#But I hope you enjoy it!

[devilander]

in teaching you will learn (chapter 1)

18+ 3k. homelander x tutor f!reader. employer and employee sexual tension. abuse of power. fingering. AO3 link.

You accepted a job proposal to work as a History tutor to Homelander's son. It suddenly turns out to be more than you had bargained for.

prompt sent by @plasticfangtastic, thank you so much! beta'ed by @flaggermuser, love you!

Ryan was a very smart child. Powerful and smart, naturally, as any of Homelander’s offspring would be. So, to sate his endless curiosity, tutors—from the best universities, Homelander would settle for nothing else—of all subjects were hired to teach whatever was needed, whatever Ryan liked.

You had never imagined yourself in this position, History tutor to the Homelander’s son. But when you received Vought’s call, and they told you the paycheck that’d come with it, you immediately agreed. A non-supe, you wondered what it’d be like to deal with such a special kid, if Homelander would disapprove of your ways and send you packing on the first day. 

Insecurities were never your thing—you had received a M.A in History and Literature, for god’s sake! This was your turf. 

But… teaching a child? Whenever you would envision your future, you always imagined yourself as a professor, strict and serious, dealing solely with adults or, at most, young adults. 

You'd rise up, though, you knew it—even if you needed to spend all of your nights, from dusk ‘till dawn, watching videos on gentle parenting, endless courses on “childhood education” and teaching young learners. You would do it, and you would do it perfectly.

On your first day, you had a whole speech prepared, something about how much of an honor it was, how excited you were, how many ideas you already had; your stomach fluttered as you looked at his clear blue eyes, beautiful nose—

Homelander barely let you start. 

“Now.” He raised his hands, effectively shutting you up. “Enough with the yada yada, ‘kay? Let's get some things straight—all of your ideas gatta be approved by me first. And Ryan.”

“I'm sure, sir, I only meant—”

“And you'll not be berating him, for whatever fucking reason. You're not the boss here. I am. And, well, if he complains about anything, anything really, you’ll be… dismissed. That understood?” He had a congenial smile on his face, though you swore his eyes shined red, if only for a second. “Take care of my son, huh?”

He patted you on the shoulder and left. You just stood there, fuming and exasperated. If there's one thing you hated with a passion was condescending men; interrupting and disregarding your words as inane silliness. 

High and mighty as he was, Homelander was cut from the same cloth as them, it seemed. If it weren’t for your student debt piling up, you’d turn around and leave. As it were, you gritted your teeth and stayed. 

After that, though, you hardly ever saw him, and when you did, he only gave you an indiscernible look and a nod. 

Fine by me, you thought bitterly, mad at yourself that he'd surely noticed your flushed cheeks and quickened breath at your first real sight of him.

Ryan was sweet though. Sharp and eager to learn whatever you presented him with, such that you moved on quickly from fifth, sixth, to a seventh-grade curriculum. 

You found a happy medium—keeping it fun and educational. And you knew, you knew, whenever you were there, Homelander was watching you. 

And he was. Of course he was. He’d had his fair share of tutors Vogelbaum would present him with. Condescending little assholes, always thinking they knew better, reporting every minor thing he did, lecturing and punishing at their pleasure. 

As if he'd let his kid suffer the same fate. 

Education was, however, important, so he hired simpering tutors—a school would not do, no place was fit for Ryan—and those who didn't know their place were quickly taken care of. 

Yet you, the third History teacher hired (the first one was such a fucking mess—snapping his neck as soon as he left Vought was not enough for having the gall to rudely reprimand his son) were doing well so far. 

Oh, he had seen how you blushed and stuttered when you two met, and he had seen how you gradually steeled your eyes at his words. 

He had also noticed the sway of your hips, your pink, heart shaped mouth, the addictive sound of your voice—your scrunched up nose as you looked at him in poorly disguised anger.

So, yes, of course, of course he was watching, for more reasons than one. 

One day, when you and Ryan were talking animatedly about the creation of the American Constitution, Homelander decided to barge in, almost knocking the door off of its hinges.

You nearly fell off your seat in surprise, for a second scared and worried, until you saw his face. He looked as happy as a kid. Well, happier than Ryan. 

“Wowza,” he said. “What party do you two have goin’ on here? I could hear you from the hallway.” 

He could hear no matter how loud you were, but you got the gist. Smiling, though miffed at the interruption, you crossed the room, and he met you halfway.

“I was showing Ryan this book. Look.” He leaned down, his face touching yours. Oh God, oh God, wrong move. “It contains all of Thomas Paine's pamphlets published during the war in its original format. We were discussing how Paine's thoughts impacted on the Constitution’s writing.”

“Very nice,” he said, still so close to you the pure heat his body radiated engulfed your senses. And your body kept betraying, and betraying, and fucking betraying you.

“Oh, I love this part.” You thanked the heavens your voice didn't quiver, and started to read out loud. “Tyranny, like hell—”

“Is not easily conquered.” Homelander completed, and you looked up, only to find him already looking at you.

His hand then rested on your arm, lingering for a few seconds too long, his eyes locking you in place. You gulped, heart thumping in your chest—

“Dad,” Ryan bemoaned. Homelander dropped his hand instantly. “This is my class. You're interrupting us!”

Homelander frowned, then almost pouted. 

“Geez, buddy, what a way to treat your old man.” He crossed his arms; you contained a giggle. His eyes glinted mischievously as he turned to you. “Can I be your student for the day? I promise to behave.” 

“I don't see why n—”

“No,” Ryan exclaimed, interrupting you. “No, no and no!” 

Though he tried, there was no convincing Ryan. He wouldn't share the time he had with you. Inwardly, you smiled at the kid’s innocent jealousy; and thanked the heavens for the save, you certainly needed it. 

Huffing and stomping his feet, Homelander left the room, but not without giving his son an annoyed glare and you a look you couldn't—wouldn't—name yet. Maybe ever. 

Weeks passed, classes going smoothly despite your warring thoughts. You were attracted to Homelander, because of course you were; lucky you. Your boss, supe, leader of the Seven. The man who had so far threatened you, talked with you, touched you… 

Fear tinged with desire, confusion with curiosity. He was equal parts charming and infuriating. Would you dare to willingly put your hand in the mouth of the tiger? 

It became routine for Homelander to participate—or interrupt—your lessons to share his own opinions, much to Ryan's chagrin. And you… you were endeared. 

“Think you could've done a better job than Theodore Roosevelt? Really?” Your disbelieving tone didn't seem to put him off, just the opposite.

“I'm certain I could.”

His playful smile and arrogant tone annoyed you. Enchanted you. 

“Well, you should try for president, then,” you joked, catching yourself turning fully towards him. “You'll beat the records of votes and rule this grand nation!”

He hummed, winking at you. “Yeah, no. Not really in my… interests right now.”

“Would you make a Shermanesque statement on that?”

Homelander laughed, shaking his head. 

“Nah, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His eyes roamed over your body. “Couldn’t have that.” 

“What’s Sherman—Shermesque,” Ryan piped in, furrowing his brows as he stumbled over the word. “What are you talking about?”

“If nominated, I will not run; If elected, I will not serve,” you spoke at the same time and giggled, giggled!, together. Stop giggling like a schoolgirl, you chastised yourself, but you couldn't help it. There was such a thrill about flirting with danger in the flesh. 

Turning to Ryan, you explained. “It’s something William Sherman said. He was a popular general during the Civil War and was being considered as the Republican candidate during presidential elections. He, however, refused!” When excited, your arms had a mind of their own, and you found yourself gesturing wildly, enthusiastically. “His words became really popular from then on, such that it's now called a Shermanesque statement, and sometimes used by politicians and the like.”

Homelander couldn’t help but stare while you talked, entranced by your passionate speech, flushed cheeks and shining eyes. You were so fucking cute, deliciously captivating—even in your pitiful stubborn act, or all the more enticing because of it. He wanted to savor each and every moment you walked about the room; wanted to catalog your breath changes, the rises of your voice, your moving lips. 

Would you be just as responsive in another, more interesting scenario?, he wondered. Maybe you would want to take charge, bossy little thing you are. Maybe he’d have to bend you just shy of breaking you only to see you beg—beg him to fuck you, to let you come on his fingers, mouth and cock. 

His filthy thoughts raged on, only interrupted when you announced your time was up. Ryan groans in disappointment and Homelander has a hard time not doing the same. He hungers for more moments with you. Alone.   

“C’mon, kiddo,” he says, noticing Ryan stalling to tidy up his books and supplies as he liked to do. “You gotta get ready for your shooting today.”

Ryan grumbles under his breath. “I hate these commercials.”

Before he can answer, you approach, tousling Ryan’s hair and leaning down to look him in the eyes. 

“Hey, sweetheart, it will be okay. Just play pretend like we talked,” you said. “And if it gets too much, I'm sure your dad will take care of it. I'll bring you a treat tomorrow, how about that?”

He should probably put you in your place for daring to presume you know shit about him and his son—as if your puny mind could understand the greater beings they were. And yet, and yet… Ryan was smiling, rushing to embrace you though his quick heartbeat betrayed how nervous he was. You hugged him back, and looked at Homelander with such sweet grin that he—fuck, he felt fucking breathless.

He wanted to kiss you. 

When Ryan left the room, you snatched your purse, seemingly wanting to leave as quickly as possible. But Homelander stood in front of the door, unmoving, his jewel-toned eyes intensely fixated on you. 

A sudden heat spread through your body, and you let out a breathy sigh. And he noticed; eyes tracking over your face and chest, like undressing you with his mind. 

Perhaps he was. He certainly could. The thought made you desperate, you needed to run. Your apartament wouldn't be enough, maybe you should catch a bus to Jersey. Or a fucking plane to—Russia, or farther—

“Want me to give you a ride?” You were so distracted you barely heard his words, much less the double entendre. 

“What?” 

He snickered. “I said—”

“No! I mean yes. I mean no!” You shook your head, dizzy. “No, sir, I wouldn't want to trouble you.”

“Ah but there's no trouble at all, it'll take a minute. I know where you live.”

“You do?” A shudder ran through you.

“Of course, you silly goose. It's in your resume.” He tapped your nose, a gesture so off-putting you snorted, suddenly aware he'd closed the distance without you noticing. “Let's go, little miss mouthy. Don't make me insist,” he declared, voice still cheerful, but you caught the edge of it, leaving no room for argument. 

“Okay, okay… But only this time!” 

Homelander simply laughed. 

Reaching the balcony, you looked down and froze. Too high, too high!, your brain screamed at you. 

“Hehe, on second thought…” You looked at him pleadingly, a weird laugh bubbling out in sheer nervousness. You gripped the banister as if your very life depended on it. 

“Ah, ah. No takesies backsies.” He wiggled his finger in your face, and, for a single moment, two, three seconds?, caressed your cheek softly. 

Before you could react, he grabbed you by the waist and took off. Panic stricken, you hid your face in his neck, dangling legs instinctively circling his hips; much like a koala, you held on to him in all ways you could—even your fingers found locks of his hair to grip mercilessly.

Through the rush of the wind, you felt, more than heard, his laugh. 

It took some seconds to catch on to the overwhelming closeness between you two—how every inch of your body was adhering to his, how you could feel the impressive strength emanating from him, how his warm breath was hitting your neck, leaving shivers in its wake. 

You could feel it all. No matter the padded suit, you felt the tension in his muscles, the upheaval in his chest as he drew you even closer and fuck you couldn't fucking help clenching your cunt and exhaling right next to his ear—

In a second, Homelander had you on the roof of your building.

You didn't want to look up, fearing what he'd throw at you, anger and indifference or lust and temptation. Both shook you to your core. 

“Wakie, wakie,” he said, breathless, a certain roughness to his tone. His hands squeezed your back with surprising care. Each second was too long, and yet not enough. 

And then you felt it, as you started to disentangle yourself from his body, his cock, hard and throbbing, poking your stomach, dangerously close to where you ached for it the most. 

You looked up. 

There was no smirk, no mocking eyes—only a stare so intense your heart skipped a beat. 

“Thank you, Homelander, for the—for the ride. I appreciate it, despite you almost giving me a heart attack at first.” You giggled, trying to dispel the mood.

“How about you thank me by inviting me in? Y’know what they say, actions speak louder than words.” 

“No, I…” you hesitated, trying to think of an excuse but your mind went blank. “No.”

Homelander cocked his head, dazzling smile turning a little unnerving. “No? Is that right?”

“How about another day? I can—”

“I didn't fucking ask for a bullshit, out-of-pity mock invite, did I? What is it, hiding some terrorists in your shithole apartment? Or mommy’s dead body?”

If it weren't for his looming over you, you'd crack a laugh—his mind certainly went places. 

“Listen—” You started again, only to be pushed until your back hit the roof's door, knocking the air out of you. 

“You listen,” he ground out, eyes a kaleidoscope of red and blue. It was painfully exhilarating. “Don’t try lying to me. I can sense you, I can fucking smell you, your pussy is soaked.” To prove his point, he removed one glove and opened up your pants; your panties were shoved aside as he squeezed two fingers inside you. You whimpered at the burn of his intrusion, but you were so wet the squelch was loud even to your ears. “You either invite me in or I'll rip your clothes off and fuck you right here. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Homelander was being nice in giving you a choice, despite the fact you were a rude tease, and a liar to boot. His fingers kept pumping in and out of you, and he found it so fucking hard not to go all the way, not to have you against this door while you moaned so, so sweetly. 

He needed you—to feel you clenching on his cock as you did now on his fingers. And you wanted him. Fuck, you were whining and opening your legs so he could finger you better, clinging onto his waist as your head rested on his shoulder. Still, you dazedly shook your head. What was the matter with you?

“Oh, please, please,” you half begged, half moaned, raspy voice driving him crazy. “We can't, I can't…”

“Give me one good fucking reason why not, huh. One.”

Instead of answering, you kissed him. He seemed surprised at first, but reciprocated in an instant. And it was all you expected it'd be, messy and passionate and hot; he consumed you, drinking in every part of you, all you had to give, and what you wouldn’t give, he would take. 

You gathered his face in your hands, wanting a little bit of tenderness in the violent chaos of you, a little bit of love—if you could.

His hand kept working on you, thumb rubbing your clit in circles and, before you ran completely out of breath, you came so hard your legs gave out. 

Perfect for Homelander to catch, hold you onto his body as you rode the waves of your pleasure—so beautiful he was enraptured. 

After a few moments, you whispered. “I can't let you in. If I do, I won't think straight, I'll just let you do anything you want to me.” 

“Is that a bad thing, sweetheart?”

“I'm… not used to this, I don't… I haven't done much of this. You never even asked me out!” You laughed. The good humor vanished as you continued. “I can't lose this job. I need it, I like it. If we do… What will even happen to me?” You cursed your own inability to talk about this, all your eloquence going to the drain when you needed to speak of something other than History. In those moments, you always felt like mimicking some speech taught to you long ago, as if talking about your own feelings was an unattainable device. 

Yet Homelander found it amusing. Apparently he'd gotten you all wrong, or at least parts of it. For all your bravado in speaking to him, in challenging him—in your fearlessness and spunk—you were inexperienced. Innocent. Shy. Wasn't that his fucking lucky day. 

“So the baby wants me to take her on a date first, that it?”

“I didn't say that.” You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “And don’t call me baby.”

“Also I boy-scout promise not to fire you if you are a bad lay, but I doubt that, baby.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, though there was no bite to it, only a timid smile on your face. “Okay, alright. This weekend?” 

“Friday. I’ll send someone to pick you up. Wear something nice for me.”

Before leaving, he kissed you deeply, hands nearly shaking with yearning. He wanted to take it all back and drag you to his bed, absconding with you for a day or two. But he’d waited this long and he could wait a bit longer—he’d savor every second and make it worth it.

As you walked down the stairs to your apartment you sighed, drunk in the haze of disbelief; there was no way you could run now. It’s clear you have a problem. What you should wish for isn’t what you want.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Daggers and Deception- Part II

Time to learn a little about the guy on the other side of the wall. Lots of absurd snz in this part.

________________

The morning sky is a sight to behold.  Rays of golden orange and the brightest pink peek through the branches of the tree-riddled horizon.  Indigo is, of course, up before the day has broken, but witnessing the splendor of the rising sun never grows old.  If only his contentious body would allow him a moment of reprieve from all of that "natural beauty."

The handkerchief is still clutched in his right hand and for good reason. His body gives little warning before he flinches into a muffled “--ihhEKSSCH!” 

He swats a thick wave of silvery blond hair from his face with the utmost lack of decorum. Must they insist upon assailing him with so little warning each and every time?

The phone in his pocket buzzes and he jerks it free, swiping the "answer" button without so much as a glance at who it might be.

"Solaris," he says.

"Ah, Indigo."  The jovial, familiar voice of his employer is a strange relief amongst all the silence.  "How are you on this fine day?"

"Spectacularly allergic," Indigo says in his brightest conversational tone.  "And you, sir?"

A chuckle from the other end of the line.  "I had no idea such things plagued you."

"Well, that makes two of us, then," Indigo says.  "Although I did sleep quite well, all things considered."

"Most excellent news."  Reginald 's voice softens just a touch.  "Do try and rest as much as you need to."

Indigo does not tell the other man that his request is akin to torture, that his concerns lie with his work and not so much with his well-being, but given the nature of Reginald’s tone, he dismisses the thought and forces his voice to remain as upbeat as he can manage.

"As you wish, sir."

"Indigo. . ."

He grits his teeth.  "Yes?"

"My son is a grown man.  He should have known better."

Willful ignorance was just as dangerous. And that was the root of the matter at hand.  One would think that a man in his twenties would at least have a modicum of common sense in these circumstances, would perhaps realize that his own idiocy reflected back to his family, but--

"Perhaps,” Indigo says.

"This was not your fault. Surely, you must know that."

Indigo swallows.  Releases a breath he didn't realize he held within the center of his chest.

"Yes, I do realize this."

"Good. I shall check in with you again in a few days.  In the meantime, do try to unwind, won't you?"

"Of course, sir."

A heavy sigh from the other end of the line.  "Indigo. We are not at a formal event.  You may dispense with all of this 'sir' nonsense."

"Understood," Indigo says. 

"Very well."  Reginald  says.  "Enjoy the sunshine and fresh air."

Indigo swipes a finger beneath his glasses and sniffles.  Hmph, indeed.  He bids Reginald goodbye and slips the phone back into his pocket.  What on Earth was one to do in a place such as this?  With nothing to edit and no impetuous youth to chase, Indigo is at a loss.

He tugs a handkerchief from his pocket just in time to smother a violent, unexpected “-EHKTSSSH!’ into its folds.  His breath quivers with a desperate catch. “EKSSCH! –ihhSSCHuh!”  A high, ridiculous hitching inhalation. . . and nothing.

Right, well clearly, that is enough "nature" for one morning.  Or perhaps an entire decade.  And to think he had considered having tea on the front porch earlier.  Not without a cocktail of antihistamines and a stack of handkerchiefs.  The canopy of trees would be best observed from the comfort of his accommodations upstairs, preferably with the window sealed shut.  

He moves to pocket the handkerchief, considers the alternative, and chooses instead to keep clutched between his fingers, an intuition that proves vital the moment he draws breath.  

“IhGKSSCH! IH’GKSSHISSH!”

 The itching, watery eyes are nearly as much of a nuisance as the constant urge to sneeze, neither of which can make up their mind about which is the greater annoyance.  

At least he can remove his glasses once he has made his way up the stairs.  His vision is decent at close range without the glasses, save the hazy discernment when the distance increases.  However, with a profession that demands clarity of both mind and eye, glasses are a dependable necessity.  

After unlocking the protesting door, he gives it a courtesy shove before it deigns to open.  Blessed silence and a lack of blooming splendor greets him and he pockets both the handkerchief and the glasses, stepping into the kitchen to procure a bit of tea in lieu of coffee.  One must learn the art of balancing one's caffeine intake with varying degrees of addiction, of course.

He ties his hair back, sets the kettle upon the stove, and sets about the task of scooping loose tea into the mesh infuser, reaching for a mug and setting it beside the stove.  From the other side of the wall, a crash sounds followed by a colorful array of expletives, some concerning particular family members and others cursing the heavens. 

Well, then.

His neighbor's voice is a rumbling growl of darkness that jumps into a booming bark and it is enough for Indigo to nearly drop the infuser before latching it.  He taps the wall with the handle of his spoon.

"Are you quite alright?"  he asks.

" . . . yeah," the voice grumbles.  "Fucking pots and pans and shit."  

A sniffle. A light cough. More clattering.

Indigo chuckles.  "Under attack, are you?"

A bit of muttering.  "Something like that."

For a moment, his neighbor is quiet. A bit sudden to stop all of that banging. 

But not for long.

“--UHCHSSSH! Huuh-ehhh. . .!”

Indigo freezes. 

Oh. How unexpectedly delightfu--

"Stop that," he hisses to himself.

“--UH’CHshu!”

Softer the time. As if it has been smothered into some manner of cloth.

“Bless you,” Indigo says, but the sentiment is most certainly lost amongst the kitchen chaos.

Cabinets slam.  The oven door springs shut.  Another curse.  Whatever the fellow next door might be attempting to do, he seems to have encountered quite the problem accomplishing it.

The kettle atop the stove begins to whistle and Indigo flicks the gas burner into the "off" position before reaching for the kettle . . . and barely managing to turn away for more allergic nonsense.

He ducks into the crook of his shoulder with a shudder of shoulders. “EKSSCH! EKSSCHuh! EhhKG–SSCHUH!”

"Excuse me," he murmurs, as if the man on the other side of the wall actually witnessed his outburst. 

Well, in a way, he had.

"Hey."  Tapping against the drywall.  "You sick or somethin'?"

"No," Indigo replies as he dabs at the corner of one eye with a napkin.  "Are you?”

A snort.  “The fuck are you talking about.” “Well, my issue is my blasted hayfever, if you must kn-iihh—EKTSCH!”

"Hmn.  You sure about that?"

Indigo sniffles indignantly.  "Of course I am.  It's simply all of this . . . " He pauses, clinking his spoon against the edge of his cup with a thoughtful tinkle of sound.  "Would you perhaps care for a bit of tea?”

Silence.  Indigo leans closer to the wall, hands upon the edges of the counter, waiting.  Well, perhaps that had been a bit too forward.  After all, precious few knew of this particular spot.  It wasn't as if people came to the unpopulated countryside to socialize with perfect strangers. Offering tea to someone through the wall was a most unusual introduction.

"Okay."

Indigo arches an eyebrow.

"Door's open."  

Just like that? Interesting.

(TBC. . . )

[motherofoompaloompas]

Star Trek TOS/AOS Slide Show

Ok so I made this power point in like 2022 and have been updating it every once in a while. I end up presenting it to someone every few months and it is one of my pride and joys. Please feel free to use it

A few notes about it:

Made to be viewed in presentation mode

You might need some background for some bits. Most of it is pretty self explanatory, but it you're thinking about showing it to someone consider flipping through and making sure you can elaborate on any details that aren't explicitly written down.

Please let me know what you think! I'd really like to know <3

[bunnyscar]

Dangerous

tw: blood

“Sam, Kye, I have a favor to ask,” Lily said one day after theater practice. They had been cleaning up the stage, putting away their props and storing them behind the stage, when she had approached the two boys.

“Would you be willing to walk home with me? I know our houses aren’t necessarily in the same direction, but…I don’t want to be out alone on the streets.”

Sam and Kye glanced at each other. “Of course. Did something happen?” Sam asked.

“Yes... I was attacked by one of those rogue vampires.”

“Attacked?” both boys exclaimed. Marissa, who was carrying a box of props off the stage, heard their outburst and hurried over. Lily explained to the three what had happened and how two boys by the names of Jeff and Alan had helped her.

“They said I should walk home with someone, even if it’s light out.”

“That’s true, there’s all kinds of criminals in this city, not just vampires,” Marissa said solemnly.

“Are you sure you won’t mind a vampire coming with you?” Kye asked slowly.

“Of course not! You’re not at all like that vampire that attacked me. I would feel so much safer with you around, Kye,” Lily said gratefully. Kye blinked in surprise, but nodded.

“I’m glad there was someone to help you,” Sam commented in relief.

“Me too. They go to a different school than ours, but they live near me. I got Jeff’s phone number, just in case another emergency comes up. They seemed really nice, even though one of them did have quite a fierce expression. He was...kinda strong, but gentle too.” Her cheeks grew slightly pink, which mystified Sam, but she said hastily, “Anyway, we need to finish cleaning up the stage!”

When they had finished up their cleaning and said goodbye to the others, Sam and Kye took Lily home, then finally headed towards their own house. “Let’s take the bus today,” Sam suggested. Their apartment was only be a couple stops away, but it was getting dark and their mother would be home soon. It couldn’t hurt to take public transportation. Kye nodded at Sam’s suggestion, and they turned from Lily’s street onto a busier road.

“Walking with Lily was nice, don’t you think?” Sam commented as they walked.

“Uh-huh,” Kye grunted in agreement. Though Kye didn’t show an outward display of happiness, Sam could see the contentedness in his eyes and the relaxed way he was walking, a stark contrast to the way he had been utterly wretched and guilt-wracked a few weeks ago. Sam smiled. Only because their friends had welcomed him back could Kye have recovered from his guilt and shame so quickly. Their kindness and Kye’s peace filled Sam with more joy than he could stand.

There was only one person who had not accepted Kye’s vampirism: Morris. Though Sarah had tried multiple times to invite Morris to go on a picnic with Sam and Kye and their friends, he had declined every single time. His angry response to her was that he was not about to be friends with a monster. To him, all vampires were monsters, whether or not he had seen them act like one.

It made Sam angry to think about how blind and mean Morris was being to vampires like Kye, who were just trying to live ordinary lives. Perhaps it was just as well that Morris had avoided them at school. Sam wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep his anger in check if they did meet.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Sam did not notice the person walking towards them until Kye abruptly stopped and said hoarsely, “M-Morris.” Sam looked up in surprise to see Morris standing in front of him on the sidewalk. Next to him was a man who looked like an adult version of Morris and a beautiful lady who was hanging onto the man’s arm.

“Sam and Kye,” Morris muttered. He glared daggers at Kye, though he didn’t say anything to the vampire.

Anger twinged in Sam’s chest at the hate dripping from Morris’ voice, and he wanted to yell at the boy that Kye was not a monster. But he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Kye was hunching his shoulders, staring miserably at the ground, and it would only make things worse if Sam lost his temper.

“How are you,” Sam said carefully, trying to keep his voice level. Morris scowled and looked like he was going to say something spiteful, but the man who had been walking next to him suddenly stepped up and held out a hand.

“Are these friends of yours, Morris?” the man said cheerfully, giving Sam and Kye a warm smile.

“We’re just classmates,” Morris said sullenly.

“My name is Sam, and this is Kye. And you are?"

“I’m Ben, Morris’ brother. Oh, and this is Lacey, my fiance,” the man said, giving the woman beside him a loving glance. The lady smiled sweetly at the two boys and laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder. She wore an expensive looking dress, though the purple scarf wrapped tightly around her neck looked rather tacky, and she had on an excessive amount of mascara. Perfume wafted off her as if she had doused herself in it, making Sam almost gag with its floral scent. Kye stiffened at the sight of her.

“So nice to meet you two. Oh, Morris, why don’t we invite your two friends to dinner? It wouldn’t be any trouble at all,” she gushed.

Morris gave the two boys another glare, but Sam spoke before he could, “Kye and I need to hurry home, our mom is expecting us. Nice to meet you though.” Grabbing Kye’s arm, he hurried away.

Once they had turned the corner onto another street, Sam let out a sigh of relief. “Well that was awkward. Ben and his fiancé seem rather nice, but I was afraid Morris was going to make a scene.”

Kye scowled. “That lady...she’s a vampire.”

Sam started. “A vampire? How do you know?”

“Vampires can sense each other’s presence. And even if she acted nice, I got a bad feeling from her. Something was off….”

Well, Sam had to agree, she did seem a bit strange. He was about to ask what Kye meant, when Kye suddenly stiffened, then turned and ran back the way they had come.

“Kye!” Sam yelled, chasing after him. Quickly, he pulled out his phone and began dialing the emergency ministry button. Kye had not chased any criminals for several weeks, not since the car accident, and dread filled Sam as he remembered it. But when he followed Kye into an alley, he realized this was not an ordinary crime.

At the end of the alley lay a body, stiff and awkward. Bending over it was a lady, wearing a tacky purple scarf, and she had her mouth on the body’s neck. Sam felt a cold hand of horror grip his body. She was Ben’s fiance. And she was drinking Ben’s blood.

“B-Ben,” a shaky voice brought Sam out of his stupor. Morris sat to one side, his horrified gaze fixated on his brother. Kye stood next to him, fists clenched and a snarl on his face.

The lady vampire looked up and grinned at the three boys. Her eyes glittered like red stones, blood staining her teeth and trickling down her chin. Her flowery perfume mixed with the stench of the blood and almost made Sam throw up.

“Oh, you two again? Well, why don’t you join my meal? You’d make a tasty addition,” she said, turning her hungry gaze to Sam. Before he could react, she lunged at him, claw-like fingers stretched out to grab his face. Sam stood frozen. I’m going to die, he thought.

An inhuman roar rent the night air and the lady crashed into a wall as Kye ran into her. He slammed fist after fist into her chest, tearing, scratching, screaming. She screamed as well, struggling in vain to get away.

For a moment, Sam could only watch in a daze as the vampire’s blood splattered the walls and the ground. Then suddenly, he shouted, “Kye! That’s enough!”

Kye halted, breathing heavily, eyes glowing with rage at the now whimpering vampire beneath him. Sam could barely stand to look at her, she had been so torn up by Kye’s claws.

“Kye,” he said, reaching out for his brother, but Kye turned to him swiftly, hand upraised as if to strike. When he saw Sam’s surprised look, however, he froze. The rage in his eyes slowly turned into horror, and as swiftly as the lady vampire had rushed at Sam, Kye leapt away, clambering up the side of a building and out of sight.

“Kye! Wait!” Sam cried. Desperately, he looked about for a way to get up the wall, but there were no footholds for a regular human like him. He turned to the alley exit. He needed to find Kye, to stop him, to calm him before he harmed himself or—Sam halted as vampire ministry agents started to arrive.

A lady wearing a tight black suit hurried over to him. “What happened?” she asked, concern on her face.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. It would do no good if he himself was riled up. As quickly as he could, he explained the situation and how Kye had run off. The lady nodded, then turned to a colleague. “Fred, I’m going to help this boy find his vampire. You can handle things here?”

Fred nodded. “Right-o, Sherise!” he said with a salute.

Sherise wrapped her arms around Sam’s chest. “If you’re afraid of heights, close your eyes,” she said, and out of her back rose large, bat-like wings. With a rush of wind, she flew upwards, high into the sky above the buildings. Sam gazed in dizzying awe at the city below him, sparkling with lights that shone from apartment buildings and from streetlamps. Cars whizzed along the streets, looking like fireflies. The buildings and streets seemed to go on forever. How was he going to find Kye in all this?

As if knowing what he was thinking, Sherise said, “Don’t worry. A vampire and their caretaker share a special bond. If one is hurting or in distress, the other will know; you should be able to sense Kye that way.”

Sam closed his eyes and took another deep breath. There was something, almost a small tug on his consciousness, pointing to his left.

“That way!” he said, pointing towards a dark alley in another part of the city. Sherise told him to hold on, then swooped towards the alley, landing softly on her feet and setting Sam down gently.

Though it was hard to see in the alley, Sam could make out a crouched figure, shaking with sobs. “Kye!” he cried and ran towards him.

Kye looked up in surprise, then scrabbled away from Sam. “S-stay away! I-I’m a monster,” he sobbed.

“No, you’re not,” Sam said and drew him into a strong hug. “It’s okay. You were angry, you were trying to protect me. You’re not a monster, Kye, it’s okay.” Kye sobbed and clung to Sam. Sherise gently touched Sam’s shoulder.

“We’d better get you two home,” she said.

Previous || Next

[missmaniac25]

SKZ and what we think they'd be the god of (plus drabbles)

Thank you to my dear friend @mybodyfails for her imput and help in deciding what they'd be the gods of. (Please remember that this is just my opinion and is completely ficticious) Total words: 2444 (It's about 200-300 per member)

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Chan – god of the ocean and of the underworld

Deep, dark, full of mystery and danger. Chan can be as calm as a puddle in a garden or as scary as the ocean at night. When he’s on earth, you’ll find him on the beach, looking in the rock pools and untangling fishlines from the seaweed. He looks like any other person but when he goes swimming, he’s gone for hours. Chan swims further and deeper than any mortal man is able. He can dive far into the open water, talking to the sea creatures that will swim right up to him even though they avoid all other divers or vessels. Sometimes he pushes the currents a certain way either for himself to just float along or if there’s the chance, to tip over a ship that’s causing havoc to the ocean.

Of course, Chan’s favourite entrance to the underworld is through an underwater cave. He claims that the transition from above ground to below ground is easier that way, but the truth is simply because he enjoys it. In the underworld, Chan is clothed in black. Those that work for him move out of his way quickly. He has business to attend to – dead souls don’t know what to do with themselves. They need instruction. They need reassurance. And Chan is there to give it to them; his voice is calming.

‘You don’t need to be afraid.’

‘Your family is alright.’

‘You’re safe.’

It gives Chan peace of mind to know that one day, when the people that he cares for on the surface move on, it’ll be him who gets to welcome them into the next phase of their existence.

Minho – god of nature and of creatures

Most people notice how cats flock to Minho like he’s a magnet. It’s no accident that they do. All animals know that they’re in good hands if he’s around, that they’ll come to no harm. Minho just likes cats because they’re almost everywhere he goes and they’re good at relying messages. That’s not to say that he doesn’t like other animals, quite the opposite. It takes a lot of self-restraint to not stop and ask birds pecking crumbs off the pavement if they’re finding enough places to build their nests. To stop and talk to the small critters that scurry down backstreets if there have been more traps laid out so that he can remove him. Minho wants to ask the fish in the fish tanks if they’re content with their lives. But alas, there is only so much time in the day and only so many times he can be reported to mortal police for acting strange in public.

If you need to find him, you’d be wise to start somewhere far from the city. Away from concrete and plastic. The clean air of the country gives Minho strength. The clear streams give him tranquillity. The earth under his feet keeps him focused.

Minho’s been known to take on the attributes of animals when the need arises. In the darkness his eyes change shape into those of an owl’s. He can hold onto walls only by his fingertips like lizards do. He can hear people coming long before they’re within eyeline. Sometimes he uses this trick to have fun with people, telling them about things they said long before they ever arrived.

But he also uses these skills to protect nature, to protect the creatures that cannot protect themselves. Should you find yourself facing down Minho, you should know that you wouldn’t walk away in one piece.

Changbin – god of battle strategy and of war

Don’t judge a book by its cover. When Changbin is around friends and other gods, there’s a smile on his face. He like to have fun and laugh. He’s the happiest person you would ever meet. Changbin is a carefree and happy person but below the surface he is a god of principles. He calculates and thinks things through thoroughly; there is never a moment when his mind is completely quiet. He can be laughing, having a grand time and suddenly he will go silent and those with him know that his mind is racing as he thinks through the situation that is plaguing him. If the cause is just, he will entertain the fight.

Changbin is a master of weapons. He can pick up a spear and throw it directly into his target without so much as a glance in its direction. Arrows always land in the bullseye regardless of which way the wind is blowing. He can use a shield in any way he feels he needs to, either to protect or to attack. Even everyday objects can become weapons in his hands. A belt can be made into a whip, or a walking stick into a sword. Changbin has no limitations on what he can use in order to win.

But along with his incredible skills, comes the need to keep those he loves safe. He knows the dangers that are out there. He knows what violence people can be capable of. Changbin will do whatever he has to do in order to shelter them from the harm of the rest of the world. Even if it means putting himself in harm’s way, which he has done before and wouldn’t hesitate to do again.

Hyunjin – god of creativity and of love

Can anything be created without love? Can love exist without creativity? Not to Hyunjin. To him the two concepts go hand in hand; you cannot have one without the other. He loves walking around art galleries, one eye on the paintings hanging on the wall and the other on the people wandering passed. He’ll stop next to someone who is observing an artwork, talk to them for a while, and when Hyunjin walks away that person feels inspired to create, to love, to live. Hyunjin sits in the auditoriums of theatres and listens to the conversations of people around him; he sees as someone’s eyes light up when they mention their favourite part of the play they’re about to watch, and he can’t help but smile at them. Hyunjin loves to walk through the park where the violinist stands just off the pathway that leads to the pond, listening to the melody that calls lovers to stop and watch for a while. And more often than not they start to sway together slowly to the music. All the while, Hyunjin stands off to the side, experiencing the world in its most beautiful state.

Most of the time, Hyunjin doesn’t like to meddle in the affairs of love between mortals but sometimes he can’t help himself. When he can see that two people are meant to be together but cannot seem to take the next step, he will intervene. His favourite way to do it is subtly. Bumping into them and making them hold each other. Making them look at each other after calling their names. And when he knows the time is right, Hyunjin will stand with his camera to his eye, his targets within frame and click the shutter closed and open again. Hyunjin will then watch as the lovers finally accept their fates and begin their journey of love and creativity together.

Han – god of weather (storms)

You can tell what kind of day it’s going to be based solely on Han’s mood when he wakes up. It’s not that Han consciously decides what the weather will be when he wakes up but it’s rather that the world around him responds to how he’s feeling.

Some signs are oblivious. On a warm day, Han is contempt. He’s going about his daily life as he always would. Occasionally clouds may drift across the sun because Han is dealing with something that requires most of his attention. But soon enough the sun will be back in view and he will have resolved whatever matter had been pressing him. A light breeze will swirl around his feet and legs when he’s flustered or shy, and a stronger wind will blow when he’s upset.

The one that seems the strangest is his calmest state – the raging storm. When Han is truly feeling peaceful, you can find him standing outside as rain slashes against him, gusts of wind fiercely tugging at his clothes, thunder echoing and lightning striking every time he smiles. He knows that the elements can’t harm him. He’s in control.

The doesn’t mean that he doesn’t sometimes temper with the weather. Han will use his powers to make his friends happy. When the rainy season has been just a little too long and Felix is looking a bit too sad for his liking, Han will push the clouds away for a day and watch as his friend basks in the warmth. When he notices Chan working too hard, he makes it snow so that they can’t go anywhere; instead, they sit and enjoy a meal together, laughing and watching the snowflakes flutter down to the earth.

There are some other perks. If he doesn’t want to, he can walk in the rain without getting wet. Drying his hair takes no time at all. Plus, he can levitate. Calling it flying would be generous but being able to lift yourself off of the floor just enough to reach the top self is very helpful.

Felix – god of healing and of the home(family)

No scrape is too small for Felix to notice. If he’s out walking, and a child fall’s and bruises their knee, Felix calmly walks over to them, helps them up with a smile and the child is immediately running again, their ailments having disappeared simply because they were near Felix. It makes a warmth radiate from his chest throughout his whole body when he’s able to help someone and he’s fairly certain that as much as he’s healing the mortals, they’re healing him too. On occasion, Felix will be hands on with treatment. Every movement is made with care; every stitch is the perfect sized and evenly spaced. But most of all, Felix likes listening to people’s ailments. Sometimes a person just needs an ear to listen and Felix knows that that can be the most helpful healing he can do when there is nothing physical to fix.

Although it’s not obvious at first, part of healing is having people around you who care about you and so Felix is also the god of hospitality, of family, of the home. He is well aware that family is not just the people who share your blood and bones, and that home is not always a building that you go to. He creates bonds between people in the hopes that they will find healing in each other. That same warmth radiates from his chest when he sees two people become more than just strangers, more than just friends. Felix feels the same way when he’s with his own friends and they feel it too. They feel welcome when they’re with him, like they were never meant to be anywhere else.

Seungmin – god of mischief

Life is too short to not have fun. At least that’s how Seungmin’s likes to think, even if he’s immortal. He can’t help it if the fun he has is at the expense of other people now, can he? With that cheeky smile he can get away with a lot of the tricks that he pulls. By simply smiling at people and they tend to forget what they were angry about. Only once Seungmin’s far away enough do they remember what happened and their anger comes back, but by then it’s someone else’s problem to deal with, not his. He’s not malicious by any means. That’s just how life is sometimes.

In terms of abilities, Seungmin doesn’t have the grandest or most flashy of skills but what he does have he uses to his strengths. He can move objects a short distance without laying a finger on them. He can make it seem like his voice is coming from somewhere he isn’t. He can even create feint illusions, which have gotten him out of a few tricky situations.

Despite his nature, Seungmin knows who to and who not to try his tricks on. Felix, IN and Han are easy targets who don’t get too frustrated with him. Chan and Hyunjin sometimes snap at him but then he leaves them alone for a while and all is well. Changbin and Minho are a no-go, not unless he wants to experience pain. But if given the chance, Seungmin will use his skills to make his friends laugh, to see them happy. He knows that he could have no one close to him with the stunts that he pulls, so to keep some people close he keeps them amused in the only way he knows how, at the expense of other people.

IN – god of the mind and of wisdom

People feel smarter when they’re with IN. They don’t necessarily become smarter but things are just a lot clearer when IN is with them. Problems that had been bothering them for ages suddenly have solutions; knowledge that they had forgotten comes back to them. It’s quite fun for IN to be with someone for a short amount of time, wait to hear the inevitable “Oh!” and then for him to leave, satisfied that they’d figured out whatever needed to be figured out. Sometimes though, people need to be told in order for them to realise. IN will sit patiently listening to what problems people are dealing with before he tells them what he believes they should do about their situation. Whether they do what he tells him or not, IN will never know. He can only hope for the best outcome.

What keeps IN coming back to the mortal realm is the way mortals think. Their minds work so differently to the gods, and differently from each other. IN enjoys not intervening, opting to watch someone solve a crossword or sudoku puzzle. He loves to watch builders and pilots and bakers and tailors. All sorts of people whose minds he can peer into and see how they work.

But IN also knows that minds can get tired, that they need rest. He often tells people to take time to relax and to let their minds have a break. Sometimes he will even ask Felix for help; together they work with people in order to make sure that their minds heal from whatever may be afflicting them. There is nothing more important to IN than a mind that is well and content.

[hansoeii]

the honda odyssey, huh?

[whiteshipnightjar]

Zoozve, my beloved

[1930sdarlin]

(Meme made by Me, @1930sdarlin )

[emberglowfox]

Keeper -- a short comic about an angel meeting a robotic lighthouse keeper that doesn't know the world has already ended. Made in about 18 hours for a 24-hour 24-page* black and white comic challenge (that I arrived late to, ha.)

*the actual submission does not include the cover, which was created after the fact for this post.

This was a really great learning experience as someone who's... never really made a completed comic. I ended up really attached to the story by the end of the project (possibly due to all-nighter deliriousness lol) and ultimately am very proud of what I made.There are some things I'd still like to change, particularly text placement, but in keeping with the spirit of the challenge I've elected to leave it as is.

[shigeoreum]

“… It flows out of you… it flows out of me too… and I can’t tell where you end… and where I begin”

lyrics from “A Given Thing” by Weyes Blood and drawing is inspired by Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss ^_^

[themadknightuniverse]

Loustat short comics - There is nothing else until the storm is over - Interview with the Vampire TV Series

text transcription under the cut ⬇️

Fake magazine illustration

Page 1 Daniel : So, tell me... Did you see Lestat again?

Page 2 Louis : When he's not on Tour, he would occasionally visits.

Page 3 Daniel : So you're what, now? Friends?

Louis : [Hello Lestat.]

Lestat : [Hello Louis.]

It would be too simple. You know us.

Louis : [ That's new. Still enjoying the glitz and glamor?]

But there is this arrangement we are both fine with.

Page 4 When two people hurt each other so deeply, what is left afterwards?

Page 5 Things like that, it seals doors once still unlocked at the time. Can time really heal everything?

[Mets moi dans mon cercueil, Louis, Louis...]

Page 6 [Stay down chéri, I don't want to fight like this. I'll stay. I'll stay, I'll never leave you ever again. I promise. I'll be happy. For you. For her. Please please please please]

Some things were flipped over to show the truth. Others, I learned to see differently. I faced my wrongs.

[I'll be anything please please please please please please. I didn't know it was a gift. I wore it like a curse. I was selfish. I wanted you to suffer. Because I was. Suffering. I came to thank you.]

Page 7 Do we love each other still? Yes. Can we live under the same roof, share the same spaces, the same bed, for an extended period of time, again? No. But this raging, all devouring passion, it is now replaced by something that can never be altered. Is this the price we had to pay to finally be equals?

Page 8 We have never been more understanding of each other. A shadow of something that could have been from the start. Friendly jokes. Bickering I will never admit enjoying. Respect. And then, the always surprising softness. So eerie after all that happened. Yet, we always welcome it.

Page 9 Daniel : [How dramatic. Not ready to live together again, yet he's all over your coffee table.]

Louis: [I didn't buy these.]

Daniel : [Sure. Will you let me know the next time he passes by?]

Louis : [Well I can't. This is his safe place. You will have to find him by yourself I'm afraid.]

Daniel : [Of course. He can't make anything easy. As if he didn't have enough safe places with his ten properties.]

Page 10 Louis: [Nice chat. Bye, Daniel.]

Lestat : [Only when I'm not on Tour, hm?]

Louis [Approximately.]

Lestat : [Thanks.]

Louis : [Did you really just say thank-]

Lestat: *kisses Louis* [...too soon?]

Page 11 Louis : Almost a century is enough waiting.

[ash-and-starlight]

sooo so happie to launch into space the art i did for this @zukkabigbang2024 for the beautiful fic

The Mercy of Magpies

written by the wonderful showstopping @ranilla-bean and betaed by the equally iconic @faux-fires. Featuring dilves, birdies, true love, war, crazy plans, dubious plastic surgery and a galaxy far, far away. Please check out the rebloggable fic post with its special cover art here (or jump directly to the fic, I can't blame you, it is That Good)

also, some extra juicy plot relevant characters pop up in later chapters and havent been included for 👀 spoiler reasons 👀 but you can already try to guess who they are who's that pokemon style <3

[dotcie]

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats  🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?  🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love 🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? 🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis 🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? 🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love 💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?  🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis 🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?  🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before 🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?  🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings 🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? 🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now 📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?  🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character 🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? 🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on ❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? 🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity 🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh  🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? 🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate 🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? 🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately  🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?  🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing 🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? 🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here ☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? 🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them 🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them 🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it 🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

[stump-not-found]

A Lifetime Served in a Little Cup

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4

---

bill, babygirl, the red flags get outta there

[buggachat]

something so fucked up about Chat Noir’s whole deal is that he is in a lot of ways Adrien playing a character. Like Adrien picked up his miraculous and was told he’d be a superhero so he was like “ok, time to act like a superhero!” and he lets himself have fun w it and play up the role and let loose and kind of just allow himself to be silly and goofy and have fun and for once in his life not care about performing Perfection™.

But. But none of the other characters KNOW THAT. So everyone just sees Chat Noir and is like “look at this guy’s ego. He’s so full of himself. Surely it’d be fair to knock him down a few pegs” without being aware of how few pegs he actually HAS. He’s like the “insecure character who overcompensates in ego” trope except he’s really not doing it unironically, he’s just having a fun LARP pretending to have self worth in his off-hours but nobody else is on the same page about it being a game and he refuses to tell them. He just dramatically pouts about it and lets them laugh and pretends like he’s not internalizing it and it is almost 3 am and my brain forced me to write this instead of sleeping I’m gonna take a melatonin

[altarofthedeep]

i want her overstimulated and straddling my strap when i’m flat on my back and she’s grinding against it and whimpering so sweetly. i tease her at how cute she is and how she’s starting to cry from how deep it is inside her. i grab her boobs and squeeze and rub her clit every so often to torture her some more. and then i don’t move as i hold her hips and help her move back and forth until she begs me so sweetly to fuck her and when i can’t resist her anymore i’ll move up into her and make her cum so hard against my strap until she collapses on my chest and and hold her tight against me as i still move inside her and whisper in her ear how well she takes me