#Eat Pray Dunk

[jmunneytumbler]

The 2024 Podcast Roundup

The 2024 Podcast Roundup

My annual podcast roundup isn’t a countdown of my favorites, but rather a reflection on some of the audio programs that made the biggest impact on me over the past trip around the Sun. Maybe you enjoyed some of these as well. Or maybe you have some of your own favorites that you’d like to recommend to me and everyone else. Podcasts are everywhere these days! If you want your own, all you have to…

[juneberrie]

COOL ࣪𖤐 EARTH-42!MILES MORALES x FEM!READER

summary miles' childhood crush comes back to new york.

word count 0.6k

warnings fem!reader, vaguely implied hispanic!reader but not really, sunshine!reader

miles groaned when his mother told him to clean his room.

"we have guests coming over, mijo," rio said. "what will they think if your room is messy?"

"i didn't know that we were eating dinner in my room," he muttered.

"i heard that," rio called. miles shuffled around his room, mostly kicking his (probably dirty) clothes under his bed and closing the closet door as the smell of his mom's cooking wafted around the house. "they're family friends, mijito. remember the l/ns? they moved away a few years ago but they're back! i think their daughter goes to your school," she added, bustling about the tiny kitchen.

miles' brain immediately started going through every girl he had ever interacted with at school, but he came up short. "que es su nombre?" he asked (what's her name?).

"oh, y/n. you two used to be so close before they left," rio answered. miles tried to remember a y/n, and he managed to drag up a memory of the two of them watching movies as their parents laughed and drank and ate at barbecues. the doorbell rang and she jumped.

"mijo, get the doo—" she started, but miles interrupted her.

"already on it, ma," he said. she smiled gratefully and disappeared into the kitchen again. he opened the door, and his brain short circuited. there, outside his apartment, stood a very, very, pretty girl. she was flanked by a man and a woman who miles assumed were her parents, but his eyes were locked on hers.

"hi!" she smiled. he prayed to literally any god that would listen that she couldn't hear his heart beating a mile a minute. "i'm y/n!"

her mother interrupted her. "oh, miles! it's been so long!" she walked in, her daughter and husband following behind her. "you're so big now!"

"yeah," miles chuckled awkwardly. he watched as y/n looked around their small apartment. "nice to, uh. see you again?" he tried. why was he suddenly being awkward? he was never awkward with girls.

she turned, a smile on her face. "yeah!! i mean, since we moved its been like," she paused and glanced at the ceiling, her fingers twitching as she mentally counted. "seven years? i think?"

"damn," miles said. "it's been forever." y/n nodded with a laugh. rio called them to the dinner table, which miles noted was set with their fancier plates. as the two families ate and reconciled, memories rushed at miles.

he remembered chasing her around her family's yard, dunking her into the community pool during the summers, grudgingly playing mermaids with her, graduating kindergarten with her, and so much more. but the memory that he remembered most vividly was the big fat crush he'd had on her.

"so," he asked, pushing his food around his plate as casually as he could. "are you guys here to stay?"

y/n's dad nodded and replied, "we're staying for good."

y/n cut in, "or at least 'till i finish high school." she had a twinkle in her eye as she said the words, and miles noticed her glance flicking down to his lips.

"cool," he said. "cool."

she smiled and it felt like they were the only two people in the world. "yeah. cool."

[respectthepetty]

GMMTV 2025 - Hot Tops and One Bottom

GMMTV offered up ONE straight show, and even though I'm salty that I didn't get Midnight Museum 2 and despite the current state of the world, I have never been happier to be alive at this exact moment that I'm living in. GMMTV really cemented that it is Disney BL, and said FUCK THEM HETEROS!

As usual, I'm listing what shows I'm most excited to see from GMMTV's annual unveiling, but in order to be fair to the other shows, I will not consider one of the shows in the rankings because I am a Jaidee fan first, and a human second:

Dare You to Death

My boys are giving me ~Murder, Manipulate, Make-Out, and MAYHEM~ so I'm already seated, sat, and sitted. I've always thought Joong should play a character who was insincere and a bit crazy, and Dunk should lean into his haughtiness (emphasis on HOT), so even though all these other shows look great, they aren't JoongDunk trying to solve a murder while trying to not murder each other, and it would be unfair of me to hold that against everyone else. I was going to take whatever I was getting from them, but THIS?! Sorry, to everyone else, but y'all never stood a chance.

#1a - Memoir of Rati

Moment of honesty - Inn and Great are fine as fuck. They are already attractive to begin with, so to put them in a historical drama, of course, I'm going to eat it up. This is a serious piece about political and social tensions which I have no doubts they will carry into getting some awards for it. I was getting worried that these two weren't going to have another show together next year, but not only did GMMTV give them one of the meatier plots, the series also has Aou and Boom in it with an amazing story as well, so this was easily my top choice.

Or at least it was my top choice until . . .

#1b - Ticket to Heaven

Religious trauma aligned with Catholicism is my special brand of queer angst, so this series already has me all the way fucked up. Fourth is such a phenomenal actor and Gemini always acts his ass off, so I know they will have me in a fetal position every single episode clutching my rosary and praying for God's mercy since I'm already in my feelings about this. The heathens in the room better read up on some biblical references because if you thought I was doing too much over a cross necklace in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo and the praying in The Warp Effect, I Saw You in My Dreams, and Marahuyo Project, block me now because that was only the tip of the religious iceberg.

#2 - Cat for Cash

Although I'm a vegetarian, I'm a Disney villain who strongly dislikes animals, yet even I was happy to see First getting advice from cats on how to make coffee and how to win over Khao. This is the FirstKhao romance we have been waiting for! It looks soft and sincere, and even though the plot involves hearing cats, First as the worst debt collector and Khao as a grieving sad boy are their most realistic characters they have ever played. The series also looks like it's going to make me cry, so thank goodness Satang showed up to make sure I would be emotional about every show GMMTV gives me next year.

#3 - That Summer

On the topic of Satang, I'm shocked that I clicked with this trailer. I was ready to write this off as a Hallmark series due to its plot about a prince with amnesia falling in love with a commoner until the trailer revealed that he doesn't have amnesia, and the commoner knows he is a prince. The trailer situated the problem will come from their class differences plus Mond is kissing a homie (in secret), and since I just asked for more series with sad wet boys on the beach, this show goes at the top for GMMTV delivering me something I didn't know I wanted but a show I definitely needed.

#4 - A Dog and a Plane

Tay and New got me by the throat in 2019 and 2024 with Dark Blue Kiss and Peaceful Property, and even when I wanted to be mad at Cherry Magic, I couldn't because these men always sell the hell out of a ship even when they shouldn't. I'm a Jaidee fan first, and a human second, but I'll throw on some polar bear and whale jammies any day to join the Polcas because Tay and New have not disappointed me once in their joint shows or individual shows. So here I am, super duper excited to see New play a GAY flight attendant (a stereotype I love to see) whose man is trying to screw Pun only for Tay to take the hush money yet still catch feelings AND FLIGHTS! Marc's there too, so it's time I was served openly gay men who are trying to join the mile-high club since it's been over a decade since I got Pedro Almodóvar's I'm So Excited.

#5 - My Romance Scammer

I support marriage equality, but I do not believe in the institution of marriage, so I'm thrilled that GMMTV decided to throw me some gay divorce the same year gay marriage was legalized! Next, I'm getting the odd ball couple of Ohm and Fluke with Fluke being a dummy who falls for the first man who is nice to him, only for Marc to think he has a great relationship with Junior, BUT IT'S ALL A SCAM! I will probably end up defending this show with my life because this is the romcom romcoN I deserve!

Side Quest - Tarot Card Series

The theme for this year's announcement was "Riding the Wave" but it should have been "Wheel of Fortune" because there were a lot of shows about destiny and changing the future, so I'm going to rank those in a quick sub-category:

1) My Magic Prophecy

This is the dynamic I want to see from Jimmy and Sea. Jimmy IS a doctor, so getting a clean-cut smarmy version of him will pair so well with muscular Sea being a jerk. I was going to make a quirky comment about how they can now see the future as a reference to Last Twilight, but I'm still salty about that show, so I'll just be happy for them and THIS show.

2) Head 2 Head

I'm excited for the Only Boo kids because I think they should've gotten the My Love Mix-Up remake since I think they do well with being complete opposites that make perfect sense being together. This is also how I found out that Surf from I Saw You in My Dream is now with GMMTV.

So although it was awkward to realize GMMTV had acquired another BL boy under my chismosa nose (am I slipping?), it's nice to see the company staying on brand as Disney BL in its attempt to capture all the Pokemon Avengers BL Boys.

3) Wu

Since I've been watching High School Frenemy through my dash, I know plenty of people will be ecstatic to see Nani and Sky play soulmates, again (because High School Fremeny is gay af!), but I'm showing up because I got the red bracelets of destiny tying the boys together!

The trailers this year were surprisingly lax on the colors, so I'm taking what I can get how I get it. Bring me the RED STRING OF FATE!

4) MU-TE-LUV

This is Club Sapan Fine with a different name so it's going to be campy and messy. But do I think GMMTV will handle fems well? No. Am I pressed about it? Also, no. Because I actually watch AND enjoy Club Sapan Fine, so if GMMTV wants to try its hand at wild wacky camp in an anthology-style series, I'm down to clown, at least for the queer episodes that is.

5) Melody of Secrets

This was originally going to be number three on my Tops List, but as the trailer continued, I got more confused. Then, Force's face blurred and it looked like he got snatched by a demon, so I got scared. Like real scared. I don't eff with los espookys, so I'll be watching this show with the lights on and my Care Bear squad to protect me.

Honorable Mentions

I watch ALL GMMTV queer shows (and even the ones that only I think are queer), so I'll still enjoy something about these shows, but they were just lacking that special razzle dazzle:

Burnout Syndrome

Director Nuchy. Gun in black lipstick. Gun being a sex worker. Off being an asshole. Thor. Poly(?). This should have been my Holy Grail, but I can't believe the show will give me a proper love conflict when OffGun are a branded pair. Also, Nuchy gave me ToddBlack, who I will NEVER be over, so even though I know she can and will give me *THE* toxic couple to root for above all other toxicitos, unless these two are about to drown each other in that bathtub and play Olympic-levels of mind games with each other, I'm reserving my excitement until it airs.

Me and Thee

A soap-opera loving mafioso. Pond in suits with slicked-back hair. Phuwin being beautiful. Santa looking delicious. Est back in his Naughty Babe assistant mode. Perth. COLORS! Just like Burnout Syndrome, on paper it looks like something I would devour, but a third of that trailer was Pond and Phuwin in a bathtub, and in my Michelle Visage voice, "stop relying on that body" even if that's the biggest reason I'll be showing up to watch.

Whale Store

Milk licked cat food off of Love's finger, and I fear this might be too lesbian for me. I don't kink shame, and I'm always down to eat a girl out go down, but cat food? Really, sis? On top of that, this felt like a JittiRain series with Love's character clearly hiding something that is going to hurt Milk's character, then the side couple was crying and making everything awkward. I support the lesbians. I support queer rights AND wrongs. I'll be repeating this even as I'm watching it.

Boys in Love

GMMTV was smart putting all the new kids in a show with Papang x Podd as the little older romance crumbs to keep us satisfied for the time being, but that's also why I'm being petty. If this is the stepping stone for Papang and Podd to be leads for GMMTV 2026, then I'll take what I can get, but I feel like Oliver Twist asking for more porridge, when I should already be getting a damn buffet!

Love You Teacher

This show almost had me in the first half. Sam's character was giving me everything. The premise was solid. Perth was an already gay man in a long-term relationship with his boyfriend. Things were going well even with the accident. Then, the show brought on the real plot --- seven-year-olds. Jesús Cristo. It was a lovely time up until then, and now, just like the cat food, I'm realizing new things about myself and my boundaries on a random Tuesday morning, and I don't like it.

Girl Rules

This is the female version of Only Friends saran wrapped in women's empowerment. No me gusta pero lo voy a ver because I support queer wrongs even when they are oh-so-very wrong.

The Love of Siam: The Musical

What. The. Fuck. But also, sign me up!

Dishonorable Mention - Only Friends 2: Dream On

I've reached new heights in my pettiness because this show is in Petty Prison before it even airs. My blog is a living record of how badly I wanted Minx Mix and Flirty Fluke in the first season of Only Friends. It was the only thing I could think about; then, I ended up hating the first season, so I counted my blessings that Minx Mix only showed up for two whole seconds and Flirty Fluke was nowhere in sight. And now this has happened. This is a lesson in "be careful what you wish for" because I have never been more upset that I finally got what I wanted. Unless the show gives Boston his cake and lets him eat it to, I'm not watching it. Not Minx Mix, Flirty Fluke, or Ohm's body could convince me to do this a second time.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Can I please request Skz x 9th member with s3lfh4rm like…the boys trying to help and all those things (you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to)

The stages of healing.

warning: eating disorder and mentions of self harm.

Pairing: Skz x 9th member

Summary: the stages are healing are hard but Chan and the boys are here for you.

!not proofread!

Hope you enjoy this bby!

-🩷

*

"Baby you have to eat something" Chan says while pushing the plate back to my side of the table.

We were currently sat in the dining room and everyone had finished eating their breakfast leaving me and chan (who had also finished eating his breakfast) alone.

"Chan I don't want too, I'm full" I complain while looking at the full plate infront of me. It was obviously untouched but i could'nt bring myself to eat it. It was taunting me.

"You only had two bites and we have training all day today, I don't want you passing out my love. You need to eat something," He says while rubbing my back. He was being gentle i cant lie there but the worryb and frustration in his voice caused me to feel more guilthy at the fact that my brain was a constant maze and battle zone when it came to eating

"Look you can atleast just eat the mashed potatoes and peas so you can give you energy. Trust me it wont be bad," He tries to reason with me but I shake my head no. I was so full and food gave me so much anxiety.

I didn't want to grow fat, I wouldn't allow it.

"Channie I don't want too, please don't make me." I beg him while fiddling with my fingers.

"Baby, I'm starting to get worried. You only have one meal a day and when you do, you barely eat. Please don't make me forcefully feed you." his voice was soft and his touch was so warm. i knew he meant well bu the contant voices in my head wouldnt allow me to do anything.

I look at him terrified, mortified because would he really? I knew Chan was stronger than me but he wouldn't pin me down just to make me eat...right?

"Okay Mashed potatoes only." I sigh looking at the plate. Trying not to cry.

"There we go Babygirl" he smiles and kisses my temple. His eyes twinkle and i couldnt help but also smile at how pretty he was.

"what?" he asks chuckling

"your just so pretty"

"ugh stop changing the subject and eat" his cheeks were now a ligh pink and his ears turned a dark red. he rolls his eyes playfully and runs his hand through his hair.

"Yo Chan," Han says coming into the room and looking over at me and Chan. He gives him "the look".

"Is she having trouble eating again?" Han asks worried and Chan nods his head.

"But it's fine she's eating her potatoes today.”

Han smiles at that and comes over to ruffle my hair.

“I’m proud of you kid.” He beams and I poke out my tongue causing him to laugh.

"Chan can you help me look for the flash drive before we leave?" Han asks,

"Yeah sure, babe eat up. I'll be back." He tells me and leaves the room with Han. I let out a sigh of relief and quickly stand up and dunk all the food into the trash can. My heart was beating because I prayed that Chan would take long looking for the Flash drive but luck wasn't on my side because he came right back into the kitchen.

"Hey-" he stops and looks up from his phone. "are you done?"

"I finished them." I said smiling, well whatever you call a plastic smile. A guilty smile.

"You finished all the mashed potatoes?" He says coming close to me. I nod trying to avoid his eye contact.

"Okay then." He simply says before walking to the trash can.

"N-no don't look in there-" I try to stop him but it's too late. He had already opened it and looked inside. He turned to look at me and he was so mad I could tell.

"Your a liar." He growls. i gulp knowing the concequences of my actions.

"i ate half of them?" i sigh and look up at him. He just shakes his head and lets out a frustrated sigh.

"i dont get it! why dont you want to eat anymore? We were doing so well,"

"is everything okay in here?" Felix's head pops up at the corner of the door.

"she just threw out all her food-"

"again? thats the 4th time this week." he frowns and makes his way into the the room.

"exactly my point,"

"i did eat chan, i ate half the potatoes-" i tug on my long sleeves sweaters and look at the both of them.

He frowns and looks down then back up, searching for my eyes.

“Can I see your wrists?” He asks looking back down at my fingers. His eyes were furrowed. Almost in like a confused way?

My eyes go wide at his request but I quickly shove them away.

“Chan they’re ugly, I don’t want you to see them.” I frown. My voice quivers. The tears that had disappeared were now reappearing.

“Chan I haven’t been cutting I promise-“

“Then let me see, I know you too well my love. Let me see.” His eyes are soft now and were reaching out for both my hands that were covered with my hoodies sleeves.

I sigh and give in. His hands are soft against mine but he pulls up the sleeves. He examines the scars that were now slowly healing. His lips in a soft smile.

“See I told you, I promised you I stopped.”

“Hey hey hey and I’m so proud of you. I just wanted to make sure because I care and love you. You’re doing a good job healing.” his hands wrap around my waist and pull me against his body.

“Ew gross get a room.” Felix says killing our moments. Chan chuckles and pushes him away.

"The cars are here everbody!" Hyunjins voice echoes through the house.

"okay this conversation isnt over yet, here take the banana and we'll talk about it after practice yeah?" he kisses my forhead and hands me the banana before we grab our bags and make our way to the car.

"go ahead eat it, im watching you." chan raises one eyebrow while staring at me. "She still isnt eating?" Leeknow asks after listening to our conversation.

"i am! chans just being a overprotective," i sigh and peel the banana.

"i am not!" he defends himself and i let out a giggle while slowly starting to chew the banana and finishing it. "see i told you," i poke my tongue out at him and he let out a little laugh.

"okay whatever but your still having lunch with me." i mentally sigh dreading the feeling of the banana sitting in my stomach.

i play with chans's silver braclet as we wait to arrive at the jyp building. It didnt take long. It was just a 15 minute ride once we arrived. we all make our way up the building to our normal dance room and set everything up.

"lets start with stretching and then get to God's menu, yeah?" we all groan as we get to our places and minho plays the song.

*

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

in which buggy doesn’t sleep well, missed breakfast food so much in prison, tells tall tales, and schedules a—not a date. a… day to catch up with an old… person. shanks. whatever.

the next part to this story, which is a follow-up to this one, which was itself a second take at—actually, here’s a tag for all of the near miss stories & related talk, go there if you want the context. (i’ve linked to the chronological order sorting of the tag, so you should see the “thinking about near misses in east blue” post first.)

Buggy was still mad at Galdino hours later, when he got fed up with his feet being tripped over in the dark and the rest of him (sitting up in the rigging, sulking hiding just sitting) had gotten cold.  But given the very limited space on the Red Force, it was either bunk with someone or sleep on the deck, and Buggy was not about to do that.  The men—ugh, now Galdino had him doing it!—were way too excited about following Buggy’s every move, he shuddered to think what they might do at night.  Assuming he could even get to sleep with all of them hovering like that.

So if he was bunking with someone, there was really only the one option: the only other guest on this ship who’d treated him like a human being.

But he wasn’t happy about it.

Galdino paid him no mind, using a borrowed mirror to inspect himself as he prepared for bed, applying a thin layer of wax along the edge of his hairline.  When he was done with the mirror, he silently held it up so Buggy could look himself over.  He used pretty long-lasting makeup, the better to survive bloody fistfights and brackish ocean spray—and some of it had even survived the sterilizing baths they dunked you in when you arrived at Impel Down!  Buggy would write to the brand, to tell them to use that fact in their advertising, but that degree of longevity probably wasn’t a huge selling point now that Ivankov and his ilk had escaped the prison.

Anyway, nothing had happened today that could really mess it up.  His face was fine.

…it could use a touch-up, though.  Just to solidify the linework on the crossbones, make the edge of his lip really crisp.  Buggy touched the corner of his lip, considering, and very much against his will recalled how it had felt for someone else to touch that part of his face.

It had been a long time.

Not so long that Shanks’ hand was the first to touch him since Shanks, mind you.  But a long time all the same.

He scowled, and threw himself into bed.  Touching up his makeup—and who, exactly, would he be doing that for?!  That kind of thinking could wait until morning.  When, hopefully, he would have recovered his sanity in full.

As he was drifting off, Buggy heard Galdino roll over and say, softly, “You may think of that guy as some dope you used to sail with, but fact is he’s an Emperor.  One who’s taken an interest in you.  I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“And who asked you to do that?” Buggy muttered into his pillow.

“No one,” Galdino acknowledged.  “But if I’m hitching my wagon to yours—and it sure looks like that’s what’s happening here—I want to make sure we aren’t about to ride off a cliff.”

With that grim visual in his head, Buggy sunk into an uneasy sleep.

The next day dawned warm and bright.  Buggy had thoughtlessly picked a bed that sat under the one small window in the room, right where an early morning sunbeam would shine in his face.  He groaned a protest, but unfortunately, once up he was up.  Leaving Galdino to sleep his fill, he stretched, grumbled, and made himself presentable.

(This did not involve touching up his makeup in any way.)

A handful of Red-Haired Pirates were also up and about, though Buggy couldn’t tell how many were early risers and how many had been on watch overnight.  A few nodded at him with the bleary eyes of hungover men.  Uneasy at the acknowledgement, however small, Buggy ducked into the mess, praying that there would be something hot to eat at this hour.

Prayers were answered in the form of the ever-grinning Lucky Roux, who was setting out large pans of a few types of porridge under warming lamps, with toppings (both savory and sweet) laid out in small bowls.  Buggy opted for oats with some dried fruit and syrup on top, something that would fill him up and leave a sweet aftertaste.  Though he might go back for the rice porridge later if he could get a soft-boiled egg to go with it… oh, eggs.  He’d missed eggs.

There were also two steaming pots of liquid sitting to one side, one a tisane that smelled oddly familiar—after a moment, Buggy remembered the hangover cure Rayleigh had sworn by, and had to bite back a nauseous stab of nostalgia.  He went for the other, not caring what it was so long as it was hot.  It turned out to be awfully bitter, so he stole a bit of the porridge syrup to sweeten it.

Loaded down with food and drink, Buggy set himself up next to the kitchen, facing the rest of the mess.  No one would be able to sneak up on him but Roux, and the day a man that size could—

“Any special requests?”

Biting back a shriek, Buggy spun to see Roux poking his head through a small window between the kitchen and mess.  “I’m no short-order cook,” he said with a grin, “but this early I’m happy to make people what they want, so long as I have the ingredients on hand.”

What Buggy really wanted was a hot dog.  Fuck, he missed bread.  And meat.  But he didn’t want a cheffy take on it, he wanted the greasy sausage and halfway stale bun you got when you bought a hot dog at a boardwalk.  Since that wasn't likely to happen… “Over-easy eggs and toast?  Oh, and ham, or bacon, whatever meat you’ve got.”

“That, I can do.”

Buggy dug into his oats, watching other men slowly creep into the mess in varying states of wakefulness and dress.  The most tired looking came straight to the kitchen, where Roux already had plates waiting—the night watch men, then, being rewarded for that unpleasant duty.  That was smart, Buggy thought, reluctant but firm in his admiration.  If he ever got a really top-tier chef in his crew, that’d be the way to get people to do the worst chores: give them good food after.

“Building Snake says we're making landfall this afternoon?” one of the night watch guys said to another.  Buggy tried to lean in without making it obvious that he was eavesdropping.  “Seriously, that soon?”

“We need to resupply if we're gonna keep housing these guys for much longer,” the other replied, glancing over at a cluster of Whitebeard Pirates around one table, Marco’s distinctive tuft of fiery orange hair poking out of the center.  “We buy goods today, give all of them shore leave so they aren't in the way while we load up tomorrow, and if the winds favor us we offload the clown and his troupe the next day.”

Buggy twitched.  What now?

“Oh, did Rockstar find the Buggy Pirates already?” Roux asked, handing the pair of men their plates.  “When’s he gonna learn he doesn't have to work so hard to impress us?”  The three of them shared a laugh over this overachiever who’d apparently found Buggy’s ship in under a day. (The hell were they doing so close to the Calm Belt?) Leaning down to hand Buggy his requested dish, Roux said, “Only three days from your crew!  That must be a relief, huh?”

Ignoring the startled looks on the night watch pair’s faces as they ran off—yes, Buggy had been here the whole time, so good of you to finally notice—Buggy grabbed the plate and breathed in deeply.  Eggs soft as silk, bacon just the far side of well-done, toast triangles gleaming with butter… god damn, but it was worth being awake at this hour to get quality food.  “It’ll be nice to be home,” he said around a mouthful, “but I’ll miss this.”

Roux burst into big, booming laughter.  “You guys!  Always so appreciative of good food.  I’d expected to rate higher than prison fare, but I’m flattered to hear I’m also better than your usual!”

In the middle of stabbing the yolks of his eggs with a sharp corner of toast , Buggy squinted suspiciously up at Roux.  “What do you mean by ‘you guys?’”

“I mean Roger Pirates, of course!”

Buggy blinked.

“Shanks is always happy to eat whatever, but he can’t hide how much happier he is when I make his favorites.  And that Silvers Rayleigh…” Roux shook his head.

Buggy nearly choked on an egg.  “You’ve met Rayleigh?!”

“Oh sure, about ten years back?  We’d barely been on the Grand Line six months, just hit Sabaody and were debating whether to move forward to the New World or stay in Paradise a little longer, and suddenly Shanks was running off to talk to this old man.  Of course I had to feed him, if just to prove to the guy that I deserved my job.  He really—”  Roux sniffed the air, spun around and yelped, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

So that was how they had Rayleigh’s hangover cure on this ship.  “Sabaody, huh…?”  Buggy wouldn't have thought he’d end up there, with how often world nobles visited the place.  Did Rayleigh have a death wish?  Or was he just old enough at this point to escape notice?  Buggy snorted.  Lucky him.

A storm of feet came thundering from out on the deck, drawing the attention of most of the room—until the mess door flung open to reveal a cluster of men in ragged Impel Down uniforms.  They spotted Buggy and cried out, “Captain Buggy!  There you are!”

This got eye rolls and looks of annoyance all around, which Buggy almost wanted to join in on.  Seriously, did these guys need their hands held on the way to the bathroom too?

“Here I am,” he said dryly, sipping at his drink.  “Don’t you people remember what mealtimes are?  Where else would I be at this hour?”  Ignoring their responses (“Of course!  Captain Buggy’s so smart!” “So logical!”), he edged a little closer to the wall, having a feeling he was about to get crushed.

The men did flock to his side the second they were able—attempting to offer choice bits of food to him, like he didn’t clearly already have something better on his plate—but their devotion was thankfully balanced by respect, and they didn’t sit so close he couldn’t breathe.

They were still totally incapable of keeping their mouths shut, though.

“Captain Buggy, will you tell us of another of your adventures?”

Buggy bit back a grimace as pirates less enamored with him gave his group a dirty look. Yeah, he wouldn’t want to be in tight quarters with them either, if he were hungover and not a Buggy fan. But how could he ignore their request? “Sure! Anything for you guys!”  What stories hadn’t he told yet…?  “Have I told you the story of… how my crew acquired our fiercest member, Richie the Lion?”

“A lion?!”  “No, Captain Buggy!”

“Alright, then.  It all started when my brave crew was exploring a jungle island, years ago…” The actual story of how they’d gotten Richie was nothing special—it was really the story of how he’d met Mohji, a mistreated performer in an East Blue circus where Buggy had hidden out until the first time someone mentioned his nose, at which point he wrecked the place.  But who here would know if he adapted the story of a day he’d spent on a jungle island with Captain Roger and Shanks? (…besides the obvious person, of course.) So he wove a tale of cleverness and might, of Captain Buggy spotting a dangerous beast that had a crying child trapped up in a tree and tricking it into pursuing him instead, only for the lion to be instantly tamed by his sheer power… and of course, Buggy being richly rewarded for the rescue.

“And that’s why we named him Richie,” Buggy concluded.  “After the riches and fortune he brought me that day.”

“How touching!”  “How bold!”  “How amazing!”

How exhausting.  “Now,” Buggy said, mopping up a smear of egg yolk with his last corner of toast, “are you satisfied for the moment, or do you need another—” Glancing up, he nearly choked on his bite.  Shanks was standing in the midst of the men, sipping from a steaming hot mug and watching Buggy with an amused smile on his face.  That fucker definitely remembered being stuck up a tree with a lion clawing at their feet.  “Shanks!  W-what do you want?”

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he said, glancing down at the man sitting across the table from Buggy.  It seemed the men had been so captivated by Buggy’s storytelling that they hadn’t noticed Shanks either; now that they had, they quickly moved to accommodate him.  Taking the suddenly empty seat, he set down his mug—Buggy’s nose wrinkled up, it was the hangover tisane—and leaned his chin on his fist.  “If you’re taking requests, how about when we first met Oden?  That’s a good story.”

“I—that—” Like hell Shanks just wanted a story.

Lucky Roux got Buggy’s attention, and held out a plate clearly meant for Shanks; it was the same kind of breakfast he’d favored as a child, down to the diced tomatoes perched atop the eggs—originally a deterrent to keep Buggy from stealing his food, at some point it had become a highlight of the dish for Shanks, the freak.

…maybe he did just want a story.  For all that he was an Emperor now, Shanks didn’t seem to have changed much as a person.  Buggy passed the plate along to Shanks, and tried to relax. “That is a good one.”

Turning to the men watching this exchange wide-eyed, Buggy barked out, “Now, who among you swabs recognizes the name of Kozuki Oden, once heir to the shogunate of Wano?!”  This got a couple of looks of recognition, but mostly confusion—except for, from the far side of the room, a few angry grumbles.  Buggy laughed.  “Don’t tell me the Whitebeards still hold a grudge?  Just because our crews fought for three days, and Oden chose to come with us in the end?”

This garnered a far more impressed reaction from the ex-prisoner crowd, and some narrow-eyed looks from the Whitebeards.  Oh, they definitely still held a grudge.  But Shanks was smiling ever so slightly, and that was enough to make Buggy smirk and say, “Well, feel free to offer corrections if you think I’m telling the story wrong.”

And then he told the most overblown, exaggerated version of events he possibly could.

Some of the Whitebeard Pirates threw out corrections—and insults against Buggy’s memory and honesty—but Buggy gave as good as he got, Shanks occasionally chimed in with falsely innocuous comments like “that’s not how I remember it” to their corrections, and the story was all the better for the pushback.  That was the thing with lying: the larger lie sounded more believable when someone objected to small details, because your audience assumed that everything that hadn’t been corrected must be true.

For all the insults and slander tossed around about dead men, the mood in the room was significantly lighter by the time Buggy finished the story.  Most of the Red-Haired Pirates had left, their duties for the morning calling, but the former prisoners and Whitebeard Pirates lingered to hear Buggy out until the end, with Oden and his family sailing off on the Oro Jackson, Whitebeard’s men calling out fond farewells and complaints at his disloyalty in equal measure.

Even Marco the Phoenix was convinced to speak up at that point, saying, “Pops never forgave Roger for that, yoi,” with a slight, sad smile.

“For stealing Oden?” Buggy snorted a laugh.  “If you wanted him to stick around, you should’ve gone to the last island yourselves!  That man wanted adventure, and we were going on the greatest one imaginable.”

Marco protested—Oden had been like family to Whitebeard, didn’t that mean something?—and with the story complete and the breakfast hour long passed, the crowd began to disperse. (They’d learned yesterday that people who lingered in the mess tended to get roped into dishwashing duty, whether they were crew aboard the Red Force or not.) A couple people still remained: Shanks, who’d spent so much time egging on the Whitebeards that he’d scarcely touched his food; Marco, going back for a third or fourth cup of the not-tisane; and a few especially devoted ex-prisoners, staring starry-eyed at Buggy.

“The last island…” One of them breathed.  “Captain Buggy, what’s it like?”

Buggy blinked.  “Laugh Tale?”  He glanced at Shanks, who was watching him with a perfectly neutral expression, then down at the bitter dregs left in his cup.  What to say? Buggy flushed.  He wouldn’t—couldn’t—lie about this.  “I, uh, I don’t know.”

“What?!”

“We didn’t go,” Shanks said, getting a grateful look from Buggy and surprise from the rest of the room.  “Buggy got sick, and I stayed behind to look after him.”  This won Shanks some undeserved admiration from Buggy’s fans—what a sacrifice he’d made, and for Captain Buggy’s sake!  Yeah, right.

…well.

Well.

What other reason could he have had, to stay behind?

Galdino’s (terrible, awful) words from yesterday popped up in Buggy’s head.  Gah, surely not that!  Surely he hadn’t—not back then.  Surely he didn’t now, for that matter!  Buggy grimaced.  It wasn’t like he could just ask, not around all these people.

Not around them.  But maybe…

“Shanks, I—”

“Listen, Buggy…”

They blinked, dumbfounded.  After a moment’s silence, Shanks gestured for Buggy to go ahead.

Buggy scratched at an itch along his jawline.  It would be nice to be back on the Big Top, where he could get something like a clean shave again.  But before that… if he could just get the question out.  He gritted his teeth.  Why was asking for things so hard?  “Yesterday, you said you’d like to sit down and catch up if you weren’t so busy. If you really meant that… I hear tomorrow’s gonna be a shore day, at least for people who don’t have a real role on your ship, so I was thinking…” Buggy shrugged.  “I dunno.  Maybe we could do that? Can you spare an hour for me?”

“Yeah!”  Shanks grinned, so wide and bright Buggy could hardly bear to look at it.  “Yeah, I’d love that.  But forget an hour, I can give you the whole day.”  When Buggy frowned, puzzled, Shanks explained, “I was about to ask you to spend time with me.”

Buggy laughed under his breath.  “Figures.” All those nerves for nothing!  If he’d just kept his mouth shut a few seconds longer, Shanks would’ve asked, and then Buggy could’ve looked like he was doing him a favor by giving him exactly what Buggy wanted. Oh, well.  Turning to the men hovering behind him, Buggy snapped, “You hear that?!  You boys are gonna have to find something else to do tomorrow, I’m gonna be too busy to hang around telling you stories of my greatness!”

“Yessir, Captain Buggy!” (“Wow!  An elite captain-to-captain meeting!”)

“And if any of you dare to follow or interrupt us, you’ll live to regret it!  Spread the word!”

The men disappeared obediently.  Buggy let himself bask for a moment—god, but it was nice to be listened to.  Even if they did take it to extremes.  And even if they only did it because they thought Buggy was a pirate on Captain Roger’s level, and not just a kid the guy had taken a liking to.  And even if… with a little sigh, Buggy turned back around.  Gathering up his dishes—even if he managed to avoid dishwashing duty today, clearing his place was the least he could do—Buggy glanced up at Shanks and froze at the look on his face.  That fond little smile… heat rushed to Buggy’s cheeks, and he groaned, shoving a hand in Shanks’ face.

“Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?” Shanks laughed, pushing Buggy’s hand out of the way, still looking at him like…

“Like—” Buggy remembered Galdino’s words and violently shoved the memory down.  He remembered a similar look on Shanks’ face, years ago, and violently shoved that memory down too.  Getting to his feet, he floated his stack of plates through the kitchen window and bolted.  “Just don’t!”

But even as he left, he knew Shanks’ expression hadn’t changed.  He was still looking at Buggy like he liked him.

And Buggy had just agreed to spend the day with him tomorrow.

What had he been thinking?

[g0lightly]

tinfoil-encrusted brienne/sansa "foreshadowing" that makes me feral

so i love the blog @jonsaforeshadowing bc i think it's such a fun look at shipper goggles in this fandom regardless of your thoughts on that particular ship. while i do not ship j*nsa i think it's healthy to remember how absurd shipping in asoiaf is even if (especially if?) you are a shipper! largely bc like... what do we even think of as endgame in this series? being married? we know not everyone who marries in a feudal system even likes the person they're married to. also... pretty much anyone could die! and so many characters are thematically linked in significant ways that aren't necessarily romantic! so i think there's a ceiling on how sure anyone can be of any ship being endgame. especially since we may never get another main series book lmfao! so just want to be clear that i'm not coming at this from an angle of knowing better than people who prefer other ships, we are all equally right and wrong unless/until the series is completed IMO.

in that spirit i wanted to post my own niche shipper theories in wildly varying degrees of seriousness about brienne/sansa because i believe in gay ships' right to be as delusional as straight ships. mostly for fun but i'd being lying if i said i don't hope you read this and think "oh i never thought of them together but this eats! i should start shipping the one true pairing briensa and also read tumblr user g0lightly's post-canon fanfic mostly about them on AO3 🤔" while they’re my otp, I want to be clear that I only ship them as adults.

starting strong with the dumbest one: brienne's ancestor dunk has a romance with rohanne webber, a redheaded woman who has had several husbands/betrotheds die on her and eventually marries a lannister like sansa. i know ppl say this is about jaime bc rohanne is his great-grandmother but in the spirit of getting silly with "foreshadowing" jaime is now a sansa stand-in for the purposes of this post 🙂‍↕️

in AGOT sansa i, sansa says that joffrey is "so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants..." as ned later points out, joffrey is nothing like the knights of the songs sansa dreams of. littlefinger's sigil is a giant. serwyn is one letter off from selwyn, brienne's father's name. perhaps brienne will help sansa get away from littlefinger.

mirroring (ha) the above point, in AFFC brienne vii, randyll tarly gives a whole speech to brienne about how he thinks her father would rather have a living daughter than a "shattered shield." while i think the shattered shield imagery in this text (also in F&B when jaehaerys has saera's lover executed and in ACOK sansa vi when cersei talks about highborn ladies' "golden shield" against SA) represents a "ruined" woman, i think the imagery is also evocative of a mirror shield.

in AGOT sansa vi, sansa reads about aemon the dragonknight, florian and jonquil, lady shella and her rainbow knight. sansa is related to lady shella whent and in ACOK brienne becomes a rainbow knight for renly's kingsguard. i can see brienne mirroring aemon the dragonknight in the sense that she and sansa would have a forbidden love like aemon and naerys but for different reasons.

in ACOK sansa ii, sansa prays for a true knight and a friend to champion her. of course, she gets dontos as her "florian" instead and learns that life is not a song. later in catelyn ii, catelyn meets brienne who later swears herself to bringing sansa to safety. catelyn notes her similarities to sansa. brienne is also connected to jonquil through her maidenpool chapters; does this mean sansa will end up with a jonquil rather than a florian? perhaps a jonquil darke type? idk but i want to believe!

also in ACOK, both brienne and sansa hang onto bloody kingsguard cloaks that were technicaly supposed to belong to barristan selmy. i have written about this in far greater detail here and here.

jaime is a sansa stand-in because they are both maiden-coded and called kingslayers (this is a deeply unserious point btw)

speaking of jaime, his attraction to brienne mirrors sansa's possible attraction to mya. both sansa and jaime are conventionally attractive characters used to being praised for conforming to their gender roles reckoning with the beauty of a gender-nonconforming woman when they have come to understand their own beauty through a conventional framework. i have also written about this in greater detail.

both sansa and brienne are paired up with a lannister twin who holds the gendered societal role they aspire to (queen and knight of the kingsguard, respectively). their respective lannister twins show them the dark reality of those roles while brienne and sansa fight to remain hopeful.

famous lesbian rhaena targaryen was too gay with larissa velaryon so larissa got shipped off to marry the second son of tarth. she also had a favorite from the vale named alayne royce. she also had a red-haired, mail-wearing favorite named melony piper - kind of like an inverse of brienne and sansa visually. her true love, elissa farman, was from fair isle which is kind of like the west coast version of tarth; they also had the same age difference as brienne and sansa. rhaena was the eldest sister, like sansa, and dealt with a lot of loss in her life due in no small part to the strength of her claim making her a sought-after bride. i am aware this proves nothing but i do seriously think rhaena is the in-universe historic figure sansa is most like. gay sansa confirmed!!!!!!!! (jk... unless...)

and finally, i present what is either my most tinfoil hat theory or my oh-shit-i-cracked-the-code theory: brienne is foreshadowed to be the next bearer of the hound's helm so when GRRM said there's "something there" with sansa and the hound, he was actually talking about brienne and sansa :) if you enjoy the idea of sansa finding love and beauty in a brave, gentle, strong protector figure with low self-esteem whose face is covered in scars but you also (very reasonably!) hate the idea of her ending up with a man who held her at knifepoint and tried to SA her when she was a child, may i suggest hound!brienne x sansa? again, on an age appropriate timeline!

and if you're curious what i mean by hound!brienne foreshadowing and shattered shield references, i've included my running list of quotes, an analysis of those quotes, and a conclusion below the cut bc this post is long! TW for canon-typical references to sexual violence.

i think the references to brienne being "the hound with teats" and later references to the hound cutting off women's teats may connect to pretty meris, a sellsword with the windblown who is theorized to represent what GRRM had planned for brienne after the five year skip. quentyn notes that it's said that men cut meris' breasts off. if this hardened sellsword is some version of GRRM's original five year gap plan for brienne, who's to say that she won't be the hound instead of a sellsword in the forthcoming books? but that's assuming we'll get more books lmao.

the threat of SA is uncomfortably present in brienne's AFFC chapters. whether or not brienne experiences the types of gendered violence mentioned above, i think that the hound's helm would provide brienne with safety from that threat of SA on the road. for male characters, on the other hand, it may just draw more attention from people who wish to kill the hound for (mostly) rorge's crimes. there is a lot of talk across the books and across POVs about the hound being dead. you get tyrion describing him as dead after the blackwater when we know that's not true, septon meribald (which kinda sounds like meris now that i think of it 🤔) tells brienne that he is dead, jaime talks a lot with the freys and lannisters about killing the hound. there's also a lot of talk about the hound killing other people, namely brienne and sansa.

since it's all but confirmed that sandor clegane is now the gravedigger on the quiet isle rather than the hound, i think that "death" in the context of the hound is about letting your old self die so that the new you may be born. brienne needs to let her rigid ideals about what it means to be a knight die and sansa needs to let her rigid ideals about what it means to be a lady die. i think that lady's death at least partly symbolizes the fact that sansa can be a perfect lady and still face dire consequences through no fault of her own. and for brienne, she will most likely learn through lady stoneheart that not all oaths can be kept.

some people take the below quote as romantic foreshadowing for sansa and sandor. i take it to mean that to sansa, sandor and his cloak represent the opportunity she had to escape the life of a dutiful lady in a castle. perhaps brienne will wear the hound's helm when she rescues sansa, and sansa will give her the hound's cloak -- brienne's very own kingsguard cloak -- to complete the "uniform" of the hound.

i also want to offer my debunk to the idea that sansa keeping sandor's cloak is marriage imagery. sandor does not give his cloak to sansa, he does not put it over her shoulders as is done in a wedding ceremony. he leaves it on the ground because he does not want to be a member of the kingsguard anymore. sansa chooses to wrap herself in the kingsguard cloak. to me, this signifies her growing disillusionment in the systems set up to keep her safe and the autonomy she has to leave that system. perhaps she will be brave enough to ask brienne to take her away from the eyrie (or wherever she ends up) when they meet (again, assuming we get more books lmao).

i think it's relevant that sandor's place in the kingsguard - and by extension, the cloak as a symbol - had originally belonged to barristan selmy. i did a thread on this in relation to true knighthood and brienne if you're interested in reading more. sansa has a heroic deed in common with barristan selmy that also involves the hound in ACOK: like barristan, she saved dontos hollard from execution by a cruel king that she was sworn to. sansa was sworn to joffrey as his betrothed and barristan was sworn to aerys as a member of his kingsguard. i'm not even anti-sandor, i just don't think that his redemption arc needs to or should include the girl he held at knifepoint falling in romantic love with him.

to conclude with my point about characters having deep ties within the text not necessarily equaling romantic foreshadowing, i want to acknowledge that i don't think brienne and sansa need to have a romantic relationship for these textual connections to be meaningful. one way another i think these two are meant to be important to one another's stories. however i think that putting these two together romantically would be a beautiful way to tie together some key themes (gender, true knighthood, romanticism, idealism) and set up some really interesting character development.

however the romantic in me loves the idea of the aemon the dragonknight figure in sansa's life being a woman, specifically brienne who has sworn to defend her without even knowing her. they're both women, so there's nothing for brienne to gain from sansa's claim and nothing for sansa to gain from brienne's claim. brienne is the gentle, brave, and strong person ned wanted for sansa and catelyn sent her in sansa's direction and i think that's beautiful okay :')

[apilgrimpassingby]

Faeries For My British Folklore Setting

So, I've been talking about faeries in my setting based on British folklore with @rachelillustrates over DM; since I was already sending a bunch of DMs, I've decided to make this post for the next bunch - trows, water faeries and sea faeries.

Trows

Trows are native (and exclusive) to the Hjaltyar Isles (the setting's version of the Orkneys and Shetlands). They look like knee-high people with long matted black hair, flat pale faces, lumpen flat feet and crooked feet, clad in tattered dark grey robes. They, like elves, live inside barrows and mounds accessible only by magic, which are sunk in perpetual twilight and have hoards of gold and silver, which the trows love. Their other great love is music, and they both play beautiful music and lure skilled human musicians into their barrows for a year to play music; at the end, they are paid in silver or gold. They take revenge against people who damage their barrows by firing stone arrows at these people or their cattle, which create hairless painful lumps that do not bleed and can only be cured by rubbing holy water against the lump.

Trows are ruled by king trows, giant trows (six feet tall) who die after giving birth; hence, they procrastinate marriage as long as possible, and are exiled if they do not marry (exiled ones live in caves and ruins, living by praying on livestock and attacking people - these are trolls). They rarely surface from their mounds, because they turn to stone in sunlight, but they are active in the week before and the week after midwinter, during which time people hang horseshoes and other iron objects over their doorways and byres to ward them off. Since trows live exclusively on the Hjaltyar Isles, they do not attend the pixie market.

Water Faeries

Grindylows/Greenteeth

The two are respectively the male and female terms for the same creature; a water-dwelling humanoid with green skin and fangs, gills, webbed and clawed fingers and toes and extremely long arms. The distinctive features of male ones is a pair of horns, and the distinctive feature of female ones is a mane of waterweed that looks like hair. They survive off of dragging beings into the water in order to devour them; the more conscientious of them eat only animals, while the less conscientious happily devour humans. As such, lakes and rivers known to have one dwelling in them are shunned by the local humans.

They are extremely long-lived, surviving for centuries, and at the end of the lifecycle they exit the lake or pool they live in for the nearest river, find a mate and give birth to a youngling. They then rear the child to an adult and die shortly after.

Water Horses

Water horses are faeries who shapeshift between two forms - firstly, a beautiful white horse with an ornamented saddle and bridle, and secondly, a rough-looking young human with long hair, with both forms having strands of waterweed tangled into their hair (leading to one of their regional monikers, kelpies). This information is useful to know, because they are fond of luring humans down to the water (either by enticing people to ride them as a horse or flirt with them as a human), dragging them into it (helped by the fact that, once you have touched a water horse, it is impossible to let go unless it dies or you cut off the hand that did the touching) and revealing their third, true form - a humanoid covered in a hideous mix of green scales and waterweed with flippers ending in claws, black eyes and a gaping mouth full of fangs. Having done so, they devour their victims and let the entrails float to the surface. There are some who simply dunk people in the water, laugh and run off, but this should not be counted on.

In addition to this behaviour, they often surface during storms, and can be heard howling in joy as the wind screams and thunder growls. Fortunately, iron (particularly horseshoes) wards them off.

Sea Faeries

Mermaids

Mermaids look like beautiful human women with blond hair, silvery fish tails and gills; mermen look much the same, but rarely surface and thus are much less noted by humans. The chief characteristic is their love of beautiful things; their cities beneath the sea are full of gold and gems from sunken ships, and they embalm and decorate with gems the bodies of the drowned as part of a magical ritual to prevent their souls becoming will-o'-the-wisps (which, in this world, is the fate of the souls of the drowned). This is also the reason mermaids are feared - their love of beauty means that they often use their ability to conjure storms, so as to sink and obtain the cargoes of ships carrying the precious stones and metals they love. Fortunately for sailors, prows in the shape of mermaids help ward them off (although this is not infallible). They are exceptionally talented singers, and so people often watch them in the harbour, sitting on rocks after coming up for air.

Mermaids, as mentioned above, live in cities underwater; mermaid cities are made of hewn rock and decorated extensively with treasure. At the centre is the nursery, where mermen look after eggs (which look like giant pearls) and young mermen/mermaids. Mermaid cities frequently trade with each other (again, luxuries are their main trade goods), make war on another over fishing grounds and wrecks (using weapons found in galleys and clubs made of driftwood and studded with sharp stone) and generally engage in politicking - each city is governed by a council of citizens voting on important decisions.

Mermaids interact with humans on some occasions other than the ones mentioned above. Firstly, sailors often have mermaid mistresses, but this is a perilous proposition; a mermaid who finds herself to have been cheated on responds by either conjuring a storm to drown her unfaithful lover or by lulling him asleep and chaining him up at the bottom of the sea while he sleeps. Secondly, mermaids captured by humans will grant three wishes to them, and so people often try (and usually fail) to capture mermaids basking on beaches or sitting on rocks. Finally, many mermaids are skilled magicians, and have taught many a human the arts of invoking storms and healing.

Selkies

Selkies are sea faeries who take two forms - the first a hooded seal, harp seal or grey seal (but never a common seal), and the second a beautiful human with thick shining black hair, large soulful black eyes with epicanthic folds, flat noses and pale skin - with the seal form being discarded by shedding the seal skin every ninth night. Selkies possess no particular magical powers besides shapeshifting, with one exception - the blood of a selkie shed in the sea causes a storm, which selkies pursued by hunters or caught in nets often exploit by cutting themselves in order to sink (or at least threaten) the boat and thus escape. Selkies live among mundane seals, and can have children in seal form with seals (giving birth to seal children), in human form with humans (giving birth to humans) or with other selkies (giving birth to selkies).

Selkies have children with humans by two avenues. Firstly, they sometimes fall in love with humans, which usually happens with a male selkie and a female human. Secondly, they are sometimes kidnapped by humans, which usually happens with a female selkie and a male human (although they almost always make their way back to the sea eventually). The children of selkies are distinguished by webbed fingers and toes and a thin greenish-white cracked horny growth on their palms and soles, as well as a natural talent for swimming and catching fish.

[infinite-orangepeel]

🦅 STEVE CH. 2 WIP EXCERPT

Consubstantiation calls upon the divine.

Steve Harrington is, notably, not divine, but he is determined to commune with those who are. The moral. The just. The virtuous. His neighbors and ‘friends’ dressed in fine silks, button down linens, dry-cleaned slacks, and ridiculous floral hats to be placed beside them in the pews.

On Sundays, he joins them to consume divinity in tiny neat parcels. Follows the line forward in a herd of merciful ducklings. Mindless and desperate to be told what to do, how to believe, why there are miracles and mysteries.

He’s never understood, but he follows.

He follows and bends at the knee to pay his respects and tries to ignore the ache in his soul that protests the nauseating idea that he contains an odious and unforgivable sin. One, even Christ, himself, would name too heinous, too damning.

The women smile, nod, wave titillating hands with newborn babies perched upon their hips. Fulfilling God’s will to inherit the Earth with the constant creation of miniature disciples. Tin soldiers in a post-modern war. Against blasphemy, exposed shoulders, parties that last until the early hours of the morning.

The men lead, speak louder than they should in anticipation of Monday night football, scold their daughters for skirts that ride up over their knees.

It’ll be a beating at home. A bloodbath. It’s for their own good. Lust kills. Worse than cigarettes and dunk driving combined. The casualties begin at the age of ten or eleven and, from then on, it's a lazy, redundant crime—

Eddie was naked.

Eddie was a boy who looked a whole lot like a girl.

Curls brushing past the midpoint of his spine like they aimed to meet the dirt and claim roots underground—build him a place to rule and laugh and talk in that liquifying tone.

Cool smile. Sharp grin. Cutting edge. Delicately encompassed by those poetic lines of black ink.

Rings that sting and leave little bite marks of the devil. Reminders that he’s here to stay.

Steve’s stomach flips and there’s that familiar warm pull in his gut.

It can’t happen here.

Not with his father solemnly praying over the Lord’s precious gifts. Consecrating and holding his gaze through the crowd like a warning.

Not with the growing lump in his throat that seems like it could only be resolved by Eddie’s fingers splaying out around it. Squeezing and taunting and humiliating his contrition until it dissipates. Swallowed into the black of his eyes. The midnight haze.

Venomous.

Steve makes every conscious effort not to choke on his own spit. Not to bite off his own lip in the midst of the choir’s screeching crescendo.

He’s sweaty and awkward and grasping at his shirt collar, because the air is decidedly too thin and everyone’s going to be dead on the floor in less than a minute if they don’t open a window.

Eddie Munson touched that man like he wanted to punish him—

Eddie Munson recited spells that transformed insults into terms of undying affection—

Eddie Munson made the birds sing for him and whistled a tune like he had every right to make a home in the middle of the woods—

He’s next in line. His father’s looking down at him in judgment. His father knows—can smell it on him, can see it bubbling up beneath the vulnerable layer of his skin. His mouth twitches in dissatisfaction and Steve prepares to lose.

And, there’s no surviving a fate like that, so Steve blinds himself.

Closes his eyes, whispers a few ancient words—a holy and devout enchantment, and opens his mouth for the moment of communion.

Receives the sacrament and pretends it’s going to work. Pretends it can slay the beast and leave him whole. Pretends he can win at the game. Have his cake and eat it, too—lick the pretty mess off his frosting coated fingers. Sprinkle candied confetti over the carnage and somehow, not dissolve into guilty ruin.

When Steve’s father places it between his teeth, he stifles a scream. Quiets the addiction, the obsession, the infestation striking nutrient rich gold in the labyrinth of his fear. Clambering against his ribs to get free.

It’s a thing of nightmares. A thing of dreams.

One startled heartbeat later and the blessed flesh makes contact with his tongue. Melts into a sticky, gummy mess. He sticks to the routine. Swallows a subsequent quick swig of burgundy wine, almost black where it sloshes in the ornate chalice.

Made for a King.

The King of Kings.

It's lukewarm and languid in his throat. Tastes bitter and bloodied and it vaguely chills his bones to think that every pair of lips in the congregation—children and expectant mothers excluded—will press themselves along that seam like an audience of succubus monsters.

There’s a split second, fragmented into crooked shards, in which he considers the fact that the son of God is really and truly inside him. Filling his core. Turning him belly up and meek. Renouncing Satan. Finding the cracks in his tainted purity, in his poisoned humanity.

[eastwindmlk]

By the time that seventh year rolled around, some people had developed an uncanny ability to spot the look on McGonagall’s face. The look meant that someone was getting bad news. It had mercifully evaded people too close for much longer than any of them had expected. Longer than any of them could have hoped for. But when her shadow appeared behind them at lunch, her severe look pained and her lips pinched, and the entire Gryffindor table held their breaths. Eyes roamed the rows, watching for the poor bastard being picked out of the line.

What no one expected was that the hand would land on James’s shoulder, and there was a collective gasp. All the eyes were checking on the half-blood or less students. The kinds of people that were the prime targets of these tragedies.

Getting up from his seat caused a hushed whisper to start floating along the table. Like fire, it spread in every direction. By the time the shocked-looking head boy was out of the Great Hall, it had reached the far corners.

The nervous mutters caught on quickly; even the paintings were talking about it. By the time they reached the office of the head of house, James could hear them already:

‘The Potters?’ ‘They’re targeting purebloods now?’ ‘What does that mean for the 28?’

And all James wanted to do was yell at them and tell them that it could be anything. His parents were fine; this wasn’t anything like that. For the first time ever, he hoped that they’d been found out. He was just being stripped of his badge, and that was that. He prayed all the way up those stairs. Eyes on his dragging feet.

The office smelled like tea, a red flag. They all knew she would offer the poor sods a cup of tea. “Sit down, Mister Potter. Have a biscuit.” The professor told him, her voice gentler and more pained than usual. More red flags. “I’d rather not, professor. If that means you’re not going to say what I think you are,”

There was a silence where the pair looked at each other, coming to a silent understanding. Ending with James sitting down and taking a ginger snap from the tin, unable to bring himself to eat it. Dunking it in the cup of tea in front of him. Listening to the elder witch speak as it slowly devolved into the steaming cup.

Waiting for the ringing in his ears was the only thing he could hear before pushing himself up onto his feet. “Thank you, professor.” Somewhere in the flurry of his thoughts, the young Gryffindor remembered to smile politely before fleeing from the room. Fingers already pulling at the knot of his tie, hoping that would fix the tightness in his throat,

Eyes still on the flagstone ahead of him, he noticed too late that someone was in his path. He collided with them suddenly, reeling back. Carefully manicured fingers grabbed onto his shirt, keeping both of them upright. “I don’t want to talk.” He protested reflexively, not wanting to see the look of pity that was surely on the redhead’s face.

“Fine, then we walk.” Dismissing her remark with a shrug, James continued his track down the hallway. Anywhere, but here. Anywhere, he could avoid the eyes and the whispers. Pushing through hidden corridors and gliding down the back stairs. Anything to avoid the crowds.

All the way down to the backdoors, he could hear the sound of Lily’s loafers following him all the way down. Every sharp corner, every skipped step. Pausing only after pushing the door open to caution him. “James, it’s raining. You’re going to get sick.” Only making him pause long enough to tell her. “I’ll be fine.” Expecting her to turn back, she was right there, crunching the leaves underfoot.

By the time they were halfway to the lake, the rain had soaked through the robes, and the November cold was seeping into his skin. Lily was right; if he kept going, he would probably get sick. But he could not find it in himself to care. Not when the biting wind was the only thing stopping him from breaking down. It drowned out everything around him. He was hoping that, in the silence, he would find a way to go back to class. To carry on with his day, plan a funeral.

“James!” Lily’s voice cut through the fog, insisting, and likely not the first time she had attempted to catch his attention. Her fingers closed around his soaked sleeve and tugged. His body responded to her silent demand. His cold body was met with her heating charm. The warmth unexpectedly shattered the walls he’d put up.

“You don’t need to run, but if you do, I am going to be right there.”

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

🔆anon

Fellow looked at his sister. She was finally in a restful sleep, which took a while to get her to. And while it was nice, it didn’t help that Gidel insisted on helping as much as possible for the one he claimed was also his sister.

Now, Fellow is far from stupid, he would have quickly died on the streets if he was, but it never hit him that Kit would fall sick again. They had been meeting every Saturday for months now, plus a decent number of days where they were just free. She always looked fine. She was definitely in better health than the last time she was sick. The time Fellow couldn’t get out of his head.

—

Fellow was lucky they were under a bridge when Kit got sick. He dunked the small cloth he was holding under the water. The river might not be the cleanest thing, but he knew how to boil it, plus right now he just wanted the cool water to make sure Kit’s fever didn’t get out of hand.

He lifted the rag and wrung it out before making his way back to Kit. Her breathing was labored and she looked like she was in a lot of pain. Honestly, Fellow completely understood and shocked it wasn’t worse. She was only six and forced to sleep, while sick, on a concrete floor outside in while the fall weather was starting to get cold.

Fellow hated this. He hated everything about it. They were still far behind on enough money to get into a doctor and there was nothing Fellow could do about it other than leave his sick sister here to scrounge for money. He was only fifteen. He saw everyone else his age get to live without worrying about where they could sleep or eat next. They didn’t worry if them falling sick might mean they might not be able to do what they need for survival or even if it meant they might not wake up in the morning. That’s all he wanted. That’s all he wanted for both him and his sister.

Fellow lowered the damp cloth onto Kit’s forehead and watched her face relax ever so slightly. He then got up and started walking. He found a new gig that starts soon. It was well paying enough to cut down the estimated time he had to work before could go to see a doctor. Though, Fellow hated leaving Kit, this was their best chance.

He prayed to the seven that she would be fine when he came back, and he headed towards the new chance.

Anytime Kit gets sick, it brings up that very bitter and painful memory for Fellow.

[kindheart525]

“Pray tell Sahar, what is it you have planned?”

Her stomach grumbling, Heavenly Glow barely concealed her irritation as she spoke. After things came to a head at the dignitary dinner, Sahar had requested—no, demanded that Heavenly start letting her decide how to spend their time together after so long of putting up with the other way around. Heavenly had agreed to it, but with how long it was taking for dinner to be ready she was starting to regret it.

“See it soon, you will! Big meal I have planned, it takes longer to cook it than tiny foods you like. You like to starve, I do not.”

This last comment was fully intended as a jab against Heavenly, both mares knew it. Sahar had become more bold in criticizing her like this…more than she was already at least. Although the Saddle Arabian mare intended to be more playful than mean, Heavenly Glow swore that the God Mother was trying to test her patience.

She rolled her eyes and shot a snarky comment back.

“Excuse me for having refined taste!”

Before she could go on, a line of waiters walked in with what felt like a long-awaited meal.

Finally, she thought.

Her expression didn’t hide her thoughts at all though; Sahar noticed right away and spoke up.

“It is not many minutes longer than your Equestrian dinner. Look! Not yet is the sun down.”

She gestured out the window and Heavenly couldn’t help but feel a bit stupid. Dinner hadn’t taken that much longer than usual, she was just being impatient.

As soon as the dishes were uncovered, Heavenly Glow was bombarded by the scents of all kinds of spices and other ingredients she couldn’t quite name. Her mouth started to involuntarily water but she swallowed quickly before anyone could see.

“What is all this?”

“For many months after marriage I eat Equestria food and learn Equestria culture, now you eat Saddle Arabia food and learn Saddle Arabia culture. Now is your turn.”

Sahar pushed a dish towards her.

“Try it!”

Heavenly was about to make one of her usual comments about how they were in Equestria, not Saddle Arabia, so there was no need to learn about their culture. But then she stopped and pondered a bit. Perhaps a little bit wouldn’t hurt.

“Markook you would want to start with, not strong is the flavor. Like Equestria food.”

Sahar chuckled a bit as she pointed to what looked like a plate of bread.

Equestrian food has plenty of flavor! Heavenly wanted to tell her. You haven’t developed a taste for it!

But instead she brushed off her joke and slowly brought a piece of the markook to her mouth, taking a tentative bite. Sahar was right, the taste was quite subtle. There was a hint of sweet corn in the flavor, kind of like the tortillas she had only on occasion, but it was more airy and chewy. It was more underwhelming than Heavenly expected but it wasn’t bad at all.

Her face showed no reaction as she ate, however, so Sahar continued after the hippogriff hybrid took a few bites.

“Better is markook with more strong food. Now, try this.”

She pushed another plate up to her, a dish which looked like a different kind of bread with nuts and other toppings. She reached further across the table for a bowl of broth.

“Tharid we eat in the holy month. In Saddle Arabia everyone loves it! Love it too, you will.”

Sahar happily took a piece for herself, dunking it in the broth and humming nostalgically as she took a bite, like she’d been waiting to do this for ages. She then motioned for Heavenly to follow suit.

When she did take a bite for herself, her senses were filled with a warm and hearty taste from the broth. There was a hint of acidity from the tomatoes, but it was balanced out with the gentler flavors of the carrots and potatoes mixed into it. She could taste all the different vegetables mixed in with the bread, and the warmth of the broth made her insides feel toasty in the best way.

The hippogriff mare sighed involuntarily and that’s when Sahar could tell she was finally breaking through to her.

“Yes! You like it, I knew it!”

“It’s satisfactory.”

Heavenly downplayed it and tried to act stoic, though she couldn’t quite hide the content look on her face.

“You like kabsa too when you try! More strong is the taste but it is very good.”

She pushed the last dish towards her and grinned eagerly, so much that Heavenly was suspicious of what was in store for her as she lifted it to her mouth.

Right away her tongue began to sting as it was met with something spicy. Not enough to be unbearable, but it was definitely a surprise for the mare who was more accustomed to muted flavors. The spiciness was mixed with a light sweetness that kept the spice from feeling too harsh, and the whole dish had a light smoked taste probably due to the way it was cooked. Heavenly Glow went on a new adventure with flavor with each bite she took.

It wasn’t long until Sahar joined in, indulging in all the foods of her fillyhood like she was back in Saddle Arabia again. It was the most at-home she’d felt in a long time and she was thrilled that her wife was joining in this experience with her. Heavenly herself had been pleasantly surprised and was having a lot of fun despite her initial hesitation. Perhaps expanding her cultural horizons would do her some good after all.

No matter the culture, food always seemed to bring creatures together, and tonight it was bringing Sahar and Heavenly Glow together too. Sahar had wanted her wife to understand everything about what she held dear and this was the perfect place to start. 

After all, you can’t go wrong with some good food.

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Seeing Red Next: Too Close

[residentbunburyist]

Moby-Dick or, The Whale by Herman Melville

This is a really difficult book to rate or review. I almost dropped it more than once near the beginning, turned away by its slow pacing, meandering focus, and... well. This is from 1850. I was prepared for racism. I wasn't prepared for Queequeg. Did you uh. Did you know that Ramadan is a queer heathen ritual performed by island cannibals where you put your hand-carved totem that you pray to on your head and then sit unmoving for 24hrs in an act of self-deprivation and humiliation? Did you know that true and not at all bonkers thing? (speaking of bonkers, recent science MAY suggest that a whale is in fact a mammal, BUT Bible says it's a fish. So... Jot that down.) I mean, that said, Ishmael realizes after a single night that the big scary heathen cannibal ISN'T actually a horrible person, and you should all get to know him guys, maybe we're being closed-minded about other cultures, and he's my best friend and also we share a bed and snuggle. (All joking aside, it does have a lot to say that is very much about how racism is useless and all men are basically equal and working class on a whaling vessel, and should be recognized as such, it's just said in a very 1850 kind of way.)

But after about 200 or so pages I kind of finally started to get into it. It's like those video games that people recommend where they're like 'hey you just need to get through the first 70 hours of gameplay and then it's good, that's totally worth it' and you're like 'that sounds insane what are you talking about if it took 70 hours to start having fun that's not a good game that's a sunk cost fallacy'. I started to really enjoy Ishmael's poetic navel-gazing (more like naval-gazing, amirite?), the technical chapters about equipment and how whaling works, and I especially loved whenever Ishmael/Melville got catty. when Melville wants to be catty, he's good at it. There are entire chapters just dunking on every culture's pictorial depictions of whales like 'what is that? Just a big fish?? That dorsal fin is stupid. None of you fuckers have ever seen a whale before, eat my ass. MAKE IT MORE MAJESTIC' And I appreciate that. Quote: "In another plate, the creator made the most predigious blunder of representing the whale with -perpendicular- flukes!" This man is SO passionate about getting drawings of whales right. He constantly has chapters that boil down basically to 'Okay but realtalk do you appreciate how big and cool whales are? Do you?? TRICK QUESTION NO YOU DON'T BECAUSE YOU'VE NEVER SEEN A WHALE YOU POSER. YOU'LL NEVER LOVE THEM LIKE I DO.' And I'm so here for that energy.

Basically what I'm saying is you can say a lot of different things about this book, some good, some bad... but at the end of the day it DID get me to start looking up whale facts to the point where my wife is sick of hearing about cool things about whales, and really I think that's all Melville ever truly wanted.

wow that one got away from me. Uhhhh tl;dr whales are fucking cool, and maybe the real moby dick was the friends we made along the way. (who then all die horribly)

[jplupine]

⛓In the Wolf's Den: Chapter 1⛓

Pairing: The Weeping Monk x Devin [Nonbinary Fey OC] Word Count: ~5k WARNINGS: 18+ Minors/Ageless get blocked, Exophilia, Heat, Light Blood/Injury, Dubious Consent, Feral Behavior, Degradation, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Loss of Virginity [Male], Scratching, Cock Riding, Creampie Note: Terms such as pussy/cock/dick/etc. get used. The Monk also uses terms such as 'mutt', 'demon', and 'creature' to refer to Devin. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this fic.

Summary: Living alone in the wood in a hidden cave, Devin is feverish and praying to the gods for help. They can barely hunt or fetch water and are becoming weaker as the days pass between fitful nights of restlessness. When someone does find Devin's cave, however, they swear it's a cruel act of the gods rather than mercy. [Date Published: March 4, 2022]

You can also read it on AO3!

Masterlist | Chapter 1:

  Sleep felt like a luxury I couldn't have no matter how hard I tried to rest. I was tossing and turning, skin hot with fever and damp with sweat. There was a cool cloth on my forehead to help soothe the fever, but it barely gave any relief.

  Breathing heavily, I gripped the pillow beneath my head and whimpered. What I wouldn't give for some help right now if I wasn't alone. That was what made my circumstances even harder to bear- The suffering alone.

  I struggled to even fetch my own water, and I hadn't eaten properly in days. It was hard to catch or forage for anything with a fever and a clouded mind. I couldn't even focus long enough to set a trap for a measly rabbit.

  I had no one to blame but myself for my predicament, though. I'd broken a vow, and the consequences of such were to be cast out of the village....even if it wasn't a vow I had made.

  Pushing myself to sit up, the cloth dropped from my forehead and into my waiting palm. Dunking it into the small bowl of water, I then wrung the cloth out and folded it. I placed the cloth back onto my forehead, and there was a rush of coolness on the skin it touched.

  Flopping back down on my bed, I whimpered since the relief didn't last. I had to keep telling myself there were only a few days left that I'd have to deal with this to not go mad. Just a few more days, and then I'd be okay.

 Kicking my blanket down, the cooler air nipped at my bare skin. It was still morning, but I had yet to eat breakfast. Did I even have anything stored for breakfast?

  Heavily sighing, I realized I needed to eat something. I'd go raving mad with hunger once the fever passed at this rate. Getting up, I reached for my clothes to pull them on.

  Dropping the cloth from my forehead and back into the bowl, I lumbered to the carved-out shelf in the rocky wall. There were bottles of dried herbs and salt, but those were no meal of any kind. I didn't even have a handful of oats or wheat to make something from.

  Growling low, I turned toward the entrance of my cave. I'd have to go out and find something, but what could I possibly find in a state such as this? Nothing that could sustain me grew anywhere near my cave.

  I stood there for a moment to think. Weighing my options, I ended up turning back toward my bed on the floor. To find or catch a damn thing, I'd have to wait until I could think clearer and the fever lessened.

  In times of the Red Paladins, I'd also have to be wary of crossing them in these woods. I hadn't seen any in my territory, but I'd heard a few weeks ago a village to the east had been hit, and I had no clue what direction they were headed after.

  I could only pray to the gods they continued east or anywhere else but here.

  Crawling under my blanket, I grabbed the cloth to try and rest once more. I listened to the birds outside as the ivy over the cave entrance swayed in the breeze. I sighed with what little relief the cool wind rolling over the cave floor brought.

  My stomach rumbled, and I tried to ignore it. I took a drink of water before laying back down and freezing. My ears swiveled to try and catch any sound, but there was only silence.

  What happened to the birds?

  I laid as still as possible while straining my ears. The woods had gone silent, and that was never a good sign. Opening my eyes, I sat up and looked at the cave entrance.

  The silence went on for a minute that felt like an eternity, but the bird calls eventually returned. My tense muscles relaxed as I ran a hand over my face. It was probably only a bear passing by outside.

  Or was the fever just making me delirious now?

  Hot. It was too hot.

  Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I began to pull it up to take it off again. When the fabric was over my head, I tensed once more at the quiet footsteps nearing the entrance of my cave. I prayed to the gods that I wouldn't have to fight a bear on top of everything else.

  Lowering my shirt back down, my eyes widened at the sight of steel slipping between the thickly growing ivy to push it to the side. The sun was blinding as a dark, cloaked figure entered the cave.

  "This cave is occupied. Find shelter elsewhere." I said firmly while gripping my blanket in tight fists.

  "It is not shelter that I seek." A low, masculine voice replied from under the hood pulled low over his face. I swallowed, looking from the sword held at his side back to where his face would be. He stepped forward while letting the ivy fall back into place behind him.

  "I don't have any money or food."

  He didn't respond this time and was getting closer, his footsteps so soft like a trained hunter stalking prey. Everything about the man showed he was clearly a threat rather than a merely lost traveler. Baring my fangs as my hackles raised, I growled a warning, but he kept getting closer. I  moved to get to my feet with claws at the ready, not wanting to go down without a fight.

  However, I barely moved before the tip of his sword was pressed against my throat. My ears turned back as my hair stood on end. The steel was so cold against my skin as I looked up at the face of the man. His expression was void like a statue, eyes cold, and marks on his cheeks as if he'd been weeping.

  My heart raced as he tilted my chin up with the blade.

  "What is your sickness?" His flat tone showed he wasn't asking out of concern for me. He more than likely wanted to be sure he couldn't catch whatever was making my cheeks flush and for my breath to come quicker.

  "....The one who cries." I whispered without blinking or looking away from the man's face. I found myself unable to move, but I doubted I could do anything in time to save myself with the sword already to my throat. Was I truly that weakened, or was he just that fast?

  The man deeply inhaled through his nose, but he seemed to pause as his eyebrows briefly knit together. He looked me over rather than right through me, and I swallowed. His gaze was so intense, and I knew he was going to kill me for being Fey. It was the very thing he was known for.

  "You're not sick." He stated matter of factly before.... I could swear he was scenting the air like an animal with the way he breathed in through his nose. "You're in heat." His gaze shot around the cave. "Where is your mate? He wouldn't have gone far with you in such a state."

  "I have no mate." My claws pricked my blanket from how tight my grip was. It was quiet for a few seconds as he slowly looked at me. The sword pressed harder against my throat, making me scramble back until I hit the cave wall my bed was tucked against.

  I pressed flat against the rock with my chin up, trying to get as far away as possible from the cutting edge.

  "No mate? At your age?"

  "I-I swear, I'm alone here. There's no one else." My voice came out quiet and shaking. I wasn't lying per se, but I refused to give away the fact that my home village was just a few miles west of here in these very woods.

  "I guess that would explain why you react to me despite the threat of death." His voice was so calm and never changing as the tip of the sword scraped down my neck. My ears were flat against my skull as my claws dug into the rock wall.

  I didn't want to admit it, but I knew exactly what he was talking about. But how could he possibly know? His sense of smell had to be inhuman.

  The sword went down my torso before tossing my blanket to the side with a flick of his wrist.

  "Are you not ashamed, mutt?" He questioned.

  "What's shameful is killing an unarmed person."

  "You are not unarmed with teeth and claws such as yours. And you are no person."

  "The Fey are not demons, you paladin bitch!" I snarled before taking in a sharp breath from the sword pressing against my throat again.

  "Tell me, mutt. Is it the fear of death that makes your thighs quiver or the fact that I happen to have something you so desperately crave?" My hands balled into fists as I bit my bottom lip. Pressing my thighs together, I tried to get them to stop shaking every time he spoke. My body had been reacting to him ever since I'd heard his masculine voice, causing heat to pool between my legs, much to my frustration.

  "Why are you stalling, monk? Just kill me already." I said, and only that cold stare answered. However, I noticed his grip on his sword tightened before his eyes closed as he slowly shook his head. His scent was causing sparks to dance across my skin, but there was something about the way he smelled that truly stood out. "....You're Fey?"

  His eyes snapped open before he was on me with the edge of his blade across my throat. I'd been too distracted to notice before, but I could pick up a distinctly Fey scent on him. And his reaction confirmed it was his.

  "Why do you wish to die so quickly?"

  "I don't want to. I just know there's no getting out of this alive, so I might as well piss you off until my dying breath, scoundrel." My voice didn't have as much bite as I'd hoped for. His scent and proximity had me battling with myself. The heat had me wanting to present to him, to find relief in having his cock buried deep inside. But the logical thinking I was still capable of was keeping me from doing so, thank the gods.

  I was no base animal- My instincts would not rule me.

  "Maybe I should torture you for that vile tongue of yours. Let you see God's purifying fire before you die, perhaps?" He threatened while leaning in closer with his eyes boring into mine.

  "You're nothing but a traitor that will be murdered by his own ideals. That precious church of yours will have you burned when they discover what you are-" I cut myself off when the blade was dangerously close to cutting me now.

  His lips parted as if he were going to say something, but he only clenched his jaw as his eyes fluttered closed. His breathing had become uneven, and my ears flicked forward as my brows furrowed. It was as if he were trying to collect himself and keep calm.

  Studying his face, I licked my lips. Maybe there was a way out of this alive. The monk was clearly distracted while battling himself. I could use that to my advantage and run for it.

  I went for his genitals to dig my claws in deep and let him bleed out. However, I stopped short of ripping his balls off when I felt his cock against my palm. He was hard and straining against his trousers.

  I couldn't help the small whimper that came from the back of my throat before the man reacted and pressed his sword hard enough against my skin to draw blood.

  "What are you doing?" He practically snarled, and a shiver went up my spine at his tone.

  "Trying to kill you in a humiliating way." I answered honestly.

  "Remove your hand, demon. Carefully." He ordered. My breath shook as I pulled my hand away, idiotically thinking of what all he could do with that cock of his.

  Damn my heat and damn this bastard.

  "God forgive me." The monk whispered under his breath. He may not be the same species of Fey as me, but he was obviously falling apart due to my scent. Just how much self-control did he have?

  I couldn't help but wonder as I noticed him struggle with himself and how I had yet to be murdered in my bed. If he didn't kill me soon, I feared I'd be the first to break and beg for something deplorable. My mind had already been clouded by the fever, but it was getting murkier the more I breathed in his aroused scent.

  "Take it off." He pulled away, sword still at the ready.

  "....What?"

  "Take off your clothes." His blade hovered over my heart, and I swallowed before pulling my shirt over my head. The air was so much cooler than my skin, causing goosebumps to rise and my nipples to harden. I hesitated with my pants but took them off as well.

  I jolted when his cold steel pressed against my thigh to spread my legs.

  "You try to humiliate me because of your own humiliation, is that it? You know of my reputation, and yet, here you are....dripping wet for me." His voice seemed huskier, and looking into his eyes was like looking into voids from how wide his pupils were. "This is why you're just an animal. A creature."

  "And what does that make you, Fey Monk? I can see how tight your trousers have gotten. Or is that why you were begging your Lord for forgiveness? Because the heat of a 'creature' gives you the urge to 'sin'?"

  "Shut up, mutt."

  "You're a traitor and a coward." I swallowed while trying to maintain as much mental clarity as possible. There'd been a wet spot in my pants by the time I'd taken them off, and now that wetness was only leaking down my thighs and buttocks onto my bed. "Can't even admit what you are, can you?"

  I wasn't sure if he was even listening anymore with how his eyes were glued to my pussy. His tongue darted out to wet his pink lips and- gods, did I want that pretty mouth on me. I wanted his big hands on my skin, to feel his weight over me, to taste him-

  Fuck my heat. Fuck these thoughts. Just let me die already.

  The monk rose his sword high, and I closed my eyes to accept my fate. There was the sound of a blade digging deep into the earth, and I felt hot breath on my face.

  "You clearly have no shame, creature. You don't try to hide yourself even though you are bare. You present yourself to me, doing everything short of pleading for what you want." Opening my eyes, I saw his face right in front of my own only a few inches away. "I will teach you shame....by giving you what you want."

  With his sword stuck in the ground, both of his hands were free to grab me and shove me to lie down. With my legs on either side of his hips, he pushed the hood off of his head before untieing his cloak. The fabric dropped from his shoulders, but I was too entranced by how handsome he actually was.

  He had more than one knife strapped to his body, and I had no clue what he was going to do next. His hair was long enough to be pulled back and tied up, revealing he didn't follow the other paladins in having short hair. He was broad and muscular- a fine young man wasted by the church.

  I moaned as my claws dug into the bedding, and my back arched off of the bed. The Weeping Monk had buried his fingers into my pussy without warning, his digits sliding right in from how wet I was. My hips rolled into his touch against my will, and his breath quietly faltered.

  Biting my bottom lip, I tried to contain the moans and choke them down, but between the heat and his touch, I quickly stopped caring about my pride. Grabbing my pillow, my legs tightened around the monk to pull him closer. Was this my punishment? To have the gods answer my prayers in such a twisted manner?

  His fingers were stroking and clumsy, but still enough to make me squirm. My thighs twitched as my hips bucked, my body craving something more than just his hand.

  I knew I should kill him given the chance. He was a murderer and a traitor to Fey kind. But all I could think about at that moment was how good I felt. I was still feverish and craving to be touched. I wanted relief- needed relief.

  Reaching out, I grabbed the monk by the collar of his shirt. I yanked him closer before tugging on the hem of the garment. His fingers left me so that his shirt could come off, and I licked my lips hungrily at his exposed skin. Toned muscle and such beautiful skin had been hidden by the clothing now on the ground.

  Looking at him now, there was no denying his status as a Fey. His beauty and keen senses should've easily given him away, but he covered up so much of himself and killed any Fey that could possibly scent him.

  My breath faltered when his hands ran up my thighs and sides. His palms were rough and warm, making me lean into him as my eyes fluttered closed. Fingers tangled into my hair before tugging, exposing my throat to him.

  I shivered and softly moaned as his tongue ran over the cut from his sword. He licked the blood clean as his other hand held my hip. His grip momentarily tightened before the hand on my hip lifted to pull at his clothing. Belts for hidden knives dropped to the floor, and his boots soon followed after.

  It was as he was fumbling with his sword belt and trousers that I realized it was highly possible this man had never had sex before. His precious church forbade it, and many of the paladin monks were even eunuchs to prevent them from ever having sex. So for him to break such a vow spoke deeply of how my heat was affecting him.

  A low growl like a purr rumbled in my chest as more and more of his skin became exposed. He was so hard and thick, and his balls were swaying as he shuffled out of his pants. I was damn near ready to pounce on the man if he didn't hurry up.

  I bucked when his fingers ran through my slick that he then used to coat his cock. He was stroking his length while his other hand traveled up my stomach. I was throbbing and aching to be filled as his fingers trailed over my skin.

  The monk hadn't said a word in a while, too focused on what he was doing to degrade me further. He was a hypocrite, but I wouldn't point that out right now. I was so close to having what the heat made me crave.

  The head of his cock pressed against my core before he slid in inch by inch. I moaned with my claws digging into the bedding as I tried to restrain myself. My ears perked to attention, catching the low grunt the monk tried to conceal.

  I became hungry to hear more.

  My legs locked around his waist, pulling him closer until his pelvis was flat against mine. I felt so full as my head fell back. Relaxing my legs, he rocked back before I pulled him in closer again, making him fuck me.

  He groaned, and the sound shook me to my core. Something in him seemed to snap, and he grabbed my hips firmly to hold me in place as he thrust his cock deep into me. I moaned as he wildly snapped his hips and made my toes curl.

  His breath became heavier as his beautiful eyes closed. The monk leaned down to bury his face into my neck. He deeply inhaled, breathing in my scent as his hands wandered and groped with need.

  I tried to keep my hands to myself in an arbitrary form of defiance to not touch him, but my self-control was quickly fading. My fingers slid into his hair, finding that it was soft to the touch, and my other hand grabbed his shoulder as I moaned. The monk bucked his hips while groaning into my skin before his hair came loose and fell over his shoulders.

  I was drowning in his scent and sex. My claws raked across his back while I cried out in pleasure. Pulling his hair, I saw his face and nearly melted.

  His blue eyes were so dark from his blown pupils, his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were parted as he panted. Not once did he stop thrusting his hips, though, keeping that erratic and needy pace. My gaze dropped to his mouth to look at those perfect, pink lips.

  I pulled him in for a kiss, moaning as he buried his cock deep inside of me again. His lips were soft as I hungrily kissed him, tasting him like a rare delicacy. He groaned into my mouth as fingers gripped at my flesh.

  For a man that was calling me 'creature,' he was like an animal driven by lust now. He was rutting and pulling me as close as possible, being just as desperate as I was for release. Gods, how he felt had me spiraling into bliss.

  My claws dug into his skin as my back arched, thighs clenching as I came closer to cumming. My tongue slid into his mouth, devouring his moans as his strong arms wrapped around me. There was no telling how much longer either one of us would last.

  Waking up in bed, my first thought was to thank the gods that I'd finally gotten sleep. I could tell it was evening now from the dying light coming through the ivy, and I sighed. My stomach was growling and emptier than my food stores.

  It was as I was sitting up that it came flooding back what happened in the haze of my heat. I had to be delusional or, at the very least, dreaming. No way would the Weeping Monk find my cave, fuck me, then leave me alive after.

  How desperate had I become to have such a fantasy?

  Sighing while rubbing my forehead, I shook my head. Throwing my blanket off, I moved to get up but paused when I noticed the mess on my thighs. I was dirty with dried cum and slick on my skin, and my heart sank. What the fuck had actually happened?

  I jolted when I spotted movement at the front of my cave. My blood ran cold at seeing the Grey Monk walking in with a bucket and a rope over his shoulder. 'No,' I thought. 'I'm still asleep. Wake up. Wake up!'

  I flinched when the monk dropped the bucket, and water sloshed inside. He pulled the rope from over his shoulder, showing a few rabbits dead and dangling from their feet.

  What was happening?

  "You look lost, mutt."

  "I'm no mutt."

  "Does it look like I care?"

  "I'm not sure what I'm looking at." I swallowed as my gaze drifted from the bucket to the rabbits in his hand. He seemed to hesitate and dropped his gaze while lifting his catch.

  "Keep my secrets, and I'll....help you until your heat passes. Your stomach wouldn't stop growling with hunger." He paused before grabbing a stool to sit down. I silently watched him as he pulled out a knife to skin the rabbits.

  My mind was slow to process what was going on, unable to admit what was happening and how it meant I really did have sex with the Weeping Monk. Pulling my blanket back over me to cover myself, I bit my bottom lip. I was tempted to ask why he didn't just kill me and not worry about who I told about him, but I didn't want my asking to be what triggered him to do it.

  However, I was now utterly conflicted. I did now feel shame for letting such a man touch me and for enjoying it. But I still had a few more days left of my heat and didn't want to be aching and miserable the entire time. Not to mention he was willing to bring food and drink while I struggled to hunt for myself in my current state.

  Maybe it was my heat getting to me yet again, but I couldn't refuse the offer.

  "....I'll keep your secrets."

  "Are you just saying that to be fed, creature?"

  "Do I look like a stray begging for scraps?" I bared my fangs. "I'm simply no fool and don't want to starve." He looked at me from under his hood, his gaze wandering over me before he turned his attention back to the rabbit in his hands.

  "I guess you're smarter than I gave you credit for." He muttered, and I gave a low growl. "Without knowing any better, one could mistake you for a Fox until you open that mouth of yours."

  "I'm no Fox either. Maybe you're dumber than I thought."

  "I know you're not a Fox, runt. Now, behave, or I'll simply leave and take my rabbits with me. How long can you last without food?" He questioned, and I shut my mouth. "Good girl." His words went straight to my core as my ears turned back.

  "Don't call me that."

  "Why don't you get cleaned up rather than sit there in your own filth?"

  "It's not just my filth, monk. Or have you already forgotten your balls still work?" He fumbled with what he was doing and nearly cut himself. The corner of my mouth twitched up in amusement before I turned to the bowl of water next to my bed.

  Using the rag that had been on my forehead before, I wrung it out to use on my thighs. The cool water felt good as I cleaned up the mess left on me. I felt the monk staring, and I glanced up just before he snapped his gaze back to what he was doing.

  He may be a monk taught to view sex as a sin, especially if it was premarital, but he was still a man with sexual desires. Words and teachings would not get rid of that. And the fact that he was Fey- a kind with such keen senses- only strengthened those desires while he was around me.

  His own Fey instincts were reacting to my pheromones in a way I doubted he ever thought possible. My heat had driven him to the brink, and now that he'd experienced sex, he wanted more. But given his status among the paladins, it was highly unlikely he'd ever get the chance to again. Which explained why he smelled so frustrated. His own logic and instincts were at war.

  I may be ashamed of myself for my actions and what I was thinking, but at least I was alive. And judging from how the Grey Monk was acting, I wasn't the only one feeling shame. I would keep his secrets, and he obviously was going to keep mine.

  We were mutually damned if either of us spoke of one another, and that was enough to ensure the other wouldn't speak a word of this.

  I silently watched him build a fire in the pit to cook the butchered meat. He didn't seem to be paying me any mind, and I was noticing how his scent was of the woods, old leather, and had the faint smell of horse mixed in. Since I didn't see the beast anywhere, I could only assume his horse was somewhere outside.

  "You stare too much." His voice was low, and I swallowed.

  "Can you blame me? The Weeping Monk is in my home, cooking dinner, and, shockingly enough, Fey. Should I also mention how just this morning you were grunting and humping me like an animal?" I rose a brow as the stick in his hand snapped. He looked at his hand before tossing the broken stick into the fire.

  "I was not." He muttered. I wanted to blame my heat for how I found his voice to be rather attractive.

  Quiet fell as he kept his back to me and put the rabbit over the fire. I kept calling him a traitor, but didn't the fact that I was letting him stay and not fighting back also make me a traitor to my people? My heat did cloud my judgment, but did that absolve my actions?

  These urges didn't come with logic or reason, only the drive to fuck and breed with the nearest available male. Which, right now, was the monk. And I knew I told myself what I wouldn't give to not be alone during the heat, but now that he was here, I felt as if it would've been better if I'd remained alone.

  Chewing the inside of my cheek, I felt the familiar stir in my gut. Climbing out from under my blanket, I silently crawled toward the monk as my tail swayed. Coming up on his right side, he didn't seem too surprised when I came into his range of view.

  Had he sensed me getting closer? Just what kind of Fey was he to have such keen senses and no animalistic parts?

  He eyed me as I was kneeling beside him. I swallowed, not knowing what to say. Instead of thinking of what words to use, I simply placed my hand on his knee. Leaning up, I brought my face closer to his while my hand traveled up his thigh. I licked his cheek as I squeezed the muscle of his upper thigh near his crotch.

  The monk's breath hitched when my fingers trailed over his cock through his trousers. He smelled so good while his arousal only made his scent even more enticing. Undoing his belt, I was about to pull his trousers out of the way until he grabbed my wrist to stop me.

  "I have to watch the food."

  "Then watch the food, monk." Yanking on the fabric of his pants, his cock sprung free. My tail softly wagged, much to my dismay, and I tried to ignore it while stroking his cock.

  I spat in my hand and smeared it over his length as I circled my fingers around the head of his cock. The monk grunted in the back of his throat as his jaw clenched. I then stood between his legs with my back facing him.

  Stroking from base to head, my tail lifted out of the way as I lined myself up and lowered my hips. Sitting in the man's lap, I felt his hot breath on the back of my head and neck. Feeling his cock deep inside, I placed my hands on his knees to keep myself steady.

  Lifting my hips, I began to bounce in his lap and moan. His big hands grabbed my hips, gripping firmly in such a delicious way. I knew I'd be ashamed again later on, but for now, I could just lose myself in the pleasure.

  The Grey Monk suddenly yanked me down harder, making us both moan. The fire crackled as it was getting darker outside, but neither of us was leaving anytime soon to care how late it was getting.

[that-dinopunk-guy]

The Crocodile Tamers

This is a little dinopunk story I wrote in like...2014 or 2015. Nobody read these little stories when I was putting them online, but they were fun to write.

Feyza Okur woke to the deep ringing of the temple’s bell, calling its faithful to morning prayer. All around her, other travelers were beginning to stir. Looking around in the gloomy dawn light she saw wandering Jardhu ascetics, sprawled leisurely on the floor without any worldly possessions or, in some cases, clothes to keep track of. She saw less seasoned travelers stretching stiff joints, their packs still dented in the middle from where they’d rested their heads during the night. And she saw those like herself, seasoned roamers and sellswords, who’d slept sitting against the wall with their belongings clutched protectively in their laps, ready to leap awake and deal with any would-be thieves. They surely all knew as well as she did that the chances of being robbed in this place were so low as to border on negligible, but old habits were hard to break.

Feyza grunted as she stood and stretched her legs before she moved to follow the line of faithful out to the edge of the Opthalm Sea. She did not worship this faith’s chosen gods; Basrandur was a chiefly Saumadhi religion, and Feyza was Garacani. She was a follower of the Hundredfold Path, as evinced by the way she wore her long hair in nearly a hundred thin braids and then gathered up into a topknot that made her head resemble a brown and black pineapple. Like many of her fellow travelers, she was joining the temple’s faithful not to pray, but to bathe.

The sun was still below the horizon when Feyza reached the wide steps that led directly to the edge of the water, but the western sky was already a tranquil shade of pink and the undersides of feathery clouds were shining brightly high overhead. Long-tailed, snaggle-toothed dactyls wheeled and dove over the water on long narrow wings, snatching up any fish unable to retreat to safer depths in time. Feyza moved off to the side, away from the worshipers, so she could go about her business without getting in the way of their ritual greeting to the day.

Fat crocodiles sprawled on the steps, with more emerging from the water in anticipation of the arrival of the sun. Though many of the other travelers balked at the sight of the animals, the worshipers gave them no notice and, indeed, passed among them unmolested. Feyza, along with the other veteran wanderers, did likewise. They knew they had nothing to fear; these crocodiles had long ago been pampered into docility by the monks of the temple, kept well fed by handouts so that they had no need to prey upon the human flock. It was, the monks said, proof that with the proper guidance any being had the potential to overcome its more violent impulses. If these crocodiles could adopt a life of peace, they argued, then surely men could as well.

It certainly made for a nice story, but Feyza suspected that certain details had been omitted. She wondered how many people had died, and how many crocodiles had been killed in retaliation, before the monks had successfully weeded out all but the most compliant specimens. In order to create an obedient population, one must first purge any signs of resistance and aggression. That lesson too had applications in the human world, she thought.

Leaving her clothes with her other belongings on the steps and oblivious to any curious stares from the other travelers, Feyza waded up to her waist into the cold water of the inland sea. A crocodile lazily approached her, longer than she was tall, and she stopped to watch as it eyed her for a moment before apparently deciding that she had nothing for it to eat and swimming around her toward the steps. She watched it go, idly listening to the droning prayers of the Basrandur faithful, before she bent at the waist to dunk her head below the water.

The sun had cleared the horizon by the time Feyza was finished bathing, and as she climbed the steps out of the water the temple’s façade burned against the dawn sky like flame made stone. Still naked, she sat down dripping among the crocodiles while the sun slowly burned away the morning chill. Off to her right the prayers rose to a crescendo as the worshipers bid the sun another day’s safe journey through the heavens. When Feyza was satisfied that she was sufficiently dried, she picked herself up and began to get dressed. Dressed again, Feyza slung the roll containing her belongings over her shoulder and made sure the painted chit was where she had left it in a pocket hidden in her belt. Weapons were forbidden inside the temple, and she would need that token in order for hers to be returned to her. And then, having armed herself once more, she could go out into the city to find herself some work.

[weapon-turned-jack]

//with all the talk of eating packing peanuts I can only pray no one leaves them around Jack because he will absolutely devour them. If he finds they have no taste he will dunk them in icing, butter, or bbq sauce, whichever he has around

[2neaky]

𓇼°₊.𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 ❀ 𝙵𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚝 🥭

—You piss my b°tches off like a potty. Can't keep these nigg°s off of your body. I wanna put it all in your body.

Wanna get in your drawers 'til my d°ck is soft, let my d°ck dissolve in your body.

‘Dunk Contest,’ Cash Cobain

P.2 -> P.1 here, P.3 here

7.9k!Warnings: oral (fem. receiving), p*ssydrunk, filthy talk, *verstimulation, riding c*wgirl, b*ckshots, rough s*x, back-to-back rounds & c*mming, low refr*ctory periods, use of pet names (Mama, Fat Ma), safe & c*ndomless s*x, accidental recording during s*x (caught on security cam), exaggerated descriptions of p*netration, excessive amounts of ej*culation, squ*rting, tummy bulge, qu*efing, cr*ampie, descriptions of character’s body parts (curvaceous/thick/girthy), original characters

ask and you shall recieve (tags, if you want me to remove you, lmk!) @jetlagged5sos @prettypink-princesss @conniesrockstargf | banner @strangergraphics

His dick is way too hard off of just eating the pussy. 

Shit’s never gotten him this excited. 

Most times, giving head is just a performance of “niceties” to him. If the girl he’s fucking with at the moment wants it, cool. If she doesn’t, that’s cool, too.

But, clearly Diamanté’s something special.

Real special, alright.

He just wants to put his mouth on her and devour her pussy until he passes out from lack of air.

And he couldn’t give a fuck less about the hair-thing—fuck it, he thinks it makes her taste even better. He swears he could cum off of her shit alone.

“‘Jani?”

His daze breaks and he recognizes worry on her face.

“Shit.”

“What?” She tries to sit up straighter. Her eyes search his for any sign of regret.

Did this just ruin things between them? God, she prays it didn’t.

“I wanna eat it again.”

Fear drops from her face as his words set in. It’s too funny for him not to laugh. His head falls into her chest, and as laughter wracks through him, Diamanté finds herself joining in.

“Nah, but … I ain’t joking, though.”

“Shut up,” she smiles, pushing his head back.

“What? You not tryna let me?”

She kisses her perfect teeth with the roll of her eyes. 

“Shit was so wet,” he smirks, stretching his hands up her thick thighs. “M’trynna drown in it,” he mumbles into her neck.

“Oh my gosh,” she says softly, feeling her shy nature return.

A soft hum rumbles from his throat as he presses his soft lips to her hot skin. “C’mon, Dia’.” 

A clipped gasp leaves her as she jumps. Gentle fingers push softly past her lips to gently stroke her clit.

“Ajani,” she whines with a pout. “I’m sensitive.”

He plants a tiny smooch at the crook of her neck and shoulder. “Want me to stop?”

“Mmh…”

The tip of his tongue kitten-licks her smooth skin. “Tell me to stop.”

Her skinny fingers wrap around the bicep of the hand he’s got between her legs.

“Tell me.”

She mewls, hips twitching shyly.

“Mhm.” He lifts his head to stare at the desperate look on her cute, round face. “Go ‘head.”

Her hips almost do a full rock before she’s stopping herself, trying to hold back. Her lips part with a shaky breath.

“C’mon … get that nut, baby.”

His words place confidence within in her movements. He slides his hand deeper between her legs, offering up more of himself. 

She rocks her pussy against the heel of his palm, riding him. His dick pulses, watching her use his hand to get off. Her juices collect all over his fingers.

“Hah—yes … y-yes,” she whines as quiet as possible. 

But he can still hear it. And he wants to hear more. He wants her to be louder. 

As she shifts against the heel of his palm, he teases her quivering pussy with his fingers. Her lower stomach sucks in as she inches closer to her release.

“Shit so warm,” he says to himself, burying the pads of his fingers into her walls. “Need’a be in that.”

Her thighs clamp around his wrist and her hand squeezes his arm with all its might.

“Need’a be in that pussy so bad.”

A broken moan flutters from her. Her hips stop as her pussy chokes on his fingers. She’s only still for a full second when a harsh shudder wracks throughout her body.

Before he can even ask, he feels her hot, wet  milky release dribble down his fingers and hand.

Heavy bouts of air puff out of her as she trembles from her orgasm.

It’s only been the second time, but Ajani can safely admit to himself that he loves watching her cum. He thinks he can become obsessed with it, honestly.

Coming out of his thoughts, he realizes just how quiet she is. Before he gets the chance to comment on it, her smaller arms wrap gently over his shoulders and she rest her head against his chest.

“You good?” He chuckles.

She nods wordlessly, eyes falling closed.

He uses his other hand to rub her back, hoping to soothe her.

“You tired?”

She nods again, much slower this time.

“Aight.”

He pulls away from her only to get out of the pool. And as he walks towards her, he can only laugh at the drowsy look on her face.

But the look only lasts so long when her eyes widen. Against his left leg, his dick print is way too visible. Especially with how his swim trunks cling to his skin.

“What?” He looks down at where her gaze is pointed to and he tucks his lips as an awkward smile pulls at his face. “Shit.”

She points to it. “Are you—“

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. You wanna go to bed?”

She takes one more glance at his erection before nodding.

He holds out a hand and she grabs it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. As she stands, her legs tingle.

For a split second, he catches just a glimpse of her pussy before she shields herself with her hands. 

His dick twitches and he’s gotta cover himself, hoping she hadn’t noticed. He even tries pushing it down some.

“Where’s my bottoms?” In all of that craziness, she hadn’t even realized where they’d gone.

When they both look around, they quickly spot it floating in the pool water.

“Shit, my fault,” Ajani says.

She pouts, staring at it.

“I could get ‘em for you,” he offers.

“They’re gonna be cold and wet.”

He almost coos at her frowny face.

“And I hate going commando,” she groans softly. “Damn…”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, as she cries over spilled milk. 

“I knew I should’ve brought an extra—oh my gosh!”

Her stomach swoops as she’s hoisted up. Instinctively, her legs wrap tight around his waist and her arms do the same around his shoulders.

“Ajani!”

“What? It seemed like the only other option, you was complaining about everything else.”

“I-I’m not even wearing anything.” Her voice is small and she almost wants to hide her face.

“And that’s supposed to matter to me?”

Her back is so straight it’s almost arched, as she’s hyper aware of his hands on her ass to hold her up. That, and the fact that there’s less of an inch of space between his abs and her pussy.

She definitely has to be careful.

“You wanna come down?”

She averts her gaze. “Don’t drop me…”

The corners of his lips rise into a crooked smile before he brings them inside. As they enter the dark house, warm air sheathes them. 

“Bedroom’s upstairs,” he breathes out as he nears the staircase.

“Oh, I can come down if you—oh.”

He hoists her up higher right before climbing the steps. His grip on her tightens as he holds her closer.

And, of course, she doesn’t say anything. He won’t either. But, Ajani would be lying if he said that her pussy pressed against his stomach isn’t something that excites him.

With each step, her body does a tiny bounce. And with every bounce, her breathing gets heavier and heavier. Until she lets out a squeak.

When he trumps the final step, she sighs out in relief as the friction between them lessens.

Finally, they enter the bedroom, and she can’t be happier to see a bed. Gently, he sets her down on the large mattress with a grunt.

“Hoo!” he breathes out, hands on his hips. “Shit was a whole workout.”

“Shut up,” she giggles.

Quiet as he tries to regain his breath, he trudges towards the shuttered balcony doors and pushes them open.

A soft breeze shuffles into the room and it feels great on their heated skins. 

Practically forgetting his presence in the room, Diamanté stretches against the pristine, white sheets. She practically moans as her back arches deeply, ass sticking up higher than her shoulders.

Standing off to the side, Ajani only watches her with folded arms and low eyes. 

She don’t even know how sexy that shit is.

His arms fall to his sides, only for a hand to ghost over his front. Mindlessly, he squeezes his dick through his trunks.

Slowly, she melts into the sheets. Body relaxed, her eyes flutter open to find him still across the room, watching her.

“You wanna go to sleep?”

His voice has got a tired rasp to it. That’s how she knows they’ve been up for too long. And yet, she’s embarrassed about the way her pussy clenches just from the sound of it.

Embarrassed by who? For what?

She only shrugs.

Ajani smiles. She doesn’t hear the tiny breath of amusement that leaves him.

“So what you staying up for? Thought you was tired.”

The bottom of her lip catches between her teeth before she gives a lazy half-shrug.

“Fucking liar.”

She rolls her eyes, a smile pulling her bottom lip from her teeth. Letting the expression speak for itself, she closes her eyes.

The only light in the room is from the moon as it spills in from the open doors.

In such little amount of light, she looks ethereal. Fuck it if that sounds corny, but that’s the only word that comes to mind as he’s looking at her.

“Stop staring at me and come to bed,” she mumbles, eyes still closed.

“My shorts still wet.”

“Take them off.”

She almost didn’t even believe the words that came out of her own mouth. Her eyes open, seeing the smile on his face only deepen.

“Yeah, you keep up that bold shit.”

Only a couple of seconds pass until he pushes himself off of the wall. And just the same, Diamanté’s body moves without thought.

She sits up and her braids fall over her shoulders. An idea spurs in her head, but she second-guesses it. Just do it, her brain whispers to her. 

There’s no objection.

As Ajani steps closer, she reaches behind herself to pull at the strings keeping her bikini up.

He halts when her swim top is thrown off of the side of the bed. Her small, perky titties are out for him to see.

His mouth waters, desperate to curl around and suck on one of her chocolate drop nipples.

He can still see the hickie he put near one of them.

“Okay,” he nods.

Maybe it’s the fatigue that’s getting to her brain and swallowing up her usual meek nature.

My turn, he thinks.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he pulls the drawstring on his trunks loose. There’s only so much stalling one can do when it comes to undressing. He peels the shorts off. 

As he pushes the wet fabric down his skin, his dick softly bobs in the warm air as it’s released.

She prays he didn’t see the way her eyes widened by a fraction—certainly more awake than she was just a couple of seconds ago.

He’s so thick. She almost winces, thinking about how he’d probably split her open. Her pussy weeps just thinking about it.

A tiny bushel of dark, curly hair lays at the base of his dick, neatly trimmed. And she knows she can hardly see in the relative darkness, but from what the moonlight exposes—his dick is so pretty.

She can’t believe she’d ever think something like that about one of her best friends.

But the smooth, deep brown skin is alluring. His two-toned tip fades from a lush pink to a brown. Not only is he thick, but he’s got a mean curve that will definitely fuck up her walk.

Only a few inches of space separate them as he stands at the edge of the bed, staring down at her. He wets his bottom lip, so tempted to touch her.

“Lemme eat it one more time.”

She doesn’t even nod. She only sits back on her elbows and parts her legs. Beneath her lashes and her glasses, her big doe eyes look up at him.

He has to remind himself to keep his cool.

Carefully, he gets down on his knees before the bed and pulls her closer to the edge by her thighs.

His dick jumps, watching her open up for him again.

This time around, Diamanté keeps a hand on his head, tugging at his braids. It’s enchanting, watching him feast on her. 

His jaw works tirelessly to pull every sound and drop out of her.

Her grip on his braids tighten as he turns his head to tongue-kiss her pussy deeper.

“Mmh,” she mewls like a kitten, pushing her hips into his face.

His jaw glistens under the few streaks of moonlight that hit on them. He sounds like he’s in a heated make-out session with someone, and she can’t even believe that she’s that wet.

With her tight grip, she pulls. His spine almost curls and she feels his mouth slacken as he moans into her.

She bites down on her lower lip, liking that he seems to enjoy this treatment. So, she waits another minute before pulling again.

He moans louder. This time, pushing a hand down, between himself and the bed.

She hisses as he laps at her clit. Her pussy only ever clenches, finding it impossible to stop as he pays it so much attention.

She yanks on his hair, and he’s got to squeeze his dick to keep from cumming. But, of course, his eyes roll back until they close. 

His mouth never stops, though, buried in her pool of honey.

“‘Jani,” she moans softly. 

Her breath hitches cutely. As he holds one of her thighs, he feels it tremble beneath his hand.

Finally, he comes up for air. His eyes are low, stuck in a trance-like state. Pussy-whipped is the better term.

He stares at her messy cunt, dripping with slobber and slick. Pursing his lips, he pushes  out frothy bubbles of spit. It drips down on her. When it lands, he’s opening his mouth wide to take her mound in.

Slowly he releases each part of her until her clit is the only thing he’s sucking on. He releases that, too, with a loud pop.

Then she’s right back in his mouth, eyes closed as he runs his wide tongue all through her sopping folds and crevices. 

And the taste is so addicting, he can’t stop drinking from her. He hasn’t even noticed the telltale signs of her body tensing. Let alone acknowledged when her pussy was sputtering out a third release for the night. 

He only sopped it right up, coaxing for more.

“A-Ajani—oh … fuck,” her voice breaks and her thighs squeeze his head so hard, trapping him in her.

She doesn’t mean to, but she’s yanking on his hair so hard that he’s got no choice but to release her from his mouth.

And that’s only because his lips part to groan out incoherently into her. His dick shoots out thick spurts of cum before he can stop it.

He can’t even breathe, and he doesn’t think he wants to. ‘Cause if he had to choose a way to go out, this would be it; suffocated from being face-deep in Diamanté’s pussy.

When her thighs finally open, she has to push his head back for him to get air.

“No more,” she pleads, believing that round of this would definitely kill her.

His mouth is open, like he’s ready to beg for more. But, as he inhales, the fog over him lifts and his common sense slowly returns.

“My fault,” he croaks. 

As he licks his lips, tasting what’s left of her, he gets the urge to go back in for more. But his self-control is just strong enough to hold himself back.

However, nothing stops him from staring as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Tiny bubbles of her leftover release dribble from her slowly clenching hole. The milky essence slides down the valley of her ass cheeks, disappearing between them.

“Your … hair.”

Slowly, he looks up at her. It takes his brain seconds to catch up.

“Oh…” He reaches up to run a hand through the frizz, noting how messy they’ve gotten. “S’cool.”

Dia’ stares at him, eyes wide with concern. But, she cannot stop the laugh that bursts out of her. She tries to stop it up with a hand to the mouth, but it doesn’t work.

Tiredly, he laughs along. But his laughter is quickly intercepted by the words: “Oh … shiiit.”

The mess he made against the bed frame, his thighs, and his hand finally catches his notice.

“What?” She sits up to look where he’s looking, only to give the same reaction. “Oh my gosh,” she whispers, a surprised smile lifting her lips.

“Fuck,” he laughs. “Aw shit…”

She peers down at him from on top of the bed, a mischievous, kitten-like smile on her lips.

“Didn’t know you liked hair pulling.”

He kisses his teeth with the shake of his head, braids flopping around. “Shit, me neither.”

Carefully, Diamanté climbs off of the bed and pads over to the bathroom connected to the room. 

The countertop is littered with a couple of Ajani’s toiletries.

She gathers a good enough amount of toilet paper in her hand. But, before she leaves the bathroom, she catches her reflection in the mirror.

Yet another gasp slips past her lips for the night as she finds that huge ass hickey on her chest. 

Even against her deep brown skin, the blooming mixture of red and purple is harshly visible. 

At least no one else will see it.

She exits the bathroom, running on her tip-toes to get back to Ajani.

“Here.”

She sticks out her hand, offering the toilet paper wad for him to use.

“‘Preciate it.” Gingerly, he takes it and begins wiping up his mess. 

Speaking of mess, her eyes really widen when she sees the huge wet spot, soaked into the sheet.

“How are we gonna clean this up?”

“Hm?” He picks his head up to the messy bed. “It’s cool. Long as we throw it in the washer, we good.”

“Oh my God, what about your friend? He’s gonna be so mad we did this in his house.”

The fear on her face is hilarious. He can only laugh.

“Chill, he don’t gotta know.”

“This isn’t funny—this is his bed.”

“One of ‘em.” He stands at full height, almost wincing at the way his knees click. “This just his vacation house, he not even here most’a the year.”

His words do little ease her worries.

“If it makes you feel better …” He quickly dumps the soiled tissue in the bathroom toilet and flushes it. “There’s only cameras in the front yard and back,” he announces as he comes back out.

“The … backyard?”

“Yeah.” 

“The backyard? Where we just came from?”

“Yea—oh…”

She stares at him with wide eyes and her mouth agape.

But it’s too late to do some shit about it now.

He releases a sigh. “Let’s hope he don’t look at the footage.”

“This is so bad,” she frowns.

“Relax, okay?”

“We were being fucking recorded.”

And he can’t lie, the thought of that makes his dick just a tiny bit stiff. Admittedly, there’s a teeny, tiny part of him that wishes he could have the footage. But, he has to remain focused.

“If he seen us, I’m sure he would’a called me by now.”

“How would you know? You don’t even have your phone!”

He opens his mouth to object, but he quickly realizes she’s right. Her words remind him that they’d left their devices outside.

“Go check!” she whisper-yells.

“Alright.”

Quickly, he pulls his swim trunks back on to head back out into the backyard. The soft yellow lights and torches are the only things illuminating the rather still space.

Standing in the midst of it all, he peers up to search for the supposed camera out here.

There’s one hidden in one of the palm trees. Another connected to the house, just beneath the part of the roof that juts out.

So they definitely caught that shit.

Inhaling deeply, he forces himself to look away and search for their phones instead. He’d found them on a small side table near the lounge area they’d been seated at.

He double-taps his screen; 3:42 in the morning.

Goddamn.

He swipes at his notifications, finding it empty. Relief floods him.

Before he returns to the house, he swipes up his and Diamanté’s shoes, her biker shorts and sweater, and her swim suit bottoms from the pool.

He makes a pit stop at the laundry room, throwing all of their clothes—his swim trunks included—into the washer before heading back to the bedroom.

Sitting on the bed, chewing one of her nails in worry, is how Ajani finds her.

“Here,” he says, tossing her his phone.

She catches it, opening it to find a couple of messages from their shared group chat and some lone ones from Aleya, telling her to let her know when she gets home.

Clicking off the phone, she rests it face down next to her.

“Did he say anything.”

He shakes his head. “Not a peep. So can we relax now?”

She gives a displeased hum, but doesn’t say anymore regarding the topic after that.

“Where are your pants?”

He glances down at himself. “Oh, yeah—found all our shit outside and I threw the clothes into the washer downstairs.”

She nods.

“I got our shoes, too.” He nods over to their slides near the bedroom door.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.” He comes to sit at the edge of the bed, sighing out. 

“Why didn’t you come get the sheets for the washer?”

“One … I ain’t even think that far,” he laughs, and she gives a small chuckle of her own. “And, two … I’on know, maybe we not … done, yet.” He barely shrugs, keeping his gaze forward. 

And Diamanté finds herself getting giddy. As she stares at him from behind, a tiny smile breaks through on her face. 

Her lack of a response makes him look back at her, scared that might’ve meant some form of a silent rejection.

But, when he sees that smile on those beautiful lips, he doesn’t have shit to worry about.

Whose idea was it to ride?

Hers? 

Or his?

Was he the one that suggested it and she went along with it?

Maybe it was the other way around?

Either way, his back rests against the wooden headboard, head angled up as he watches her hover over his lap.

A hand on his shoulder to balance herself, and the other holding his dick up.

“S’right there,” he whispers softly, a hand on her left thigh and rubbing circles into the smooth skin with his thumb. “You got it.”

Her eyes fall closed as she rubs his fat tip against her clit and drags it to her slick opening. 

She hopes to gather as much moisture as possible and to coax herself to relax. Her pussy weeps on his latex-covered head as she presses it in.

A soft cry falls from her as she pushes herself lower, his wide head splitting her open—just as she predicted.

His breath wavers as he’s plunged into her warmth.

“Fuck … so fuckin’ tight,” he whispers. His hand on her thigh grips harder.

“Mmh—I can’t. I can’t, I can’t,” she whines, face screwing up as her hips locks up, thighs burning and shaking.

“Just go slow,” he soothes. “Go slow, baby.”

His hand snakes up her thigh to hold her hip as his other takes ahold of his dick. Catching on, she places both of her hands on each of his shoulders and slowly lifts.

Only the tip of the condom is soaked, clinging to his skin tighter than the rest.

“Try again,” he tells her. 

This time, he’s the one to place himself at her entrance, but it’s at an angle. And when he pushes her back down, she glides with ease down what she’d already taken before.

That’s about when the easy part ends.

“Fuck, fuuck,” she trembles. 

Peering down between them, she’s got so much more left to take. And he only gets wider towards the base.

Ajani clenches his jaw, trying to keep his hips still. She’s got about three inches down, only a third of the way there.

Her pussy spasms around him, releasing small rivulets of moisture down his length.

“Fu—s-stop doing that.”

She doesn’t respond, only focused on trying to take him. A gentle push from him has her sinking down an inch further; almost halfway there.

“S’too big,” she cries, shaking her head. 

If he wasn’t so focused on not losing himself, he would have probably made a joke about that.

She lifts back up, leaving just the tip in. They feel like they can both breathe a little better. Pearlescent slick covers a little less than half of him, like he’d been dipped in vanilla glaze.

Fingers still pressing into his shoulders, Diamanté shifts on her knees before trying for a third time to take him. Still, she only makes it about as far as she’d gotten previously.

“This is taking too long,” she whines.

“I—shit … I might gotta way for you to do it.”

“Hurry.”

He releases himself to bring his hand between her legs.

“Wait—“

Once again, his thumb has found her clit. And he wastes no time rubbing and flicking. Her body ticks and her hips stutter.

“A-oh—“

As she clenches repeatedly around him, she gets another inch in. 

The nonstop attention to her clit has her body forgetting all about the thick length it’s split over, and focusing only on the pleasure she receives.

Her pussy keeps clenching and unclenching, and it gets sloppy—oozing all over his dick as it squeezes him.

“I … I think—“

Globs of thick, milky release seep out of her and down his length. As her pussy relaxes, her body slides with far more ease, pulling a moan out of her.

They’ve got just a handful of inches left, and Ajani believes it’s just enough for him to push the last few it.

So he does it.

And she damn near chokes out, spine straightening as a hand pushes at his chest.

“That’s it, you took it,” he whispers to her.

Her head falls to his shoulder as her body tries to adjust to being stretched so wide. 

And with every spasm of her walls, he can’t stop himself from twitching, setting off another chain of spasms.

She whines. The muscles in her thighs jump and her ass keeps clenching. Everything about her body is just so tight. 

And he needs to get her to loosen up before he releases into this condom.

“Relax,” he hushes her whimpers. “Just relax.”

He’s sure she can hear the strain in his voice. Nevertheless, he rakes his hands up and down her back, rubbing slowly.

“You good.”

Both have caress the expanse of her back, his touch only making her body react more. As his hands come back down, they reach all the way down to her ass. His fingers outstretch to cover the huge globes of fat.

She knows whatever’s she’s feeling won’t reside. He’s touching every spot in her. She’s sure he’s pressed right up against her cervix. And the curve in his dick definitely hits her G-spot dead on.

She can hardly breathe. The ache is so deep, she swears he’s in her stomach. 

There’s nowhere left for him to move. Pressed against her walls, she can feel the blood pumping throughout him even through the condom.

A harsh squeeze to her ass pulls a drawn out moan from her. She squeezes impossibly tighter.

“Shit, Dia’.” He squeezes his eyes shut as they almost roll back “Please, tell me I could move.”

He tries not to make the shivering in his arms so obvious, but he’s not sure how much longer he can withstand this.

“Please,” he swallows thickly. “Please.”

His heart beats wildly in his chest, she can feel it against hers.

“So f-fuckin’ deep,” he groans. “Gripping me … so tight,” his breath shudders.

He can barely keep his eyes open.

“Just wanna …”

His hips shift just a tiny bit, and they both can’t hold their moans.

“God—“ He hisses, feeling as though another wave of water just hit him. He’s drowning. He’s fucking drowning and he can’t save himself.

“Fuck—please.”

His hands push at her hips, barely dragging them. As the sensation has him bucking up into her.

She cries out, the sound only making him twitch.

“So good,” he licks his lips. 

Slowly, he rocks her against him, taking all the control, even as she whines out.

“Pussy so good … could die in this shit.”

“G-God—“ she claws at his back, but he doesn’t even feel it.

“Fuuuck, Mama” he drags out, using her body like a sleeve to fuck on.

She can only take it, feeling his dick abuse her G-spot and cervix. Hiccups wrack through her.

Ajani’s too gone to even stop. His head has fallen against the headboard, eyes rolled back as he’s balls deep in her.

He only presses her down impossibly harder, digging as deep as humanly possible.

She writhes in his lap, her stomach aching so good. Moans pour out of her. Her clit rubs nonstop over the dark curls at the base of his dick, giving her the perfect amount of friction paired with penetration.

They’re a creamy mess, her pussy sloshing and squishing around him. Together they churn thick, frothy white cream where their bodies meet.

“Hah … hhaah … auuh fuck,” he moans out, getting louder and louder. 

There’s no stopping himself. He’s completely gone off of her—pushing and pulling her faster and harder.

“Fuuck! FUUCK!”

“‘Ja—”

Her face clinches and she can’t even take a break as her pushes spews around the dick impaling her guts. 

Her squirt stream beats down on him, and yet it’s not enough to push the thick, heavy length out of her.

The repeated stimulation has her release lasting over a minute. His lap is covered in water, completely soaked, only making it easier for her to glide over him.

“Best pussy,” he pants, brain complete mush  as he continues.

She squeals out at the overstimulation.

“Best pussy … swear to God,” he cries out, voice scratching his throat. 

He doesn’t even realize that he’s cum into the condom, filling it up.

“‘Ja-ani,” she chokes out.

And finally, he begins to slow. The harsh spurts and gurgles her pussy makes are much more pronounced.

“Wanna … give so much,” he babbles, thoughtlessly. “Give you everything … all’a it.”

She thinks she just had another orgasm, she can’t even tell. But the slick, cream beneath her only grows in size.

The force he uses to push her lightens immensely until she’s no longer being moved. 

Her chest rises and falls as she gulps down air, him too. They’re immobile, but her cunt still clamps softly around him every now and then.

She swears his dick has made her go numb. Until she feels a twitch, and realizes—

“Y-you’re still hard?”

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Y-you sure?”

She nods weakly, trying not to move a great deal. Her pussy feels swollen, pulsing around him—lips and all.

He taps her ass. “Up.”

Help is required as she slowly lifts off of him. The ache gets worse and she almost cries when he’s finally out.

He expected to see himself flop out of her, dick completely spent. But the sight of himself still painfully hard and standing at attention gets him.

Not only that, but the mess they’ve made; His lap is covered in her squirt and cream. Frothy white sheathes his entire length, all nine and a half inches completely drenched in her releases. He twitches.

She stares at it, almost unable to believe that was just in her.

“Fuck,” he sighs out, dragging a tired hand down his face.

Carefully, he gets out of bed to pad to the bathroom. She stares at the doorway, hearing him hiss and utter curses.

“D-did you finish?”

“I’on know!”

Diamanté sits, watching and waiting. She hopes he did. She doesn’t know how she’ll feel, knowing she couldn’t even make him finish. 

She knows it probably has nothing to do with her, but the fear is still there. She chews on her bottom lip.

“Fuck, I did!” he yells from the bathroom. “Yo, what the fuck!”

He doesn’t come back out until after a minute or two, cleaned off and condom-free. He holds himself down.

“We don’t gotta go again if you not feeling it. I feel like that was a lot for you, not tryna … wear you out.”

She only looks at his dick, noting how hard he is. “What about you?”

He kisses his teeth. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Might just … go in the shower or something,” he points back to the bathroom.

He knows damn well beating his dick won’t do shit, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Well …” she looks off to the side. “I don’t think I wanna stop.”

His brows raise. “You—you wanna go again?”

She nods.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she says softly.

God, it’s her fault. This is all her fault. She’s the reason why he’s this hard. That sexy, deviant-ass energy she tries to hide.

“Okay,” he says, breathlessly.

It’s hard for his brain to make connections, but soon he’s at his luggage, rifling through it like he did the first time when he was looking for a condom.

It’s supposed to be quick. Two minutes—at most. But two minutes turn to three. Three becomes four, and four to six.

He’s getting antsy.

“The fuck…?”

“What?”

“I can’t … yo—I can’t find it!”

“Find what?” She shifts, trying to peak and see.

“A rubber!”

He continues to search but comes up empty-handed.

“Fuck, I think I’m outta condoms.” He sucks his teeth, throwing down the balled up shirt in hands. “Fuck.”

A tiny pout befalls her lips as she watches him.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Mama.” He makes his wake back over to the bed, sitting at the edge, his head in his hands. “Think that’s it for the night.”

She looks down at the mess between her thighs. The faint pulse in her pussy is still there, and she knows it’s not going away any time soon.

“We … we can do it.”

He picks his head up to peer back at her with furrowed brows.

“Just pull out … if you want to.” She tries to do a little shrug.

It was a measly attempt at trying to come off as some small idea she’d just thought up on the spot.

But she can’t lie to him. Not like this.

He’s known her for too long to know that she doesn’t make decisions without some ounce of heavy overthought. 

His eyes squint. “If I want to pull out or if I wanna fuck raw?” 

She shrugs, resting her chin on her knees as she hugs her legs.

“You need’a stop doing this to me.”

She smiles, noting the playful warning.

“You on anything?”

“The shot.”

And that was all he needed to know.

He’s got her on her back, legs pulled up to her chest, the view of her ‘5☆’ tattoo between her thick ass thighs. 

Five star for sure.

Jewelry dangles from her ankles. And her pointed, square-acrylic toes curl cutely above her pussy. 

The shiny lips are puffy from the beating his dick gave her. And her clit is almost engorged.

She’s the perfect picture, staring up at him and spread open. If she wanted him to, he would put every part of her body in his mouth.

But that’s for another time.

He positions his tip at her entrance and immediately her pussy kisses his tip, her insides playing peek-a-boo with him. His braids hang in his face, too far away for her to pull on.

“Fat ma’ missed me?”

She whines softly, her toes curling up some.

Leaning down, he’s got one hand at the beside her head. “Yeah … I know she did.”

He drops his dick in her, driving the heavy weight through her tight warmth. Her mouth pulls open, eyes closing as she lets out a moan.

“Know she did,” he says through gritted teeth. “Look how she’s fucking taking me.”

Her cunt is stretched wide open, pulled around his girth. And watching it from this angle only makes him want to ruin her pussy further.

A harsh whimper and a hand pressed to his lower stomach stops him.

“Y-you’re on my spot,” her voice shakes.

He’s just a little more than halfway, and he’s still got more dick to give. Much more stretch, too.

“You could take it.”

The hand on his stomach retreats to hover over her pussy.

“O-oh God—”

He pulls out by just an inch before bullying his dick all the way in. 

She babbles out sounds that he can’t quite piece together. And he’s not sure what’s got her feeling so different this time, when he peers down and sees the faint outline of himself in her stomach.

“Awe shit,” he laughs. 

He delivers shallow strokes that make her writhe beneath him, just to see himself move inside of her.

Her mewls are so cute, and he loves hearing her react.

“I’m in your stomach?”

She nods, face clenched tight.

“Yeah?”

Just as she’s about to nod, she freezes as his strokes hit deeper and harder.

“Fuck … all in it … fuckin’ you so deep,” he mumbles, eyes right on her stomach.

Her body trembles. Every inch he pushes in, globs of honey spurt out as she creams around him.

“Pussy s-so good t’me—fuck.”

His dick twitches and he has to stop himself from releasing. She’s so much wetter, allowing him to glide with a bit more ease.

“Creamin’ all on my shit.”

His hands move to grip underneath her knees and push them all the way back to her ears.

A sharp squeal pushes out of her lungs as he slams all 9 1/2 inches in and out of her. Over and over, never letting up.

Her cream splashes back on him, making his lower half filthy. Every thrust has his heavy balls smacking against her ass.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, eyes rolling back. He buries his head in her neck, rolling his hips into her.

Her pussy bubbles and froths around him, being gagged by his dick. The smack of their bodies colliding is music to his ears, paired with her moans, only spurring him on more.

“So good … so good. Wanna give it t’you. Gi’ you everything … my f-fuckin’ kids—“

She hiccups, arms shivering as they’re thrown over his shoulders.

He presses sloppy, open-mouth kisses to her neck. The feeling makes her shudder.

“Lemme—“ he swallows. “Cum in this pussy.”

She whimpers. “Mm-yours!”

“S’mine?”

She cries out what is her best attempt at shouting ‘yes!’

“This pussy all mine, Mama?”

She nods eagerly. “Y-yes!”

Ajani releases one of her knees and pulls up enough just to grab her in the space between her jaw and neck. 

He drops a kiss on her lips, sucking on her bottom lip. His hand tightens around her neck as he plunges his tongue in her mouth.

He moves at a languid pace, dragging out each and every stroke. His hips press all the way in stopping only to move in circles against her.

Her lips slacken in the kiss and he’s in full control as she’s momentarily paralyzed by his dick, mixing her guts.

When he comes up for air, pulling out of her, too, he marvels at the sight between them. Solid white strings of her cum create webs connecting them. The farther he pulls away, the gooey ropes sink as they’re weighed down by gravity.

His dick and balls are covered in his frothy cream once again. But as he looks at her clenching pussy, it forces out thick globs of the matching substance onto the sheets. 

Staring at Diamanté feels like sucking on a honey pack, because he just can’t stop. He’s so hard for her.

Dick twitching, he grabs himself, running a tight fist along his length at he stares at her. He really only meant to do a couple of pulls. But as he stares at her, almost passed out, pussy gaping and weeping for him, he can’t seem to stop.

His hand just keeps going, and going, and going and—

“Fuuuck … aah … shit,” he hisses, shooting out thick ropes of cum right on her clit. 

It drips, mixing with her release. Some even dips in the cavern of her pussy, swallowed by the rhythmic contractions her body makes.

And he almost wishes that was the end of it, because it’s beginning to get ridiculous. But his dick barely softens in his hand.

“What the fuck,” he whispers, staring down at himself.

“You didn’t … cum inside.”

He looks up, seeing her low eyes staring back at him. She’s got a lazy hand between her legs, fingers caressing her sloppy pussy and mixing their cum together.

She pushes three fingers in, reaching quite far. He watches with curiosity, waiting for something—he doesn’t know what—to happen.

Then she plunges her fingers in yet again and a loud, wet pffft escapes from her pussy. A moan follows after. And finally, a new bout of cream pours from around her fingers.

And she just keeps going, whimpering like a wounded animal as she digs into her G-spot.

How he’s able to get any harder is beyond him. But he’s got to do something about this.

Grabbing her wrist softly, he pulls her fingers out. She whines, desperate to be filled.

“I’ma get you … relax.”

In just one night, she’s been reduced to a moaning mess, unable to even form full sentences.

He flips her on her stomach, bringing her hips up, her knees buried into the mattress.

Her ass is heavenly from this view. Spread hips and cheeks plump and bubbly. All of her stretch mark and cellulite has him wanting to cop a feel.

So he does. His hands spread over one cheek, rubbing circles into it. Only to lift a hand and drop it back down with a heavy smack.

She cries out, back arching. That’s all he wanted—bracing either sides of her waist with his hands, he presses most of his body weight down onto her, deepening her arch.

Keeping one hand in the middle of her back, he uses the other to line himself up with her. Then, he pushes in.

“Augh—shiiiiit!” She moans, pussy spasming.

He returns his other hand to her back as he drops his dick into her stomach.

The most pathetic sounds come out of her as she reaches back to push at his stomach. That doesn’t last long, as he’s grabbing her arms and twisting them behind her back.

“Want me to pull out?”

Her back expands and shrinks with every deep breath. But he hasn’t seen her nod her head yes (even as it’s buried in the sheets).

“Hm?”

She groans deeply into the comforter. Her pussy clenched tightly around him.

“That’s a ‘yes’?” He begins to pull out.

“No,” she sobs.

He smirks, before shoving back in. His thrusts keeps her quiet as he beats her walls down. Her body jerks harshly against the sheets, ass clapping back against him.

The recoil has him in a trance. And he’s losing his fucking mind over it. 

“Pussy huggin’ me … she don’t want me t-to leave.”

Hips make heavy smacks against cheeks, piercing their ears.

“Oh God … o-oh—GOD—“ Her stomach aches as her pussy convulses around him.

“Gonna put a baby in this shit … swear to God,” he moans, gripping her waist tight.

He props one leg up, foot to the mattress, to get more leverage. His braids dangle over his eyes, but that doesn’t stop him from digging in her shit. Almost like he’s angry.

“Been wanting you … s-so long,” he grunts.

With one last stroke, he punches his hips into her and keeps them pressed to her ass.

“Never wanna leave this shit … just wanna—stay in it.”

Labored breaths leave him as he bucks his hips into her, never pulling out. 

He stills, allowing either of them to really feel each other. Where they’re conjoined, cum drips from them onto the sheets below. It’s a sopping puddle.

Her legs are trembling so much, he almost laughs. Instead, he licks his lips. His hands move on their own accord, rubbing and spreading her cheeks.

Her little, puckered hole winks at him, untouched.

So he spits on it, loving the way her she twitches. He rubs his spit into the hole, threatening to push the tip of his thumb in.

“Please,” she whimpers. “C-can’t take it…”

“No thumb?”

She shakes her head into the sheets. He delivers another blow to her ass, making her whine out. 

“Aight, then. Ride yo dick.”

She whimpers, but he doesn’t accept that.

“C’mon. You a big girl, D’.”

His hands leave her body.

“Work for this nut.”

Her arms are sore, however, she braces herself by gripping onto the sheets. The muscles in her legs burn so bad, it’s a struggle to move her hips.

But she starts off slow, fucking him back. It doesn’t take her long to gain a good pace. 

Ajani feels a sadistic pleasure watching her fucking herself on his dick. The typical shy Diamanté, throwing it back on him.

“That’s right … work for it.”

Her quiet mewls dissolve into wails and sobs. The claps of her ass get harder and rougher. She’s squeezing him like a vice, pussy splishing around his dick.

“Fuck! S-so good,” she weeps. 

“It’s good?”

“Yyess!” She gasps for air as if her lungs are getting crushed. “Love this dick!”

“You love it, huh?” he laughs, breathlessly.

“M-mhm!”

“It’s yours.”

He grabs a hip, taking over once more.

“It’s yours baby.”

Leaning all his body weight on her, he pushes her deep into the mattress. A hand wraps around her neck as he delivers deep and hard strokes to her cervix.

“Take it,” he grunts in her ear. “Take this dick, baby.”

Tears streak her face as she claws at the sheets. He’s so deep, refusing to pull out even an inch as he keeps rolling into her. The whites of her eyes are all that’s visible.

His hips stutter and his balls tighten. “Fuck, ‘m ‘bout to cum,” his voice wavers.

The admitted words make her moan.

“Wanna finish in it—“

She clamps down on him tight, never wanting him to pull out. His breaths fan out against her neck, each out growing heavier than the last. As they reach the home stretch his hips slow, dragging out every thrust.

Every time he pushes in, her pussy talks back, weeping for him. It goes: Pfft … pfft … pfft. 

“A-auh fuuck—“

Ribbons of cum fill her tightness, painting her walls white. And the feeling is enough to trigger her release. 

Diamanté shakes beneath him as she erupts around his dick.

Even as she’s stuffed, filled to the brim, their cum it leaks out in thick lumps. He twitches, buried within her, still cumming.

“Shit, Dia’,” he groans into her neck, swirling his hips to ride out his orgasm.

She shivers, weakened by everything. 

“So good…”

Neither of them can tell how long their orgasms last. But they both know that they’re floating on Cloud-Nine. And after everything, it would be too easy to fall asleep right here, just like this. 

That’s exactly what they do.