#Thirsty Ear Infestion

[kimulus0check]

I could ask for headcanons of the sixtuplets (osomatsu san) (separately), what their "make up" sex is like, and what the discussion they had was.

(sorry for My Bad English omgg)

“I’ll do anything to make it up to you!” … “Anything?”

Had fun with this one! Reader is g/n with afab anatomy warning for smeuuut

Osomatsu- took money from your wallet to bet on horses. You knew he stole from his brothers, but you’d never think he would ever steal from you.

——

You weee splayed out on the couch. Osomatsu’s head between your thighs as you count all the money he won from betting on horses with your money. His tongues lapped at your folds desperately as he gripped your thighs as a vice. He won back thrice the amount you originally had, but to teach him a lesson you make him watch as you pocket all the money in your pocket. He finds you clit and nurses on it like a thirsty man in the desert.

Karamatsu- serenading you in public. You thought the intention was good, but he knows how you were with being in the middle of the public eye. And him singing in a restaurant full of people anyway was not the best way of expressing his feelings for you.

——

Kara sat you on the kitchen counter with one leg over his shoulder as he fingers you slowly. His face buried in the crook of your neck as he sang apologies. His leather jacket over your shoulders and your arms perched over the back of his neck. He started hitting deeper and curling his fingers up to hit your core deliciously. He thumbed your clit to send you

Choromatsu-snapped at you like you were one of his brothers. You two were at your place and you got very comfortable with each other in your relationship. Maybe too comfortable.

——

You sat on his face while flicking through the shows on the tv. Choro tounge fucks you fast and wet. He tries to slide his hands to grope your ass before you swatted his fingers away. “No touching, this is a punishment.” You saw sternly as you shot a glare down his direction. “Yes ma’am.” His hot breath sent a shiver down your spine as he lapped up your cunt.

Ichimatsu- infestation. Cats were all over your apartment. And you don’t hate cats, but they were just everywhere. On the balcony, in the bathroom, even in the closets.

——

After he shooed out the cats from your house, he said he was sorry and that he would keep them outside. He nuzzled his face in your neck as you tried to stay mad until he bit at that certain spot he knows sends heat to your core. Sucking on your neck with his sharp teeth and licking and lapping the bite mark he left. His hot breath and low panting in the shell of your ear sent shivers up your spine. “You forgive me?” he asked. His voice gravelly as he makes eye contact with you as he laid on your chest. “Maybe..if you’ll be a good kitty.” Feeling his cock ache from where he sat on you made you excited to hear his apology.

Jyushimatsu-tract mud in the house. He was always outside doing something, which you admire, but today was a rainy day. Mud tracts from the front door all the way to your bedroom.

—

After he had thoroughly mopped your floors clean he quickly came to try to make you feel better. You agitatedly scrubbed the dishes while as he came behind you to hug you at your waist from behind. You stop and look over your shoulder to give him the cold shoulder to see him not smiling, but giving you this look you’ve never seen from him. Suddenly he picked you up and carried you on his shoulder. “Jyushi put me down!” Your yells fell on deaf ears as he carried you out the kitchen and into the bedroom. Safely dropping you on the bed and you look up at him.”What’s gotten into you?!” His smile still gone but eyes were Ernest as he crawled atop of you and reached for your hand to kiss your inner palm. “Let me make it up to you, My home run.” Your face flushed and eyes wide not expecting that from him, but not complaining either.

Todomatsu-ignoring you on a date. You’ve been left on heard by your mother but apparently your boyfriend had more sass than you thought.

—

His cock ached as you gushed and tightened around him. Cock warming him as you scrolled on your phone and ignored his please. His whimpers and groan were so loud you couldn’t even hear your phone. “Pleasee babe it wasn’t on purpose I swear!” He shuddered as he whimpered at the nape of your neck. “Oh what was that? Must have been the wind.” He groans at your mean demeanor as he begged you to move. His hands snaking around to ghost over your navel. You lift up suddenly catching him off guard as he loudly moans embarrassed at how he sounded so desperate, before you sat back down to reposition yourself. He winced thinking how it’s going to be a long night.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//of the seventh circle. sakusa kiyoomi//

Request: MAAM I AM NOW HUMBLY REQUESTING SOME DEMON OMI >:"( FUCK-

Warnings: some shoving and a little sprinkle of choking

Word Count: 1.3K

Notes:  It’s seven am.  My double-shot americano has long since worn off.  It’s definitely time for a nap.

(Demon!Sakusa x Human!reader)

 You should’ve known that you weren’t alone.  The cups that would casually be pushed off the counter while you were in the bathroom, the faint pattering of nails against the walls, the kitchen drawers that would open all on their own.  The feeling of being watched raising the hairs on the back of your neck each passing moment.  The shadowy figure that seemed to pass by your bedroom door in the late hours of the night just as you were about to fall asleep.  

He had always been there, watching you, lurking in the shadows, waiting for his moment.  It was such a fun game.  Your confusion at each and every sound he would make.  Did you have rats that kept scratching around?  Did you leave that drawer open?  The way you would cover your head with a blanket when you would lay your tired eyes on his looming figure as he wandered your house in the depths of night never failed to bring a sly smile to his face.  Scaring the humans?  It was his favorite way to pass the time.  

But, when you’ve existed on this plane as long as Sakusa, time was nothing more than an illusion.  Days and nights meant nothing to him anymore.  The years that passed all seemed to run together at this point.  All of the families that moved into this home only to leave in a matter of months because of him were all the same.  

Then there was you.  It had been three months since your arrival and while there were times that he would find you shaking with fright, more often than not, you simply carried on about your day, convinced that all of the strange things that were happening were a cause of your own negligence.  It infuriated the demon that inhabited your home more than any religious symbol ever could.  Feeding off of the fear of the humans gave him the strength to keep roaming this world.  It kept him from having to go back to Hell for another 300 years, but the fact that you were just so unbothered?  Well, the reality of his situation was approaching him faster than he would’ve liked.  

He found himself struggling to flicker lights, a task that he should’ve been able to do with ease, but his powers were beginning to drain.  It was like Satan already had a grasp on his ankle, trying to pull him back down to those fiery pits, the screaming of tortured souls being the only music to fill the silence.

3:00 AM may be known as the Witching Hour, the point in the dead of night where spirits and creatures of lore are at their strongest, but when you were thirsty, you were thirsty.  Your resident demon heard you stumbling and cursing through your house as you struggled to make it to the kitchen in your sleep-infested daze.  

You didn’t bother to turn the lights on, a mistake.  You would’ve seen the man sitting on your kitchen counter if you had.  You would’ve screamed, possibly called the cops only for them to find nothing but the smell of sulfur where the man had been.  But, rather, you merely opened a cabinet, reaching for a glass.  That feeling was back.  The feeling of a pair of eyes boring into you, carefully following each and every muscles that you moved.  But, when you turned around there was nothing, just a drawer that you don’t remember opening hanging slightly ajar.

Then, long fingers wrapping around your neck, nails grazing across the delicate skin as the fingers slowly, slowly tighten.  There’s a sudden feeling like you had been hit square in the chest as you struggle to take a full deep breath, a cold presence pressed against your back and looming heavily over you.  The scream that wanted to escape was trapped somewhere beneath the bubble of fear that had formed within your throat.  A chill went up your spine at the feeling of sharp teeth and soft lips moving against your left ear, hair tickling the side of your face.

“You scared yet, sweet cheeks?”  The smirk was evident in the velvety smooth voice that filtered into your ear.  Even if you hadn’t heard him speak, you could feel the slight curve of the corner of the man’s mouth.

You push the lump in your throat down, a small, “Who are you?” escaping you as one pointed claw slides gently across your skin, moving up to graze your face.

“My name?  That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, sweet cheeks.  Didn’t anyone ever tell you that names have a lot of power?”

“I’m not scared of you.”

There’s a low chuckle as the hand that had once been wrapped around your neck grasps your chin, forcing you to look at the thing that had come to your home.  Soulless black eyes stared deeply into your own.  Even in their darkness, there was a sinister glint of mischief.  “Isn’t lying a sin?  You may want to ask that man in the sky that you humans are so fond of to forgive you.  I can feel your feeble little body trembling.  You even look like you might cry.  You poor thing,” he says coldly, clicking his tongue slightly as he shakes his head.  “It’s okay to admit it.  You can be scared.”  

“Who are you?” 

“Aren’t you a stubborn one?  You want to know that badly?  Fine.  My friends down in the seventh circle call me Sakusa.  Sakusa Kiyoomi, since you care so much.  And who are you, my little play thing?”

“What are you?”

The grip on your chin tightens, fingernails digging into your flesh.  That smirk flattens into a snarl, eyes taking on a whole new level of darkness.  Your back makes contact with the door of your refrigerator, head slamming painfully against the aluminum.  In the depth of the night, there’s a certain unholy beauty to him, moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face, black curls blending in with the bleeding darkness.  It was terrible, really.  Knowing that something this beautiful could be so incredibly foul.

“Answer my question.”  There was a tremble in his lips and the sharp points of rows of teeth were barely evident in the low lighting.  

Your mouth opened, an objection ready to leave you, but your body is pulled from the fridge only to be roughly pushed back.  Sakusa’s hand twists your head uncomfortably to the side, his strong body pressed against yours preventing you from even thinking about moving.  “Your name, sweet cheeks.”

“Y-Y/N,” you whimper, fear lacing through each syllable.  But, it makes him grin.  The shake that had been so visible in your body had echoed into your voice.  It made something inside his chest well with pride.  This was because of him.  That tremble in your words, the quiver of your bottom lip.  All of it was from him, the unholy entity that had been watching you, waiting in the shadows for this perfect moment.

The weakness that he had once felt had now since passed.  He could feel his renewed strength prying Satan’s claws off of him, allowing him to stand his ground on the human plane for just a little longer.  A small sigh of contentment escapes him.  His thumb grazes your soft skin, eyes taking in each and every feature that he now had the privilege to see up close.  There would be marks against your skin in the morning, the demon’s touch burning momentarily into your flesh in the light of the day, but that just made this all the more exciting.  

“We’re going to have a fun time together, don’t you think, Y/N?”

[fantasyandromancelover]

Brothers Grimm AU

Inspired by two popular but horrifying stories by the Brothers Grimm: Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel with hints of Beauty and the Beast stories, Animal Bride stories, and the Crucible. I'm contemplating writing this myself but I'm not sure if I would have the time to. We'll have to just wait and see.

In the Black Forest there exists a fearful village due to the forest being infested with the two most dangerous creatures known to man: Werewolves and witches. 

Werewolves: Blood thirsty hounds from Hell able to take the form a human male and determined to devour anything that moves. Believed to have been born from the sin of man and commonly associated with vile acts of wrath and greed.

Witches: Female demons in human skin who practice the dark arts. Believed to have spawned from the sin of a woman and commonly associated acts of lust and envy. 

For centuries humans in this village have feared these creatures but their paranoia did not arise until two incidents took place that haunted them all forever. First the blacksmith's daughter was seemingly stolen away by a wolf and presumed to have been raped and eaten. Second the fiance of a landowner's widow is seemingly bewitched and seduced by a maid servant who was secretly a witch. The wolf was hunted and killed while the witch was burned at the stake. The aftermath led was the whole village becoming ruled by terror and suspicion as a way to keep it's inhabitants safe but there's more to the story than what's been told. Especially when these incidents resulted in two children being sired.

Sometime after ward Charlotte the innocent, red hooded daughter of the village magistrate Lucifer and granddaughter to it's preacher is eager to explore the Black Forest and see what lies beyond the village. However she along with all children are forbidden to enter. She is doted on by her grandfather but neglected by her parents and is close friends with siblings Anthony and Molly. 

One day she hears a wailing noise coming from the edge of the forest, she goes to investigate and finds a wolf pup caught in a trap. Unable to let what she believes to be an innocent and harmless creature be destroyed by wolf hunters, she sets it free. A few days later she learns that Anthony and Molly have run off into the forest and goes out to find them when her parents refuse to help. However she becomes lost and is approached by a man who resembles her grandfather but she quickly realizes that it's not really him and tries to flee. The man is actually a werewolf and chases her in his beastly form, in haste she trips and hits her head on a stone. Before she can be eaten something small but surprisingly more powerful and violent kills the monster. As Charlotte goes in and out of consciousness from the bump, she thinks that she's being carried and warmed by a boy who she describes as having big hairy ears on his head, a smile full of big sharp teeth, and big sad eyes. In the morning she wakes up outside the church where she's found by her grandfather and is not entirely sure what happened after she hit her head but she'll never forget those big ears, big eyes, and big teeth. 

Meanwhile Anthony and Molly as it turns out did not run off into the Black Forest but were abandoned there by their secretly abusive stepfather Valentino. As they try to find their way back home they are captured by an old witch who intends to fatten them up and eat them. They're locked in a cage and forced fed by the witch's child slave who can't help them directly but assists them by revealing the witch's weaknesses to them such as her being blind and being able to fit inside her oven which happens to have a lock on it. With this information the brother and sister trick the witch into getting into the oven and lock her inside so she burns. However the enslaved girl vanishes after her mistress dies, leaving behind a trail of magic pebbles that lead them home.

Years pass, villagers to make livestock sacrifices to appease the werewolves every full moon and by law one household is selected give up a sacrifice. If livestock cannot be provided by that household then a human must be killed in it's place. Charlotte now an inquisitive young woman is being courted by wealthy game hunter Sevithan and is being pressured by her family to accept however she is more focused on finding a solution to dealing with werewolves that doesn't have the prospect of killing people. She wonders if maybe there is more to these creatures then what meets the eye but the only one who supports her is her grandfather while everyone else mocks her ideas. (Except for Anthony and Molly, they don't really believe in her cause but they don't mock her for it)

As the next full moon approaches, Anthony and Molly's household is chosen to give the sacrifice but the greedy Valentino does not want to give up livestock and instead chooses to sacrifice his stepson. He locks his wife and Molly in the house so they can't stop him but Charlotte finds out about it and goes to rescue him. She offers herself to be sacrificed instead and convinces Anthony agree by reminding him that his mother and sister need someone to protect them from Val. Anthony escapes and Charlotte stays behind where she's eventually put into a drug induced sleep to make her demise a painless one.

At first the werewolf called Alastor has no qualms about devouring her but finds himself too mesmerized by her beauty and innocent appearance to do so. He spirits her away to his home and when she wakes she is surprised to find that Alastor despite his feral wolf nature also has an intelligent, cultured, and civilized side who enjoys music and literature. Fascinated by each other, Charlotte sees an opportunity to learn more about werewolves from him and use that knowledge to find a more peaceful way to deal with them. He like many others laugh at her ideals but consents to be apart of her little "project" and to hold off on eating human sacrifices but one condition. That he be allowed to see her face and hear her voice at least once everyday. A deal is made and she goes home but secretly visits him everyday.

That same night as Anthony is heading home he stumbles on to seeing Vagatha a witch bathing. She angrily chases him off and he accidentally steals her cloak. The next morning she shows up at his house and demands that he return her cloak to her but unfortunately he's misplaced it which means until it is returned to her, she must now serve the person who found it. That being Anthony. Neither one is happy about the situation and so until they find the cloak Vagatha must masquerade as the house hold's new maid servant. 

Unlikely friendships and romances are made while secrets and lies are uncovered. This is no ordinary fairy tale and everything is not what it seems.

[jonogueira]

Chickens and peacefulness.

This one goes to @myrddinderwydd​. I hope it was what you asked for... Sorry if it isn’t!

Cole and my inquisitor Alma’s friendship.

TW: none. 

Alma caressed the neck of her mount with lazy fingers, whispering praises in the mare’s ears. Thanking her for the companionship and loyalty. Her hand feeding the Fereldan Forder a carrot.

A sudden noise caught her attention, and she raised her eyes to search for its source. The spirit was at it again. Cole had chickens on his arms and walked briskly in the tavern’s direction. Sighing, she scratched her eyebrow with her thumb and decided to follow him.

Contrary to many people, she didn’t think the boy was dangerous. She thought of him as nothing more than a boy. One that kept getting himself in trouble after she asked him to give people a chance and not make them forget about him. She often caught him in the most unusual situations exactly because she told him to help in a more mundane way.

There was that time he was caught trying to sneak into Leliana’s room, the other day he entered the armory with a - stolen - barrel of ale to give to the thirsty workers, and there was also the night he had dirt all over his clothes and skin, trying to help the gardener get rid of the weeds infesting the place.

She wasn’t afraid of him; she really liked the boy… a lot. Since the day he came to Haven, she took him under her wings, and no one dared to look at him or say anything bad about him when she was around. She made sure of that.

She saw Harding standing near the tavern, and with a look and a small smile, the scout pointed Alma in the right direction. Thanking the woman with a nod, she rounded the tavern and heard the joyful laughter of kids.

Alma immediately remembered the children who lost their parents in Haven’s destruction. Without being commanded, her magic manifested on her fingertips, and she saw frost started to cover the ground around her with a white blanket. Shaking her head, her thoughts went to Corypheus, and her blood began to boil once again… losing her cool wasn’t going to help anyone. Taking deep breaths, she calmed her emotions down and allowed the children’s laughter to unburden her shoulders.

A bright smile played on her lips when she remembered that the mages, more than overjoyed, took the kids to look after them, even though none of them had magic… They were all so desperate for purpose… and daughters and sons. For the first time in their lives, mages were free to choose a path to take. To love without fear of tranquility and separation, to start a family without the fear of a broken home and longing. To cradle their babies in their arms without the fear of never again seeing something so precious, fear that they would inherit their magic and be locked up in endless stone walls.

Another noise broke her reveries, and she restarted her search for the boy again. Finally, behind the tavern, she saw that Cole played with the children a game of chase the chicken, and she felt her chest rumble with laughter. The children ran after the poor animals, screaming and laughing. A wild smile on their lips. Cole appeared here and there to make the chickens stay in that designated place, and the children laughed even harder when he jumped in front of them, giving them a light scare.

Alma couldn’t help and joined the game. She held the youngest of them in one arm and heard herself cheering. With a flick of her hand, she made a makeshift fence so the chickens wouldn’t escape.

Cole looked up at her and nodded in a silent thanks. He ran around helping the children, and she noticed the smile on his face, the chuckle that escaped him, and how happy the spirit was.

Even if her days were long and difficult. Her future uncertain and full of challenges. She sat in that small hidden place and let herself a moment of peace.

The fact that Cole sat by her side and they watched the children have a blast of fun, had nothing to do with how peaceful she was, and the pride she felt for the boy soothing her heart and filling her soul… that, well, that she couldn’t deny.

I hope you liked.

Likes and reblogs are super appreciated!

[crapitskizaru]

Eustass Kid x Mermaid!Reader

You and your blog are wonderful! I’ve had this idea stuck in my brain for days, so I was hoping I could request a scenario with Kid being in love with a mermaid (no angst, please!). Thank you!!! the-devil-fruit-tree

Warning: hahAaa jk there's no warning to this one also friendly recommendation to watch Sinbad: the legend of the seven seas

Word Count: 1,9k

The spiky peaks of mountains rose in the distance, blocking their path to the rest of an open ocean. In the man's mind, they resembled claws or, rather, teeth of a sea creature that just waited for his ship to sail within its reach.

"We'll see who's stronger," he muttered to himself. The wooden railing felt unnaturally cold underneath his clenched fingers; the whole crew could notice it as well, in their tensed postures and cautious gazes - something alien was hiding in between those dark cliffs. It resonated throughout the air and the structure of the ship, vibrated among the sea waves.

Kid marched onto the quarterdeck and snatched the steering wheel away from Killer’s grasp.

“I hope you’re aware that only the most foolish of captains would dare to sail a ship through this?”

“And here I thought that after so many years you’d know what kind of captain I am,” Kid snapped back and directed the ship towards a narrow gap between the mountains - so narrow that they grazed along the side of the hill with the ship’s lift. “We’ve been through worse.”

It was like a curtain - after their made it through the opening, the ambient sounds of the ocean were deafened by the stifling silence and the sky-high cliffs surrounding them. The water was still as they glided through its even surface.

“Rocks off the starboard bow!” Heat warned and they missed them by inches. 

The deeper they strayed, the colder the air turned; shipwrecks filling most of the area, whether massive, merchant vessels or less impressive cutters - drops of water dripped down their wooden planks as some of them were turned upside down, others smashed to pieces against the rocks.

Somewhere among the rising fog, a quiet hum of a melody rung around the dead mountains. Kid noticed the crew’s agitation getting stronger with each second as they passed a wreck of a galleon - its construction rotten to the core, hanging dangerously in between two larger boulders. 

“Captain?” Killer’s voice was laced with the usual amount of worry as the humming turned into a singing voice; more than one voice after a while, crystal clear and resonating throughout the stone walls. “It’s the sirens-” 

“Half of us are gay, what are you worried about?” 

“It doesn’t change anything! Their voice is enchanted.” 

Kid rolled his eyes and gestured for the first mate to keep it down. The flow of waters beneath the ship was faster now, relentless, as they gained in speed. 

As soon as Killer spotted his captain leaning over the steering wheel with a blissful expression on his face, he knew it was time to take matters into his own hands.

“Plug your ears! Cover them, go hide below the deck, just do something not to hear the singing!” he yelled, seizing one of his crewmates who was about to jump off to the sea and pushing him towards the galley. 

Some wanted to stay onboard despite the danger, as living through a siren’s allurement was a valuable story to share in taverns, but one glance towards Killer’s deadly aura was enough convincing they needed to follow his orders.

Kid observed the deck emptying of his crew, most of them deciding to hide inside the ship and leave the issue of survival to their captain. Terrible idea, he thought, resting his head on his palm and swaying the steering wheel casually. 

He could feel his mind free of enchanted hold, his judgement as sharp as ever. But who was there to deny him the experience of spotting the sirens with his own eyes? He had to see them, creatures that so foolishly thought they could bend him to their charms. 

Killer’s yell snapped him out of the trance as the ship missed a bunch of sharp rocks at the last moment. The rush of air kept hitting him directly in the face - the water now swifter than ever, taking away the control of the wheel and leading them to its own course. 

The first mate was halfway up the stairs to the quarterdeck when Kid spotted them. Sat on the railing, the creatures resembled water spirits rather than demons; which the sailors so liked to imagine when surrounded by the steady ground and the influence of beverage. Killer still hadn’t noticed them, but from his frantic gestures and silent demands Kid assumed he already plugged his ears and was ordering for him to do the same. 

The ship’s side hit the stone wall, making them jolt forward. The water stream didn’t stop in its assault, however, pushing the ship further between the cliffs. There had to be an opening somewhere among them, a gateway...But Kid’s focus kept shifting to the three, captivating beings still seated on the railing. They seemed so peaceful, their song flowing in the air. 

He didn’t notice the serpents of water reaching out and taking ahold of his legs until it was too late - one of the sirens jerking him away from the wheel and pushing him closer to them. 

The sea creature was so fragile. Kid couldn’t help but note their skin resembling clear liquid, their faces shifting like a water stream. They needed his protection, his strength and powers. One of them came closer than the others, their arm curling around his neck as it whispered the song straight into his ear. 

“Kid! Get back here this instant, or so help me, I’ll drown you myself!” 

Killer’s words taken away by the rush of the wind as a sudden jolt of the ship made the captain lose his balance. He flew straight onto the creature - and through it, rolling off the railing and into the depths of the sea. 

All of his senses were snapped out of him as soon as he hit the dark surface, engulfed by the freezing cold. His limbs itched to move, but instead remained motionless as the man sank deeper and deeper. 

A face appeared in front of his own. The creature was so close, he could feel the influence of their body and the tiny vortexes that it consisted of. Surprisingly, he wasn’t scared; the only thing he could feel was the overwhelming cold that seeped through his clothing and seemingly to the bottom of his soul. 

His body had been seized by a sudden force - he couldn’t make out what it was that dragged him away and upwards, but it was wise to assume he won’t live long enough to find out. 

The first gasp of air was worth more than all of the past treasures he stole as he was thrown out of the water, landing on stone in complete darkness. His muscles listened when he commanded them to move, but reluctantly, still stiff and sore. 

“Who’s there?” he rasped into the dark. Pure salt seemed to be filling his entire mouth, scorching in his throat. But at least he was still breathing and not yet being devoured in the freezing depths. 

All that answered him was silence. That was, until his eyes adjusted, letting him spot a creature drifting in the water just a few steps away. He could swear it was staring straight at him, but it made no move. 

“You wanna eat me or no?” Kid breathed, his chest rising heavily. The thick clothing he still had on could have helped with the cold, if only it wasn’t soaked to the last string, now acting as nothing else than unnecessary weight to carry. “I don’t have all day.” 

As soon as it swam closer, he realized it wasn’t made of water - it resembled a human. A fine piece of human, he internally added, that’s going to bite all of your fingers off for a starter, you idiot.

“You don’t want to sing a little song and throw me off my own ship?” he continued to bark out and slowly sat up on the hard stone, dripping water gathering into a puddle underneath him. “That’s a pity. It was a lot of fun.”

“No one wants to eat you,” they finally spoke, their voice seemingly free of any spells. “Although it’s starting to sound quite tempting.”

“I’m pretty sure those things from before wanted a piece of me.” 

Kid took a moment to assess the situation he currently had the dubious pleasure to be in. There were a lot of times when he woke up without any recent memories or any idea about the place he was laying at, but this? It felt like he already lost his mind, at the verge of death, and was talking to himself rather than to an imaginary creature in the water. 

“They wanted to drown you,” it calmly spoke again, leaning over and resting against the stone ledge with half of their body still submerged. “For the sheer sake of it. They despise humans and take great pleasure in watching them die.”

“Your friends and I have a lot in common then.” Kid squeezed the water out of his fur. With the corner of his eye, he noticed the expression on the creature’s face twitch in annoyance. Perhaps it was time to think about survival rather than indulging in sarcastic exchanges with a water demon. 

“They are not my friends. I’m not a siren.” 

Kid took his time to eye them up and down, his gaze sweeping from their upper body lower - until it reached what was moving lazily beneath the surface. 

“A mermaid,” he muttered, angry at himself for letting a sound of astonishment lace his tone. “A mermaid, you’ve got a tail and everything.” 

He could swear they raised a taunting eyebrow at him. “Are you always this sharp?” 

With another wave of shivers that ran down his core, he realized this was no time for a small talk with an ocean creature. Even if he survived, by some unfortunate miracle, what happened with his ship? 

“Where’s my crew?” he asked, placing careful steps along the stone shelf. “Did they make it?” 

“I suppose. You were doing well. Not many ships made it this far.” 

Despite his lips already turning dry from salt, he bit down on them hard. There was no way he could make it back to the ship - not when it was water that separated them, especially the one infested with frenzied, blood-thirsty devils.

“You’re strong,” he started. “You pushed me out of the water.” They didn’t respond, so he gave up the act. “I can’t swim.” 

The mermaid cocked their head to the side. “Is this your way of asking for help?”

There was a lingering pause after the question, during which Kid assumed he’s gone completely nuts - if that was the case, it won’t hurt to comply and start winging it; which wasn’t anything new for him when it came to dealing with various types of problems. 

“Yes,” he gritted out. There was the image of Killer, climbing up the stairs to help him, imprinted in his mind. Even if he was dead, Kid will make sure to follow in his steps as soon as possible. “I have to go back.” 

There was a smile rising on their features, or perhaps it was just a play of his mind. Whatever the case, the mermaid reached out and took his hand, their touch cold but surprisingly soft against his skin. 

“Hold your breath,” they whispered and dragged him underwater. 

[comic-is-trying-to-write]

"Alright, everyone!” I’m not sure if anyone else knows this, but it does take a bit to convoke any kind of courage once you get so used to running away from your problems and are far from being used to asserting your self in the faces of seven others. Luckily, Soren ain't much of a wallflower. “It’s time to go! We only have one shot at this! Remember, once the Formidi-Bomb is crafted, it will explode in a matter of seconds! This means that whoever is doing the crafting will be in grave danger…and...well, I was hoping that…perhaps we could draw straws…!”

Although Soren was as straightforward as he could be, a heavy wave of awkward fell upon everyone, hushing them into silence. 

No. 

No, no, no, no. 

That’s an understatement. 

The wave that was Soren’s warning violently collapsed directly onto their heads from behind, abruptly in the sense that they could feel the spine-chilling presence of the thousand-foot tide at the back of them, a thunderous collision powerfully plunging onto them as they shrieked. That is, before the brackish water forcibly crammed into their noses, the unbelievably uncomfortable event had them to reflexively gap their mouths in teeth-grit, only to be forced to gasp even more salt-filled water, the roofs of their throats ironically dehydrating, the desperate desire to screech bloody murder merely intensifying as the strong current threw them, shuttling them into a harsh tumble, flailing their arms about, incompetent to swim to the oxygen cruelly teased overhead of them as they each try to preserve their lives, ultimately asphyxiating without a witness about, their lifeless body to only be discovered and mercilessly ripped apart, limb-to-limb by a sharp-toothed predator, their blooded remains to be left at the bottom of the ocean for centuries, for all some know--an unquestionable death for all. 

Except for one survivor, that is.

“Anyone?” I mean, even requesting in as meek of a tone of voice that was, Soren subconsciously knew that asking something of a suicide mission was a bit much to invite. “Please…?”

“This is my chance to be a hero.”

All of the seven others present, including Soren, instantaneously shot their head, some letting out small and to-be-expected exclamations, as they began to gawk at the individual who had courageously shattered the cowardice tendency that was circulating back and forth throughout proximity into fragments, accepting to conclude the journey that consisted of locating each and every member of the world’s greatest band of heroes to ever exist–the Order of the Stone, one of which had never to have been accompanied by the light of day in years, appearing to be belatedly rescued from his insanity, a result of isolation. Not only that, but having a full-on adventure alongside Gabriel the Warrior. Not to mention generally evading and scheming to eliminate the Witherstorm: a monstrosity completely competent of tearing the entire world apart, corner to corner, whilst it unmercifully murders everything that moves, mindlessly destroying the environment, atmosphere breaking, every step that it takes. Or every air it flies, I mean. A teenage group of four, a blessed extension to a combatant, somehow accomplishes all that and much more, however, none of them dared to risk their life, all-so-fatally. After all, sure they’d be honoured as a hero but would they want to be honoured as a deceased hero? It’s a given that no one would be okay with that fate. 

Besides Jesse, that is.

“This is my chance to step up.”

Once everyone had comprehended the fact that Jesse was volunteering to risk their own life for a problem that wasn’t his fault, several offered encouraging remarks whilst Soren presented a fake smile of good-luck and pleased approval as he stepped across to Jesse, giving custody to the Formidi-Bomb to the heroic soul, “Very well then...!”

Coughs echoing into the night sky, Gabriel bringing a hand to his mouth, a polite custom, before reminding his allies, the best engineer and rogue in the world: Magnus and Ellegaard. His tone being slightly angrily, “We should be ashamed of ourselves…!”

Ellegaard silently bit her lip, Magnus wordlessly glancing at the night-shadowed terrain to his left, both in an embarrassment of their friend’s notification, although they both already knew that. Even if they didn’t want to. At all. After maybe a second or two, eventually, both Magnus and Ellegaard shifted their attention towards one another, sharing shy, pitiful glimpses, supplied thoroughly with heavy regrets and laments, hearts quivering with sorrow. Remembering all that happened that day…The memories that happened that fateful…terrible…day… Eyes closed, heads lowered in absolute disgrace, they had broken away from each other’s pain-recalled expressions as if they could just shut out the recollections of the Order of the Stone’s most recent mission that easily. Most recent in a several years span, I mean. Ellegaard cradling herself, holding the humerus portion of her arms, Magnus simply trying to evade eye-contact with anyone, the guilt crushed them. Have to fix it. Even if that means to die. I’d be a hero, right? Die a hero.

“Jesse…take my armour,” Ellegaard offered, taking a small step up to Jesse who was now standing on the bridge ahead of the group next to Soren, “It will help.”

“Nah…” Magnus advised. Perhaps he was copying Ellegaard. Perhaps he thought that was a good idea too, “Take mine–It’s gotten me out of a lotta jams!”

Ellegaard got a bit upset, a stern voice, “I insist.”

Magnus argued, “I double insist.”

“I triple insist.”

“I…insist four times.”

“Quadruple.”

“Betcha don’t know what the fifth one is though!”

“Quintuple…alternately pentuple.”

“Know-it-all.”

“I’ve never found that insulting.”

“Up to you, Jesse,” Magnus turned his eyes back to Jesse. “Either real armour…or nerd armour.”

Jesse sighed, laughing. It was kind of funny, really. Even when they’re voluntarily placing their lives on the line, an abnormality ripping everything that they’ve ever loved apart, they persist to quarrel like five-year-olds. Both the engineer and rogue looked hopefully at Jesse–Jesse themself obviously wanting to make a conscious choice about who’s armour to select for, what they all had hoped to be, the final battle against the WitherStorm. However, Jesse didn’t want to take up a long amount of time. After all, wasn’t there a blood-thirsty monstrosity, made with an unorthodox material, smashing everything in it’s path to tears and tatters, a million times their size, Jesse themself being expected to slaughter the abnormality? In fact, wouldn’t the very solution to eliminate it would be to use an explosive that could vigorously detonate and fracture to fragments before it’s challenging, elusive production? 

We don’t have time to waste! 

“Jesse,” Ellegaard began, warmly smiling as Magnus bitterly pouted, “you won’t regret this. The choice that you’re making means that-” Ellegaard suddenly jumped, looking overhead, head snapped back, arms fiercely pressed to her sides, eyes shut, “we’rE ALL GONNA DIE!”

Magnus added, “Well, that’s inspirational-” Magnus violently flinched upon noticing in the corner of his eye what Ellegaard shrieked about, instantaneously shifting himself around to have a clear view at it, a finger sternly pointed, “WELL, THAT’S PANIC-INDUCING!” Alike to everyone else, he then shouted bloody murder, a drawn-out screech, spontaneously accelerating elsewhere. Anywhere elsewhere. The earsplitting outcries and heavy, fleeting footfalls pressed to the slightly damp grass, cause of the eight characters present; the noises echoed into the darkened twilight atmosphere, though it was blocked for the most part. A spine-chilling reality polished against all of their fingertips, cold, nervous sweat slipping drown their already stressed claws, a disturbing tune hallucinated in and out of their ears, filling the sky. None of them cared if they were sprinting into whatever was left of the monster-infested territories. None of them cared if they were running directly into a more open-area, monsters a higher chance of attacking them. None of them cared about producing a much of a loud racket, giving away their position. None of them cared if they had just up-ed and abandoned the rest of the group–others needing them. The didn’t care if others would or were worrying about them. They didn’t care about what was politely customed. They didn’t care about anyone else besides themself at that moment. All that they cared about was to get at a gap from the WitherStorm.

- - -

“Jesse!” Soren addressed trying to get Jesse’s attention, though the ginger bloke was running right next to them, alongside the rest of the group, “You’re going to have to set down a crafting table out there and make that Formidi-Bomb! Everyone else, grab a buddy and spilt-up! We need to keep that WitherStorm on track, so build, build, build!” Suddenly, a purple, dangerous tractor beam appeared in front of the group. The beam would elevate whoever was unfortunate enough to be in harms-way of the monster off of the ground and to their tortuous death, a strange feeling to come into the recipient’s stomach, though that may’ve been the certain death giving them that sense, a red outcome. The group was forced to disband from one-another; not that the violet stream was anything of an inconvenience though–they were going to scatter anyways. Jesse’s group disbanded to the left-hand side, the Order of the stone to the off route, the breeze of the cold especially pressing against Ellegaard’s chest, armour not defending her from the chill like it previously was; her armour being awarded to “Jesse!” Soren reminded in a loud yell, “Don’t forget! Super TNT in the middle and gunpower all around!” 

While the Order took the right-hand side, Jesse’s group the left, Jesse themself took the center, Formidi-Bomb materials in hand, eager to destroy that wretched creature, it being made by corrupt hands. A pursuit to a proximity of the unnatural creation felt like hours–It felt like the area where they had to approach was getting farther and farther away as they moved closer. The hurricane-like-wind, produced by the WitherStorm’s general existence, strongly stormed into Jesse’s face as they were hastening to a nearness; the breeze also gradually fluttered away Jesse’s confidence to small fragments to detonate the explosive in such a vicinity to the killing monstrosity that they were running to; a near-fatal activity…not that they really had a choice. This’ll save the world. Greater good, yeah? The noise of the rapid, racket footfalls of their allies echoed into the twilight atmosphere. Jesse taking a glance behind them, they saw their friends and supporters constructing mini-structures, only for the WitherStorm to forcefully shred it apart, the creature growing stronger in the process. They continued doing that. Over and over. Loyally is one thing. Over-optimism is another. But still…thanks, guys. Jesse finally reaching an appropriate distance, they set the crafting table onto the ground and, just as Soren informed, they located his unique TNT in the center, gunpower surrounding i-

Heart-drop.

Purple.

Purple. 

Purple.

Jesse’s feet felt nothing.

Jesse’s hands felt nothing.

Jesse’s body felt nothing.

What was happening?

They were going to die.

They were going to die.

They were going to die.

They were going to die.

This was it.

They were going to die.

Entering god-knows-what.

Literally.

Their friends will grieve.

Over them.

Their fault.

This.

Was.

It.

…

No.

Determined, Jesse swiftly swirled, propelling themself with one foot–foot jostled against the block which was pushed away, launching themself off of the crafting table–crafting table tumbling away, close to slipping out of the gravitation the Jesse and his materials were overpowered into, near to stumbling out of any possible arm-reach. Jesse whirling themself around, they frantically scanned their proximity as if their life depended on it. Which it did. Jesse striving to seek the ingredients of the Formidi-Bomb which had also elevated alongside them, they desperately glanced around. One. Jesse springing forward to quicky grab a single piece of gunpowder that had been lost, another coming into view, a natural result, out of the corner of their eye, they hurriedly snatched the second item out of the air. Well. Loose air. After all, Jesse was in the air, as a result of the tractor beam. Two. Jesse was barely able to feel as much as a small sense of satisfaction and self-achievement before they metaphorically collapsed into a panicked state. A very panicked state. Oh god, please no… In their peripheral vision, they saw something that really, really alarmed and scared them. A lot. In peripheral vision, Jesse saw his friends and allies creating another structure–a pig-like structure. But what exactly caught their eye in a bad way? 

“Magnus!” Soren warned in a shout, “Ellegaard!”

From the woman’s perspective, that’s when everything faded to black.

[pcygoldenchild]

I’m the Boss Baby

✨summary: You were minding your own business when you were taken by some mysterious club owner. Only the man you were with was not nice and wouldn’t leave you alone until he got what he wanted. But you knew who he was and nothing made you want him more than seeing him like that.

✨warning: NSFW, kidnapping, slight blood play, BDSM, dirty talk, sexual intercourse. THIS IS CONSENSUAL. THIS IS FICTION. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE.

✨A/N: This Baekhyun ruined me so it’s only fair I write 100 one shots about him.

Nights out at clubs were a regular for you. Not that you partied often but you were always dragged along with friends. Sometimes, like tonight, you’d come by yourself just to have have fun and maybe a one night stand. There was no shame in your game. Nothing wrong with a one night stand to fuck off the tiring week. You’d been to basically all the clubs across the city. This one was your favorite by far. The guys here were always a certain scary type, very demanding and handsome. You’d play innocent and blow their minds if you slept together. You’d only been here 4 times but every time, you left with someone. And the owner was someone you were highly anticipating on meeting or fucking.

Tonight was the end of the month and they had a special on drinks if you looked good enough. You wore a tight black short latex dress that stuck to your skin under the heat of the club. It was one of the dresses you rarely wore because of how good it made you look. It would draw in all the unwanted creeps at a club and you didn’t want that all the time. You wore your hair down in loose curls and a pair of black knee high latex boots. You looked like a dominatrix, which you were far from. And as you expected you got the drink special without even saying anything. You danced around for a long time grinding on this one persistent guy. He was cute and had a huge cock from the way he was rubbing on you but you wouldn’t sleep with him. He seemed to easy.

After dancing for what seemed like hours you went up to the second floor and out to the back balcony. The club was right in front of a sea dock and not many knew of this balcony. Anytime you were out there, there would only be maybe two people. The open waters and cool breeze always gave you a breather from the stuffy club and alcohol. This time, someone was out there with you. A man who looked good from the back. Clad in a blue silk shirt and black pants. You didn’t want to stare so you decided not to pay him any mind. He was leaning on the railing on the far end and you went to the other end to do the same sipping on your drink. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for minute just taking in the air. Suddenly you felt a cloth over your mouth and the all too strong chloroform smell infested your nostrils. And you were out like a light.

You woke up tied to a chair and light headed. You were in a dark room, one that didn’t look like it belonged to the club. But you could smell the familiar sea dock smell so you knew you were at least close to it. Your head was pounding and your wrist hurt from the ropes. Your mouth was gagged and you couldn’t scream even if it wasn’t. You were no longer drunk so it must have been at least an hour or two since you were at the club. You try to break free and let out little whimpers as the rope cut into your skin. You didn’t know there was a man behind you.

“You can stop trying, you’re not getting out of those ties.” a voice says making you freeze. You didn’t know what to do. You were tied up in some room with a random man and didn’t know why. You just went into fight or flight mode and started panicking. You jerked back and forth cutting your wrist and ankles with every movement. You suddenly felt your hair being pulled and a knife to the side of your throat.

“Stop fucking moving so much. I had to wait almost two hours for you to wake up. The least you could do is cooperate.” the man said rubbing the blade up your face collecting a tear that escaped your eye. You were breathing hard and had your eyes closed tight. You felt him come around to stand in front of you still holding your hair. Then you felt the knife on your exposed thigh and winced as it pierced your skin lightly. You opened your eyes and saw the man from the balcony in front of you smiling. Who also happened to be the owner of the club; Byun Baekhyun.

“Hello kitten.” he said. You smirked a bit before realizing you shouldn’t be happy to see him like this. But he caught on to your inner thoughts before you could cover them. Nonetheless, you still pretended to cry. You knew how this would go.

“Oh kitten. No need to cry. I just wanted to see what all the commotion was about.” he pouted. You furrowed your brows at his statement. What commotion? You thought he was just interested.

“I heard there was a fine young lady getting half the inventory of alcohol and making all the men extremely horny. I just wanted to see for myself.” he said moving the knife up the inside of your thigh. You mumbled out ‘who are you’ but it was muffled over the cloth in your mouth. You knew who he was. You knew more than enough about him.

“I’m sorry what was that? I didn’t hear you, gotta speak up kitten.” he said bringing the knife to his ear. You just sighed rolling your eyes and slowly said it again. He smiled and nodded understanding what you said.

“I’m the boss baby. I own the club, and this warehouse and half the sea dock strip.” he says smiling. You can own me too Byun Baekhyun. You rolled your eyes and took in a deep breath through your nose. He scrunched his face at that.

“What is that for? I don’t like that reaction kitten.” he says bringing the knife to your jaw. You stare at his eyes as they trail down your body.

“I had other ways of figuring out who was flipping my club upside down. But then you came out to the balcony wearing this and I just knew it was you. So I did what anyone would do and pulled out the handy dandy chloroform and cloth and BAM, now you’re here.” he said tapping the knife on your upper thigh. He let go of your hair finally and went to take the gag out of your mouth but raised his eyebrows before he did.

“If you scream, I’ll have to kill you. Not that anyone will hear, but I really don’t like it on my sensitive ears.” he said and nodded before taking the gag out of your mouth. You could feel just how dry your lips and tongue were as you went to lick them. You let out a cough and he stood up.

“I have some water here. I even brought you a straw so you wouldn’t make a mess over yourself.” he said bringing you the bottled water and straw. He held it up to your mouth and you eagerly took the drink. He watched as you drank 1/3 of the water in a few seconds before pulling away.

“You’re quite thirsty aren’t you? Well you have to be smart. This is all you’ll get and we have a long night ahead of us.” he said smirking. You tried to speak but your voice seemed to be weak. You cleared your throat before letting out a tiny hoarse voice.

“What do you want from me?” you whisper. Your pathetic voice you put on making you hot all over. He kneels down in front of you and places his hands on your knees.

“I just wanted to see you, get to know you.” he said with innocent eyes. Although you were flattered by the gesture, why the fuck did he need to kidnap you if that’s all he wanted?

“You didn’t have to kidnap me to talk to me. We were on the balcony together. You could have acted like a normal fucking person and just said something. ‘Hi beautiful’ or ‘Hey there’ would have done just fine.” you snapped back getting angrier with each word. Not so smart of you to taunt the man.

“Kitten...I don’t like that tone. I did what I had to to get you alone. And now here we are alone and you’re giving me shit. I don’t take kindly to disrespect kitten.” he said bringing the knife to your cleavage pressing with slight pressure. You wince once you feel it pierce your skin and he smiles once a line of blood escapes down to the crevasse of your breast.

“This dress is pretty and all but it’s really in the way. May I? Wouldn’t want to force you into anything. I’m just not like that kitten.” he said. You bit your dry lip and nodded your head. If only he knew how bad you’ve wanted him. He started cutting directly down the center of your dress with the knife. It was skin tight so the knife cut from your cleavage to between your legs. It wasn’t cut enough to bleed but you could feel it on your skin. He pulled the dress apart and exposed your naked body. He smirked at your form and looked at you.

“Oh you naughty kitten. You wanted me to take you, didn’t you?” he said grabbing your boobs in his hands. You let out some stifled moans and watched him come between your boobs and lick your blood from the cut there. He moans against your skin then goes to take one of your nipples in his mouth. You shake under him and try to push him away. He instead uses his free hand to drag the knife to your core. All your fake efforts were only slowing down the process of finally having him.

“Kitten, I wouldn’t hurt you if you would just behave. I just want you right now. I have no plan on anything else than to have you as long as you behave. Can you do that for me? Baby I know what you want. Let’s skip the theatrics.” he said. You whimpered and nodded. The only way you’d get what you wanted was if you just cut the bullshit. You just wanted him deep inside you, using your holes like he was made for them. He opened your legs and saw the shiny glimmer of your pussy lips as you leaked on to the chair. He groaned and squeezed your thigh.

“Oh kitten, is this all for me? Tell me this is my treat kitten. Tell me it’s mine.” he moans. You whimper and look down at yourself. Why was this turning you on so much?

“It’s y-yours.” you whisper. He pulls your legs wider and forward so your slouched a bit in the chair. He pushed your legs up and held them there as he tied them by the knee to the chair. You were tied so your legs were in the air and your pussy was spread on full display. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing and leaking. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Kitten...you need to stop that. It���s not nice to taunt me.” he said sitting on a stool in front of you. It’s not like you were doing it on purpose, you couldn’t control it down there. And him just sitting there staring at you wasn’t helping. You continued to clench and push out a large amount of your slick.

“Kitten stop it. Control yourself.” he demanded. There was no way for you to do that. The more you tried to stop, the more you just clenched down.

“You’re making a mess. I said stop.” he bit out again. He swiped a finger up your folds and pulled out his cock using your slick and his pre cum to cover his tip. And that was enough to make you pool even more.

“Kitten you’re being very bad. I tell you not to make a mess and you make more of a mess.” he said twitching his cock so it bounced up and down. He was taunting you and it was working. You let out a whimper and he smiled.

“What’s wrong kitten? You don’t like being all tied up for me? I love this view but you’re disobeying me. Control yourself.” he said again making you let out a whine.

“I c-can’t, please.” you whine. You were whining to a man that kidnapped you and had you tied up.

“You are going to have to. I’m not even touching you. I’m not doing anything and you’re spilling all over the seat. What’s got you like this kitten?” he said as his cock still bounced. You just wanted something, anything to touch you. What didn’t he understand?

“Fuck you! I can’t do it!” you yelled out forgetting he was not one to like yelling or being talked back to. He turns instantly.

“Kitten I warned you. I asked you to do one thing and you couldn’t do that and then you yell at me and use your dirty fucking words. You’ve made me angry. Now you’ll have to deal with it.” he said as he trailed the knife up the back of your thigh. He then bit the inside of your thigh and trailed the knife down going over your folds making you still so you wouldn’t get cut. He then pushes the knife to the back of your ass and makes a cut making you cry. But it’s soon turned into a yell as he thrusts his cock into your leaking hole. He starts thrusting into you frantically while his hand is on your throat.

“Kitten I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But you made me very upset. And your pussy is squeezing me so tight right now I’ll cum in any minute. But you kitten, I’ll leave you tied up and leaking since you love to do that so fucking much.” he said pounding into you. The angle you were in had your head spinning as he hit deep in your hole. You were whining and your eyes were rolled back. He was right in front of your face and bit on your lip as his thrusts became quicker. He only lasted 5 minutes before he came in you. You however, did not cum. He pulled out and sat back down watching you cry and leak his cum.

“Kitten? What’s wrong? Didn’t you like me fucking you? Why are you crying?” he asked coming up to rub your cum filled pussy. You winced at the feeling and closed your eyes.

“Is this what you want? You want me to make you cum? Oh kitten. I would love to make you scream but you didn’t listen. And now I’m not going to listen to you cry out for me.” he said getting up and licking his fingers. He started walking away and you panicked.

“No please! Don’t leave me here please!” you begged and cried. But he just laughed and stopped at the door.

“Kitten I’ll be back. Don’t worry, I won’t forget about you. You just sit there and clench around nothing since you’re so skilled at it.” he said before blowing you a kiss and leaving. You were absolutely stuck tied up in a warehouse with cum leaking from your hole and denied an orgasm. You were absolutely fucked and literally not fucked.

(So I actually hate this one shot but it’s about a month old now and has just been sitting here so enjoy I guess. I hope this does not taint your minds towards my writings. I swear I’m better than this, believe me! Hahaha

xoxo golden 🕊)

[crmediagal]

Update!!!

To those who may be interested: I’ve resumed posting my WIP fic, Seeds of Redemption, at my personal website: www.crmediagal.com. I had deleted the story on fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own last year due to unnecessary negativity, so I’m happy to share that the story is BACK in full force (pun intended), being revised, and updates have resumed!

* * * If you would like to receive updates and access to the story, please fill out the form on the Contact page and you’ll be granted access! * * *

Story: Seeds of Redemption Chapter 13 -  https://crmediagalhome.wordpress.com/sor-chap13/

Synopsis: The First Order may have fallen, but the Proclamation has   risen in its stead. As the galaxy is threatened by the coming of a   Second Darkness, Ben Solo must painstakingly navigate both sides, the   Dark Side and the Light. Only he is no longer alone in this fight, with far more at stake to lose than he ever would have dreamed. Rated M, AU, Post-TFA.

Excerpt from Chapter 13:

“NO!” someone was howling, but his or her violent cries were overrun by the intense, blood-curdling screams reverberating all around little Rey, who had sought shelter behind crumbled rock that was all that remained of the reformed Jedi Temple.

The chaos and shouts were too much to take in and sprung Rey’s petite legs into action. She had hovered in the shadows for too long and it was time to move.

As she began her delirious race across the mud-infested grounds, her sights half blinded by the pounding rain and darkness of night overhead, someone fell to the ground in front of her, forcing her to halt in her tracks. Her heart leapt into her throat at recognising the person’s bloodless face: her roommate, Priya. The smell of burnt flesh was nauseatingly potent and Rey noted that the hole in Priya’s back was fresh, the skin still melting on account of the hot saber that had struck her down and killed her instantly.

Petrified, Rey sprinted over the deceased girl and kept running. The disintegrated huts that had once been homes, the ruined temple that was nothing now but pulverised rock, and the dead bodies that lay strewn about beneath their ruin—or out in the open—blurred with the rain. Little Rey was grateful for that; she didn’t want to come upon another recognisable face.

Lightsabers had been flurrying in the night, spinning like torches intent to overrun the Darkness; but they were disintegrating rapidly one by one. One saber was a fiery crimson and relentless in its invasion, the others blue, like Rey’s, that fought against it and, one after the next, lost.

Rey ducked and crawled to avoid being struck. Who was this faceless heathen; this blood-thirsty monster who had singlehandedly demolished everything that Master Luke had worked so hard to rebuild?

Where is Master Luke? Rey considered with worry when, moments later, something much larger and heavier clashed with her, sending Rey head first into the mud. She yelped, easily pinned beneath the weight of her collider.

The deadly sound of a lightsaber whooshing past her ear made Rey freeze from trying to free herself. There was another awful cry—male—and then whoever was on top of the little girl went still, their lifeless body shoving her farther into the earth. Soggy footsteps carried on, soon drowned out by the rain, and Rey waited several heart-pounding moments before ably convincing herself to move. If she remained trapped beneath a dead person, she risked getting stuck in all the thickening mud and debris. Forever.

It took about a minute to scramble her way to freedom, but once Rey had successfully heaved herself out from underneath whomever had been robbed of life on top of her, a scream escaped her before she could prevent a reaction. The deceased was one of Ben’s roommates, Ajax, and the poor boy hadn’t stood a chance against the saber that had so recklessly plunged straight through his heart, leaving a murderous, blood-stained hole on the left side of his chest.

Rey scurried backward, unable to find her footing in order to stand. Where was Master Luke? Why wasn’t he putting a stop to this nonsensical brutality?

Suddenly, Rey was yanked to her feet and whoever had snatched her arm was clutching it far too tightly. She winced in pain and tried to whirl around to face this person, craning her neck and squinting to search out the face of her saviour. Instead, she let out another hair-raising shriek that had the capacity to shake the ground.

It was Ben Solo, only he no longer resembled the face of her dear friend. His eyes were as dark and bleak as the sky overhead, soulless and devoid of warmth; of life. The red rims surrounding them made him look utterly maddening in the mist, along with the splatters of blood that dripped down his face. The side braid normally worn to mark that of a Padawan had been severed off at the tip, probably by the blade of the man’s own saber. That, too, was no longer as it should have been. Ben now carried a cross-guarded saber, its shape and construction unlike any Rey had ever encountered; but she knew it wasn’t the trademark of a Jedi. Its plasma blades burned a furious red, unveiling the monster and cause for all of the death and destruction that stretched as far as Rey’s eyes could see.

She tried to wrench herself free, but Ben’s grasp was unshakable. She screamed again at the top of her lungs, and it terrified her more that Ben only continued to stare down at her, as if he wasn’t seeing her much at all, rather than engaging in combat.

“What have you done, Ben?” she wailed, her voice—and heart—fracturing like already fragile shards of glass. “Why? WHY?”

Ben only stared without blinking. Then he made a decision and dragged her forward against her will, pushing through the downpour, past rocks, and over numerous lifeless bodies. Rey dug her heels into the mud to try to prevent them from going any farther, but her strength was simply no match for his.

“Stop!” she pleaded, her pleas quickly reaching the point of hysteria. “STOP! Ben, no! STOP NOW!”

He wasn’t listening. Either that or he couldn’t hear her. His gaze was straight and narrow, unyielding to her adverse efforts and unyielding in his aim. It took Rey being lugged across the hilltop to the other side and up a short, slippery slope for the girl to understand where they were headed: towards a small, unoccupied shuttle. All sorts of flying equipment and ships were stored on this part of the island, normally reserved for training purposes; but not tonight.

Rey panicked and pinched Ben’s wrist. He didn’t so much as flinch. “LET ME GO!” she shrieked wildly and began using whatever physical means she could to pry his hand from her arm. “LET GO OF ME, BEN! PLEASE! STOP!”

“Stop this, Ben,” came that of another, its register much sterner and commanding than the little girl’s.

That finally brandished Ben’s attention. He swooped around so fast that Rey was left dizzy on the spot. One of his long arms flew across her chest and, with the other, he brought his red saber dangerously close to her neck. Rey whimpered in fear but was brought up relieved at the sight of Master Luke. She would be rescued. This horrible night would soon end.

Master Luke stepped forth from the brush and Rey immediately noted his worrisome limp. His trusty droid, Artoo, was at his side and communicated to Rey not to move. Her teacher removed his wet hood and Rey was rattled by the deep lashes etched across his cheeks and neck that shouldn’t be there, as well as a severe cut above his left eyebrow. He had apparently tried to fight off Ben from harming the students but found himself well-matched by the raging sixteen-year old. His robes were muddied and torn in spots and his mechanical hand was barely still in place. It weakly grasped his lightsaber that was drawn but not activated.

“It’s over Ben,” he said, sounding fatigued and defeated; it knocked the wind out of Rey’s lungs to hear such hopelessness from someone she admired so. “You’ve done your worst. Let Rey go.”

“No!” Ben growled, his arm curling tighter around her tiny frame.

“Just what do you intend to do to her now? You’ve done all you possibly could, Ben; you’ve destroyed the temple! And you’ve spilt enough blood this night! Please…I’m begging you, let her go. Give her a chance.”

Available to read in its entirety at www.crmediagal.com

[if-there-was-any-more-left-of-me]

I need to get this all down.

I shake all day long. My hands mostly, but my whole body too.

I'm always either starving or nauseous and wanna throw up. Nothing I eat makes it better. I crave garbage food and shovel down sugary snacks as fast as I can.

I'm always bloated, painfully so, and gassy. My stomach is swollen and hard, and it hurts to sit, stand, or lay down. I'm constipated most of the week, then visited with violent, painful, explosive diarrhea.

I'm thirsty and I drink and drink and drink but I never feel better.

I can't go to sleep til 5 or 6 am. I wake up at 7 or 8,go back to sleep, wake up at 11 or so and eat breakfast then go back to sleep til 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 pm. When I wake up, I am always The Most Tired I have ever been. I never wake up feeling happy or rested or content. I often have these really intense dreams that are more exhausting than being awake and I wake up panting, shaking, hot and sweaty (even with AC, a fan, and just a sheet), and feeling as though I had been clenching my whole body tight for hours.

Every sound is the most annoying sound ever. The radio, people talking, electronics, pet lickiing foot, water filter. My ears feel big and hollow and resonate these sounds like a big empty tin barn. Some sounds feel more like a thin, long drill bit being driven deep down in my ear.

I can't smile or laugh. I can't lift my head up.

I am so depressed and so angry. I hate the government, I hate the public for letting it all happen, I hate my mother for squandering our money and getting my health insurance canceled and for acting like she's not responsible for me being so sick.

I hate being trapped in this house where I can't even flush the toilet. I hate that my only outing is driving to go feed all the cats.

I hate that I can't use my phone consistently to escape because of the shitty service. I hate that my friends have all forsaken me and don't even wonder about me let alone want to see me.

My memory is gone. I can't remember anything, what time it is, what day it is, who I was just talking to, what I ate for breakfast. I don't know anything. My brain doesn't work. I used to be funny and clever and genuinely smart. But right now I can't figure out how to turn the shower on. People ask me questions and I can't answer. I can't listen to conversation because I dissociate so hard.

My head hurts all the time. Much worse having to drive facing the sunset. I can't see from it. Just painful white glare.

My diabetic neuropathy is getting much worse than the Gabapentin can handle. My feet are numb and everything I touch hurts my hands. Having to do things with my fingers is excruciating.

My back hurts all the time, whether I am trying to work or not. In addition to my lower back injury, it now hurts up high. Any way I move my neck or arms hurts.

I am dizzy all the time. Standing up feels woozy and thick. My knees, ankles, hips buckle when I walk. Obviously, walking hurts my numb feet. I have no sense of balance anymore. I used to be strong and steady.

Without my insurance, I can't follow through with the important testing my GI doctor was doing, which was originally to find out what was causing all my digestive problems, but then also included making sure something she found wasn't cancerous. But that's not important.

I can't afford my allergy pills, which are not important.

I can't see my podiatrist to fix my horribly painful ingrown toenails. Not important.

Can't see the pain management doctor who prescribes my pain medication and does minor pain alleviating procedures. Not important.

Can't see my psychiatrist who was in the process of trying out new depression medication and getting me to a level of functioning. I'm stuck in limbo with a medication that doesn't work for me.

Definitely can't see a therapist cuz even if I could afford it, I would be told every day what a waste it is and that I should manage my problems like SHE does, by yelling at my family and belittling my elderly husband (no that was a actual conversation we had)

Can't afford to get my regular blood work done by my regular doctor that she always insists we do monthly because we're very sick, unmanaged diabetics. I'm not even getting to take the diabetes medication I'm supposed to I'm just taking whatever free samples she has in office

God I miss going to the doctor. But that's not important. You know what's important? A 2005 red ford mustang pony edition that's held under titlemax. I have been told many times that that car will not be relenquished no matter what else has to go. I think that includes m8. Because I am very sick but I keep being told that I am imagining that I can't go to the doctor. I'm imagining that I can't afford my prescription.

Am I imagining the sick cat with a massive infection that's eaten a 2" by 4" patch of skin off his back that he licks raw every day? Am I imagining not being able to afford to take him to the vet? Am I imagining the massive tumors on HER dog? The dozens of them? I guess it's fine that she dies as long as we get to keep the mustang.

I am definitely imagining that the house is infested with millions of fleas and we can't afford the good medication (ie the $15/animal stuff that actually kills fleas) for 3 dogs and 16 cats.

Definitely imagining not being able to get get 14 wild kittens spayed and homed.

But I know I am not imagining the dozens of stray cats we spend more money on every day that we feed. Those are real.

More real I guess than my sister's need for therapy or my dad's need for dental surgery after all of his teeth have rotted out and the infection is getting ready to spread.

But that's not important. My teeth aren't important and it is definitely my fault for not going to the dentist that I have holes and cavities and pain and shit and definitely not because SHE complained constantly about me wasting money by going to the dentist every year (back when we had money) and then obviously not going anymore once the money dried up.

I remember her screaming at me in 2017,threatening to tell the doctors and police that I refused to take my medicine so they'd lock me up because she didn't like how I responded to some of the dozen different meds I tried that year. I remember because now she has convinced herself that I never take my medicine and that all my problems would go away if I would just take my medicine.

I'm so sick. I'm so scared. I'm so angry. I don't know what to do. I just want to scream and tear myself open.

It's getting worse. And every time I say that I'm upset about concentration camps or not being able to get the medicine I need, I get told to take more medicine. I can't take this level of invalidation. The gaslighting. I do not know what is real anymore.

This seems like an afterthought but I also can't buy any healthy snacks to maybe cut back on the horrifying amount of sugar I consume every day because all the food money goes to pet food and sugary treats. And I get yelled at for asking for less sugar in the house. Told to just eat something else but there is nothing else. I don't know what to do. Lacy makes these watery soups out of whatevers in the fridge to feed us. But I want real food.

I can't stop shaking. I know why I am so goddamn sick. Because I am malnourished, angry, frightened, stressed out to the maximum, and have no recourse. Every complaint is met with gaslighting or being told to take more antidepressants, as though they're some kind of magic happy pills.

I want to check myself into the hospital but I can't afford it. I would have already killed myself but I am not villainous enough to abandon my 85 yr old deaf dad whose had 4 strokes and does all the outside work and whom mom screams and ridicules mercilessly. And my sister who's anxiety is on a hair trigger and whom mom loves to trigger and laugh at her panic.

I need a miracle. I need help. I need someone to fucking shoot me in the face. God kill me please I can't take this anymore please

[fairy-writes]

Hi! I seen you publish your oc's for sirius the jaeger. I m very curious to know more about these two characters. Do you wanna tell us more about them? 😁😁👍🏽

Long time no see friendo!! And yoooo I am so freaking willing to talk about these two problem children of mine! Also this has some mini summaries of the stories... whoops!

The Woman who was a Dragon”

Her name is Idris Tana and as you can guess, she is a dragon.

But not in the traditional sense! In this version of Dragons, they are so powerful they can ���look however they please”.

But they have two main forms; Dragon and humanoid.

Their humanoid forms look mostly like humans but with pointed ears, sharpened teeth, slitted pupils and odd colored eyes.

She has yellow eyes and red scales!

She is the one who makes fun of Yevgraf to his face because on several occasions he has tried to boss her around and she just thinks of him as a childish villain wannabe.

She loves classical music, sweet treats, and reading, but also fights, and the smell of gunpowder.

She also dresses very nicely, she loves jewelry and fancy clothes. She loves shiny things but denies hoarding anything.

She’s my blood thirsty lizard child.

She is actually paired with Mikhail as of now!

He goes with Yevgraf to talk to her about finding the Arc before the series starts.

She’s old so she has a lot of connections and knowledge and knows where it is. (She doesn’t tell him though because that takes the fun out of things for her) and she takes an interest in Mikhail with him being a Sirius turned vampire!

In this story, he lives through the end of season 1 and travels with her after she finds him half dead in the wreckage. He wants to reunite with Yuliy, she just wants some entertainment and they actually go into ‘dragon territory’ (basically an excuse for me to write a dragon vs dragon fight scene)

Now with “Spilled Blood”!

This is actually a crossover book with Sirius the Jaeger and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood!

Basically my sister and I were talking about stories while walking the dogs and how Sirius the Jaeger doesn’t really need to be placed in Japan. Like with some tweaks it could be placed anywhere. And then we connected the similar time periods of Sirius and Fullmetal!

And thus Elaine Harper was born!

She’s a Jaeger working with her brother Louis Harper as they investigate a major vampire infestation that they find out is planning on world domination (because of course)

This is set after FMA:B by the way.

I don’t know if I want her to be a Sirius or not, but she is adopted by Louis and his family after her parents are murdered.

They travel to a town called Edinburg where they run into Alphonse Elric and his two chimera friends.

Alphonse and Co. witness a murder that turns out to be a serial killer who is a vampire.

Enter Elaine and Louis!

They are “on loan from their boss” to the local police to help solve the case (basically they are sent by Jaeger HQ to figure this all out).

Alphonse and his friends end up helping solve the case and stop said vampires!

Fun Fact! Louis has an auto mail right leg that is too small because he can’t afford to get it fixed. So he walks with a cane that also functions with a sword!

Elaine has a music case full of grenades and guns and crap but mainly fights using her Xingese (Japanese) Biwa which is basically a lute. But surprise!

She can pull the neck of the instrument out and it turns into a sword! (Look at Biwamaru from Dororo and you’ll see what I mean)

She is incredibly reckless and often gets hurt; Louis is usually left dealing with authorities and or damages.

He loves her but she is very exhausting.

Also she loves train rides, sparring, and weapons. She drinks a lot of coffee (Louis likes tea) and likes a lot of fruit.

She has a horrible sleeping schedule. Like does she know what sleep is? Probably not, she’s a workaholic.

My healthy, reckless, impulsive baby girl. I love her so much.

[axispheydra]

Prompt 23 - Thirsty

“It’s the rivers, miss. With the toads in spawning season, the locals can’t fetch the water they need. Damned things are so aggressive, and there’s so many of ‘em, too.” They Hyurian woman is almost apologetic as she speaks, wringing her hands and looking off towards the gentle baddle of the stream. True to her words, a number of gigantoads have made it their spawning grounds, and while one or two might not be a problem, no one in the village can handle that many at once.

It wasn’t an unusual thing in Thanalan’s deserts. Small settlements popping up along the rivers, just people trying to make their way in the world away from the suffocating grasp of Ul’dah. But these are ordinary people with ordinary talents, not versed in combat or blessed with fortune. They can’t even afford to hire an adventurer to clean out monster infestations like this.

That’s why they’re always so glad to see a paladin. Royalty among adventures, who work not for the clinking of gil in their pockets, but for the sake of those who need it. This is what justice is to Orara: helping those who can’t help themselves, and protecting the weak from the strong. Even if, in this case, the strong is just a handful of really big toads.

The toads themselves are scarcely a both to someone at her level. Although they regard her with curiosity (and likely hunger) as she approaches, they barely even react until her blade cuts their flesh. Even when they do fight back, it’s nowhere near enough to compete with a trained paladin. Soon, the small town’s water supply is free of monsters once more, and they have a sizable stock of toad meat as well.

“I don’t know how we can ever repay you, paladin,” says the Hyurian woman, taking Orara’s hand in her own. There are tears in the corners of her eyes, but Orara just shakes her head.

“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s our duty to try and help each other where we can.”

“I only wish more folks thought like that, paladin.”

How long ago was that? Less than a year? It seemed like another lifetime, now.

Orara stared into her drink, ruminating. It had only been two suns since a hole was blown into the side of the Free Company’s house and Ibe’ir escaped into the night, and the company was still in turmoil. Ganzeidin and Hastswys pulled on the reigns as best they could, but it seemed that everyone in the guild was shocked that one of their own could stoop so low.

“If anyone can steer us through this, ’s Ganze,” Hastswys said between tankards of ale. She was a lot less sober than Orara had ever seen her, and was presumably trying to get rid of the stress from the lookout. “Company’s important to him, y’know. To both of us. Father’s real proud, when it really took off. He’ll want to see it through.”

She’d looked over at Orara and smiled. “’M glad I thought to try and take ya in, Orara. Compared to most o’ the other folks in the company, yer just a lot more... whassa word...”

“Level-headed?” Orara tried. “Sensible?”

“Sounds about right. Quieter too. 'S a shame you’re a Lalafell, if you were a coupla fulms taller, then I’d-”

Hastswys got half a sentence in before the burning in Orara’s ears made her beg the woman to stop. The Roegadyn cackled, reaching for her tankard while Orara retreated back to hers.

“Something’s bothering me, though,” she said, feeling somewhat loose-lipped herself. “About the other night.”

“Oh? Whassat?”

It was more than one thing, actually. The timing of Ganzeidin’s arrival had been too perfect, especially considering Ibe’ir said their leader had contacted him and told him to check the house out. It was possible those two things were just a coincidence and a lie, but there was also the case of the arrow in Ganzeidin’s leg. Ibe’ir hadn’t been carrying his bow and arrow when they saw him enter the house. Hastswys’s expression began to harden as Orara spoke, before she finally responded in a low voice.

“Are you sayin’ my brother set this all up?” There was something of a threat in her voice, something that made Orara try to deflect.

“No, no. I’m saying it’s just odd.” Orara had expected some resistance, but to her surprise, Hastswys was quiet for a time.

“I was thinkin’ about the arrow thing too,” she muttered, staring into her drink. “But it don’t make no sense. Ganzeidin’s been workin’ harder’n anyone to make sure this Company stays alive. If he wanted out, he coulda left any time.”

“But then it would’ve been without money.”

“Fuckin’ hells,” said Hastswys, dragging her hands down her face. “It does kinda make sense.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just- it’s about justice. I can’t just let these things go.”

Hastswys peeked at Orara through her fingers. “’S about what?”

“I- oh. Nothing.” Orara retreated back to her own mug.

The pair sat in relative silence for a few minutes before Hatswys finally spoke. “We should go an’ talk to him.”

Orara coughed on her drink. “Right now?”

“Yeah. While we’re thinkin’ about it.”

“But we ain’t- I mean, we’re not really-”

“I know. But if I don’t get this outta my head I’m not gonna be able t’ sleep tonight. So c’mon.” Hastswys stood up and- to Orara’s horror- lifted the Lalafell out of her seat.

“What the- put me down!” cried Orara, kicking against the woman’s grip. It was terrifying to be reminded that you were so small compared to nearly everyone else.

“Oof, Orara, yer way heavier’n I thought you’d be,” said Hastswys, staggering from the tavern. “Whadd’re you eatin’?”

“Then fuckin’ let me go!” she shouted, still squirming.

“Yanno, that’s the first time I think I ever heard y’curse!” laughed Hastswys.

“Aye, and you’ll hear a lot more if you don’t put me down!”

“Alright, alright,” said Hastswys. She knelt to place Orara back on solid ground, where she earned a slap across the face for her troubles.

“Hells whassat for?” said Hastswys, placing a hand over her cheek.

“Do that again and I’m usin’ the butt of my gun next time!” shouted Orara, finger thrust out. “Now c’mon. Let’s go find Ganzeidin before we sober up.” She began to walk away, only slightly wobbly.

“Ah, y'got a fire in you, lass!” said Hastswys, rising to her feet. “I like it. ‘S like good drink, leaves y’wantin’ more.”

“Keep it to yourself,” Orara grumbled. Hopefully they’d sober up on the way back to Mist; this was a side of Hastswys she was not fond of.

[silviasutton1989]

T.T.K. Ch. 11  “Regret” (NSFW)

A/N: Well you all may have noticed (or may not idk lol) I haven’t posted anything in over a week. My life has been pretty busy. But I also have another idea for a new series that has been taking up a LOT of my attention lately. I think I may post a sneak peak of it in a few weeks. It’s going to be a lot ore fluffier than I’m used to writing but I want to try it out and see if I can do it. Anyway here is Chapter 11 I’m ending it with a major cliff hanger...sorry.

Rating: NSFW (pretty light smut but it’s there) Happy Thirsty Thursday!!

Word Count:1900

Catch Up: Here’s chapter 10 you should probably read this if you don’t know why Riley is in such a funk.

Summary: It’s Riley’s Birthday!! Will her day be fun filled of laughs or a complete disaster? (who am I kidding you know I’m never fun lol)

Through the confines of her comforter the whole world was all grey, with today being today that’s how Riley wanted it. Drake’s side of the bed dip and rises as he pulls her into his chest.

“Happy birthday, baby.”  Drake places the softest of kisses down the back of his fiance’s neck.  She stirs from his touch but only for a moment.

“I just want to sleep.” She pulls the covers over her head blocking another kiss. She's been like this for days.

“Wow…I guess I am rubbing off on you, Sutton.” He chuckles; his hands snake under the cover finding her warm body as he slowly bunches her silk night gown in his hands. “I have to give you your birthday gift.” Drake ducks under the covers, his hands move underneath the nightie quickly cupping her breast with his calloused hands, toying her nipples between his fingers

She moans as he spoons her, unable to stop herself from rubbing against his arousal. But as one of his hands begins to descend down she abruptly stops.

“No.” turning to lay on her back pulling the covers from over her head. “ I don’t deserve morning sex on my birthday.”

“Come on, Sutton. It has been days since that happened no one is talking about. Olivia’s speech saved the day… stop beating yourself up over it.” He tries to pull the covers away but she holds them tight.

“I made a stupid insensitive joke, Drake. Did you see their faces?” She knew he hadn’t. He was too busy whispering what she could only assume were sweet nothings into Kiara’s ear as she completely humiliated herself in front of everyone. They still hadn’t talked about that, not sure exactly how to ask the questions buried deep in her heart. They also hadn't had sex since that day either.

Riley hops out of the bed. “I have to get dressed Liam’s probably waiting for me, turning to avoid her fiance's stare as she walks towards her closet.

“Yeah… How about we just take a break from all of this. Let’s go fishing.” He catches the brief look of disgust on her face before she forms a smile. “Ok we don’t have to go fishing…what ever you want to do. As long as it is not shopping…ok we can go shopping I don’t care.” The rambling only stops when Riley kisses him.

“Let me have this meeting with Liam and we can go anywhere… but fishing ok?”

With another quick kiss she hurries to the bathroom before he can even answer.

In her 25 years Riley never had a birthday party. Being an only child with an over worked grandmother, her birthday was always just another day. In all honesty she never really knew how to celebrate it, as an adult she chose work over giving the day special treatment. When Liam offered to give her a few pointers on diplomacy she jumped at the idea.  Yes Olivia’s speech has been the hot topic lately making her joke all but forgotten. But that didn’t stop the embarrassment, and with the press more focused on Olivia than her she felt something else. Jealousy. She had to be better and if all Drake had planned was a trip to a mosquito infested pond she would spend the day like she had any other, working.

Liam sent her a text to meet him in the Dining Hall. She didn’t think much of it; they would probably go over her dining etiquette or something.

She opens the door and is abruptly hit with shouts of…

“SURPRISE!!!”

Balloons and streamers purple and green line the walls of the dining hall. There wasn’t many guest to her surprise party only the few nobles that stayed on the tour after the recent attack, but everyone one of them she considered a friend…well except for Madeline, friend would be too strong a word.

She was bombarded with hugs everyone wishing her a happy birthday.

As Liam approaches the stunned woman he holds her tightly. “Happy Birthday Riley.”

“Liam did you do all this?” Looking around trying to find Drake in the small crowd.

“Well a little birdie told me that today is your birthday…so with the help from Kiara and her staff we just thought you deserved a party.”

“Bon anniversaire.” Kiara greets her the two side hug awkwardly.

"Thank you." She answers curtly. "Where's Drake?"

"Oh umm.. he's coming. Lady Kiara, you told him about the party? Right" Liam's hands braces tightly on the small of Riley's back. "Don't worry he will be here soon."

Kiara walks away pulling out her phone her fingers taping the board with great speed.

Drake arrives as Riley is opening her gifts. She looks happy, a smile on her face that he hadn't seen in days. Liam only gives him a quick glance as he takes the empty seat next to her as she lift the lid of a large velvet box, to see a single pearl pendant cradled in solid gold chain. The sight of the necklace tightened his whole body, a lump caught in Drake's throat that he couldn't swallow. He painfully smiles at his beaming fiance.

"Wow." she exclaims touching the jewelry with such carefulness. "Is this?" looking at Liam a grin filling his face.

"Yes that is the very pearl I gave you that night in the grotto. You told me to give it to you when you deserved it. You have always deserved it...Happy Birthday." He takes the necklace from the box and begins to place it around her neck.

"That's enough." Drake shouts the site of Liam's hands on her was just too much. He grabs Riley's arm tighter than he knew, pulling her away from Liam. "Let's go."

"What? Why? It's just a necklace Drake." Riley glares at him snatching her wrist back. 

"Is this how you wanted to celebrate your birthday? Being alone with me wasn't fun enough for you?"

"Why does everything have to be so doom and gloom with you Drake? I had fun today until you came in. I just want one day to feel better about myself and you--"

"Well by all means let me leave you to your happiness." Drake turns and walks towards the door, grabbing a full bottle of whiskey on his way out.

"That's not what I meant."She says, mostly to herself, as she watches him leave.

"Drake wait!" Kiara begins to run after him Riley catches her arm before she speeds past her.

"Where the hell are you going?" 

"I'm going to check on your fiance...someone needs to." Kiara gives the woman a once over before snatching her arm free and heading out the door.

The room is dead silent. 

Riley stands in the middle of the ball room The party music playing lightly in the background but she can't get her mind off of the look in Drake's eyes.

"Hey he will be ok just give him some time to cool down." Liam touches her shoulder as she watches the closed door.

"Yeah you're right." She turns to watch her remaining friends. Olivia and Maxwell Hana and a few others stand near a lightened cake as they begin to sing Happy Birthday to her. She made the choice to stay.To enjoy the party she never had,and years from now when her birthday comes along that choice is always the one she forever regrets.

One drink.

That's all it took, well that's not entirely true. It took several drinks.  An empty bottle of Crown Royal Apple still sits on the balcony left behind by the horny drunks that abandoned it.

 It didn't take long for the sexually frustrated couple to find a quite dark room.

He locks the door not bothering to cut on the light. He didn't need to see her body to find the exact spots he wanted to touch with his mouth and hands. Their pants fall to the floor simultaneously, the rest of their clothing thrown into the depths of darkness around them.

She moans so lightly into his ear, nibbling on the thick skin of muscle from his shoulder blade lightly dragging her fingernails down his bare back cupping his ass to pull him in closer. She had forgotten how good it felt to be touched...by him.

He let his other senses take over: the smell of her apple puree shampoo, the taste of her lips as his tongue seeks entrance. The sound of her moans echoing the void around them. 

She lays on the bed watching as the man crawls above her. Through the light of the moon peeking from the blinds she manages to see the condom slide on his length. She sees the smile creep upon his face as his hands begin to slide down her chest teasingly brushing past her nipples, further down her sides to her hips landing at her thighs, gripping her limbs before spreading her open.

"You are perfect." He groans.

"You can't even see me."

"I've seen you naked before..." he descends upon her, the tip of his cock brushes her clit sending a shock through her body. In her ear he whispers, " and believe me you are too fucking tempting for words.  "

She doesn't respond. How could she dispute that? Wrapping her legs around his waist, she arches her body pulling him closer to her center, until he finally enters. Like a piece to a puzzle they fit so perfectly. They both cry out in pleasure. Had they been sober these two would never be in this bed. He would never tell her how tight or wet she felt as he slides in and out of her. She would never suck so tightly onto his neck to stifle her moans, nails digging into his ass as his thrusts into her began to  speed up.

The head board starts to knock against the wall. Titillating sounds break from the darkness of their oasis reaching the hallways of the mansion. Sounds of wet flesh mixed with cries and groans rival the beat of the bed. The harmony is steady as if there's no end to this melody but eventually reaching its crescendo. Their screams could have been heard down the stair case echoing through the empty foyer. And then silence.

The sun shines on her, waking her to a new day and to the realization of the man sleeping next to her. 

This was NOT supposed to happen..not again. But it did. It did happened, the slight pain in her groin her freshly swollen lips, affirmation that she did have sex with....she has to get out of here before he wakes up. Maybe he wouldn't remember...they were both pretty drunk maybe she can just pretend like the whole thing never happened and he will just think it was all a dream.

She slides out of the bed carefully watching the tousled dark hair on the pillow as she gathers her clothes praying that he stays asleep. Grabbing her heels she bolts to the door. But before she could even reach the knob he sits up and she is cemented to the floor.

The two stare at each other. First he looks confused searching around the room then back at her for answers. It only took a second for them to all come back to him. His eyes widen, his mouth opens but no words come out. Then he looks at her with a glance she knew all too well...regret and she retreats out the door.

Tag List: Ok so I do not want to upset anyone so I’m going to put this with the tags every time. If you want to be on the tag list permanently (this one is randomly selected with some permanent in as well)  let me know. If you DO NOT want to be tagged ever just send me a message I will not be upset.

@walkerismychoice@darley1101@speedyoperarascalparty@mfackenthal @jadedpixiescribbles@boneandfur @andy-loves-corgis   @blackcatkita@missevabean@snyggflicka@stopforamoment @agent-zephyrkah @endlessly-searching-for-you  @indiacater@choiceswreckedme @tmarie82@liam-rhys@viktoriapetit@alicars @jlouise88@mrsdrakewalkerblog@walkerisbae@butindeed@greyeyedsmile14 @barbaravalentino @mymandrake@client327 @confessionsofabrokegirl

[bittersongofgrace-blog]

Pious

Summary: Ivar is bloodthirsty, and Alfred is, well, just thirsty.

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Boy sucking ****.

Notes: I really wanted some Ivar/Alfred smut, so here it is! I think I might also expand this into a multi-chapter story. It’s my first time writing anything like it, so any tips to improve are appreciated. You can also find it on AO3 under BitterSongOfGrace.

—————————————————————

The joy and bliss brought on by the Battle of York would be unparalleled, Ivar knew. The simple pleasures of life would no longer be, not in comparison to the bloodshed and gore that flashed to mind every instant that he closed his eyes.

His hands ached for the chance to slice into flesh again. His fingertips trembled at the thought of enemy blood soaking his skin. He could almost taste the copper on his tongue with every sip of water.

These are the thoughts that led him to the chambers of Alfred, his Christian captive.

The sound of heavy wood against stone mantle and a view of the prince locked to the floor by chains gave Ivar chills. A credit to his bravery, the figure before him did not flinch. He glanced backwards, eyes passive, before returning his gaze to the bound book on the floor.

Ivar’s original plan to barter with Aethelwulf for Alfred’s life seemed the best course of action. But after more thought, that course seemed almost predictable.

On one hand, Alfred being captured was a moment Ivar considered to be orchestrated by the Gods. How else could he explain the encounter in that rat and corpse infested alley of York? A stumble and fear brought the Wessex Prince to his knees in front of Ivar’s axe, and Ivar the Boneless could only laugh in glee.

Weeks had passed since that moment, and Ivar internally battled over the little Prince’s fate - to benefit his army or to satisfy his craving for blood.

Let it be known that Ivar the Boneless would always satisfy his own urges.

At least perhaps a hand or two. Maybe an ear, like the prince’s mother.

“I suppose you are here with a purpose,” said Alfred to the book.

Ivar reached for knife in his tunic as Alfred turned, settling to face him with his hands in his lap. The prince moved as if he wasn’t rooted to one place by chains.

“I’m happy you’ve came,” the prince said, a soft smile on his lips.

Ivar paused, interest piqued. “Your captor has come to see you, with a purpose, and you are happy?”

Alfred grinned, tugging at the iron links. “Loneliness is my current torment. I’d be happy to speak with anyone.” He gave Ivar a look that Ivar couldn’t quite place in the moment. “But you… Well, I can’t say it doesn’t especially please me that you’ve came.”

Suspicious. Ivar’s eyes narrowed.

“Would you like to sit?” Alfred asked, looking at a chair in the corner.

“Are you saying that I should sit because I am a cripple?” Ivar said lowly, anger rising.

Alfred laughed slightly. “A good host always offers a seat.”

Ivar calmed. He thought to himself that now should be the moment to cut the shit, to see the red beneath that pale skin. It wouldn’t take much to subdue the lithe body below him.

Somehow, without his knowledge, Ivar’s body was moving the chair in front of Alfred and taking a seat.

“Once, there was a time we sat before one another almost like this. It seems like yesterday to me.”

Ivar scoffed. “It’s been ages. I’ve conquered an army since then.”

Alfred smiled. “Indeed you have. You’re no longer the captive in my Grandfather’s castle, instead I’m the captive in yours. It feels very different,” the smaller man shifted. “I find that I still feel very much the same.”

“Perhaps you should grow then. You look very much the same,” Ivar said.

Alfred flushed. “I’ve grown some. Not all of us are meant to be the size of Vikings.”

Ivar smirked. “Some aren’t meant to grow at all if I’m to properly look at you.”

Alfred rattled his chains again, fidgeting. “Well, I suppose you’re very happy with your maturity.”

That comment felt very pointed. He didn’t know whether to be insulted or praised. Ivar propped his head with his palm, elbow resting on the arm of his chair. “Many are very happy with my maturity.”

Alfred gave him that look again. “I can see why.”

This time, Ivar recognized the look. Ubbe and Bjorn and Hvitserk with their conquests- want.

The Christian prince wanted Ivar.

“You-“

Before Ivar could insinuate anything, Alfred was on his knees in front of Ivar. His shackles were just long enough to reach, and Alfred placed an iron-heavy set of hands on the Vikings thigh.

“I dreamed of you. Too many times. I never thought that I would see you again, so I felt safe from my desires. But you came back,” Alfred declared. His eyes were a shade darker, and his flush traveled from face to skin unseen past his collar. Ivar wondered how far the flush went.

“My my, such sinful words come from your lips. What would your father think?” Ivar leaned forward, fisting the chain that linked Alfred’s hands together. He could feel the warm breath passing from Alfred’s lips, and he supposed that, if his dick was anything to go by, he must want Alfred too.

Alfred cocked his head. “Considering Athelstan’s past, I believe he would be quite understanding.” The Christian pulled at Ivar’s grip and slipped his hand further up his thigh. He kept Ivar’s gaze, even as he palmed Ivar’s swelling manhood.

This was the water that broke the dam. Ivar quickly keyed the chains until Alfred was no longer bound to the floor, only his hands linked together by shackles. Ivar pulled, and Alfred climbed into the chair with no hesitation. His slender thighs fit perfect as he straddled Ivar’s lap.

Moving chest to chest, Alfred leaned into Ivar in a half-embrace. He could feel breath on his skin as the prince nuzzled into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

“You have no idea how often I’ve dreamed of this.”

Ivar did not know how to respond. He didn’t have the chance before Alfred looped his bound hands over the viking’s head and around his neck. They were almost magnetic, mouths meeting in a searing kiss.

Alfred kissed like a drowning man and Ivar was the air he needed. Ivar returned it with full force, mapping the inside of smaller man’s mouth with his tongue. Ivar’s hands made their way to the slim waist in his lap, moving underneath the tunic to touch the soft skin of his hips.

Alfred seemed to like that, grinding his manhood. It was wanton and hot and Ivar was not prepared for this sort of confrontation.

Ivar tried to follow with his mouth as the prince pulled away. Alfred unlinked his hands from Ivar’s neck and reached down, wrestling Ivar’s dick from his trousers. It took seconds for Alfred to slip from Ivar’s grasp onto the floor and cover his dick with the warmth of his mouth.

“Gods…” Ivar groaned. He tipped his head back as Alfred grasped the base with his hand and began stroking with every suck.

And as Alfred licked the head of his dick before swallowing him whole, Ivar knew that there was bliss outside of battle. Ivar’s bliss swam in the sea-colored eyes of a Christian Prince, gazing with reverence and want.

Alfred continued to suck his dick, the momentum growing steadily faster. He grabbed a handful of hair, pulling to increase the pace.

Before long, Ivar felt the pleasure and tension in his groin tighten, and he sailed over the edge. He felt himself ejaculate several times, all into the little Christian’s mouth.

Ivar expected Alfred to instinctively spit out his seed, but instead saw the other man swallow. It was unpredictable and tempting Ivar all over again. As Alfred wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the Viking reached for his hair again, pulling him into another passionate kiss.

They eventually broke away, lips wet and bruised, breathing uneven.

“This is not what I expected,” Ivar admitted.

Alfred laughed, light and airy. His smile was small but beautiful. “Thank you for letting me indulge.”

Ivar narrowed his eyes. “I wish to indulge also.”

Alfred continued smiling. “Would it be too much to ask for a bath before?”

Somehow, Ivar almost felt this was planned. Whether it be by Alfred or the Gods, he did not know.

“Fine,” Ivar said, standing and tucking himself into his trousers. “Come along before I change my mind.”

[imtherealsebastiansatan]

Sebcon more like crazystalkercon It will be like throwing chum into shark infested waters and then going swimming ... can you imagine the carnage all those thirsty married middle aged croissant hungry vaginas in one place and seb standing there like bambi... be afraid be very afraid

Saying it now: I won't go unless anons wanna meet up. I'll dress up as Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard. Ear piece,  sunglasses and all.

[resetmypatientviolence]

The First Time [Part 1] (Drake x MC x Liam)

Word Count: 1,559

Paring: Drake x Jaela x Liam

Rating: M/NSFW-ish

Warnings: Language, Sexuality/Mild NSFW content (Part 2 is fully NSFW)

Suggested Song Accompaniment: 679 & No Diggity-- Jackson Breit 

Note: Welcome to the first fully fledged Drake x Jaela x Liam fic. You can find more of them, and a little backstory of this AU, on my MASTERLIST. This is Part 1 of 2, part 2 dropping TOMORROW EVENING CST. Split because it would have been MASSIVE... and why not tease a bit before Thirsty Thursday?

Tag List: @ashtonmore, @bobasheebaby

Drake

The wood splits, right along the middle, and Drake wipes sweat off his brow, setting the axe to the side. Finally, the last one. He tosses the two into the pile and wipes his hands. Looking up at the sky, he shivers—not because of the chill air tingling his pores—but because of the colors of dusk, rapidly approaching. That meant the night was near. Not just any night around the bonfire with Liam and Jaela—the night.

 Their plan—brought to fruition by his confessed his desires, hopefully, coming to life tonight. Drake runs a hand through his messy hair, turning to the blackened bonfire pit, adjusting a stone in the circle. Then he begins to build the base for it, thick fingers breaking the small branches for kindling, licking his lips. Of course, of course, they could have just asked Liam—but Drake couldn’t help think of the pure fucking sexiness of the moment just… happening. Naturally. Free. Passionate. Nothing holding them back.

 The clinking of ice alerts him to Jaela, walking up with a whiskey in hand, running her hand along his shoulders when she meets him down at the pit, a soft smile on her face. “Hey Abdi,” he says, standing up after placing a log, kissing her, arm around her waist. His son, James, is secure around her midsection in a wrap. Drake leans down and kisses the top of his tiny head, the baby looking at him with those brown eyes that melt him every time for the past four months.

 “Mm, hey,” she says, her dark eyes twinkling despite the low light. The forest is alive with creatures settling in for the evening. James makes a little sound, hand curling into a fist, shutting his eyes. “Tomás and Allie are down. James is about to sleep, but I wanted to walk him around a bit more.”

 Drake smiles, kissing her forehead. God, she’s perfect. Why didn’t he they run away together earlier? Why didn’t he follow them? Join them? “Think they’ll… stay asleep tonight?” he asks, sipping his whiskey.

 Jaela nods. “They’re all good sleepers. Even this little guy.” Her voices softens and Drake swears he could fall in love with her a million more times by the way she looks at James, finger stroking his soft cheek. “So I doubt they’d wake up tonight of all nights.”

 He nods, gulping. “You know… this is different, though. What if we are too loud or…?” He shakes his head. “If it happens, you know things are going to change, right? Forever?”

 She bites her lower lip, eyes glinting. “I know. I want them to. Don’t you?”

 He nods, Liam’s eyes appearing in his mind for a second. Eyes, so blue and honest and…. Yes, yes he does. “I do.”

 She smirks, going on her toes to kiss him. “Get the fire going. Liam should be out of the shower now. I’m making the first round of drinks. Well, second, in your case.”

Jaela

 Three rounds later, baby monitor blissfully silent, Jaela throws her head back in laughter, eyes bright. She crosses her legs, fingers brushing Drake’s hand. The fire, orange, dims in the slightest, the heat it once radiated fading from their skin—but inside, oh, she’s just warming up.

 “I’ll get some more logs,” Liam says, setting down his half empty glass. Good. Drink four… or… how much longer would it take for their plan to happen? She could feel the electricity between her and Drake every time they touch or glance at each other around the bonfire. Liam sits across from them—as it was technically Drake’s night—but how badly she wanted Liam next to her, too. To feel the same electricity that always ran between the men when they touched her separately, but together-- multiplied.

 “Let me help!” She jumps up, Liam arching an eyebrow at her newfound eagerness. Drake chuckles and sips on the whiskey.

 “You never like to…” Liam pauses and his blue eyes linger on her chest, another blouse button undone, revealing the curve of her breasts and the lacy black strap that she knew he liked so goddamn much. Jaela approaches the log pile, ghosting her fingers along his waist as he bends over. Liam gulps, standing up, face flushing beyond the whiskey blush.

 Glancing over at Drake—watching the exchange, a smirk on his lips—Jaela licks her lips and then stands before Liam, bending over to pick up a—hopefully not worm infested—log, pushing her ass against his pelvis. Instantly, it always is with him, he hardens, stifling a groan. She grinds it lightly, and he swears, one hand pressing against her hip, nails digging into the fabric of her jeans. She still had it four months after James and two kids before that then, huh?

 Satisfied, Jaela turns and her lips brush against his ear, teeth grazing the lobe, waiting for his response. Drake is practically burning a hole in her back, but this time, there isn’t the jealousy so often felt back in Cordonia. No… no this is different. A good different. A fucking hot different.

 Liam swallows, taking a finger and tugging on the V of her button blouse, pulling her closer, logs clashing together. “Mm… I thought this was supposed to be his night tonight, Jaela?” His leg is between hers, already she knows how wet she is. Fuck.

 Jaela pulls back, smirking. “I guess you’re right,” she whispers, then pointedly looks back to Drake. Liam follows, locking eyes with him. Only the sounds of the bonfire and animals fill the night, cool air thick and heavy with their tension boiling beneath the surface. “But I guess he didn’t mind watching that.”

 Before he can respond, Jaela returns to the fire and gives Drake a wink. He shifts, his boner evident. Oh, it won’t be long now. She knows how much Liam enjoys teasing—and how little he can hold out with just a touch more whiskey.

 Liam

 A hiss escapes him as the glass clicks his teeth, unintentionally, because he’s not focused. No, like hell he isn’t, enraptured by the sight before him. Jaela, on Drake’s lap, both kissing each other-- hard. Not like the pecks and tender kisses shared in the privacy of their home.

 His eyes drift them as Drake squeezes her ass in her tight jeans, or how her breasts—another button undone—peek as they kiss, lacy bra visible. Oh, the number of times he told her to wear that exact set to please him—and her, of course. It’s always been about her.

 Liam shifts, sipping the whiskey, blue eyes never leaving them. They didn’t seem to notice, Jaela making those soft sounds he loves so much when they kiss, too. There it is again, the bra. Fuck, he thinks, rubbing his face. With how Jaela was acting, he knows that she wore the full set, thong included. Though… he swore Drake preferred the red one. He’d seen that abandoned outside of their bedroom more than once. Huh.

 Liam crosses his legs, blinking rapidly. Too many questions, Liam. You’re feeling good and don’t act like you haven’t…Is it odd to watch? He doesn’t know the answer—it’s not like they don’t catch each other here and there in the home, bedroom door left open, the other always closing it, quietly. Or sometimes, kisses that go farther than expected after a night together the morning after when the kids weren’t around. It never bothers Liam, or Drake for that matter, because they have her, completely. No competition. Just her. Just them. Happy.

 No, it’s not like he wasn’t accustomed to such displays in Cordonia before Jaela. But you’re not in Cordonia anymore, her voice appears, always reminding him of the reality. Not new… but still. His drink empties and Liam leans forward, going to grab the bottle next to him when he freezes, catching Jaela’s eyes—dark with lust—locking with his, Drake’s teeth tugging on her lower lip.

 That bra again, Drake sliding the shoulder off—his eyes joining Liam’s, identical smirks on their faces before they resume kissing, Jaela louder, hand sliding down Drake’s chest. The stiffening of his dick was unmistakable, the lust and longing and thoughts mused about when Jaela was with Drake, bubbling to the surface of the former King. “Fuck it,” he whispers, standing up, walking to them, her shirt nearly unbuttoned to her bellybutton, tits looking so fucking good in that damn bra….

 Wait, maybe he was drunk. They were drunk then, too. Then they were just acting on impulse and not-- Then, as if giving permission, Drake locks eyes with him standing over them, one hand curled into a fist. “Fuck,” Liam breathes. “Fuck it.” He reaches, touching her breast, nipple stiff under the lace. He tweaks it before she looks up at him—and a look passes between all of them, pupils wide and dark, breaths sallow, desire growing the longer they stare.

 Oh, nothing was going to be the same, was it?

 “Is this…”

 But she pulls him into a kiss as an answer, nearly knocking him into Drake—but he doesn’t mind, hand catching on Drake’s knee, Drake licking his lips as he watches the kiss, hand rubbing her inner thigh. No, Liam doesn’t mind at all.

 Neither of them do.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios.

[jeza-red]

From Kale’s point of view, the day was a complete dungshow. 

From the moment he stumbled out of the fog of the bear-infested forest - tired, damp, his poor donkey shivering from exhaustion of constant stress brought on by the growls and roars of invisible beasts roaming he woods - only to almost crash into a mounted marauder armed with a sword almost as big as the merchant himself. 

It was only the power of surprise that allowed them to escape the bandit. His good old Musafar, faithful beast it was, was neither strong or young enough to outpace a well fed war-horse, especially not when burdened with their wares. But a moment of startled confusion on behalf of the enemy was enough to cut the line of sight and dash back into the mists where the marauder wasn’t brave enough to follow. 

Which left Kale and his poor donkey scrambling through the thicket, desperate to keep to the edges of the woods, where the mist still reached, but the monster bears didn’t bother to stalk. It led them into the gloom and mud, and spat them out on the edge of a bog. Fortunately free of people who would wish them harm. 

Unfortunately full of monsters that wished for nothing else.

They did well for a while, wading through the mud and mire, nervously watching the sun as it dropped lower and lower. At some point Kale decided to leave the saddle and took the point. He lead Musafar through the mud, testing stability of every step, least the beast tripped and broke a leg. Soon enough stench of rotting vegetation and slime blended in with the scent of nervous sweat and exertion. hanging over both merchant and his mount, a siren call to all kinds of blood-thirsty insects. Exhausted and angry at the fates, Kale didn’t notice the tell-tale signal bubbling to the surface of the bog to their left. He reacted with a scoff when Musafar pulled on the reigns, almost pulling the man off his feet. With a mumbled curse the merchant turned on the donkey, ready to slap its nose - dry land was in sight! They were close to leaving this miserable soup!  

It was the sight of the best frozen in place, ears turned back and eyes rolling that brought Kale back to present and not a moment too late. A movement off to the site, a wall of mud raising as a mother crab dig herself out of her nest, eye-stalks turned on the intruders.

It was hard to say who pulled who, who pushed - they scrambled like roaches escaping a broom, a man and a donkey for once of one mind. Mud rose to Kale’s knees and then to mid-thigh, he slipped and stumbled, but didn’t - couldn’t - mind, blind panic taking over his body and mind and pushing him forward towards the dry land, towards grass and safety just within reach...

And then Musafar stumbled and whined, and got stuck. 

Next couple of minutes were absent form the merchant’s memory, wiped away by terror of incoming death. It was all a muddle of loud breathing, Musafar’s whining, sounds of armoured scale rubbing against itself, sloshing of mud and clank of steel. 

When Kale came back to his senses, he was hanging head-down above ground, with his face buried in slimy fur and with hard edges digging into flesh around his waist. He gasped for breath - either due to the position or the panic leaving his flesh weak and bloodless. It took him a while to regain his wits, to notice that the rhythmic rocking he was subjected to was a gait and the iron band over his middle was an armoured arm. He was being carried (rather ungracefully and without much care) and when he finally managed to get his face freed from the grasp of wet fur he could see the Musafar’s hind quarters swaying to the rhythm of their kidnapper’s of a brisk walk.     

Kidnapper’s - or maybe saviour’s? 

Well, that will depend on where they will end up. 

Where Kale ended up was ass-over-teakettle on a hard blissfully dry dirt. The sun was already down, but the glow of the faraway tree cast enough light for Kale to see the the tall armoured back, a wolfskin-coat and...

...a pair of wolf-ears on the top of a decidedly inhuman head.        

Alright, Blaidd one day saves this one merchant - the donkey was stuck in mud and the guy was panicking, frantically pulling packages off the beast and throwing them onto the dry land, pulling in the reins, muttering to himself and the gods, tigh-deep in the mud while the trouble was closing in - a mother crab noticed the commotion on the edge of her bog and was slowly, steadily making her way towards it.

Blaidd expected the stranger to run, leave the donkey and leg it, but the man wasn't doing it. He kept trying to move the poor beast and when that failed and the crab mother was almost on top of them, the merchant pulled out a knife as if that was going to help with anything...

Well, that was just so damn sad, wasn't it? For the little wretch to get killed and eaten after trying so hard to save an animal most wouldn't even think about. He couldn't stand by and watch that tragedy unfold, could he?

The crab mother was a quick work for the wolf. And even quicker it was for him to grab the donkey around the belly with one arm and bodily carry it out of the bog. Now he was wet and muddy, great, the smell was just offensive. And the man he just saved was kicking and flailing on Blaidd's other shoulder, trying to stab him with the short knife through the fur-cloak. What a day.

It took a while to find a spot dry and safe enough to drop his burdens - at that point the man has tired himself out with his histerics and the donkey seemed contemplative. The night was slowly approaching and they were all filthy and Blaidd needed to wash the stench out of his clothes and armour - he would not return to his lady in such ungraceful state.

So, he put the donkey and the man down and turned to the nearby stream that smelled relatively clean and safe, pulling his cloak and arm out off piece by piece to be cleaned after he had a dip.

The water was damn cold and the stream only knee-deep, and it took a while to get the sand and dirt out of his fur. What a pain, he will have to dry on the air before putting clothes back on - sometimes he envied humans their bare skin for the sole ease of use.

And speaking about the human skin, it didn't take very long for the man to approach and begin his own ablutions. Huh, this one was a bit odder than the usual fare - with the skin the colour of coal ash and the hair without any colour at all. Thin he was, too, a thootpick of a man. Hm.

Ah well, the night was approaching and they needed to find Grace if they were to survive it unscathed.