingers moving from your hips to dance along your folds, running through the slick and cum that dripped out.
“Ya mean it?” You whine softly, pressing back as he pushes cum back inside of you.
“Mean what, baby?” Bo muses, fingers moving at a taunting pace. You crane your neck a bit to stare up at Bo, catching the post sex bliss that overlays his face, the smug look that only makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching.
“Are you going to knock me up?” Your tongue flicks out over your lower lip, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thick fingers stretching you open once more. Bo groans low in his throat at the thought, and you peek your eye open to catch sight of the twisted grin on his face and the dark intent that swirled within blue eyes.
“Course I am,” Bo says matter of factly as he pulls his fingers out of you, reaching down to grab the lace panties you wore and pull them back up over you. With a pat on your ass, he begins to tuck himself back into his pants, walking over to the fridge. “Would be a shame to let that pretty pussy a’ yours to go to waste.”
#Bo Sinclair x Reader#Bo Sinclair x You#Bo Sinclair#House of Wax#House of Wax 2005#Slasher x You#Slasher x Reader#my writing#daddy kink tw
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SUBMISSION: How about a nasty sweaty incel shiggy waiting everyday for his dad to go to work so that he could have his relief with stepmom?
Excellent submission! Love that. Love that a lot! I find it only fair to warn you, however, that I won’t be doing mommy kink for it. Mommy kink is one of my squicks, and one of the very, very few I have. I’ll do the closest thing to it though: Daddy kink. Also I find the irony of him making his little stepmom call him daddy to be absolutely hilarious.
Also this one is a great concept and I love it but it’s going to have to be a multi-parter cause it got a little bit long. Lemme know if you like the concept and I’ll continue it. Also this posted under anonymous for some reason so cheers to tumblr and its endless fucking glitches that it never fixes or seems to make any better.
Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, sexism, really gross incel behavior, nsfl things, masturbation, violent sexual fantasies, nefarious planning, horrible suggestions from even more horrible friends, absolute LOATHING of family, and entitled bastard.
There is only one thing on this planet that Tomura hates more than his father.
Only one thing can even compare to the level of abject disgust he has for his dad. Everything about the man is abhorrent and degenerate, only tolerated because Tomura is, admittedly, a NEET, and had no where else to go after graduation. But if anything- anything- could hold a candle, it would be his taste in women.
All women are trashy on some level, but his dad really manages to find ones that pretend so hard that they aren’t. Vipers behind the veneer of smiling faces clad in red lipstick and smart skirts. Always “kind”, always “thoughtful”, and always fleeting. Fickle, stupid bimbos charmed by his dads surface level charisma to quickly realize just how shallow the pool became.
Even his own mom was like that: She fucked off once she realized staying with him meant staying with his dad, and that was a sacrifice she wasn’t willing to make. So she left him to rot in this cesspit with his worthless father and no other way out.
He figures he can’t hold it against her, not as much as he’d like. A few weeks with his shriveled up paternal figure and most women quickly figure out they can do so much better. It’s in their nature to seek out the best, and that certainly isn’t Kotaro; A bumbling idiot with nothing to offer on the best of days. They don’t know any better, so they never last long after being brought home to meet his son, and those are the ones that even make it that far.
So when he starts yammering on about meeting yet another skank and how ‘in love’ he already is, Tomura’s eyes roll so far back in his head that he swears his retinas will detach. He makes a point to be around as little as possible, but somehow still manages to catch an earful about his latest fling and how excited he is for Tomura to meet her.
Great.
True to his word, Kotaro brings you home one evening, eager to impress his son with his latest catch.
His father had a lot of nerve dragging him from his room to meet you- his latest glorified slut. Adding insult to injury, you had the unmitigated gall to talk down to him like you were an adult and he wasn’t. Even though you had to crane your neck to look up and greet him, you still talked at him like he was some child. So different from you even though you were so much smaller than he was- barely even a few years older than he is, if even that.
So polite, introducing yourself and gently shaking his reluctant hand, making a point to smile at him and telling him how happy were to finally meet him and that you’d heard so much about him. Your hands were so soft, so little in comparison to his own. He dwarfs his pathetic father, practically towers over you, yet you still talk to him like you’re the adult in the equation.
So young, so pretty, though. Far better than anything his father had a right to pull. They weren’t exactly swimming in cash, the house was nothing in particular to gloat about, and he’d done enough eavesdropping around late at night to know his father suffered a particular… ailment, so it certainly wasn’t sexual satisfaction keeping you around. What was it then?
Probably nothing. You’d probably run off in a few weeks like they all do.
Kotaro is a worthless sack of drooping skin and aging bones; A ghost of a man not worthy of the phantoms he’s seen pass in his years. No longer the dominant male even in his own home: not with a stronger, more virile son coming into his prime under the roof as well. A beta male at best, withering away while his own son eclipses him in strength and intellect and physique. Tomura is in his mid twenties and blooming- His father… who even knows. He doesn’t care- he doesn’t bother to keep track.
So, maybe you really are just a dumb little whore. It would make sense. Father dearest always had been a dirty old man; A raging pervert with wandering hands and lingering eyes. Always sets his predatory sights on some cute thing too good for him.
Then again, the poisoned apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, now does it?
You’re cute enough you could have gotten some alpha at your beck and call, yet you’ve attached yourself to his worthless father who, in turn, parades you around like his most beloved trophy. Taking you to dinners he can’t afford despite your ‘insistence’ that you be allowed to pay, buying you things you claim you don’t need. Oh, how the moron dotes on his whores as if it’s enough to keep them anchored to him.
Strangely though, you don’t run off.
If anything, you sink your claws in even further, getting more and more comfortable and showing up more and more. Every time Tomura leaves his fucking room- which isn’t often- you’re there around the corner, smiling dumb and pretty and greeting him politely.
Fuck, he hates you. Hates your stupid voice, your shitty dresses, hates hearing his father happy for once.
It’s no surprise- but unwelcome no less- that he’d move you in sooner rather than later. Terrified to let you out of his sight for even a second lest you come to what little senses you have in your tiny brain and dump him. Of course, he’s quick to take on all of your burdens as his own, even if it means working overtime to support you. He’s always wanted another little housewife, and now he’s so close.
Tomura listens in on the whole conversation feeling sick to his gut.
You beg him not to- offering to pay your own way just like a good girl, but of course his dumbass dad will hear none of it. He’s more than happy to spend a couple of extra hours at work. His dad is so idiotic, so fucking blind. He’s playing right into it. He’s willing to be your workhorse if it means keeping you all to himself.
He’ll hear none of it. None of the fussing or the questions. You’re welcome in his home, he wants you there. It’s no imposition at all, he knows the house will be better with you around.
Except he forgets one crucial detail-
The son he leaves home alone with you every single day when he leaves.
You’re nothing but a nuisance, something infringing on his private space. The time he used to get home alone to spend to his own devices is now split with you flittering around the house doing whatever it is bimbos like you do. Cleaning, cooking, pretending to read, whatever. He doesn’t have to see you if he doesn’t want, sure, but he still knows you’re there and that’s more than enough to annoy him.
It’s almost like you catch on to his animosity after a while. The way he won’t greet you back, the way he utterly ignores your existence. It bugs you, and as far as he’s concerned, good.
You try to slip him up, try to get close to him and make him like you. You always set a place for him at the table even after Kotaro repeatedly insists- truthfully- that he’ll never join for dinner. Even then, you always bring the plate to his door. He never bothers to answer- not after the first few times when he only opened it a sliver to see your stupid smiling face. After that, he didn’t bother answering. He’ll eat it of course- won’t pass up free food he doesn’t have to leave his room for- and then leave the dirty dish back outside where you left it. You brought it, after all. You can clean it up.
All your efforts only get you mocked, and boy do you try so hard to get his affection. He even overhears you whining to his dad once or twice, not understanding why he doesn’t like you.
It makes him smile.
His friends- online of course, but still friends or comrades or kindred spirits or whatever- have more opportunistic ideas about it. His first post to the forum complaining about the new living situation was met with envy and awe- not necessarily the response he was expecting, though looking back on it, he supposes they were right.
lmpwrst: Why u bitchin’? Ur living with a girl ur not related to and that’s closer than any of us have gotten u ungrateful ass
KingKockRool: Go jerk off on her pillow.
Stacystabber91: take a video hold her down and fuck her then idiot
KingKockRool: No wait till she’s sleeping and jerk it on her face
st8lker: Bet she’s ugly tho if she’s dating your dad lol
Oddly enough, he doesn’t agree. That’s one thing he understands about you, loathe as he is to admit it. His new ‘stepmom’, for all her annoyances, is pretty easy on the eyes. The kinda girl that would have caught his eye in an unrelated situation and earned a permanent spot in his spank bank. Thinking about it, the whole ‘dating his dad’ situation maybe threw off his judgement more than he realized.
He’ll let the jury decide: He finds a photo on your social media, crops everyone else out of it, and hits enter. Easy peasy. He saves it to his hard drive for later too. Might as well.
‘Here, you decide then.’
Thus the shitstorm begins.
st8lker: Oh fuckkk fuck me mommy lmao
lmpwrst: Opportunity is wasted on u
Stacystabber91: you pussy punk bitch, i stand by what I said earlier. dont be a bitch and fuck the little cunt already
VolceliSwear: Whos the bitch
lmpwrst: Scratchy’s new stepmommy lol
VolceliSwear: Nice. Hit it yet?
Stacystabber91: he hasn’t cause he’s a gigantic fuckin pussy like i told you all
VolceliSwear: Come on dude you actually have that gash sleeping in your house and you haven’t made a move?
Stacystabber91: it’s not like she could say no cause you’re a big lanky bastard aren’t you? that’s one thing we got over the shortcels and you’re bigger and stronger than her so take what’s yours idiot or I will
lmpwrst: I agree with SS lol U complain all the time about not having a hole to fuck and now u do
VolceliSwear: ^^ Isn’t your dad a limp-dicked prick who can’t get it up? Someone’s gotta do it so it might as well be you. Hit the bitch so hard and fast she doesn’t know what way is up
Stacystabber91: and send pics moron I want to see tits or I’m coming over there to do it myself
It’s an… intriguing thought. To be honest, he’s never actually considered fucking you before. Had the passive thought like he does with most girls he sees, but never stopped to think on actually doing it. For some reason, there was a mental wall between him and his father’s girlfriends. But why should there be?
Depraved little bastard that he is, he’s not above cornering a girl and forcing himself on her but he’s not keen on going to jail, so he’s never escalated past creepy photos and following the occasional broad a little too closely. Maybe a couple gropes in passing… okay, maybe a lot. But he’s never gotten caught- maybe the girls don’t report it or just couldn’t find him afterward. Either way, it’s all worked out so far because he doesn’t cross certain boundaries.
Most girls are repulsed by him and his repugnant behavior, so they stay far, far away. It’s like he’s a giant blaring warning sign that they tend to heed instinctively.
But you don’t.
This is different. You live here, so close to him, so within reach. Just how close you are. How easy it would be for him to force you down and make you take it. Just how much time alone he really has with you since his father leaves and returns like clockwork. He’s got the entire day once his father leaves for work. And all night once he takes his sleeping medication. An easy, pretty little catch already wiggling in his web.
‘Maybe I will.’
That’s how it starts.
Snowball into snowstorm.
With an idea and a lot of goading from his online buddies, a monster is born and weaned on his own depravity and escalates into something very real, and very dangerous.
Tomura is achingly familiar with the scene- he’s seen enough porn to give him ample ideas. But he’s got all the time in the world. It’s hard not to rush things considering how eager he is, but it’s safer to test the waters first. Get you nice and scared so you’ll keep your pretty mouth shut unless he tells you to open it for him. See how far he can get, how much he can toy with you before you finally catch on.
Who knows? Maybe you’ll fuck him willingly. You are a stupid little slut, after all. Most of you females are deep down beneath that holier-than-thou, stuck up bitchiness you hide behind.
So he starts with a time honored tradition. He steals your panties.
The bathroom is cluttered with your shit. Your fruity shampoos and conditioners, your makeup, your perfumes. Tomura has a toothbrush and a comb he doesn’t use, a bottle of 3-1 for when he forces himself into a shower, and a singular gray towel, but the rest is between you and his father. Your body washes, your scrubs, your clothes in the hamper.
It’s easy enough to fish out a fresh pair- only a couple of hours old. Some lacy contraption you must’ve been wearing beneath your clothes and carelessly left in the bin when you showered. It’s easy to pocket them before you hear him rummaging around, and maybe you’ll miss them, but that’s not his problem. Washer eats things all the time, doesn’t it?
He’s hidden back in his room, safely dodging you before he allows himself to indulge- Bringing them to his nose and inhaling the doubled fabric of the crotch so hard that it catches on the edge of his nostrils.
Fuck, your cunt smell good- tangy and sweet but the tiniest hint of bitter. A couple of whiffs is enough to get his cock twitching, inflating into a painful hardness as he hears you walking around outside in the hallway. Shit, you’re so fuckin’ airheaded, walking around so oblivious as he tongues at the cloth that was nestled right up against your pussy until a few hours ago. He can taste you, sucking your left over essence through his teeth and he swears he’s going to cream all over the inside of his jeans if he doesn’t jerk off right now.
He’s quick to drop his sweats and sprawl on his bed, thumbing the tip of his prick and licking gratuitous stripes up the slim of your discarded panties with his tongue. You’d look so good sucking his cock; On your bruised knees, face a slathered mess of cum and saliva and running makeup. Bulge in your throat from taking him so deep and trying so hard to please him like you always do- or maybe avoid a painful punishment because he isn’t above using his hands on you and you learned that the hard way.
The thought of your ruddy, soppy face makes him throb- fucking your wet little throat until you’re suffocating, pulling out to let you breathe only to cum on your face. Yanking you up to bend you over the stove and force you to make his worthless father’s dinner with his spend tacking across your face and his cock lodged deep in your cunt. Worthless fucking sack of shit that his father is, he’d spit in it too and make you serve it to him with a smile while your actual daddy watches you do it and rewards you later with his dick fucking you between your tits.
Fuck yes, that’s what he’ll make you do. He’ll make you call him daddy when he creampies you- the opportunity is too perfect to pass. He’ll fuck his father’s pretty whore as she screams and moans for daddy’s cock while his father is away at work to pay all her frivolous bills like the beta-cuck he is. None of the work and all of the reward- as it should be.
It’s not like Kotaro can fuck you, and his friends are right. Someone should. So why not him? Why not spread your legs for your boyfriend’s younger, more powerful son? Oh, sorry, did he give you the illusion that you had a choice? He’ll take what is rightfully his and there’s not a fucking thing you or his pathetic fucking father can ever do about it.
He plucks your panties from his face, moving them instead to work over his cock. It would feel so much better if you were wearing them- grinding your sweet little cunt against his dick, begging him not to fuck you but getting so wet all the same. The silky fabric feels so good against his hypersensitive skin, coupled with the clenched pumping of his fist as he daydreams about railing you into his filthy mattress until you’re too weak to even move on your own, his cum dripping from every one of your used holes. Limp, useless little whore too fucked out to even fight him as he fucks her in the ass again-
Fantasies swirl in his head, flashes of scenarios that tease him and work him into a frenzy. He’s going to cum hard to the thought filling you, your agonized face as the tip of him knocks against the opening of your womb, buried so deep in your cute pussy that he can feel the wall that keeps him firmly locked out of your guts. So close, so tight, so warm. He’s going to pump you full to the brim like the skank you are, fill you nice and thick full of his seed and then use you again and again and again-
He feels it in his spine, waves of pleasure furling at the base and congealing together impossibly tight, so ready to burst. His thighs flex, muscles in his stomach tightening and breath staggering. Searing white behind dry, clenched eyes and his cock twitches in his palm, knot bursting deep between his legs as his hand stills momentarily. His hands twitch, cock throbbing as thick ropes of cum spill over the slats of his fingers, splattering his stomach and the waist of his sweatpants and all over your adorable little panties.
“Shit-”
Shallow, shaky breaths, still seeing stars popping behind his eyelids. Fuck, he hasn’t cum that hard in- well, a very long time. Is it the thought of having something tangible soon? His very own cunt to abuse? Grinning, he looks down at the absolutely drenched pair in his hand, sticky with fresh seed.
He thinks so.
Instinctively, he wipes the excess off his fingers and onto his dirty, rumpled black sheets, swiping across his shirt and his skin. Just another ‘mystery spot’ among the rest, soon to become a crusty, flaked white stain on the fabric among all the preexisting ones.
With some effort on his part, he sits up, still trying to catch his breath. He thought post orgasm clarity might deter him from this path, but if anything, he’s even more determined now. Why should he sit and touch himself in a dark room when there’s a perfectly good set of holes to fuck wandering around freely outside?
Oh yeah, this should work out just fine.
There’s a knock on the door while he’s still wading through his gross thoughts, softly at first but then slightly more insistent. It jolts him alert, irritating him that he’s being bothered when he’s scheming. He’s already finished the dirty dead, all ready to put himself away for now but it’s still jarring none the less when someone comes around so closely to him wanking. A quick dash at the clock tells him it’s not dinner time yet, so what gives? Why are you bothering him now? Nothing is ready yet.
He tucks himself away and quickly buries your soiled underwear in the pocket of his sweats. Quickly wiping any remnants on the knees of his pants before swinging his door open, agitation palpable as he greets your stupid, sunny face.
Speak of the she-devil.
“Hi, Tomura! Just wondering if you have any laundry or anything you want me to take!”
“N-”
He’s about to slam the door. About to. But you know what? You want his laundry? Sure. He’s got some for you.
“Yeah- yeah, sure.”
He steps back from behind the door, letting it creak open a little as he rips off his freshly re-soiled sheets.
“Oh, good! Yeah, I’m throwing in my own so I’ll take your load too-“
Yeah you will.
Balling it up, he chucks it at you as you curiously peek your head in. You’ve never seen the inside of his room, but soon you’ll see plenty. He doesn’t know if you can feel the fresh cum on the sheets, but he’s willing to bet you can probably smell it. To your credit, you barely falter, even with the sheet cradled in your bare arms.
You’re probably having a moment of “understanding.” ‘He’s a young man with no girlfriend and no other outlet. Of course he’s going to wack off’ and all that. It’s cute, the way you pretend not to notice. That’s okay, he’ll give you something you can’t ignore.
He steps up to the door again, yanking his black shirt over his head and dropping it in your arms with a shit eating grin.
“Oh- okay, yeah-“
Your sentence halts completely as he starts to strip off his pants and you’re left staring in slight horror as your stepson strips down to his boxers in front of you before placing his sweats on the top of the pile you’re carrying- right by your face.
“I’ve got some more dirty boxers if you think you can handle anymore.” He’s grinning like a fiend, reveling in your poorly concealed discomfort as he leans against the doorframe, swinging out towards you. You’re backing away from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes up and away from his very exposed body, and especially the half hard cock tenting the front of his boxers. Your face is turning a viciously dark shade, stifling your breathing because he just knows what you’re refusing to see, you can almost certainly smell.
“Um- nope! This should be a full one! I’ll get them back to you soon!”
“Oh, take your time. No rush.”
You scurry off down the hall much quicker than your usual casual walk, probably to scrub your arms clean with iron wool. Poor little thing, just trying to be nice and this is what it gets you.
He cackles something fierce as he shuts his door again, going to look for your ruined panties to post a pic but remembering they’re still in the pocket of his sweatpants, covered in his cum and saliva. A fun little surprise for you to find when you go through pockets to ensure nothing gets stuck in the washer.
And he notices, in the coming days, you stop leaving your clothes in the hamper- or even being able to meet his eyes.
Oh, this should be fun.
#nsft#shigaraki smut#see warnings#no mommy kink i am sorry#lots of gross shit for you tho#which I assume you want cause you came to me of all people#see the warning list up top for full disclosure
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It’s regularly scheduled brain rot from Shopkeep even though they should get on to writing~! Now featuring pokémon cuz now I can’t get it out of my head!!!
Puts my face in my hands over the thought of Deuce either taking care of a Happiny or a Togepi. They are his babies and he frets over them like a mother hen. If anything befalls those baby pokémon there’s hell to pay.
Riddle has a pet Luvdisc that he adores greatly. It’s been his pet since childhood as it was the only pokémon that his mother allowed for him to keep as it wouldn’t disrupt his studies. He spends time with his Luvdisc whenever he gets too angry and the little one is more than happy to playfully dance or jump around in the water to made Riddle smile.
The idea of Kalim with a Slowpoke though. It makes me so happy and it’s so funny. Like can you imagine Kalim is kicking back with this lil guy next to him and he’s like, “How you doin’ over there, Slowpoke?”
“Sloooooow...”
“Haha! I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself!”
Half the time, Jamil is so grateful that there’s pokémon that can keep Kalim occupied but then his heart race increases when BOTH Kalim and Slowpoke have ran off together.
There is definitely a Cofagrigus in the treasure room of the Scarabia dorm. IT WILL try to fight anyone that tries to take something away. The only one that seemingly can go in and out without so much as a bruise is Kalim. He thinks that Cofagrigus is a total sweetheart and doesn’t understand why so many of his dorm mates are scared of it.
We all know Jamil has his fear of bugs but Bug pokémon? He’ll keep a fair distance if it’s small like say a Caterpie, but once it gets into Scolipede size, his soul is leaving his body.
Idia of course would have a team befitting his techy status like a Porygon2, a Rotom, or a Metagross, but he has a secret pokémon that he keeps as a pet. A Skitty. He spoils the little one rotten and Ortho tries to get him to discipline it because it loves to run amok with its boundless energy. Be it chewing on cables, pushing buttons, or pulling at cords to unplug them. Idia tries to but he doesn’t have the heart to do anything too punishing.
Idia: Okay, Skitty... Papa has to put you in your little cage because you’ve been bad. Very bad!
Skitty: [makes sad mews] :c
Idia: [crying] DADDY DIDN’T MEAN IT, UUUUWAAAAHHH!
He has a Magicam account dedicated to his Skitty with so many cute photos, pictures, and little outfits he puts them in. The account is in the million range of followers.
Please imagine Crowley dramatically coming in from the sky, hanging by his Corviknight’s claws like it’s nothing. Or him constantly being followed by Murkrows, Rookidees, or Corvisquire. He doesn’t mind them at all, if anything, he treats them like they’re his little buddies. Sometimes, it looks like he can understand them...? Who knows!
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Marguerite Baker
Part 3
RE7 Rewrite Masterlist
Ethan Winters x fem!reader
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings: spoilers for re7, violence, injuries, blood, gross rotted stuff, marguerites boss battle so gross sack thing, bugs, injuries
Author’s Note: I am having a ton of fun with this! At the time of me writing this I haven’t posted any of the parts lol so hopefully you all are enjoying it as well!
Some of these lines are directly from the game so they may sound familiar.
Summary: Getting the serum recipe, going through the old house, killing Marguerite and getting the D-series arm.
I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator. Some of these lines are directly from the game so they may sound familiar.
(not my gif) (i'm not posting any pics of marguerites boss fight cause I know a lot of people are super grossed out with it and I don't blame them lol)
Ethan dozed off in the trailer. You sat on the counter, counting each and every bullet the two of you had together. You looked around at everything in the trailer. You were fairly certain it was Zoe’s. She had left behind a couple extra weapons and bullets that you scrounged together.
Ethan began to stir after about 30 minutes of sleep. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. You handed him a water bottle you had found in Zoe’s fridge. He took it gratefully and drank about half of it. He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath as you handed him all of his stuff back.
“We have to go to the old house,” you told him. He nodded.
“Did you get any sleep?” You shook your head.
“I didn’t want any. I’m too hyped up on adrenaline. The second we get out of here I’m going to crash for days.” He laughed a bit and nodded, standing up. He got himself situated. He got himself together, looking you up and down. You were both dirty and worn from the entire situation. You looked like you were about to collapse if you closed your eyes, your gaze wide. You opened the door a bit and looked around outside.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked. You shrugged and grabbed a gun.
“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ll get lost without Zoe.”
“That’s a good point.”
“I’m the brains, you're the brawn babe.” He rolled his eyes and looked himself up and down. He was scrawny. He barely had any muscle on him. “We share the brain and brawn then. Come on.”
====
The two of you made your way to the old house. It was the same place you had seen Mia go in the video she made for the two of you. You had some idea where you had to go then. You just had to find the serum. That was it.
You stayed close together as you walked through the place. You found some extra weapons along with things that you could use back at the house. You were quick and as quiet as you could be, only speaking when you needed to speak. As you entered one of the rooms you picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table. You read through it quickly.
“The mothers name is Marguerite. The man is Jack, which we know and the boy is Lucas,” you said quietly. “Seemed like they were a regular family before all this. I wonder what went wrong,” you whispered. He nodded and looked over your head at the paper.
“Must have been something huge.”
“No shit.”
Suddenly something rammed into the gate wall behind you. You and Ethan turned around quickly, him standing between you and the gate. Mia was there, her hands through the holes. She looked desperate.
“Ethan!” she said breathily.
“Mia!” you said mockingly. “Are you going to try and kill us again?” Ethan grabbed your arm.
“That wasn’t me...I’m sorry,” she tried to say.
“No more bullshit Mia. I want some answers. Y/N told me what you told her but I know there’s more,” Ethan said.
“I know, I know you’re right. And I always wanted to tell you but I can only remember a little and the rest is gone!” Behind her Lucas appeared from the corner, grabbing her tightly and pulling her back.
“Daddy right? Who are you, you precious thing?” Lucas stuck his head out at you, a disgusting smile on his face. “We would get along,” he muttered. Ethan blocked Lucas’s view of you as he slinked away. “Well don’t just stand there Ethan! Do something.” Mia yelled for help and the door shut. You moved aside and looked at where she had just gone.
“That guy seems like a dick. We would not get along.” Ethan scoffed.
“Come on. We have to get that fucking serum.”
====
The two of you made it through to the other side of the old house just in time for Marguerite to push you down a hole in the ground. You figured you would have plenty of time to get in and out but she had caught you.
As you landed in the wet ground underneath the house, you felt the wind get knocked out of you. Marguerite's bugs flew down and beside you Ethan was standing. He used the fire thrower to the best of his ability and without even standing up you shot Marguerite in the face. She stumbled back and then forward, falling into the hole with the both of you. You screeched, quickly climbing up. Ethan was hot on your tails. Marguerite slinked away underneath you into the rest of the underground of the house.
He held tightly onto your arm, letting out a loud annoyed sigh.
“She’s nice,” you muttered.
“Not a great cook though.” You laughed and nodded. “Are you alright?” You nodded curtly.
“I think. You?” He nodded, holding up his hand.
“Still stapled on.” You rolled your eyes and turned around, walking back up the stairs. You opened the door that she had stopped you from opening. It opened up carefully and you were able to step inside. There were a lot of hanging baby dolls. In between some candles was a box. You rushed over to it and opened it up.
There seemed to be some sort of bones inside, along with a vile. On the back of the lid was some sort of recipe.
“D-series cranial nerve and D-series peripheral nerve,” you muttered aloud. “This is just the recipe for the serum, not the serum itself.” He let out a groan.
“Awesome.” The phone behind the two of you rang.
“If she knew where the phone was she should have come here herself,” you muttered. Ethan picked it up and you leaned against it so you could hear.
“Well? Did you find the serum?” she asked.
“We just got done dealing with your mom and her fucking bugs. Wish you could have warned me.”
“Sorry about that. What about the serum?”
“Haven’t found any but we did find out how to make one. A D-series head and arm. That can’t be right,” he muttered.
“A head? I think I have that around here somewhere.”
“You do?” he said incredulously.
“I don’t know about the arm though. Have you searched the whole house?”
“No not yet. We still have to check the second floor.”
“Alright, check it out. No funny business you two we’re on a mission.” You rolled your eyes.
“We’ll try to keep our hands to ourselves. We’ll meet you at the trailer if we find it.” He hung up the phone. Before he could even say anything you ventured further into the second floor. It wasn’t long before you found a door that had a single lantern on it.
“Looks like we need the other lantern,” you said aloud.
“This is why you’re the brains.” You rolled your eyes.
“Marguerite had one when she went down there.”
“I am not going down there.”
“You may have to.”
The two of you walked back to where the hole in the ground one and saw the lantern just before Marguerite's impossibly long arms came to take it away. You let out a shaky sigh and gestured to him.
“Man first. We live in a patriarchal society.”
“I hate you.” He climbed the ladder down and looked around before you even thought about going down. You waited for a minute and he gestured for you to follow. You were careful as you went down and noticed Marguerite had some sort of pathway for the two of you to follow.
You went down that and came up to a green house of sorts. You went inside warily, guns raised. You and Ethan shared one last look before going up the stairs.
Marugite crashed through the window, causing you both to fall backwards. She gave you an intense look, her long limbs reaching around you.
“I’m her mother. Not you!” She hurried away. You and Ethan quickly regained your balance and held up your guns.
“Did you see her-”
“Yeah.” You swallowed hard and went up the stairs.
It took you and Ethan a good amount of time to get through her. But you had the grenades and Ethan had the flame thrower. Between the two of you, it took longer than it should have. She blew up after some time, leaving behind only her lantern.
You picked it up.
“Just fucking stay dead okay?!” Ethan said, out of breath. You nodded.
“I second that. Let’s just go and get the arm okay?” He swallowed, looking over at you. You watched as his eyes went big. “What?”
“Your chest.” You looked down and saw blood was pooling around your chest and shoulder area. Your eyes went wide as well as the pain hit you. Marguerite must have gotten you and you hadn’t even noticed with all the adrenaline. Ethan quickly rushed over to you and put his hand on your shoulder. “We’re going back to the trailer so I can look at this.” You nodded and let him help you walk out of the green house.
It was a very short walk to the trailer. He sat you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you. He tugged at the hem of your shirt.
“At least buy me dinner first,” you said through a groan. He gave you a look and he helped you take the shirt off. You had a large gash from your collarbone to your arm. Ethan winced just at the sight of it. He pulled out some of the first aid he had found.
“This is going to hurt.” You nodded as he poured something on it. You winced through gritted teeth. He pulled out some bandages. “You aren’t dying on me now, I don’t care what you say.”
“You held your own pretty good back there,” you admitted.
“Yeah, with your help.” You watched as he focused his eyes on your wound. He looked so intense. You had always liked Ethan but when Mia went missing he was all you knew. As you stared into his eyes you thought maybe you had always loved him.
Loved him?
It hit you like a bag of bricks. You took a short breath in and Ethan just assumed it was the pain. You had to look away as you felt yourself get flustered. He was your best friend's husband. But she had been gone for three years and she was always gone before that anyway. You found it in yourself to look back at him. He was smiling slightly up at you.
“It’s the best I can do.”
“It’s great,” you said. “I already feel better. Thank you Doctor Winters.”
“Just doin my job.” You swallowed and stood up. He grabbed your arm, shaking his head.
“You aren’t going with me. I can get the arm.” You shook your head more aggressively than him.
“I’m not letting you go alone.”
“You just said I could hold my own.”
“And you admitted you needed me.”
His hand was firm on your arm. You stared into each other's eyes and suddenly it was so obvious you had always loved him. That's why you came. Sure, you hoped Mia was okay but truthfully you couldn’t let him die if you could help it. The way he laughed and the way he hated beer but drank it anyway and the way he reloaded a gun was weird and the way he looked at you.
“I’ll be okay. Get some rest. Hopefully Zoe will come here before I do.” He let your arm go. He had felt the tension.
You were getting so dizzy from blood loss you had to sit down.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. You reached forward and held his hand.
“Please be safe Ethan.” He nodded curtly and left the trailer. You put your head down on the pillow and let yourself breathe evenly.
====
Ethan returned with the D-series arm only a half an hour later. Zoe was still not there. You were sleeping peacefully on the bed, your face finally at peace. He watched you for a moment. You were his only friend over this whole Mia thing. Most of his friends beforehand had left him when he got super into trying to find her but not you.
And then you told him everything and it all kinda changed.
He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. If you died...he couldn’t deal with it. You were his best friend. He...he loved you. He didn’t want to admit it to himself because of Mia but he really truly did. He ran his hand over his face, letting that settle in.
Suddenly the phone rang, waking you up. Ethan turned quickly and picked it up.
“Now where the hell are you? You know what, nevermind. We only need the head and you’ve got it.” You stood up and walked over, putting your head against the phone like you usually did.
“Hey buddy!” You let out an annoyed sigh. Lucas. “I thought you should know. I decided Zoe needed a time out. She and Mia are here with me. And they’re keeping each other company.”
“Just let them both go, what do you need them for?!”
“That’s family business Ethan! Not your concern understand? Now. If you want the head feel free to come by any time and I’ll give it to ya! But only if you participate in a little activity I put together for you two!”
“Where are they?” he asked.
“I know you’re excited! But don’t worry! It's not going anywhere. First step I need you to take partner is for you to take a look in that fridge there.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh come on now, don’t be like that. You wanna have fun don’t ya? Now look in the fridge.” Lucas hung up. You gave Ethan a look. Ethan put the phone down. You walked over to the fridge and found inside the deputies head. You scoffed.
“This guy again. Man.” You picked it up, wincing at the pain and the smell. On the back of his head was a note. “‘The pig is waiting for you in the dissection room bitch,’” you read. “Now that’s not very nice,” you muttered, putting the head back in the fridge. Ethan let out an annoyed sigh.
“This can’t ever be easy can it?”
“Hell no.” He gestured to your arm .
“How are you feeling?” You shrugged then winced.
“It’ll heal nicely,” you muttered. “How was getting the arm?” He showed it to you, waving it around as he spoke.
“Weird. I thought I saw a little girl and there were all these childrens toys. I got out of there quick though.” He put the arm down and walked up to you. “Let’s change the bandages and then we’ll go to the dissection room.”
“Bitch,” you mocked. Ethan laughed, raising his hands up to your shoulder. You sat down on the table and let him take a look.
“You aren’t lookin too good,” he muttered.
“You should never say that to a lady.” He rolled his eyes.
“You always look stunning. Even covered in blood and dirt.”
“Aw Ethan, thank you. Right back at you.” He put a new bandage on and you watched him do it. If he had looked in your eyes he would have seen the metaphorical hearts coming out of them. Finally he looked back up at your face.
“You should be okay now.”
“Thank you,” you said genuinely. He nodded curtly and stood back. “Can I ask you something?” He nodded. “Are you going to stay with Mia if she gets out of here alive?”
“Don’t ask me that,” he muttered.
“Why?”
“Because you’re messing with my vows by the answer I wanna give you.” You smiled a bit, looking down. “We have to go get whatever he left for us. Come on.” You nodded and stood up. You almost tripped forward from dizziness and he grabbed your healthy arm to keep you steady. Your faces were mere centimeters away. You looked into each other's eyes and he couldn’t help himself.
He kissed you.
Suddenly the pain from your arm was gone. You melted into his lips. He pulled away and froze. Your eyes went wide.
“Did you mean-”
“Yes.”
With that he walked out the trailer door to the dissection room.
Part 4
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The Problem with Magic Markers
Soooo Critical Role campaign 2 just ended, I've got major brain rot over it and my wonderful gf gave me a wonderful idea for a fic so! This happened! A gift to @spiky-lesbian who came up with this adorable concept and is just generally an all round wonderful person who deserves the world. Also huge thanks to my ever patient, ever helpful beta reader @minky-for-short
If you liked it too, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!
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Mollymauk is so proud of Caleb in so many ways and, now they have their lovely lives with their wonderful children, he finds more reasons to be every day.
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Mollymauk Tealeaf had learned many things since he’d become a parent, now five years ago. A short amount of time, he’d used to think, but plenty of time to obtain a lot of knowledge you never thought you were ever going to need in your life.
Like how sandwiches cut into triangles were disgusting but sandwiches cut into squares could be eaten by the hundreds. Like how to make a bath appealing to a toddler with the liberal addition of bubble bath and a willingness to get absolutely soaked playing Sharks with them. Like how a scraped knee and bumped forehead could be cured with his cuddles and kisses alone, like how a promise from him that everything was going to be okay was enough to make it so.
And how silence was very, very worrying.
So when Mollymauk walked past his son and daughter’s room and heard only silence, when he knew for a fact they were in there, he stopped dead. He put any thoughts of getting to go and spend some time with his sewing kit out of his mind. Because he’d been a parent long enough to know that something was up, two five year olds weren’t that silent unless some game was afoot, something they didn’t want their parents to know about. Which meant he should probably at least poke his nose in.
So he knocked lightly on their door, the one covered in whichever drawings they were most proud of that week and a hand painted sign Jester had made for them the day they were born, prettily proclaiming ‘Trinket and Una’s Room!’ amongst a flock of miniature unicorns.
“Sweetlings?” he called gently, “Mind if I come in?”
There was a sudden scrabbling from behind the door and he heard a muffled grunt from Una before Trinket answered hurriedly, “Um...yes! Okay daddy!”
Raising a curious eyebrow, Molly pushed the door back, disturbing the usual scattering of toys left on the floor like the aftermath of a felt based battle. Although it did seem like there was more mess than usual…
Trinket stood in the middle of the room between their two little beds, his backpack at his feet and an expression of perfect innocence on his face that was just a little too polished to be anything but an act. Molly had to admit he’d probably learned that from him.
“Well hello there, little man,” he leaned in the doorway, smiling crookedly, “What game are we playing today?”
Trinket shuffled his feet, “Um...packing?”
“That sounds like a fun game,” Molly’s gentle concern upgraded to full blown wariness, “And where’s your sister?”
Trinket turned a deeper shade of purple, looking down at his fidgety feet that were poking more holes in his innocence by the second, “Um...she...um…”
Which was the point Una helpfully chose to poke her little head out of the backpack, dark eyes blinking curiously and ears flapping, trilling, “Here daddy!”
Trinket flushed guiltily, frowning at her, “Una! I said you had to stay shh!”
Molly took a breath, wandering over to sit down on Trinket’s bed. As his eyes swept around the room, he noted a great deal more chaos in the room. Almost like someone had been going through the toy box and the drawers and bookshelves, hurriedly pulling things out, making quick decisions about what to abandon and what to stuff into a little blue, dinosaur patterned backpack. Molly supposed he should at least be grateful that Trinket saw his sister as worth taking.
“Why don’t you talk to me, babies?” he offered gently.
Trinket swallowed, eyes darting around nervously before the last of the fight went out of his narrow little shoulders and he mumbled, “Daddy...can I tell you a secret?”
Molly had to smile. This was almost a running joke between the three of them, his kids running up excitedly to tell him they had a secret for him before whispering into his ear about some apparently very cool bug they’d seen or that Uncle Caddy had snuck them an extra cookie or that he was the best daddy ever. He loved being brought into their world where everything was brighter and more exciting and there was fun to be found in the smallest things. And where everything was felt so much more keenly.
“Of course you can, sweetling,” he murmured gently, patting the bed beside him, “You can always tell me secrets. Whatever it is, I promise we can make it better together.”
As Una rolled out of the backpack, apparently unconcerned and rather enjoying herself, Trinket clambered up beside him and stood so he could whisper into his ear. Molly tucked his purple curls behind one ear, smiling encouragingly.
Voice already trembling, Trinket leaned in and murmured, “I messed up Papa’s coat.”
Molly absorbed that in silence, feeling his son’s anxious red eyes on him. He leaned back, keeping his face carefully neutral before taking a long, deep breath through his nose, marshalling his thoughts.
“Trinket, I’m not going to lie to you here. We might be in trouble.”
His opinion didn’t change when he actually saw the coat. The coat his husband had been wearing as long as he’d known him and refused to be regularly seen without, no matter how many attempts Molly had made to buy him a newer, less ragged, less musty smelling version. It was more a comfort blanket than just clothing, stained and scorched from numerous spells and spills, old leather worn shiny from overuse. He hadn’t said so in so many words but it didn’t take a genius to guess that Caleb had worn it since before he came to the city. Which meant it had probably come from his parents. And though it was old and faded and stained today, it must have been new when he got it, a costly garment for people like the Ermendruds. The sort of gift that would only be given if your only son was leaving home to join the Academy and wanted to show him how proud you were.
A lot of Caleb’s life was like that. Even as his husband, Molly found himself having to piece things together from passing comments and turns of phrase, things that dulled his love’s eyes and tightened his jaw. Molly had about a quilt and a half’s worth of assumptions and semi-finished anecdotes by this point, telling of a sad and fractured timeline.
But he knew enough to see what the coat meant to Caleb and the place it held in his husband’s black and white, yes or no, yours and mine way of thinking.
The coat that now had a minor gallery’s worth of doodles and drawings scribbled in magic marker across the sleeves and all the way down the back. And if he wasn’t comfortable with Molly washing the thing, he wasn’t going to be okay with this.
Trinket had been fretfully watching his daddy since he’d first pulled the coat out from where he’d guiltily stashed it under his bed. As Molly’s mutely horrified silence dragged on, he only became more and more anguished until he was barely in tears, wringing his tail between his pudgy fists.
“I only wanted to make it pretty,” he whimpered, “Papa will hate me. I won’t be his special boy any more.”
Molly looked up at him, reaching out and putting his hand on Trinket’s shoulder, “Oh sweetling, your papa loves you a lot, you know this isn’t going to change that.”
But he couldn’t stop thinking about the times he’d picked up a pen from Caleb’s desk without thinking much of it, doodling with it until he’d looked up to see his husband gaping at him in scandalised horror. Or the times he’d stolen sips from Caleb’s drink when they were at the cafe, the same way he’d do to any of his friends, but Caleb would frown if he caught him, unable to understand why Molly was taking his coffee?
It was just part of the way his brain functioned, the rules it spat out after absorbing years of poverty and trauma, along with some different wiring that had simply occurred naturally. Mollymauk had learned a long time ago how to fondly work with these Caleb-isms, making concessions where it was best to and encouraging his wizard to gentle the restrictions his brain built when he needed to. It was like tending some kind of creeping vine in a garden, the way he saw it. Sometimes things needed moving aside so it could flourish and sometimes it needed pruning so it didn’t strangle the flowers around it. Caleb had been as brave as Mollymauk could have wished in managing his idiosyncrasies and sometimes he just had to sit back and admire how different the Caleb he lived with today was from the anxious, mumbling wizard he’d first met.
But how much patience he’d be able to muster when it was one of his favourite things in the world, Molly couldn’t say. But he wasn’t looking forward to telling him about it.
“Should I go?” Trinket’s lower lip wobbled, glancing back at his half packed bag, which Una was back inside, the front half this time as she munched away on some snack he must have stashed in there.
“Absolutely not, your papa would never want that,” Molly squeezed his shoulder gently, “We’re going to put the coat in to soak so we can get all this ink out and then we’re going to find him and I’ll tell him what’s happened. But you need to be the one who says sorry, okay?”
Trinket nodded frantically, still clinging onto his tail for comfort, “I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
“I know, buddy,” Molly drew him close and hugged him tight, hating to see him so upset, “But we’ll be laughing about this before long, you’ll see.”
Maybe if he said it confidently enough, he’d start to believe it too.
Caleb wasn’t hard to find for a number of reasons. For one, their apartment was very small and there were only a handful of rooms to look in. But more importantly, it was late afternoon on a day where Caleb didn’t have any reason to go down to the Academy and fulfill his duties as an adjunct professor and when his bookshop was closed, as it was once a week. Which meant there was only one place he would be, in his half of their spare room, either playing one of his video games or reading.
Molly wasn’t quite sure what they’d do when one of their kids decided they wanted their own room and were tired of sharing, meaning Caleb would have to store his books and he’d have to store his sewing somewhere else. Or if they had another kid. He’d been toying with that idea in the back of his mind lately.
Maybe best not to float that idea with Caleb right after this.
Mollymauk could feel Trinket in his arms, his offer to pick him up and carry him having been immediately, breathlessly accepted. He could sense him getting more tense, more anxious, growing heavier against him as Molly knocked lightly on the door.
“Ja, come in,” Caleb’s response was immediate, not even needing to ask who it was or having to pause over whether he wanted to see them.
When Molly went in, Caleb was in the old, ratty wingback chair they’d liberated from some sidewalk when they’d first moved in, Molly announcing teasingly that a future professor needed some grand leather throne from which to smoke a pipe and pontificate. Caleb had blushed and rolled his eyes, not even believing back then that one day he would get the job he’d always dreamed of having, thinking trauma and past hurts had stolen it from him.
So now Molly always got a small flush of pride when he saw his Caleb sitting in that chair.
His hair was getting a little longer these days, it’s auburn tangles pulled into a small knot at the crown of his head so it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. His beard was growing a little thicker too, more than the usual rusty shadow that dusted his jawline. Molly absolutely was not going to be complaining about any of that, he liked his husband looking a little more rough around the edges like when they’d first met.
As soon as he saw them, Molly with Trinket balanced on one hip, Caleb’s face lit up with a smile. His smiles had been rare once upon a time but now just the sight of his family was enough.
“Hello,” he set the book he’d been reading to one side, already expecting Trinket to want to sit on his lap like always, “How are my loves?”
Near Molly’s ear, Trinket whimpered mournfully and pressed his face against his daddy’s neck. It was more than an ache to listen to, Trinket idolised his papa, following him around whenever he could, listening devotedly as he explained his work even when it wandered far off the track that his little mind could understand. Molly had no doubt the attempt to brighten up his coat had been a genuine attempt to make him smile and he couldn’t imagine how much it was hurting his little boy, to think he’d upset the man he looked up to more than anyone.
Caleb’s smile dulled a little, seeing Trinket hesitate, immediately realising they weren’t here for playtime, “What’s wrong?”
Molly exhaled slowly, carefully keeping his voice calm and level, “It’s okay babe, Trinket just...did something he wants to apologise for.”
“Oh?” Caleb frowned a little, eyes still fixed on Trinket, arms still open.
Molly opened his mouth, ready to do the hard part but before he could, Trinket bolted upright and tearfully burst out, “I wanted to make your coat pretty because you always like my pictures and I thought you could take them everywhere not just in your pockets but I made a mess and I’m so sorry papa! I’m really sorry!”
For a moment both of his parents were a little stunned, not quite sure what to say as his rambles tapered off into spluttery sobs. Molly warily glanced at Caleb, looking for any change in his blank, closed off expression, any flicker of discomfort, even anger.
After a few beats, ones that felt longer than usual, Caleb only nodded, getting to his feet. Gently, he reached over and put a gentle hand on his son’s face, catching some of the tears dribbling down his cheek on his thumb.
“Little Kätzchen, it’s alright,” he murmured softly, “Please don’t cry.”
Trinket sniffled, blinking blearily, “You’re not angry? Don’t want me to go away?”
Caleb’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “No! Oh, Trinkie, absolutely not. I’d never want that.”
“But…” Trinket’s eyes were wide, hopeful, wanting to take this relief being offered but hesitant to, “It’s your favourite thing in the whole wide world…”
Caleb chuckled quietly, his smile back with all it’s warmth as he leaned in and kissed his forehead.
“Kätzchen, you and your sister are my favourite thing in the whole wide world.”
Molly nearly yelped in panic as he felt the weight of Trinket suddenly leave his arms before realising his son had thrown himself at Caleb, locking his arms around him tightly. He didn’t doubt for a moment that his husband would catch him, only smiling fondly as he gathered Trinket close and buried his face in his hair.
“It’s all okay,” Caleb whispered against the rust red curls he’d given their son, “It’s okay, little one.”
Molly let them have their moment, letting Trinket cry the last of his tears out happily against his papa’s chest, hanging back and feeling his heart thudding warmly against his ribs. Eventually he was their beaming, bright little boy again, if a little damp, wriggling down from Caleb’s arms determinedly after one last little kiss against his papa’s cheek.
“I’m gonna make you a sorry card. The best sorry card ever,” he promised Caleb, already toddling towards the door, “It’s gonna have glitter.”
“Wow, that kid is definitely my son,” Molly observed wryly once his little lavender tail had disappeared around the corner.
“Then you can clean up the mess he’s definitely about to make,” Caleb chuckled, moving into his husband’s arms.
“Hey,” Molly kissed the crown of his head gently, “Well done. I know that must have been hard for you and...I’m really proud of you.”
He couldn’t see it but he could hear the coy smile in his voice, “Well...I meant what I said. Some coat is never going to be more important to me than my kids.”
Molly smiled knowingly, “I know baby….but you know, if you want to scream into that cushion for a little while, that’s okay too?”
There was a short pause before he felt Caleb’s shoulders drop in relief.
“Thank you, Katze…”
“Is it done yet?”
Molly had to fight a smile. He’d explained to Caleb that soaking his coat would take exactly thirty minutes, knowing his husband fixated on time easily, but still he asked every five minutes on the dot. He’d expected nothing less.
“Not just yet, babe,” he repeated, as he had all of those other times, looking up from the laundry they’d been folding so Caleb would have an excuse to hover anxiously in the laundry room, over the tub of hot soapy water and a little rubbing alcohol his coat was submerged in, “Soon though.”
Caleb gave a small grunt, poking a finger into the water curiously like it was some potion he was working over. After a moment, before Molly could turn back to folding the clothes, he frowned.
“This sleeve isn’t in the water…”
Molly’s smile turned crooked, coming over and putting a hand on Caleb’s before he could move the one sleeve into the tub, “I thought maybe you’d want to look at it...decide if you want to keep that one.”
Caleb blinked, not understanding until he turned it a little and saw the drawing his Trinket had chosen to adorn the sleeve with. It was done in bright red, standing clearly against the dark fabric, unmistakable a child’s drawing. There were four figures there, two taller and two smaller. The first had a set of horns drawn a little too large for it’s head, as well as a tail. The second had a long scarf and a scrawled head of shoulder length hair. The next was much smaller, with another set of horns and a tail but the same scribbled hair. And the last was tiny, with voluminous ears and spikes on the end of it’s fingers. All of them had immense smiles and held hands, a lopsided love heart hovering above them.
As the other scribbles and swirls turned into formless ink in the water, Caleb held this one like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life.
“Yeah,” he murmured, smiling softly, “I think this one can stay.”
#critical role#modern au#caleb widogast#mollymauk tealeaf#widomauk#una#trinket#please reblog and comment!
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Puppy Love
Summary: When Uncle Dean takes his first solo niece-sitting gig, what could possibly go wrong?
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castile, Sam Winchester x reader, & OC Erica from a story written by @kittenofdoomage titled “Rainbows in the Sun”
Word Count: 2,600
Warnings: none! Tooth rotting fluff
A/N: I had the privilege and delight of reading @kittenofdoomage Supernatural series, “Rainbows in the Storm”, on Patreon. If you’re not a patron of hers, you are missing out! I quickly fell in love with this amazing story - her characterization and nail-biting cliffhangers kept me hooked the whole way through. But one little sentence in the Epilogue had me laughing, and my imagination ran away with me. This is for you, @kittenofdoomage !
Image found on https://wallpapersafari.com/w/kn7fwH
Dean Winchester didn’t brag about his assets often. But he had zero problem with his pride at the oft given praises his mouth had earned from the ladies. His lips had brought delight to many a babe. The current babe in his arms was no different.
The fact that she was four months old, and his niece, didn’t detract from his pride one iota.
Crossing his eyes, Dean happily blew raspberries continuously as he leaned down before smacking noisy kisses under her chin. Erica’s baby giggles burst forth as she waved her hands, and Dean had to do it again.
“Thhhhbbbffft,” he wagged his face side to side as he leaned down, letting his nose rub against her tiny chest tickingly before diving back under one round cheek and smacking more kisses. Dimples winked up at Uncle Dee, Erica’s still-baby-blue eyes gazing up at him with delight, and he fell a little more in love yet again.
“You’re adorable,” came his matter of fact observation. Erica grinned her agreement. “Good genes, darlin’. You got your mama’s nose, and I’m pretty sure your killer Winchester smile from your uncle, not your daddy.” With the ease of long practice, Dean swiped the burp cloth from his shoulder and dabbed at the drool on her tiny chin. “Do me a favor and smile a lot. Like me, not like Mr. Grumpy Pants Daddy.”
Delicate eyebrows knitted together as Erica cooed seriously. Dean nodded proudly. “That’s my girl. Now, your mama said not to worry about your bath. I think it’s because she doesn’t think I can handle it. You and I both know that’s crap, right?” Erica chewed intently on her fists in answer. “Right. So gimme one more giggle and then it’s ‘Rubber Ducky, You’re the One’. Here we go!”
One more time, Dean raspberried down, down to Erica’s sweet smiling face. Just as he started growling under her chin, her squeal changed into something weird. Several things crammed into Dean’s brain in about a millisecond.
One - Erica sounded like she yipped. Like, puppy yipped. But that couldn’t be. He was wrong.
Two - her soft, slightly drool-slimy chin was suddenly different soft. Like fluffy furry soft. Which also couldn't be. He had to be wrong.
Three - the chubby little fists she loved to chew on suddenly swiped claws against his face. Like, claws. Puppy claws. Which also so very much please couldn’t be.
Please, oh please, Dean wanted to be wrong.
Post millisecond, Dean yanked himself upright and felt his stomach drop straight to Rowena’s throne room.
A chubby, fluffy wolf pup - adorable, yes, but a freakin’ wolf pup - lay wriggling in his lap, snout wreathed in puppy smiles as it waved its paws up at him.
Dumbfounded, Dean sat frozen for a moment. He slowly stood up, holding the pup at arms length before gently setting it on the couch. Then, he frantically searched under the throw pillows at each end, under your blanket tossed over the back, even under the couch itself for his suddenly missing niece. No human baby surfaced.
His frantic gaze fell on the wolf pup. It lounged right where he’d laid it, studying him curiously. Erica’s cute lady-bug onesie and leggings stretched and gapped in equal measures around fluffy legs and paws, and the red barrette he’d painstakingly affixed into his human niece’s hair earlier sat holding a hank of creamy-brown fur straight up between its ears.
“Oh, crap”
At his whisper, the wolf pup smiled happily and launched itself at him. His reflexes kicked in and his arms scooped the little bundle against his chest, falling backwards to the floor. The pup wiggled its way up his chest and slopped a lick against his chin before gazing into his eyes lovingly.
Gazed with Erica’s still-baby-blue eyes.
“Son of a bitch!” Tucking pup-Erica under one arm, Dean dove for his cell phone. “Cas!” Pup-Erica playful clawed and nipped at his phone as he frantically tried to call Sam. No answer, straight to voicemail. Same thing for your phone. This was bad.
“CAS!”
“Hello, Dean.”
The hunter didn’t even hesitate, just thrust the pup at the angel.
“Fix this!” he bellowed, pup-Erica wiggling happily in his grasp at the sight of her other uncle. Castiel tilted his head as he stared at the pup.
“Hello, Erica. Are you enjoying your first shift?” She yipped as Castiel took her in his arms, slopping kiss after kiss on his face. “I’m happy to see you, too.”
Dean had braced his hands on his legs as he leaned down, head between his knees as he wheezed in air. Cas stared at him quizzically.
“Dean, are you alright?”
He raised a hand, wordlessly asking for a moment. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Or a stroke. Maybe an explosive ulcer,” he croaked out.
Nonplussed, Cas pressed two fingers against Dean’s forehead. “I detect none of these events occurring, Dean. Although your blood pressure is highly elevated, and you appear to be generating a migraine. I can’t heal that until your heart rate slows down. You should try to relax.”
Dean’s hands fisted onto Cas’s trench coat collars, pulling himself up to standing to glare maniacally into his friend’s placid gaze.
“My niece is a dog, Cas! I’m not going to relax! I’m going to be murdered when they get back! Sam’s gonna...” His grip loosened as his thoughts zoomed to your reaction. “She’s going to chew me to kibble.” Horror trembled in his whisper as he dragged his hands over his face.
Sad, tiny whining begged for attention as a tentative paw patted at his arm. Still dazed beyond comprehension, Dean blinked down at the blue eyes staring woefully up at him. By sheer habit, Dean tucked the little one into his arms, warmth filling his chest when she snuggled into his shoulder - just like human-Erica did. The high-pitched whine echoed from her chest into a full-fledged howl that Dean would later recall as ridiculously cute. But now, his niece was sad and needed her uncle.
“It’s alright, ladybug, it’s alright. Look, Uncle Dee’s ok. Uncle Cas and me are gonna take care of you, don’t you worry.” Instinctively, Dean moved to pat her back before switching gears to gently scritching her ears. “Cas, can you talk to her?”
“While I can speak to lycans in their wolf form, as a juvenile, she still has not learned words. She’s upset right now, but calming. However, she has forgotten in the urgency of the moment that she’s hungry.”
Dean’s eyes closed as this new challenge presented itself. When Erica whined again, cuddling closer, he snapped to attention.
“Alright. We’ve got a highly experienced hunter and an angel. We got this. We can take care of one baby wolfed-out lycan.”
Two destroyed bottle nipples and a spilled canister of powdered formula later, Dean wasn’t sure they had this at all. Cas currently sat at the kitchen table with Erica, dipping his fingers into a bowl of formula and letting her lick and suck to her heart’s content. However, the going was slow, so Dean was improvising plan B. He’d dug up one of his softest old tshirts and some of your hair ties. In moments, he had fashioned a teat that he hoped to kingdom come would work.
“Alight, Cas, give her here.” Frustrated and hungry, Erica growled as she tried to climb into the formula bowl, her nose and face liberally coated with the white liquid. Working in tandem, Cas started soaking the cloth teat in the formula while Dean wrapped his flannel shirt around the wriggling pup, using the sleeves to swaddle her still. Then, he cradled her in his elbow and mentally crossed his fingers. Erica nosed the soaked fabric curiously before giving a tentative lick, then a bit of a chomp. Two seconds later, she was sucking with gusto, tiny grunts of approval rumbling from her. When Dean pulled it away to resoak it, the pup was not impressed; demanding, squeaky barks let her uncles know to hurry it up! Both men chuckled as the feeding went on until Erica stopped sucking and just chewed.
“Good job, ladybug,” Dean praised as he unwound the flannel from about her. “Look at that fat little belly!” With a gentle touch, he tickled the soft pink skin, laughing again when she squirmed, panting happily. Dean handed her off to Cas while he snagged the bowl, carefully stepping over the drifts of powdered formula. “Gotta say, Cas, didn’t know you were so experienced with wolf baby care.”
“I once cared for a baby elephant who had been separated from his mother in the sub-Saharan plains. It’s pretty much the same thing.”
Water running as he washed the bowl, Dean sent a scoff over his shoulder at the angel.
“No, Cas. It really isn’t.” A pause as Dean fully turned to look at his friend. “Where is she?”
“Who?”
Dean’s eyes rolled so hard, they saw it from space. “The Duchess of Cambridge. Erica, you dumb ass!”
The angel looked down and glanced around him, his arms glaringly empty. “She’s not here.”
Dean’s left eyelid started twitching. Wasn’t that a symptom of a stroke? “I can see that. Why are you not holding her?”
“She wanted down.”
A faint cracking sound in his skull only faintly registered with Dean; probably a molar, but that was an issue for later. “She wanted down? That’s all you got? She wanted down?!” That migraine from earlier suddenly flared to life, and Dean nearly broke a bone in his scramble into the library.
“ERICA!!! Come to Uncle Dee, honey!” A cheerful yip and rhythmic claw clicking caught his ear, and Dean turned his head so quickly he gave himself a crick. Luck was on their side - Erica’s human baby clothes had hobbled wolf pup Erica, and her limping, lopping progress in their direction was pure cuteness. Dean hit his knees and swept her into his arms. “Ladybug, you can’t do that to your uncle! He’s an old man!” He pressed kiss after kiss to her wet nose, gratefully accepting her boisterous and slightly drooly puppy kisses. Even the one that went in his eyeball.
Sending Cas a glare of pure exasperation, he began wrestling the baby clothes off the wiggly bundle of fluff.
“Alright. We’ve survived two crises, I think the worst is behind us.”
All seriousness and brevity, Cas nodded as he straightened, scooping a small, leather-bound copy of A Hystori of Caledonian Monsters from the floor. The aged tome bore a surprising amount of chewing and puppy drool from the short amount of time of his niece’s unsupervised freedom.
“Agreed.”
- - - 2 hours later - - -
Sam grinned down at you dopily as you both trudged down the long hall from the garage. The long-overdue date hadn’t been what he’d originally planned. But when the waxing moon and wildflower-scented breeze had hit them both, candlelight and overpriced pasta didn’t seem near as appealing as sizzling sexy times in the back seat, burgers and fries and milkshakes from the drive through, and shifting to frolic in the tall, windswept grass of an open field.
The quiet of the bunker wasn’t terribly unsurprising; Uncle Dee was a veritable decibel defender when it came to his niece’s nap time. No baby girl of mine is growing up used to only four hours and calling that rest! he had scorned. The fact that the newborn was only sleeping four hours at a time anyway, and wasn’t his actual daughter, was resolutely ignored.
What was surprising was the carnage that greeted them. Library chairs laid on their sides in some type of corral. Erica’s baby toys rested in varying stages of repose or destruction. Burp clothes, towels, and receiving blankets were scattered, some whole, some slightly torn. An open bottle of baby shampoo slowly glugged its contents onto the table. Someone had attempted to hide some damaged lore books behind a lamp. And pillows - so many pillows - were everywhere, their feathery guts flung to every corner of the room.
Instantly on alert, Sam waved you to stay back as he drew his gun and began easing forward. Senses honed by years of battle didn’t pick up on any immediate threat, but the proof before him clearly spoke otherwise. When your hands fisted into his shirt, fingers trembling in sudden fear, he reached back to touch your back reassuringly.
“Dean?” he shouted questioningly. His voice echoed against the cavernous ceiling, but still no foe came at them. With a tentative touch, he nudged a tired pillow over, finding another damaged lore book beneath it. Sam gingerly grabbed it, lifting it up to squint at the mangled leather and paper.
“Are those…” you started haltingly, peering over his shoulder.
“They look like...tiny teeth marks.” You stared at Sam wordlessly before you both sprinted for the bedrooms. The nursery door banged against the wall loudly, and the occupants of the room flinched but didn’t stir beyond that.
One side of the crib was hanging haphazardly from its left-side screws, a blanket strangled in the slats. A stuffed tiger toy that you secretly hated lay with its head missing and cotton stuffing innards hanging out. No less than 11 diapers scattered across the floor with the tapes missing. Sleeper legs and flannel blankets dangled from open dresser drawers. Clouds of baby powder, liberally dusted into higgledee piggledee piles, still hazed the light glowing from the lamp near the upholstered rocking recliner in the corner. In the middle of the madness lay the hapless heroes.
They had somehow managed to winch Dean’s fancy memory foam mattress into the room, one corner of it caught and peeling up against the toy chest. Cas lay on one side, his trench coat hanging off one arm and his tie out from under his collar and wrinkled beyond belief. Dean looked no better; his grey tshirt showed dark swathes of damp that smelled like baby shampoo. His hair stood up in weird handfuls, as if he’d been gripping it in his fists in desperation. Shoeless, he only wore one sock. A handful of raggedy baby wipes poked out of his back pocket.
And between them both, tenderly snuggled into a nest of nearly every blanket in the bunker lay a precious creamy-brown wolf pup, sleeping contentedly without a care in the world.
Sam knew his jaw had hit the floor, and figured you were in the same boat.
“Is that...her?”
You took a couple of careful steps forward into the wreckage. Closing your eyes, you let your stronger lycan senses take over. The soft, sugary scent of honeysuckle comforted your mama heart as you smiled in disbelief.
“Yep, that’s her.”
“You mean she had her first shift and we missed it?!”
Chuckling softly, you picked your way through the baby item minefield. Only a Winchester would be more upset about missing a baby’s first shift than the absolute destruction of their home.
“It looks like.”
“What do we do? Does she know how to shift back?”
You pursed your lips thoughtfully, stilling them Erica twitched and squeaked in her sleep. “I don’t know. I’ll call my mom, maybe she can help us.”
Warm, long fingers curled around your hips to tug you back against him. You could sense his delight at the picture before them. Whatever had happened, his brother and friend had adapted and overcome. His daughter was so loved.
“I guess we should wake them up.”
You grinned as you dug out your phone. “Not until I get a picture.”
#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x you#loved this series!#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction
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10 HP Slash Recs for 2nd Person POV
10 HP Slash Recs with 2nd person POV
AO3 Collection for the list
Selection criteria
Intro friendly 2nd person POV fics
Completed fics in the 500-5000 words range
No repeat pairings/authors* Picked for variety in tropes and writing styles.
Normally I pick longer fics up to 30000 words. But because a lot of people don't really read 2nd person POV I wanted to start small and make an intro friendly list!
2nd POV fics usually are more introspective fics or straight up smut. This list is kind of evenly split between these two categories.
a hero's song, a lover's lament
by soshy (2021)
Pairing - Fleur/Hermione
Genre - Greek AU
Rec - Hermione leaves for war. Fleur worries about her lover.
You think of all the things that pull her away. Duty, glory, fame. What use are they? They are nothing to the dead. Envy burns inside of you. Against such grand concepts, you are not enough to convince her to stay.
A Dish Best Served
by katmarajade (2014)
Pairing - Lavender/Rose
Genre - Revenge
Rec - Ron left Hermione because of an affair with Lavender. Rose gets revenge fifteen years later. I really love how Rose has Hermione's brains and Ron's strategy mind. She is seriously good at revenge.
Daddy dearest can’t even look at you, can’t look at her. If everything you’ve heard about him is true, the morality and nobility and other such pitiful rot, this will destroy them.
The Devil Wears Tartan
by kelly_chambliss (2017)
Pairing - Minerva/Pomona
Genre - Religion, friends to lovers
Rec - Minerva informed you, in a matter-of-fact tone, that Presbyterians were God's predestined people and that Papists were going to hell. :D Pomona tells her how wrong she is. They fall in love. It's a really sweet fic. The smut is wholesome.
Rec note - Like anything written by kelly_chambliss the female characterizations are just great and spot-on. They also have other amazing 2nd Person POV fics which I recced before on older lists!
Going Down
by sdk (2020)
Pairing - Hermione/Pansy
Genre - Kink
Rec - Hermione has a kink. She makes it happen. Does Pansy actually know it's her? sdk writes some seriously good hot and kinky fics. Super happy to get the chance to rec another fics from them.
It's easier when you're wearing someone else's skin.
A lousy history of tomorrows
by victoria_p (2005)
Pairing - Sirius/Remus
Genre - love, angst, reverse chronology
Rec - Classic 2000s Wolfstar with introspective Remus characterization. Shortfic showing their relationship from the beginning to right before the canon Sirius death. I really liked the technique of the reverse chronology. It goes nicely with the 2nd person POV. The prose isn't heavy on imagery unlike a lot of the 2000s Wolfstar fics. So it's definitely going to be easier to read if you are used to reading more modern writing styles.
You don't know that the next time you see his face, it will be the face of a madman, a killer, emblazoned across the front of the Daily Prophet, laughing at the deaths of your friends.
Rec note - This author is recced before by /u/pomegranate17 on their great Wolfstar rec lists. So definitely check those out.
Byzantium
by eldritcher (2021)
Pairing - Snape/Albus Dumbledore
Genre - love, angst
Rec - Classic Snapledore with a seriously amazing Albus characterization and heavy imagery. This shortfic is written like a "Missing Moment" in PoA after Sirius escapes.
Your fondness for Severus is no fondness at all. It is a maelstrom of grief and guilt and hatred and remorse and want, and you mean to carry it to your grave.
Rec note - Eldritcher is in a league of their own for 1st person/2nd person POV fics. They write really technical fics without making them feel technical to the reader. So definitely check out their fics if you get the 2nd person POV bug.
Courage, and How To Find It
by KLStarre (2016)
Pairing - Hermione/Luna
Genre - friends to lovers
Rec - Really sweet fic. Hermione thinks she should be in Ravenclaw because she is not brave like a Gryffindor. She doesn't really get why Luna is in Ravenclaw. This fic covers a lot of ground without a lot of words. I loved the Hermione characterization here.
It is fourth year, and you no longer hate Luna Lovegood. You think she is ridiculous, yes, and probably doesn’t deserve to be in Ravenclaw, but she seems harmless enough and you are happy in Gryffindor, now, more confident in yourself and in your friends. You have learned that being afraid does not mean you are not brave, and that is an important piece of knowledge to have gained.
Crazy For You
by orphan_account (2007)
Pairing - Harry/Ron
Genre - friends to lovers
Rec - Harry tells his friends that he is gay. Ron can't stop thinking about it. This fic is hilarious and sweet in Ron's headspace.
It never affected you like this before—hell, it never affected you at all before—but for some reason, now, every time you look at Harry, he is gay. He is brushing his teeth, shirtless and gay in the loo every morning; he is eating curry takeaway and gay and listening to Quidditch on the Wireless; he is sitting in his cubicle at work, gay, scratching out a report on that illegal Obliviation in Dorking last week.
Suspiria
by confessor (2021)
Pairing - Harry/Snape
Genre - Angst, Id fic, read the warnings on AO3
Rec - Classic old school Snarry that packs a seriously powerful punch. Definitely hot, dark and delicious. Really good writing that just makes the story flow. It's a beautiful fic. But definitely read the warnings.
The night is kind to Potter in a way it has never been kind to you. See how it falls across him, see how the deep blue of deep night colors the shadows of his face. Blue in these hollows, these edges, blue that colors him in, all these years between the lines. It’s quiet. Too quiet. You chew the inside of your lip, afraid of what might be said on a silent night.
Rec note - I got this fic from the WAYR post on this subreddit!
A Quiet Full of Longing
by TheMostePotente (2010)
Pairing - Harry/Draco
Genre - Introspection
Rec - Draco is at his trial. But he's thinking about the future. A really clever and beautiful fic. Lots of twists and turns. Brilliant technique! The combination of the 2nd person POV and future tense really makes this fic. I know this is a bit longer than the 5000 word range for the list. But it's one of my favorite Drarry fics of all time. I really wanted to rec it. Beautiful writing.
This fic is probably my favorite 2nd person POV fic in HP fandom!
Despite all reservation, he will reward your grand gesture with a grander one. That feeling, that you'll fail before you'll even begin, is somewhat of a wish fulfilling prophecy you've come to fall back on
Older Rec Lists
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[ NANCY WRIGHT. 26. FEMALE. SHE/HER ] is here! They’ve lived in Silver Lake for [ 2 MONTHS ] and are originally from [ NEW YORK CITY, NY ]. They are a [ WAITRESS AT GOLDEN GRIDDLE ] and in their downtime love [ GIVING SHITTY LIFE ADVICE ] and [ SWAPPING TAGS AT FUNKYTOWN THRIFT ]. They look a lot like [ MAIKA MONROE ] and live [ IN OASIS APTS ].
hi hello, i’m brenna and i absolutely despise writing intros. pls accept this meager offering of a word vom ramble
stats page + pinterest
surface level: nancy is very messy, sometimes rude, and often nude
deep down: ......... that’s still pretty much accurate lmao
born in nevada, her parents first met thanks to a chance encounter while her mom was traveling & researching for an upcoming book. nancy was an unexpected surprise in their lives, but fast-forward five years and they were sealing the deal, getting hitched in new york where her mom had the gaudy, mega wedding of her dreams.
photographic evidence of nancy being an angelic flower girl DOES in fact exist
as an only child, she’s never been super aware of how spoiled she is. doted upon by wealthy grandparents throughout her childhood, running amok in the streets of nyc with her friends all during her teens, and never getting a lecture beyond “you’re grounded!” definitely made nancy feel a little bit like she could get away with murder.
should she ever find herself stuck in Deep Shit ??? well duh, call daddy to save the day!!
she rolled hard with her rebellious streak and refused to acknowledge that there might be “““consequences””” to her ““actions,”” instead taking full advantage of her parents’ combo leniency & constant bickering to sneak out at every turn.
during her junior year, however, nancy was in a minor car crash that resulted in a quick knee surgery and a blossoming love for painkillers.
she milked her oxy script for all that it was worth and her new habit didn’t go entirely unnoticed -- mrs. wright pushed nancy through months of physical therapy appointments, dragged her across the finish line of high school graduation, and then dumped her directly into rehab with the ultimatum to either get clean or be cut-off.
kinda a no-brainer decision, but only the beginning of a snowballing problem
she could get sober in a cushy facility, find her zen during months of therapy, and think up as many master life plans as she wanted, but back in the Real World? where all the choices were ultimately her own? well... nancy sure did like getting high, even if it meant finding cheaper, quicker fixes as time went on
it was her mom who once again caught on, somewhere between rehab stay #2 and #3, and forced nancy onto an even shorter leash by moving her directly into the guestroom of her penthouse, hoping to cut the cycle short and stop her from treading water forever.
no booze, a ban on visitors, and the constantly buzzing presence of her mom...... it shouldn’t have been that big of a surprise when she ran away. literally.
finding out that a friend was visiting family in los angeles, nancy jumped at the chance to tag along. she packed up as much of her stuff (and her moms jnsdkm) as she could before getting outta dodge, making a brief pitstop at her dad’s place to leave her dog in his care and a vague note to assure her well-being.
it’s been two months since she settled in silver lake, renting a crappy little one bedroom at oasis & securing a waitressing gig, and a tentative ten months since she dipped her toes into the opioid pool.
always picking up random hobbies to try and keep herself busy, though they rarely last. the latest is tie dye and bleaching clothes, so you can bet that she has a lot of random shit hanging from her apt balcony to dry
frequents trader joe’s only to let her fresh produce rot while she chows down in-n-out.
nancy has taken a lot of random college/online courses at her parents’ urging over the years -- accounting, sociology, interpretive dance -- but nothing that adds up to a full degree
lowkey desperate to prove her independence, but could probs use a roommate at some point?? nancy’s not used to living solely on tips skmdjsnm
really tempted to call her dad like, “money me. money now.”
instead!! she’s started selling all the stuff that she stole from her mom. hit up her depop if you wanna dress like a middle-aged woman from manhattan xx
very much into high fantasy & horror
extremely social, which is a big part of why nancy loves partying, but she’s struggled to find an easier, chill middle ground since moving.
does not know how to keep her opinions to herself. brain to mouth filter has long since dissolved
is always smoking. even if she’s not LITERALLY holding a cigarette, rest assured, she’s mentally taking a drag
aaannnd, that’s all folks!! idk how much of this is actually coherent so please do bug me if you have questions or just wanna riff about charas. since nancy’s so fresh to silver lake, she could use every connection under the sun & tbh i really love randomly throwing muses into the thick of it without much context too, so i have no qualms about goin’ in blind.
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So, I just started to play Obey Me! Shall We Date
And well, I have thoughts
Im currently stuck on the first levels of lesson 5, so my knowledge of the plot is limited to that + some spoilers I accidentally got while going though the obey me! tag. Do I have a deep understanding of this game? No. Am I gonna rant anyway? Yeah. See me do another one of these soon after I play it some more, but for now, I need to put this out there:
First, mechanics-wise, the first thing on my mind was "Mr. Love from Hell", which is honestly not too far fetched. Maybe it's because I'm playing in my old ass tablet (I need a new phone, this thing ain't gonna survive 2020) but it's just so slow??? I've tried downloading full data, and it kinda helped, but still, it just annoys me so much! It's not crashing like crazy (cof cof Love Island The Game cof cof) but it could be better, it takes forever to get the itens to level up cards because it just ????????? takes forever for them to load???? anyone else got this problem or it's just my device? Anyway, that aside, I quite like it, if you played MLQC, it's pretty easy to manage, and while it takes a bit more of attention to win battles, I think that's a good thing. Getting shards has a been a bitch, like, I keep on suffering with the loading and my competitive ass wants to finish begginer's missions, and again I think Mr. Love has spoiled me. Also, someone please tell me how to level up skills, because I have no idea???
Now, moving on to the actual tea: what do I think of these boys?
Let's go in order, shall we:
So, I open the app and I see Lucifer in all his red and black glory, furry cape, Dom-Daddy, Big D Energy for days and go "Oh, Demon!Nobunaga, fun!". I'm immediately drawn to him beacause Nobu was my first ever otome guy and while I eventually grew out of the whole "this man is so controlling and sexy and dark" phase, nostalgia ya know? So, turns out the vibe I keep getting from Lucifer is more like all those dark-kinky-Jumin-Han-fanfics (as in, the only parts of Jumin Han that I hate) rather than Nobu? Idk man, this guy just seems shady?? They all do honestly but Lucifer is just plain scary. Dude, I know you've got the whole "most-powerful-oldest-control-freak" going for you but, like, can you chill?
Yet I can't really blame him, cause, Veronica (that's my MC's name) why, girl???? She be going up those stairs, and I'm just ??? Real talk, I'm kinda of a rule follower? I don't wanna make this guy mad, man, all I wanna do is hit on Satan (which we shall discuss soon) and see some family drama shenanigans. Lucifer says "don't go up those stairs" I'd be like "okay???" because up until now he hasn't given me a reason to not trust him (aside from being shady)??? But I have no choice but go talk to Belphegor (don't even get me started on this one) and I can just tell I'm gonna get in trouble for this. Could I not get there accidentally? Do I have to go there against Lucifer's direct orders? I don't think this is gonna go well, I just don't wanna get on his bad side hskshskshk
Lucifer's room, however, is everything to me, the deco is lovely (skeleton aside) and that bed, maaaannnn
Mammon started really annoying but he's been growing on me. I have a soft spot for dumb bitches like him, I guess? He just cracks me up? Not to be cheesy, but I like him as a friend? Maybe that'll change in the future, who knows, but for now that's how I see him, the best friend guy who is gonna be in love with you in every single route (read, Seven, but dumber). Can't wait for the angst. Looks wise I kind got him mixed with Solomon at some point (my dumbass though it was a bug) but all those Surprise Guest moments have me thinking he's way cuter than I gave him credit for at first.
I always feel bad for ratting him out to Lucifer, but boy, you and Veronica practically share one single brain cell, okay? I need to get my girl into Lucifer's good graces, I ain't about that troublemaker life
Levi is gonna be brief: No. He's not my type (otome or real life wise) and he annoys me. He reminded me a bit of Yoosung at first, and I'm trying to power though it like I did with him, but I can't. He keeps dragging me into his stuff and it's not cute, it makes me resent Levi. I'm not much of a tsundere enthusiast by nature, and I really don't like when they portray fans and gamers in this kinda "I'm weird, look at me I'm so weird and different" light ("have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? that's weird" jsjdndmsksjdnsmskdjnddm). It comes across (to me at least) as childish and dumb (not endearing dumb, like Mammon). Idk, maybe I'll change my mind? Don't come for me, Levi stans
So Satan
I love Satan
Otome makes you say the strangest shit hm
Still. I haven't interacted much with him but I'm obsessed with this man. Let me date you, okay? You look like posh book-cat-candle super model I wish existed. Let's be petty together. Since I haven't been playing long I hope I don't end up regretting putting my heart and soul into loving you. I'm doing all kinds of jobs to get intimacy go up with him, because guyghbkhiugiygufgfydddyghvjgvjg I'm all about that soft dom energy he has going for him, it's basically everything I love about Jumin Ham, but less CEO and more cute-bookstore-guy. Ideally, Satan is 100% my type, even if not the usual otome route I take first. Also, he is the Avatar of Wrath, which, along with Pride, is my most prominent sin, so I might be projecting
Pls babe don't turn out to be terrible
Kay, so Asmo. Asmo gives me all the Shingen vibes but realistic Shingen. Like, of Shingen is all about worshiping his MC, Asmo looks like he wants to be worshiped himself. Not judging, tho. That thing he said about loving himself above all things, I feel like it was supposed to be shady but I kinda agree? He's onto something. All this self-sacrifing thing is so romanticized. Can't we all be in healthy non co-dependent relationships? Love yourselves, kids. Which is why, while I said Satan is my ideal type of man, in real life, most of the people I've been with are Asmos. That being said, that's why he doesn't really work as an otome LI for me (at least for now). I'm here to live a fantasy of dating demons, not to see my exes. He is tempting tho. Who doesn't want a friend to do face masks and fuck from time to time, no strings attached until, "oh no, we both caught feelings, whatever shall we do" and then have it end well? (can you tell I'm projecting? my therapist is gonna love this). Poor Asmo, it's not his fault. Darling I'm sure you'll turn out to be lovely
On Beel, not much. I'm not into him, at least for now. his personality so far is that he's hungry. So what, man. I'm not here for that either. I don't find food particularly fun or sexy, it's just here to keep us alive (unless it's sweets, sweets are the best, but I'm having to cut down on sweets so), so he's not doing much for me. Gotta wait for that character development I guess
And to end this rant, Belphegor. Bitch, I've seen you on my demon cards, don't you dare tell Veronica you're human. But she's a dumb hoe, my girl Veronica, so she just doesn't question it???? I swear, this girl. Shady doesn't even cut it with him. Sorry, you're telling me what to do? Dude, lol, you're lucky this is Veronica and not me, because I'd be out of there as soon as you started this bull about me doing pacts with demons to get your ass out of that room. Don't prey on my empathy, it pisses me off. Spoilers tell me he's like a human-hater or something? Boy, fuck you, okay? Am I going to end up loving him? Who knows. For now he can rot in that room for all I care
Anyway, that's pretty much my first impressions of this game. I'll be playing it for some more time, until I get up to date on lessons and story or until colleges comes to drag me to literal hell, whatever comes first
Peace, my dudes
#obey me!#obey me! shall we date#shall we date#otome#otome games#obey me#obey me lucifer#obey me! lucifer#dating sims#obey me mammon#obey me! mammon#obey me! leviathan#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me! satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me! asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me! beelzebub#obey me beel#obey me! belphegor
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