riding caleb was hard. rewarding but difficult, you knew that. he knew that. he always put in 90% of the work when you rode him, but today he wouldn’t stop teasing you about it; and you ended up bickering about if for nearly half an hour before you told him you didn’t need his help-- you only let him help because you knew he’d get in his feelings if you didn’t let him.
“oh, is that so?” he laughed, and there he was laughing at you again. and here he is laughing at you now, underneath you as you struggled to ride him. his hands were folded behind his back, purple eyes glimmering with fond glee. you knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you tapped out, and asked for help, but you decided to do your best anyway.
soon enough you find a movement thats most comfortable to you, your hands behind you, resting on his strong thighs as you rolled your hips. his dick was fully sheathed in you, thick, long and deep. you’ve learned to love how his tip felt against your cervix as you were about to successfully pull an orgasm out of yourself.
caleb caleb caleb
your hips spoke for you, rolling to the letters of his name, your anchor. this pace was slower than usual, but it was worth it for how intense the tug at the pit of your stomach felt. it’d be one of those orgasms, a right there, just like that orgasm; an orgasm caleb would usually fulfill for you. but not tonight. a sob threatens to rip from your throat as your movements become stuttered and sloppy. he wasn’t giving you an inch and the tug was only intensifying. fuck.
no, you were not about to mess up this orgasm, you needed it forced out of you, pride be damned.
“p-please… nng.. caleb”, you beg, tears welling in your eyes as you met his gaze. his face is flushed, skin glistening with sweat, he looks so good. and the way he was looking at you-- goosebumps arose on your skin. how could someone undress you with their eyes when you were already undressed?
he doesn’t budge.
this time, you sob for real, “please... i need you, p-please.” and it’s like a switch flickers on, you wonder if he even processed it the first time you asked. his hands drag up from your thighs to your hips, one hand firmly against your hip, as his fingers dug into the meat of your ass cheek, and the other higher on your waist. he doesn't say a word, and a distant part of you wonders if he will get the pace right, but it’s caleb we're talking about. he knew exactly what to do.
caleb caleb caleb
you gasp, squeezing his torso with your knees as a jolt of pleasure knocks through you, your orgasm hits you like a storm; you aren’t even sure if your moaning; all you hear is white noise, until-- “that’s it, baby… take it from me…” his praise rackets around your brain like a rogue pingpong ball. his hands still guide you, his hips grinding inside of you, rolling with your hips as you shake above him.
of course i love “we shouldn’t be doing this” ellabs, but i entreat you to think about the marginally less popular, “why are we doing this?” ellabs.
they’ve fought, bitten, drawn blood, and still can’t find a way to make the parts of them that just want to belong to each other meet in the middle. but here they are anyway, broken hearts entwined in a mess of lips on scarred skin. cheeks wet and eyelashes clinging. a bone-deep guilt sinks in while ellie mourns in dutiful, almost urgent strokes of her fingers. they can’t be real, but how can they not be when it’s this good? it’s stupid how much she still wants it. she convinces herself the “it” she means abby’s release and that alone. abby lets herself get lost in the feeling of fingers tugging at her hair if it means she can entertain denial for an hour longer. ignores the bitter ache in her arm and coos filth to hopefully rid herself of the lump in her throat.
they can exhaust themselves like this, fall asleep side by side, but in the morning ellie will be gone like she always should have been. and abby will be just as alone as when she was still there.
Summary: Despite reaching home, the only thing that Anne can seem to think of is Marcy Wu.
Notes: True Colors absolutely destroyed me and I had to write something to pour my emotions into.
Besides, I wanted to explore Anne's reaction to this fully. She saw one of her best friends who she’s secretly in love with being STABBED right in front of her eyes. Like, how the hell is she meant to process that? Regardless of her being home or not, that has to have an IMPACT.
AO3
When Anne used to picture returning home, she’d always assume that the first thing she’d do was run straight into her parents’ arms, engulf them in a hug, whisper in between tears how much she missed them, how sorry she was for disappearing like that and with the gentle reassurance that everything was going to be fine.
But nothing was fine.
She was back home. Finally, back home. She’d been picturing this perfect moment for months now. She’d been expecting this wild rush of euphoric frantic emotions when she came back. She’d been expecting to scream out loud in joy and cherish everything around her.
But what she wasn’t expecting was this.
What she wasn’t expecting was this lone feeling of pain that throbbed within her.
What she wasn’t expecting was this disastrous entrance. She knew nothing was close to perfect. But this was even worse than she could’ve ever imagined.
What she wasn’t expecting was this feeling to crash back into Amphibia. And it was for all the wrong reasons. The things she dreaded the most.
What she didn’t expect was sobbing amidst the familiar signs of shops and streets. Things she couldn’t cherish. Things that just hit her with even more nostalgia. Even more grief.
The Plantars held her in their arms steadily, a gesture of comfort, she appreciated it. But it couldn’t heal her pain. And onlookers stared with their phones, snapping pictures at her pain, under the assumption it was all part of a façade, that it was all just an act. A silly little acting gig. With the frogs as people in costumes. And the tears of the girl in pain just being a raw talent for charades.
No. No. It wasn’t a façade. It was all real. God, she wished it were a façade. She wished that all she’d been through was just a terrible nightmare. But she couldn’t refuse to face reality. Refuse to face the truth. And invent her own silly adventure inside her head.
Unlike the girl who’s name she was screaming. Clear in her ears.
“Marcy!” She yelped one more time. She felt Hop Pop squeeze her tighter into the embrace each time she yelled the name. “Marcy!”
Her sobs grew louder and so did the commotion of the onlookers. More and more came to watch, dropping coins, she’d just about had it. And it appeared that Hop Pop could see that.
“Alright! Alright! Gig’s over!” He turned to the onlookers and gathered the money they had thrown into his hands, stuffing them into the pockets of his oversized trench coat. After being blasted onto the car of a nice family, they had given him that coat under the tangle of many excuses they believed.
After the applause and tossing of coins, the crowd began to subside, Hop Pop wrapped the coat around her, it was warm, nice, consoling in a way. It also shielded her agony from pedestrians on the street.
“Do you want to take this somewhere else?” Hop Pop gently whispered into Anne’s ears.
Anne contemplated for a moment, before staring blankly at the ground, the place vivid in her head: quiet, small, and full of nostalgia.
“Yes.”
---
“It’s still strange that you humans don’t eat bugs.” Hop Pop commented as he took bites into his strawberry ice cream with much discomfort.
“Their digestive system is too sensitive.” Polly muttered, pushing her own chocolate ice cream aside in protest.
“Meh.” She blandly replied, taking another long bite into her mint chocolate chip ice cream, lounging her head onto the surface of the table.
Any other time, she’d have complained at Polly’s comment, or cracked a joke about how the roles had been reversed. But she didn’t really feel like it. At all.
“This was Marcy’s favourite flavour.” She simply stated.
The Plantars froze in dead silence.
“She wouldn’t eat any other flavour. I mean, she would talk about trying something different each time. Act all indecisive, analysing which choice would be the best.” She chuckled half-heartedly and felt that painful pang in her heart. “But she would always pick this one. Always.”
She gazed fondly at the ice-cream, the overwhelming grief rose to the surface again, and her eyes building up with tears again.
With a slight stifle, she turned to glance at the walls of the ice-cream parlour. Butterfly-patterned walls. Oh no.
“Sh-she loved b-butterflies.” She said shakily, tears rolling down her face. “Th-that’s why I d-designed her a butterfly costume for the battle of the bands…b-because sh-she l-loved them.”
A loud sob escaped her mouth, and she buried her face in her arm.
Hop Pop’s comforting hand once again landed on her head, brushing her hair in an assuring manner.
“Anne.” His voice drooped as he merely said her name. Nothing following it. Neither a ‘it’s all going to be alright’ nor a ‘we can fix this’.
Because it wasn’t alright. They couldn’t fix it.
How the hell could they fix Marcy getting stabbed like that?
Right in front of their eyes. Right in front of her eyes.
“I c-could’ve s-saved her. I COULD’VE SAVED HER.” Anne’s voice went from a frail sense of longing to a shriek in pure anger. Her breaths and sobs grew heavy, she felt herself shivering as Polly and Sprig rushed over to hug her again.
“Anne, please. Don’t put this on yourself. You’ll regret it.” Hop Pop warned.
“No! Hop-Pop! It’s the truth. I couldn’t help her! I had to watch Andrias pierce that sword through her chest without being able to anything! The strength of the portal held me in place. I couldn’t move!” Anne’s voice grew louder. There weren’t any customers at the parlour on a Tuesday morning, and no staff was at the counter as they were having lunch. They were on their own. Alone with their agony. “She knew it! Okay! I saw it in her face! She knew she was a total goner! Yet…y-yet…the o-only words she managed to say in th-that m-moment w-were…I’m sorry for everything…before…b-before…dropping dead to the ground.”
A harsh silence hung thick in the air.
All of them froze at the reminder of the moment. She watched the devastation dawn over the Plantars’ faces, before pulling away from their grasp, straightening up. Her vision blurred with tears as she stared at the melting mint chocolate chip ice-cream.
“Sh-she didn’t deserve th-that.” Sprig meekly said as he blindly fell back into his own chair. “Sh-she was nice, smart, sweet and despite what she did…she was good to you, Anne.”
“I-I know.” Her voice cracked in response.
“She let me into super cool facts and information. That you guys would think I was too young to understand! I liked how she didn’t think like that. When I asked her why she’d tell me all this, she said young was the best age to gather knowledge.” Polly murmured as she squeezed against Hop Pop firmly.
“She w-was very open-minded. Liked a lot of stuff and had an incredible nature to persevere ahead.” Hop Pop added. “She absolutely didn’t deserve that…but…Anne…don’t put it on yourself.”
“I-I s-still c-could’ve s-saved her though.”
“I could’ve saved Sprig and Polly’s parents too!” Hop Pop burst out and the tense cloud in the room grew thicker at the mention of their parents.
“Hop Pop- “Anne began meekly.
“Don’t! Don’t! Anne, we keep tying the grief we face on ourselves, try to go back and see how we could’ve stopped it, but the truth is…w-we d-don’t know what else to do. We don’t know how to get through this. Or how we could’ve.”
Hop Pop’s words broke something out of her chest that she didn’t even know was there, leading her to wail once more.
“I-I d-don’t know what to do, Hop Pop. Things were never meant to be like this. Marcy and Sasha were meant to be with me here today. We were supposed to celebrate our homecoming together. Or at least that’s what I thought we all wanted! But none of us got what we wanted. I’m back without them. Sasha…she’s never going to get back the way things used to be. And Marcy, M-marcy…she won’t get anything back.” Anne acknowledged woefully. The dreadful thoughts in her brain pouring out. “All I know is that I can’t stay here forever. I have to find a way to get back to Amphibia and do something, Hop Pop. I can’t leave things like this. I don’t know what I’m going to tell my parents when we meet them. Or Sasha’s. Or Marcy’s. I don’t know. But I’m not leaving things like this. We need to get back to Amphibia…somehow…”
“I know.” Hop Pop replied. “We do need to get back to Amphibia. We won’t leave things like this.”
“We have your back, Anne. Always.” Sprig added. “The Plantars stick together.”
“We lost Frobo. We lost Marcy. We lost a lot. But we’re not losing anything again. This time, Andrias will be the one who loses.” Polly finished indignantly.
“Thank you, guys.” She wrapped them into a hug, which they greatly reciprocated.
She was going to find Sasha.
Regardless of all complications, she was going to find her.
She was going to find Marcy.
Regardless of whether she was dead or alive, she was going to find her.
And she was going to find King Andrias.
Regardless of how much power and force he had, she was going to find him and stop him.
Hoo boy, this one is almost proper fic length! Sugar and I collabed on this one, so it’s going in both our tags! We have a somewhat difficult time writing for Mammon due to lack of experience (even if I love him), but here you go!
[TW: Bullying, mild description of wounds]
“If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy,” you said, puffing up your chest as Mammon looked you over, first aid kit in hand.
You had a few scrapes and scratches along with the multiple violet bruises that mottled your skin, and since the band-aids had already been used, he had to swipe some of Levi’s limited edition TSL bandages.
He’d be mad later, but Mammon would pay him back... maybe.
“Still! What were ya thinkin’, getting into a fight with a demon?! If I hadn’t gotten there, he could’ve killed you, or eaten you, or--”
“Well, he didn’t!” you huffed, crossing your arms and then wincing as you accidentally pressed a nasty bruise, “So there!”
Mammon sighed, stooping to your level as you sat on your bed, nursing your bruised legs.
“Lemme see what I can do.”
You blushed as he inched closer to you, but you turned your face away, trying to hide your burning cheeks from his view. He was too tied up in treating his human’s wounds to notice, but it still made you shy.
The truth was, you were just as crazy for Mammon as he was for you. You’d had a crush on him ever since Lucifer introduced you to him, and fell harder for him after seeing him stumble to show his affection for those he cared about... you could tell he cared a lot. And you remember how you felt, your boiling blood pulsing through your clenched veins when you heard the lesser demons gossipping about him behind his back.
“Yeah, I can’t come over, I got roped into playing poker with Mammon tonight... Can you believe my rotten luck?”
“Ugh, I have no idea how you can stand that guy! He’s just such a lazy scumbag and a troublemaker.”
“I know, right? He’s going nowhere fast, a real good-for-nothing. But I can’t say I hate being with him, it’s always hilarious when he screws something up!”
“Hahaha! Yeah, ain’t that the truth!”
“The funniest bit is... I think he’s actually trying. It’s sad.”
You couldn’t remember the exact moment when you launched yourself at the lesser demon, but you remembered his surprised gasp the moment he hit the floor with a raging, wildly-swinging human on top of him.
“TAKE IT BACK!” you roared, “TAKE IT BACK NOW!”
You remembered the face of this particular demon-- Mammon talked to him sometimes, introduced him to you as a friend of his, and earnestly thought of him as such. But the fact that he was standing there, laughing and insulting someone who was never anything but kind to him, even if Mammon could be rough and difficult sometimes...
It really pissed you off.
One of the other demons pried you away from him after you had gotten some good hits in, and pain shot through you as his foot collided with your unprotected stomach. Fury searing your nerves, you wrenched yourself from the offending grip and rushed toward the demon, clawing and punching and even biting with no real strategy. You were made of pure, enraged feral energy.
In the end, Mammon had to separate the both of you two. You and the demon barked insults at each other before you were carted away.
And here you were, sitting on your bed and staring into Mammon’s concerned face.
The alcohol stung against your scratches as he cleaned each one clumsily with a swab, and you shivered from the cold ice packs against your bruises and your wounded stomach.
“Jeeze,” Mammon scoffed, leaning back. “What’s got ya so riled anyway? Did he insult your outfit? I’ll have a talk with him...” He swiped his hand through his hair, still clutching the tweezers that held the bloodied cotton ball. “I can’t have my human gettin’ eaten before the Solstice. You haven’t seen everythin’ yet, so just don’t get into anymore fights and let the Great Mammon take care of it from now on, okay?”
You can’t help but tilt your chin, squeezing your teeth together.
“He deserved it!”
You could barely stomach the insults the brothers tossed at Mammon, and how he would grumble, and hiss, but ultimately shake it off. Even when he couldn’t, in those rare moments his lips would fall and his eyes would water behind his glasses, he kept going-- he kept trying to be himself.
You loved him for that, and under it all, so did his brothers... so you could let it go...
But not from some... stupid, inconsiderate little...
“C’mon,” Mammon sighed softly, dropping his tool to rest his hand on top of your head. “I know this li’l guy and he probably didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
Your eyes stung now and you ground your teeth.
You’d be damned if you’d cry but your throat was closing, flames licking at the side of it from the fury simmering in your ribcage.
“MC?”
You sniffed, trying to fight back the sob clawing its way through your chest.
“Y...You don’t get it...”
“What? Are ya sayin’ I’m stupid?” Mammon chuckled dryly.
With his insult toward himself, you finally bawled, cheeks darkening with the force, as you flung yourself onto his shoulder.
“I don’t think you’re stupid!” you sobbed, “Y-You’re protective, and good with numbers, and honest, a-and.. and...”
...and so, so kind, you want to add.
Kind enough to take you under his wing, kind enough to protect a sick little girl from the human world at the cost of being bullied by those witches, kind enough to put up with the constant slew of insults from his brothers...
Kind enough to offer his friendship to some lesser demon who doesn’t even appreciate it.
“And I won’t let some dumbass little punk talk about the demon I love like that!”
Oh.
If Mammon wasn’t already flustered when you threw yourself against him, he definitely was now.
Yes, he’d just learned that his ‘friend’ was talking about him behind his back, apparently... Though that wasn’t anything new to him. He was fairly used to being disrespected, even if he was an esteemed member of RAD’s student council. He wouldn’t lie (not to himself, anyway) and say it didn’t hurt, but...
You just said you loved him, and he’d be damned if he let his anger at his former friend overshadow that.
“Hey... can you say that again?”
“He’s... a-a dumbass punk...?” You hiccuped, swallowing down some of the snot clogging your nose.
Mammon couldn’t help but laugh, pressing you tighter against him.
Maybe... Maybe he could live with just one person respecting him.
“Not that,” He shook his head, resting his head against yours. “The other part..”
“The... other...?” You blinked before feeling more heat flood your cheeks. “Oh, shit.”
“C’mon... Just one more time?”
His voice softened, dropping to a low rumble, and you could hear the quiet desperation there. The longing, the desire, and... The hesitation, uncertainty.
You wanted to wipe it away.
“I love you, Mammon.” You spoke honestly, clearing your throat so the words would be clear. “I love you, I love you, I love you... and I won’t stand for anyone talking about you like that. Ever. Not when you are so wonderful.”
He only held you tighter, somehow wishing he could get closer, closer, closer. You were so warm, and even though your cheeks were blotchy and there were tears and snot staining your skin, you were so... beautiful.
“I love ya too... I’m so lucky to have such an amazing, fiery, cute little human by my side,” he paused, pressing his forehead to yours, “But don’t get in any more fights, okay? I don’t wanna lose you because of somethin’ some little pipsqueak said. You’re my human, all mine, and maybe that’s selfish, but... I wanna keep ya around as long as possible.”
You laugh through the tears, nuzzling him and pressing a kiss to his temple.
Were cuddling n watching movies n you're unconsciously rubbing my thigh which is working me up. I try to ignore it because he's not doing it on purpose, it's my fault for getting so distracted. I end up shifting too much n he asks me what's wrong, and I just keep shifting on him till I'm grinding on his dick. He stops the show and asks me if I really couldn't concentrate, n this time he's full on groping between my thighs. He stops the video n opens a new tab. Tells me something like, I want to keep watching the show so I'll let you handle that problem. He makes me full up some x rated videos and do myself in his lap... N he never even fucks me. I grind on him, whine in his ear, n hide in his shoulder, but the most he does is gropes me. Eventually I come undone and he tells me how gross I am for watching what I did, and how easy if a girl I must be if I went along with it that easily. He sits me back in his laps n doesn't let me redress myself, and begins idly playing with my soaked thighs why the show resumes. Occasionally he still tells me what a naughty girl I am....
The fire is roaring and she’s absolutely smothered in blankets, but Satya is still cold.
Shivers rattle her bones, which feel like ice framed by her skin; she burrows down deeper into the blankets, sheets, and furs around her but other smothers the cold. Clenching her teeth to quash their chattering, she closes her eyes and waits for the relief she knows must eventually come. Jesse said she would feel better soon, now that they were indoors, with a fire, a bed, and...
The door opens suddenly, and she opens her eyes to see Jesse slip inside. He nudges the door closed quickly; the inn is not heated, and he wants none of the cold air in the corridor to get into the room. His gaze turns to her as soon as the door is shut.
“How’re you feeling?” he asks quietly, moving closer. As she does, she spots the two thermoses in his arms.
“Better,” she says, her voice trembling in time with her body’s shivers, “but still cold.”
“Well, I’ve got somethin’ here that’ll warm you right up,” Jesse replies with a smile.
- excerpt from in-progress Symmccree fic in my phone notes. Symmetra and McCree get caught in a snowstorm and barely manage to find shelter before Symmetra succumbs to hypothermia.
