Fermoza
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Heady. Masculine. The scent of him is unlike anything you've ever smelled before. Equal parts comfort and safety (palo santo, sun-scorched sand; tobacco and dark, aged whiskey; rotting paper—lignin, furfural—and a damp, old basement in a house you don't remember but could never forget) and fear (stagnant water, kelp: like rotting wood pulled from from the deep sea; fire, smoke; sulphur; something rotten—cadaverine, putrescine—and sweat). The sharp dichotomy is dizzying. Paralyzing.
He pulls you in closer. his breath carries the smell of the ocean: the seafloor. His mouth splits into a grin. "Don't worry, sweetheart; nothin' is gonna hurt you—"
is what he says, but what you hear is: except me.
Bookmarked by Fermoza
23 May 2026
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You've always belonged to each other even when you weren't sure what it meant.
Back when you'd shove clumsy fingers into your panties after he'd call, uttering awful, terrible, heart-aching things like been thinkin' 'bout you, pup and fuck, can't stop thinkin' 'bout you, pup.
Words meant for the ears of a lover, not you.
But the lines between the two have never been parallel, have they? Even when he was just an idea tucked inside gyri. A stranger that weaved in and out of your life: a haunting spectre on the edges of your periphery. Intangible. Each one an inchoate pin added along a growing, nebulous surface; pointillism in hindsight. The evolution of semelparity.
He's yours and that's all you've ever known. The rest just doesn't matter.OR: two people who were probably lovers in a past life end up as siblings in this one. except. it doesn't really change much.
Bookmarked by Fermoza
20 May 2026
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instinct drives him, makes him hum low in his throat when you wince again, and try to pull away. stay still, is a rumble. lemme see. but it's his training that has him checking for other injuries, following the path back to the sticky, warm source. making sure it isn't catastrophic, isn't a bullet to a temple, striking across skin like a meteor—
it's minor. cat-scratches. your skin is fever-warm, the wounds a little swollen. but you're fine. you'll be fine; it's just irritated skin. you must have annoyed the milkweeds again, or touched a plant that wasn't meant to be touched, and he opens his mouth to tell you this, mocking words nestled in the crooked curve of his teeth, but he stops short. thumb pausing, digging into something that isn't supposed to be there—)
—and then he feels that faint bump on your wrist.
Bookmarked by Fermoza
20 May 2026
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Private time on deployment is a luxury not even a captain can afford, let alone his inferiors. Inescapable company wouldn't be the worst factor of deployment if you didn't crave just a moment alone so badly; being in close proximity to Price - the man who has captured your heart and desire - when you work, eat, sleep and even shower is perpetual torment.
When you finally make it home, you have one intention: get laid and forget the last 8 months of deployment (and Price). Naturally, it's never that easy, and all your attempts end up leading right back to John.CNTAW because sex is entirely consensual but responded to with delayed enthusiasm; however under inebriation and a power-imbalance, combines to be questionably dub-con.
Bookmarked by Fermoza
14 May 2026
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Deep into the compound, König stayed on the heels of his pretty little corporal. Finding the paracord in his vest pocket, he pulled out a long spool and clutched it in his fist. He just needed time to explain. She needed to hear him out. She’d understand why he couldn’t let her be hurt. She was too precious. Too important. He’d make her see the truth, one way or another.
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Bookmarked by Fermoza
13 May 2026